•^^^ 
 
 ^- ^iMm, ?#*^' 
 
THE 
 
 GENIUS OF ITALY: 
 
 OR, FACT AND POETRY FROM 
 
 Italian fife, f iterated, aiii ^riijioii 
 
 / w 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT TURN BULL; 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE "GENIUS OF SCOTLAND," "CHRIST IN HISTORY,*' ETC. 
 
 Fourth Revised and Illustrated Edition. 
 
 WdB AN APPENDIX, CONTAINING SKETCHES OF MAXXTNI, GAVAZZI, AND OTHEIJS. 
 
 NEW YOEK: 
 
 .TAS. S. DTOKKRSON, 69^? BROADWAY 
 
 (855. 
 
 
 
 ^f WASH 
 
 

 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by 
 
 ROBERT TURNBULL, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court, for the Southern District of 
 New- York, 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY E. O. JENKINS, 
 
 114: Nassau Street, New-York. 
 
(?(H 
 
 t/l 
 
 TO THE 
 
 REV. ROLLIN HEBER NEALE 
 
 BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, 
 
 THE AUTHORS TRAVELLING COMPANION IN ITALY AND OTHER LANDS, 
 
 THIS VOLUME, 
 
 AS A MEMORIAL OF PLEASANT DATS AND PLEASANT SCENES, 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Let no one suppose that, in the following pages, we are about to 
 inflict npon him another Tour in Italy. Our object is not so 
 much to write incidents of travel, or descriptions of scenery, roads, 
 public buildings, and that '^ sort of thing,'' with which most vol- 
 umes on Italy are filled to repletion ; but to furnish some idea 
 of the real character and spirit of the Italian people ; to give brief, 
 and, if possible, vivid glimpses of their life, literature, and religion, 
 as these are embodied in men and books, in history and usages. 
 
 In order to do this with greater freshness and interest, we have 
 taken our readers along with us through the principal parts of 
 the country, especially the larger and more influential cities, and 
 have indulged only in such occasional descriptions of scenery and 
 localities as might furnish a sufficient background for our obser- 
 vations, or a becoming framework for our portraits. 
 
 The genius of a country is always localized ; and it gives one a 
 clearer and more ioipressive view of its religion, literature, and 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 politics, to see them in loco, or to become acquainted with them 
 in the very scenes with which they are associated. 
 
 The plan is similar to that pursued in '* The Genius of Scot- 
 land/* with perhaps less of description and incident, and more of 
 history and biography, general observation and reflection. That 
 work, which has enjoyed a reception far beyond the author's 
 expectation, was written somewhat rapidly, as a simple relaxation 
 from severer duties. The present, though more carefully fin- 
 ished, and containing a greater amount of information, possesses a 
 similar character. A portion of it was written in Italy, during a 
 brief but delightful tour through that country, and the rest at 
 such times as the author could spare from more important 
 engagements. The recent changes and revolutions in Italy will 
 be found described, in their appropriate places. 
 
 He has aimed especially to furnish a just idea of the present 
 state and future prospects of the Italian race. Those who wish 
 further information upon this subject, will find it in the volumes 
 of Balbo and Azeglio, and especially of L. Mario tti, professor in the 
 London University, and author of " Italy, Past and Present, "the 
 two former in Italian, the latter in English. Mariotti has thoroughly 
 mastered the intricacies of the English language, and writes with 
 energy and eloquence. He deserves the thanks of all lovers of 
 Italy and Italian literature, for his able and ingenious expositions 
 of both. 
 
 It may be well to state here, that some of the earlier portions 
 of the work having been written previous to the late revolutions 
 in Italy, a passage here and there m^y appear almost obsolete. 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 We have chosen, however, to let such passages stand without 
 modification, because they serve to indicate, in a striking manner, 
 the nature of the changes which have occurred. Let the reader 
 pass on, and he will find a tolerably accurate account of the pres- 
 ent condition of things in the leading Italian States, and some 
 suggestions as to their probable destiny.. The present, indeed, 
 is a most critical juncture in the affairs of Continental Europe. 
 War has already commenced in the north of Italy ; and a few 
 days may produce an entire revolution in the whole Italian penin- 
 sula. Liberty and despotism have met front to front. The 
 Pope, once liberal, calls to the enemies of his country, to re- 
 store him to his throne, over the dead bodies of his once be- 
 loved flock, the patriots of Rome ! What will be the issue of 
 this strange drama, time alone will reveal. After all, the age of 
 despotism is past; and even if Austria should triumph, her tri- 
 umph will be brief and unsatisfactory. Liberty, crushed and 
 wounded, shall rise again, and assert her right to supreme and 
 universal dominion. 
 
 But the ink from our penis scarcely dry, when we are startled 
 with the news that Charles Albert, at the head of the Sardinian 
 army, has been completely routed by the Austrians, and that he 
 has abdicated his thl^one in favor of his son, Victor Emmanuel, to 
 whom it is supposed the Austrian government will concede much 
 which they might withhold from his father. , The Pope, then, 
 we presume, goes back to Rome, as we predicted in the body of 
 the work ; the preface, which is the first thing seen by the read- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 er, but the last written by the author, giving us an opportunity 
 of referring to this circumstance. So also, in all probability, the 
 Grand Duke of Tuscany returns to Florence, and the newly 
 formed Italian republics may once more become monarchies. 
 Austria, as of old, will regulate the aflfairs of the peninsula, and 
 dispose of its revenues. 
 
 Thus freedom recedes for the present, but only to gather fresh 
 strength for another and more successful effort at some future 
 day. Perhaps, too, it may be well, that, for a few years longer, 
 the strong hand of power should hold in check the wild and irre- 
 gular impulses of Italian democracy, and thus condense it into 
 greater compactness and vigor. We trust it will learn wisdom, 
 by the things which it is called to suffer. 
 
 In the hope that the present volume may aid in giving some 
 just conception of the genius, the present state, and probable des- 
 tiny of one of the most interesting countries in the world, and 
 supply some useful hints on the various topics which it embraces, 
 the author commits it to the kind consideration of his friends and 
 the public. 
 
 Hartford, Conn, 
 
 NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 While the present edition has been subjected to a thorough 
 revision, we have preferred, as in the first, to let those parts of 
 the work written before the revolutions in Italy, remain unal- 
 tered. 
 
NOTE TO THE REVISED EDITION. 
 
 It is proper here to say, that owing to the rapid changes 
 which have occurred in Italy since the revolutions of 1848, the 
 author of the following work has found it necessary, as the suc- 
 cessive editions have been called for, slightly to modify or add 
 to some of his statements. This, of course, has been done with- 
 in very narrow limits, as the work is stereotyped. He believes, 
 however, that little of any moment has been omitted, which is 
 not entirely familiar to the reading public. A few passages, left 
 unchanged, may seem anomalous and almost obsolete ; but they 
 are permitted to stand, as they serve to mark the singular trans- 
 formations of Italian society, and may thus possess a certain 
 historical interest. Several conjectural predictions which the 
 author ventured to make, in the first edition of the work, have 
 been remarkably verified. Others yet remain to be fulfilled. 
 
 Sardinia, under its present enlightened government, has en 
 tered upon a noble career of improvement. Eome, Venice, and 
 Milan are biding their time. Florence is not without hope, and 
 even Naples, one of these days, may cast off the incubus which 
 oppresses her. Great obstacles are in the way ; but freedom, 
 like truth, is strong and immortal. Crushed down under moun- 
 tains of despotism, it swells and flames up, like the subterranean 
 fire of Vesuvius, rushing resistless through thick strata of superin- 
 cumbent rock. To-day it seems dead and silent as the grave, 
 to-morrow it rises and shouts vivas to the gathering millions. 
 
I^OTE TO THE REVISED EDITION. 
 
 "Through all the long, dark night of years 
 
 The people ^s cry ascendeth ; 
 And Earth is wet with blood and tears, 
 
 But our meek sufferance endeth ! 
 The Few shall not for ever sway, 
 
 The many moil in sorrow : 
 The Powers of Hell are strong To-day, 
 
 But Christ shall rise To-morrow !" 
 
 In the Appendix will be found some additional notices of 
 Mazzini, the leader of " Young Italy," as also of Gavazzi, Gari- 
 baldi, and others, which will supply all that is necessary to give 
 the reader a tolerable idea of the character and power of the 
 revolutionary element. 
 
 It is not, however, the aim of a work of such narrow compass 
 and desultory character to occupy much of the reader's attention 
 with the politics of Italy, transitional as they are, but rather to 
 introduce him to some of its treasures of nature and art, and 
 especially to give him an idea (albeit a slight one) of its re- 
 sources of beauty and power, as developed in the lives and pro- 
 ductions of its great thinkers, artists and poets. 
 
 Our obligations are due, for valuable documents, to Mr. Secchi 
 De Casali, the accomplished Editor of VEco de Italia. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Introductory — Claims of Italy — Prayer of Petrarch — ^Beauty the prin- 
 cipal feature in the Italian landscape — Its position and general 
 aspect — Language and Literature — Characteristics of its Sculptui'e, 
 Painting and Music — Harmony between Natural and Moral Beauty 
 — Spirit and Form — Final Reconcilement of all things — Design of this 
 work. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 First view of Italy — Descent of the Alps—Lago Maggiore — Borro- 
 mean Isles — Cardinal Borromeo — The Church in Locarno — Its perse- 
 cutions and trials — Final Banishment — Persecution in Italy — Re- 
 ligious Liberty — Arona — Evening Scene on the Lake — Ippolito 
 Pindemonte — His verses on Night. .... . . 80 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Lombardy — Aspect of the country— Condition of the inhabitants — 
 Brief sketch of the History of Lombardy— Milan — Description of the 
 city — The Cathedral — View from the summit — Sunset on the Alps — 
 Interior of the Cathedral 41 
 
xii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Silvio Pellico — Sketch of his Life — Distinguished Writers in Milan — 
 Establishment of the Conciliator — Its suppression — Imprisonment of 
 Silvio Pellico, Maroncelli and others — The " Mie Prigione," My Pris- 
 ons, of Silvio Pellico — ^Extracts — Canzone written in prison. . . 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Ugo Foscolo — Sketch of his life — Hymn to the Graces — Poem of 
 I Sepolcri — Alessandro Manzoni — Tragedy of the *' Conte Carmagno- 
 la" — Ode on the Death of Napoleon — Monti — His Career — Poetry — 
 " The Fall of Jerusalem," from the Bassevilliana — Parini — Beccaria. 60 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Venice — View from the Tower of St. Mark — Sketch of Venetian His- 
 tory — Prosperity — Freedom — Degeneracy — JSTarrow and Despotic 
 Policy — Cruelty — The Foscari — Council of Ten — Police — Anecdote 
 of a French Nobleman — Revolution — First, Second and third Acts of 
 the Drama — Hope. 77 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Celebrated Venetians — Marco Polo — Pietro Bembo — Era Paolo Sar- 
 pi — Titian — Tintoretto — Goldoni — Canova — Ocello of Sienna — Spe- 
 cimen of his Preaching — " Justification by faith." . . . 91 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Ferrara — ^The Days of Duke Borso — Ferrara the Asylum of Literary 
 Men — Its Distinction in Literature — Duke Alphpnso and his Sisters 
 — Ariosto—Sketch of his Life — Orlando Furioso — Specimens of his 
 Poetry. . . 103 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Tasso— His Character and Genius — The " Gerusalemme Liberata.** 118 
 
CONTENTS. xiii 
 
 CHAPTER. X. 
 
 The Ducal Circle in the youth of Tasso — Queen Renee and her daugh- 
 ters — Visitors — Calvin and Marot — French version of the Psalms — 
 Madame de Soubise and her daughter Anne of Parthenai — Giraldi 
 — Fulvio Morata — Curio — Aonio Palaeario — Calcagnani — Pier Man- 
 zolli — Oljmpia Morata. 131 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Sunrise among the Apennines — Scenery — Feudal Castles — Spirit of 
 the Early Republics — Tendencies in Italy to Centralization — False 
 views of Liberty — Its true nature — Based on Virtue — Ko true free- 
 dom in Italy — Hopes — Scenery^Fellow-Traveliiers — Conversation 
 on Religion — Catholic miracles, &c. — Approach to Florence — Its 
 beauty — Associations and distinctions — Sketch of the History of 
 Florence — Its present state and prospects 142 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Florence distinguished in Literature — Dante and the Divina Comme- 
 dia — His Character and Genius — Early Days — Portrait — Beatrice 
 and the Vita N"uova — Wanderings — Controlling Spirit and Object of 
 his Life — His Death — Honors — Extraordinary Genius — Real import 
 of the Commedia — Dante and Michael Angelo — Characteristics of 
 Dante's Poetry — Origin of the Commedia — Its general character 
 and aim . 162 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Petrarch and Boccaccio — Their Character and Genius — Influence upon 
 Literature 19t 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Lorenzo de Medici — Pulci — Curious Scientific Anticipations — Da Vinci 
 as a Philosopher — Politian — Machiavelli and the Politics of the Age 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 — Leo Tenth and Religion — The Reformation — Decline of Italian 
 Literature in the Seventeenth Century — Filicaja — Science — Galileo 
 — Kepler — Discoveries of Galileo — His spirit — Science devout — Per- 
 secutions of Scientific Italians — Galileo's condemnation by the Inqtii- 
 sition — Death — Triumph of his opinions — Interview between Galileo 
 and Milton — Science in Italy^ — Poetry — Alfieri — ^Niccolini and others 
 — Abbe Lambruschini — Mazzini. . . . . . . . 209 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Kome — The Campagna — Approach to the city — Its general aspects- 
 View from the Capitol — Its sacred or ecclesiastical character — Rome 
 a Church — Its citizens, priests, monks, shrines, relics, churches, ceremo- 
 nies, etc. — The Pope — Religious services — Pagan element — A stroll 
 towards the Vatican, Coliseum, etc. — Capella della Humilta — Ser- 
 vices — Preaching 233 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Pope Pius the Ninth — The strongest and weakest of the Popes — Con- 
 trasts — Pope Hildebrand and Pope Pius — Flight from Rome — The 
 Pontificate of Gregory Sixteenth — Pontificate of Pius Ninth — Changes 
 — Revolution — Real position of Pius — Prospects of Italy. . . 257 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Gioberti, " The Prophet of Italy" — His Primato — Theocratic views — 
 Reception in Italy — Effect upon Charles Albert, Marquis Azeglio 
 and others — ^Their probable fate — Father Ventura — His character and 
 relations to Pius Ninth — His eloquence — Views and influence — Fune- 
 ral Sermon for O'Connell — Problem of Gioberti, Ventura and Pius 
 Ninth — Anticipated Fall of the Papacy , 276 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The Bay and City of Naples— Government and People — Revolution 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 — Counter-revolution — ^The Villa Reale — Posilipo — Virgil's Tomb — 
 Pozzuoli, the ancient Puteoli — Grotto of Posilipo. . . 288 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Churches of Naples — Religious and moral condition — Peculiarities of 
 the people — Lazzaroni — Campo Santo, etc. .... 301 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Literature of Naples — Sannazzaro — Costanzo — Marini — " Fading Beau- 
 ty" — Italian Philosophers — Mirandol^ — Neapolitan Philosophers — 
 Vico — The " New Science" — Closing paragraph of the " Scienza No- 
 vella" — Genovesi — Giannone — Filangieri 316 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A Sail on the Bay — Views — Island of Ischia — Vittoria Colonna — Her 
 Life and Poetry — Naples by Moonlight — Hope for the Future. ; 325 
 
ITALY, 
 
 PROEM. 
 
 On a soft summer afternoon, two friends were wandering on 
 the banks of Lake Leman. They had seen all that was to be 
 seen in Switzerland, and some other European countries. It was 
 their desire to visit Palestine ; but the season was too far ad- 
 vanced, and their time of furlough nearly exhausted. The ques- 
 tion then was discussed, where, they should go next, before 
 returning to their distant home. Turning quickly to his com- 
 panion, after a slight pause, one of them said — 
 
 " Know'st thou that land f 
 
 "What land r 
 
 *' That land — the most beautiful in the world, and next to 
 Palestine the most famous in song and story." 
 
 " England, or perhaps your own Scotland ?" 
 
 " No, not even Scotland, dear as it is." 
 
 "Well, then, what landf 
 
 " Why, you know it well enough, for it must have been the 
 dream of your youth, when conning the classic page ; — 
 
 '^ ' That land where the lemon- trees bloom — 
 
 Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom, 
 Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows, 
 And the groves are of myrtle, and laurel, and rose — 
 Know'stthouit?'" 
 
PROEM 
 
 "Ah ! you mean Italy ; for these are the words of Mignon, in 
 Wilhelm Meister's Wanderjahre ; and most exq-uisitely do they 
 picture some of the exterior peculiarities of her native clime* — 
 But—" 
 
 "But what? You must not say a word, we are going thither. 
 Come, let us be off by sunrise to-morrow morning. We shall 
 have a charming ride along the banks of the Rhone, and across 
 the Bernese Alps, and such glorious views of Italy, on the further 
 side of Alpine summits, as shall well repay us for the whole 
 journey, even before touching Italian soil." 
 
 " Excuse me, but we haven't time, and really your enthusiasm 
 is a little extravagant. To be sure, Italy has points of interest, 
 but, as a whole, it is but a poor, priest-ridden country. I'd 
 rather go to some other land. Even Austria, and above all, 
 Hungary would be better. Everybody goes to Italy, and scrib- 
 bles about it all sorts of magniloquent nonsense. The whole 
 region has been written to perfect inanity. I'm. almost tired of 
 the very name. Florence, Rome, Naples — why, they are almost 
 as common as Broadway. And to tell the honest truth, Italy is 
 by no means the glorious land which it is ' cracked up' to be. 
 The literature is feeble, the religion superstitious, and the poli- 
 tics absurd. No — I would rather go any whither than Italy." 
 
 A cunning smile played about the lips of our friend, and we 
 concluded he did not quite believe what he said. At any rate, 
 we were quite sure he was mistaken, in many respects, so we 
 replied, with energy — 
 
 " Nonsense, and you know it. Every one who has the slight- 
 est tincture of taste or scholarship, well knows that Italy is one 
 of the most interesting countries in the world. Poor and priest- 
 ridden she may be, yet glorious still — glorious in her monuments 
 and memories, glorious in her spirit of beauty and song. The 
 
PROEM.. 
 
 soil is hallowed by the grandest associations. Every spot is 
 classic ground. Besides, we shall see it with our own eyes^ and 
 although myriads of others have gazed upon its beauty, that 
 beauty will appear new and peculiar to us." 
 
 '* Granted," said our friend, with a grave complacency, " but — " 
 
 " There, again, that ominous but — hut I won't hear it. We 
 are going to Italy ; that's settled. And you might as well con- 
 fess that you are pleased with the prospect. Ah, ' such times' 
 as we shall have wandering among the green Apennines, plung- 
 ing in shady groves of orange and olive, or gazing in rapt wonder 
 upon the sculptured glories of genius and art !" 
 
 " Well, well, have it your own way. Italy has faults enough, 
 God knows, and you know ; and I honestly confess to a certain 
 prejudice against her, not indeed on account of any intrinsic de- 
 fect in the country as such, or in the native character of the peo- 
 ple, but on account of the horrible system of error and despotism 
 under which she has groaned for ages." 
 
 " The more worthy of our pity on that very account, and pity, 
 you know, is akin to love." 
 
 We returned to our lodgings, after having engaged a passage 
 across the lake to Lausanne, whence we intended to take the 
 diligence along the banks of the Rhone and across the Alps to 
 Milan. But far into the night we kept musing on Italy, recount- 
 ing to ourselves her various attractions, in a sort of straggling 
 monologue. Much of this, and something more, may be found 
 in the succeeding chapter. Hasty or impatient readers may 
 pass it, if they please, and begin the book with the second chap- 
 ter. We trust, however, that some gentle readers may honor it 
 with their attention. 
 
GENIUS OF ITALT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Claims of Italy — Prayer of Petrarcli — Beauty the principal feature in the 
 Italian Landscape — Its Position and General Aspect— Language and 
 Literature — Characteristics of its Sculpture, Painting, and Music — Har- 
 mony between Natural and Moral Beauty — Spirit and Form — ^Final 
 reconcilement of all Things — Design of this "Work. 
 
 Few countries have played a more important part in the affairs 
 of mankind than Italy. Fewer still present, to cultivated minds, 
 more varied points of attraction and study. Once the queen of 
 the world, she swayed her sceptre over a population of more 
 than a hundred and twenty millions, and embraced, in her ample 
 grasp, a territory which touched the gray hills of Scotland and the 
 burning sands of Africa, which stretched beyond the Pillars of 
 Hercules, and swept eastward to the Euphrates and the Caspian 
 sea. For ages Italy was the centre of military power and splen- 
 dor ; the scene of boundless ambition and incredible exploits. 
 This was the home of the Scipios and the Caesars, of Cato and 
 the Gracchi ; here sang Horace and Virgil, Terence and Tibullus. 
 It was in Italy that Christianity found an early home, and 
 
18 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 acquired a dominion wider and more magnificent than that of 
 the Caesars. In the lapse of time she was overrun by northern 
 barbarians, but retained her beauty and pride, conquered her 
 conquerors by the silent might of her knowledge and refine- 
 ment, and shone like a star in the night of ignorance which 
 enveloped the neighboring nations. From her fair bosom sprang 
 the republics of Genoa, Florence, and Venice, which diffused, far 
 and wide, as from a centre, the influence of science and letters, 
 of freedom and the arts. Often drenched in blood, and torn by 
 intestine broils, falling into weakness and decay, writhing under 
 the iron hoof of the Gaul, the Spaniard and the German, divided 
 into petty kingdoms, and oppressed by miserable despots, civil 
 and ecclesiastical, Italy remembers, and will ever more remem- 
 ber, the days of old, and struggle upward, amid agony and 
 tears, to grasp the fair ideal of truth and liberty. Hope lies 
 warm at her bleeding heart, and will yet realize her fondest 
 dreams in the better time to come. 
 
 But these are not the only claims which Italy oflTers to our 
 regard. It is the very home of beauty, the land of poetry and 
 song, the haimt of all fair forms, of all divine melodies. Here 
 Dante, Tasso and Ariosto sang ; here Eaphael, Titian and Angelo 
 painted, as with hues of heaven ; here Machiavelli and Vico 
 speculated, and here "the starry Galileo," from the- heights 
 of Fiesole, gazed into the opening heavens. It is a country in 
 which, through a long series of ages, the human intellect has 
 displayed all the resources of genius and power ; whose scholars 
 first revealed to Europe the literary treasures of antiquity ; whose 
 jurists expounded those "principles which form the basis of juris- 
 prudence in most of the European nations ; whose navigators 
 added to the boundaries of the old world the vast regions of the 
 new ; whose poets first fired the bosoms of Chaucer and Milton, 
 and lent a strange melody to the native strength and grandeur 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 19 
 
 of those masters of tlie lyre ; whose genius, moreover, during the 
 long night of despotism and degradation, maintained its suprem- 
 acy over the minds of men, and is now beginning once .more to 
 gleam, with a new and increasing radiance, along the banks of 
 the Arno, and in the shadow of the Coliseum. 
 
 That Italy has deep and grievous faults, aL will admit. That 
 some of her features even now are dark and repulsive, none will 
 deny. Here, under the very shadow of the cross, rose some of 
 the most terrific forms of superstition and tyranny. Lust and 
 cruelty, anarchy and bloodshed, have marred her beauty. The 
 most glorious hopes of man have, even here, been trodden in the 
 dust. Truth and error, freedom and despotism, have struggled 
 in deadly combat ; the groans of dying martyrs have ascended 
 to heaven ; and all that is beautiful in the devotion of heaven- 
 born souls has been quenched in blood. Nevertheless, Italy has 
 claims not only to our admiration, but to our gratitude. No one 
 can become acquainted with her history without love and pity. 
 Few even of those who are the most averse to her institutions 
 and spirit, can fail to sympathize with the prayer of Petrarch, in 
 one of his Canzones. 
 
 " O my own Italy ! Though words are vain 
 
 The mortal wounds to close, 
 Unnumbered that thy beauteous bosom stain ; 
 Yet may it soothe my pain 
 
 To sigh forth Tiber's woes 
 And Arno's wrongs, as on Po's saddened shore, 
 Sorrowing I wander, and my numbers pour. 
 Ruler of heaven I by the ^11-pitying love 
 That could thy Godhead move, 
 To dwell a lowly sojourner on earth, — 
 Turn, Lord, on this thy chosen land thine eye I" 
 
 The principal feature of the Itahan landscape is beauty. Lymg 
 
20 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 between the blue waves of tbe Mediterranean and the Adriatic, 
 backed by the ''sovereign Alps," with their dark forests and 
 glacier peaks, traversed through hei whole length by the lofty but 
 beautiful Apennines, with here and there the bare and blackened 
 summit of an extinct volcano, and crowned, at the bay of Naples, 
 with the smoking cone of Mount Vesuvius, Italy has features of 
 grandeur and majesty; but her predominant aspect is that of 
 serene beauty. With a sky of the softest blue, an atmosphere 
 the clearest and blandest in the world, a fertile soil, and a rich 
 garniture of verdure and trees; gladdened moreover by limpid 
 streams brawling among the hills, or sleeping, in pellucid pools 
 and crystal lakes, in the depths of valleys ; covered with vines 
 and olive trees, myrtles and aloes, among which the white villa, 
 the trellised cottage, the old church, and the hoary ruin of by- 
 gone days are gleaming ; with here and there some ancient palace, 
 or old tower crowning the summits, or, it may be, some splendid 
 city lying on the waters, like N'aples and Venice, or standing on 
 the plain amid surrounding hills, like Florence and Rome, or seeu 
 from afar upon a mountain ledge, like Genoa, Gaeta and Amalfi— 
 the whole land presents an aspect of rich and ever-varying beauty. 
 This feature of Italian scenery is often referred to by her poets, 
 with a sort of passionate admiration. It is also frequently speci- 
 fied as the great temptation of her invaders, and one of the causes 
 of her degradation and suffering. Thus Pietro Bembo, in one of 
 his sonnets, exclaims : 
 
 "Fair land, once loved of Heaven o'er all beside, 
 Which blue waves gird, and lofty mountains screen, 
 Thou clime of fertile fields and sky serene, 
 Whose gay expanse the Apennines divide 1 
 What boots it now that Rome's old warlike pride 
 Left thee of humbled earth and sea the queen ? 
 Nations that served thee then now fierce convene 
 To tear thy locks and strew them o'er the tide." 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 21 
 
 Byron, too, catcliing the spirit, and indeed using the language 
 of the ItaUan poets, breaks out in those beautiful and burning 
 lines : 
 
 " Italia ! Oh, Italia, thou who hast 
 The fatal gift of beautv which became 
 A funeral dower of present woes and past, 
 On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame, 
 And annals graved in characters of flame. 
 Oh God ! that thou wert in thy nakedness 
 Less lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim 
 Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press 
 To shed thy blood and drink the tears of thy distress 1" 
 
 This, however, is but a free and happy translation of one of 
 Filicaja^s odes, commencing thus : 
 
 " Italia, oh Italia ! hapless thou 
 Who didst the fatal gift of beauty gain, 
 A dowry fraught with never-ending pain, 
 A seal of sorrow stamped upon thy brow " 
 
 Alessandro Manzoni, one of the most original and striking 
 writers of modern Italy, makes a similar reference to his native 
 land, in one of the choruses of his " Conte Carmagnola/' 
 
 " thou devoted land that canst not rear 
 In peace thine offspring ! thou the lost and won, 
 The fair and fatal soil, that dost appear 
 Too narrow still for each contending son ! 
 Receive the stranger in his fierce career, 
 Parting the spoils ! thy chastening has begun ! 
 And wresting from thy kings the guardian sword, 
 Foes whom thou ne'er hadst wronged sit proudly at thy board." 
 
 But not only is beauty the predominant feature in the physical 
 
22 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 aspect of Italy, it is the chief element in its language and litera- 
 ture. The language is melody itself, and wonderfully harmonizes 
 with the soft beauty and mellow splendor of the landscape. The 
 very common people speak it with a grace which is irresistible. 
 It seems to warble from the lips of children like the song of early 
 birds. It is ever gliding into poetry and song. Hence the 
 wonderful facility of the Italian Improvisatori. It is indeed 
 capable of the utmost compression and force. The Italian 
 translation of Tacitus occupies less space than the original.* 
 Nothing can exceed the rugged energy of some parts of 
 Dante's Divina Commedia, or the trenchant force of Alfieri's 
 tragedies. Nevertheless, the language is naturally soft and melo- 
 dious, imaging, in its clear flow, all forms of beauty, and spark- 
 ling with the sunny radiance of its native skies. This, however, 
 as some good judges have affirmed, has tended, particularly in 
 the case of inferior writers, to corrupt Italian literature ; so that 
 poverty of thought is often disguised " under a melodious redun- 
 dancy of diction." Hence, too, some of their graver compositions, 
 and especially their specimens of eloquence, are defective in sim- 
 plicity and force. Some allowance, however, must be made for 
 the influence of a sunny clime, and an ardent temperament. 
 What seems flashy and magniloquent in northern Europe or 
 America, may be perfectly natural in southern Italy. The soft 
 and luxuriant beauty of their diction, soon palling upon our ear, 
 may possess for them an irresistible and unwearied charm. A 
 sense of harmony, a passionate love of the beautiful, a refined 
 taste and a cultivated ear, seem almost universally difi*used among 
 the people. Some of the finest strains of Petrarch, Tasso, and 
 Ariosto, are familiar to multitudes among the lower orders. The 
 
 * Hallam speaks somewhat disparagingly of this translation. Others 
 however, equally capable of judging, accord it high praise. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 23 
 
 gondoliers of Venice were accustomed formerly to accompany 
 their movements on the water, and reply to each other in the 
 verses of Tasso, through the long summer night. The fine tones 
 of the Tuscan peasants have often been admired. Who has not 
 heard of 
 
 " The Tuscan's siren tongue, 
 That music in itself, whose words are song ?" 
 
 The boys of Naples, even the lowest lazzaroni, are constantly 
 chanting the melodies which are sung in the operas. You hear 
 them during the hours of the night ringing changes on their 
 favorite, though somewhat monotonous and melancholy airs. 
 The peasantry in the south of Italy go to market murmuring 
 gay tunes. Ragged and poor, they will listen for hours in the 
 public squares, or in the shadow of some old temple, to the wild 
 poetry of the Improvisatori, with no other refreshment than a 
 glass of cold water. 
 
 The same sense of beauty is seen in the variety and elegance 
 of their costumes, whose picturesque arrangement often appears 
 as if borrowed from the models of ancient statuary ; in their love 
 of natural scenery and out- door recreations ; in the flowers and 
 other ornaments with which on fete-days they adorn their churches 
 and public buildings ; and in the graceful manner in which the 
 peasantry cause the grape vines to hang, in long festoons, about 
 their cottages, and among the trees of their gardens and orchards. 
 In the larger cities you see much squalid misery; but in the 
 country everything is picturesque and beautiful. On hillside and 
 in valley, pretty cottages are nestling amid tufted trees, luxuriant 
 vines and flowers. 
 
 Imaginative and impassioned, the Italian writers, especially the 
 poets— and almost all of them are more or less poets — ^give them- 
 
24 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 selves up to the full play of their fancy, and revel in the wildest 
 imaginings, the most delicate and brilliant illusions. Even in the 
 horrid scenes of the Inferno, gleams of beauty are ever breaking 
 upon the vision ; and in the description of heaven, Dante loses him- 
 self in unutterable splendors. Beatrice, with her cerulean eyes and 
 golden hair, is the symbol of "increate'^ and everlasting beauty. 
 Light, music, and motion, are the three simple elements in Dante's 
 description of the celestial world, but how wondrously and gor- 
 geously blended in the overpowering glory of its mystic circles. 
 Boccaccio, Ariosto, Pulci, Berni and Metastasio, are *' drunk with 
 beauty. '' It was as much the beauty of the moon and stars, as 
 their wondrous revolutions, that captivated the heart of Galileo. 
 Macbiavelli, cold and subtle as he may be deemed, was a poet, 
 and never enjoyed himself better than among his birds and vines. 
 Beauty was the polar star of Petrarch, who strangely mingles the 
 raptures of devotion and of love. It was the dream of Tasso, 
 and gleams, with a supernal glory, through the long and majestic 
 march of the Gerusalemme. Much indeed of the Italian poetry 
 is liable to stern reprehension, on account of its low moral tone, 
 its frivolity and licentiousness ; but its pervading element is beauty, 
 radiant and immortal. 
 
 The same element is visible in all the productions of their paint- 
 ers and sculptors. The serene beauty of Raphael's Madonnas 
 is absolutely wonderful. Michael Angelo's Moses, and his two 
 statues of Night and Morning, are remarkable for severity and 
 grandeur of expression, but, after all, it is the divine beauty which 
 beams from the whole, which gives them their peculiar charm. 
 Walk through the long corridors of the Vatican, or the magnifi- 
 cent rooms of the Pitti palace, amid a wilderness of sculptures 
 and paintings from the hands of the great masters of ancient and 
 of modern Italy, and the very air seems redolent of beauty. It 
 awes the spirit like a presence and a mystery. In those silent 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 25' 
 
 forms it lives forever, imbreathed by the power of genius — a 
 charm and a glory acknowledged alike by the philosopher and 
 the savage. For, 
 
 " A thing of beauty is a joy forever l" 
 
 Nothing, it would seem, could be more repulsive than the head 
 of Medusa, environed with snakes, and yet, in the hands of Leo- 
 nardo da Yinci, it is made attractive, by means of a strange, and, 
 if the term be allowed, a hideous beauty. Shelley has caught 
 the true idea, in one of his most striking, though unfinished 
 poems. 
 
 " It lieth gazing on the midnight sky, 
 
 Upon the cloudy mountain peak supine ; 
 
 Below, far lands are seen tremblingly ; 
 Its horror and its beauty are divine. 
 
 Upon its lips and eyelids seem to lie 
 
 Loveliness like a shadow, from which shrine, 
 
 Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, 
 
 The agonies of anguish and of death. 
 
 Yet it is less the horror than the grace 
 Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone ; 
 
 Whereon the lineaments of that dead face 
 Are graven, till the characters be grown 
 
 Into itself, and thought no more can trace ; 
 'Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown 
 
 Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, 
 
 Which humanize and harmonize the strain." 
 
 Of course we need not say that the music of Italy corresponds 
 to the beauty of her landscape, consisting as it does in elaborate, 
 but intense and ravishing harmony. Who has not heard of 
 2 
 
26 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Rosini, with his e xquisite creations ; and who has not been moved, 
 at the recollection even, of the '^ Stabat Mater'* of Pergolesi, 
 styled the Raffaele of music ; or the " Miserere" of Jomelli, with 
 its strangely sweet and melancholy tones ? 
 
 We know not but we might be justified in saying that beauty is 
 the predominant feature in the religion of Italy ; not, however, " the 
 beauty of holiness ;" would that it were! but external beauty, the 
 beauty of form and semblance ; the symbol, it is true, of a higher 
 and divine beauty, but often separated from it by a great gulf, 
 like the body of the dead from the spirit which has taken its 
 flight. So we find it enshrined in their temples and altars. 
 These, indeed, are often adorned, or rather we ought to say, be- 
 dizened, with tinsel and gewgaws, and, what is worse, with taw- 
 dry images, mere idols of wood and stone. A rude, barbaric 
 splendor, worthy only of the dark ages, often takes the place of a 
 true and simple beauty. ISTay more, both in form and arrangement, 
 their churches, and especially their altars, are more alUed to the 
 genius of heathenism than of Christianity. After all, the most of 
 their ecclesiastical edifices possess a wonderful charm, from their 
 fine proportions and antique air. The Cathedral, in Milan, has 
 beefi styled an Epic in stone. " It appears," says one, '' like a 
 petrified oriental dream." St. Peter's, at Rome, is the very 
 perfection of beauty and grandeur. ■ The majestic dome, and the 
 serene festal air of the interior, strike the most casual observer. 
 Santa Maria Novella, and the ancient church of Santa Croce, 
 in Florence, are distinguished by a simple and venerable beauty. 
 But some of the old churches in the country, amid umbrageous 
 trees and clustering vines, are yet more beautiful even than these^ 
 blending as they do with the glories of nature, and often hiding 
 a deeper and more heartfelt worship. 
 
 If you say that the spirit of the Papal religion is alien from the 
 simple and spiritual faith of the Son of God ; that these beautiful 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 27 
 
 forms and that splendid ritual are but the adornment of the dead ; 
 be it so ; but allow this, at least, that beauty is there, in its ex- 
 ternal form, and, under happier circumstances, might become the 
 type of that awful and celestial beauty which pertains to the 
 pure in heart, and dwells, in its perfection, only in the mind of 
 God. Nor let us forget, that even amid the corruptions of Rome, 
 some of the grand and all-transforming elements of Christianity 
 are constantly recognized. The stars, indeed, are mingled with 
 clouds and gloom, but they are stars nevertheless, and shine with 
 benignant radiance, even upon Italian minds. The being and 
 perfection of God, as the Creator and Judge, the universal Father 
 and friend of all intelligent beings ; the divinity and incarnation 
 of Jesus Christ ; the possibility of union and fellowship with God ; 
 the eternity of virtue ; the resurrection of the dead and the life 
 everlasting, are truths, which however dimmed by error and pre- 
 judice, exert upon them a life-giving influence. Who can tell 
 but all of beautiful and good, which we find in their character and 
 productions, their painting and sculpture, their architecture and 
 music, is to be traced to the silent and invisible influence of these 
 divine principles ? At all events we hold it possible to marry 
 the beauty of the universe to the beauty of God ; to unite, by 
 holy and indissoluble ties, the splendors of art to the glories of 
 purity and devotion. Are they not thus virtually blended in the 
 mind of God ; and will not the final " reconcilement of all things" 
 mingle forever the beauties of external nature with the higher 
 beauties of truth and love ? It is the misfortune of this world, 
 thus far, that things in themselves good and desirable are found 
 divorced ; so that the spirit of evil has been permitted to appro- 
 priate, as its own, some of the most perfect creations of genius 
 and art. But this state of things must gradually pass away, is 
 passing away now; so that spirituahsm, hitherto bald and re- 
 
28 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 pulsive, will yet clothe itself in tlie warm and beautiful garments 
 of unperverted nature. 
 
 It lias been remarked, indeed, that the age of great architectu- 
 ral splendor and artistic beauty in churches, and in the commu- 
 nity generally, is the age also of decline in spiritual worship. 
 Possibly this may be the case, especially when these are accom- 
 panied with -a worldly spirit, and a mere love of tinsel and show ; 
 but architectural beauty ~ and aesthetic perfection are not the 
 cause of such decline. Neither can it be shown to be their natu- 
 ral or proper result. Reverence for the form presupposes some 
 reverence for the spirit. We linger over the dead long after the 
 soul has departed. We deck with flowers their cold and silent 
 tombs. The love of the form then is better than nothing. It may 
 precede and even excite the love of the spirit ; and we can easily 
 Imagine a time when the genius of true reUgion will animate all 
 the creations of science and art. There is no tendency to the 
 production of idolatry in the dim aisles of the wide old woods, in 
 Ihe ^'o'erarching dome" of the starry sky, in the music of winds 
 and waves, or in the deep and awful stillness of the night, the 
 most solemn and magnificent of all temples ; yet these are the 
 very things which the old idolaters worshipped, ^nd which long 
 served to perpetuate their paganism. It was in those awful 
 shrines, and in the presence of those sublime realities, that they 
 bowed the knee and offered sacrifices of blood ! But the idolatry 
 was in the heart, not in the universe ; or that universe would 
 - long ago have been swept away, or covered with a pall by the 
 hand of the Almighty. But there, as of old, are the everlasting 
 hills, the starry vault, the cadence of wind and wave, the deep 
 roll of the thunder, and the organ blast of the tempest, calling 
 men to reverence and worship. And if these have no tendency 
 to idolatry, why should august and venerable forms, thrilling mu- 
 sic, beautiful sculpture and painting, when they proceed from 
 
mTRODUCTORY. 29 
 
 tlie hand or heart of man, have any tendency to idolatry ? A 
 spiritual worship is not a naked abstraction ; neither is it neces- 
 sarily meagre and bald in its outward manifestations. It springs 
 from a pure and earnest hearty a heart that sees God, loves God, 
 and rejoices in God. But it demands adequate expression and 
 embodiment,, and grows into a form resplendent and graceful. 
 It is a soul, but a soul with a body resembling its own lofty na- 
 ture. It is a root, but not a dull and sightless one ; having a 
 vital force, it sends forth a stem with green leaves and golden 
 fruit. It is local, yet fills the universe with its fragrance. Hence 
 it easily enshrines itself in old and majestic temples, and from 
 age to age attracts, as by a spiritual affinity, all forms of beauty 
 and grandeur. Its final perfection is svmbolized, in the Holy 
 Scriptures, by the harmonies and splendors of the JN'ew Jerusa- 
 lem, *' coming down out of heaven as a bride adorned for her 
 husband." 
 
 But we did not intend to write a disquisition upon Italy, or 
 tipon beauty, either as a symbol or an element of holiness. We 
 propose rather to take our readers along with us in a visit to that 
 interesting country, wander with them through some of her most 
 attractive scenes, mingle with her people, and linger occasionally 
 to gaze upon her haunts of genius or devotion, conversing mean- 
 while, as the mood may seize us, respecting her peculiar traits, 
 her singular fortunes, her distinguished characters, and probable 
 destiny. By this means we may succeed in forming some concep- 
 tion of her peculiar genius, and in filling our minds not only with 
 her serene beauty, but with her stirring memories and lofty hopes. 
 We trust, of course, to preserve some method in our wanderings 
 and speculations ; but if we seem occasionally to be somewhat 
 desultory, and even capricious, let it be forgiven, in the hope, 
 that the whole, when completed, may contribute to a just and 
 harmonious, even if limited conception of the Genius of Italy. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 First view of Italy — Descent of the Alps — Lago Maggiore— Borromean 
 Isles — Cardinal Borromeo— The Church in Locarno — Its persecutions 
 and trials — Final banishment — Persecution and religious Liberty in Italy 
 — ^Arona — Evening scene on the Lake — Ippolito Pindemonte — His verses 
 on Night. 
 
 We are descending the Alps on the sunny side, with the 
 rush of a thousand streams around us ; and yonder is Italy, 
 bathed in sunlight. A warm southern breeze, cooled by the 
 mountain air, plays around our brow, and a secret exhilaration 
 gladdens our hearts, derived doubtless from the magnificent 
 landscape suddenly bursting upon our sight, and the vast expanse 
 of blue sky, which, 
 
 " With such ravishing light, 
 And mantling splendors in transparent air," 
 
 bends over Italy with loving embrace. It has been said, that 
 intense light will beautify the most forbidding scene. No won- 
 der then that these mountain sides, with their garniture of trees 
 and streams, and that rich and diversified landscape beneath, 
 glow with a beauty which seems less of earth than of heaven. 
 The whole opens before us like a vast temple, illumined by a 
 dome of light, in which our morning orisons might ascend to the 
 great Source of life and joy. What a flood of thrilling associa- 
 tions rushes upon us at the first glance of Italy, so beautiful in 
 
ENTRANCE INTO ITALY. 31 
 
 herself, and so rich in historic, classic and Christian recollec- 
 tions ! 
 
 Passing rapidly down the winding descent, we plunge amid the 
 cool shadows of umbrageous trees, growing with great luxuriance 
 upon the slopes of the mountains, coming now and then to aa 
 open space, or passing over some brawling torrent, and finally 
 arriving at a point where the ground becomes nearly level, and 
 one or two streams, fed from cool springs in the regions above, 
 linger as it were to rest themselves, amid the green verdure 
 which adorns their banks. The descent again commences, but 
 becomes less and less as we advance, until it is almost impercepti- 
 ble. Before us the clear, green, or blue waters of the Lago Mag- 
 giore, green or blue, like the eyes of Dante's Beatrice, according 
 to the aspect in which they are seen, gleam through the thick 
 masses of foliage which shelter its upper extremity. This is one 
 of the largest and most beautiful lakes in Italy ; and, on a clear 
 summer's day, looks like a Hquid heaven in the bosom of the 
 green old woods. We skirt along its margin, everywhere fringed 
 with trees and shrubbery, intermingled here and there with 
 picturesque crags, pretty cottages, gray towers, villages and 
 churches. At last we pass the Borromean Isles, as they are 
 called, of which Isola Bella and Isola Madre are the most famous, 
 ornamented with superb palaces, and lined with trees, shrubbery, 
 and statues, somewhat artificial in their appearance, but easily 
 blending with the landscape and adding to its beauty. Deep 
 and placid, the water mirrors, with uncommon distinctness, rock, 
 tree and palace, which take a softened hue from the reflected 
 light. On one side of the lake, near Arona, stands the colossal 
 stattie of Cardinal Borromeo, one of the patron saints of Lom- 
 bardy, and in his da}^ much celebrated for his piety and virtue. 
 How gratifying to a liberal mind to discover, among the devotees 
 of what may be deemed a false and superstitious faith, some 
 
32 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 pure spirits, like Fenelon and Pascal, Carlo Borromeo^' and Silvio 
 Pellico ; nay, more, to conclude that there must be many such, 
 many of whom the world has never heard, and who, amid the 
 dense fog of superstition, are pursuing their way to glory. 
 
 But while conceding this, we must not shut our eyes to the 
 errors and sins even of those we love, and especially to the false 
 principles and corrupt tendencies of a degenerate church. This 
 very lake, so still and beautiful, reminds us of an act of bigotry and 
 cruelty, on a small scale, almost equal to that of St. Bartholomew 
 on a larger. At the upper end of the lake, where it is almost 
 hid away among the mountain shadows, once stood the peaceful 
 city of Locarno. The light of the Gospel, which had arisen, 
 like a new sun, upon Germany and Switzerland, traversed the 
 Alps, and illumined, with a brief but heavenly lustre, the plains 
 of Italy. It penetrated especially the solitudes of the Tyrol, 
 and lingered around the shores of Lago Maggiore. Locarno 
 received the truth, and a church was formed of pure and self- 
 denying men. Beccaria, 'Uheir apostle," as he is called, had 
 derived his own Protestantism direct from the Holy Scriptures, 
 and led a life of great purity and zeal. In consequence of this, 
 he became an object of great and painful anxiety to the Pope ; 
 and of hostility, aggravated by political feelings, to the Popish 
 part of the Swiss Cantons, to whose confederation, though in a 
 somewhat subordinate capacity, Locarno was attached. Becca- 
 
 * There is one dark spot in the Ufe of Cardinal Borromeo. Devoted to 
 the exclusive interests of the Papal Church, he co-operated with the Pope 
 in his attempt to reduce the Italian Protestants of the Grisons to tlie 
 autliority of the Holy See. When ordinary means failed, recourse was had 
 to violence. Cardinal Borromeo was deeply involved in the scheme which 
 issued in the indiscriminate and barbarous slaughter of the Protestants of 
 the Valteline, and the temporary subjugation of the country of the Grisons, 
 by the armies of Spain and Austria. 
 
CHURCH ir^ LOCARNO. 33 
 
 ria was driven into exile ; while another zealous teacher, a distin- 
 guished physician, owed his escape from the Inquisition — which, 
 had then become formidable — only to his rare professional skill. 
 Every means that zeal 'and bigotry could invent^ to compel the 
 Locarnese to conform to the rites of the Papal Church, proved 
 abortive. Their attachment to the pure faith which had dawned 
 upon them, only increased by opposition. 
 
 At last a fatal manoeuvre was resorted to by the enemies of this 
 primitive Church. A native of the Catholic Canton of Uri, who 
 happened to be town-clerk of Locarno, forged a deed, purporting 
 to be an act of solemn adhesion to the Catholic faith, signed by 
 the senators, citizens, and inhabitants of the town. This docu- 
 ment was retained in private, for some years, in order to render 
 more difficult the detection of the forgery, and then laid, as gen- 
 uine, before the seven Catholic Cantons. Delighted with any 
 pretext for their bigoted interference, they immediately passed a 
 decree, to enforce, in all its rigor, the provisions of this nefarious 
 bond. Accordingly, all Locarnese were enjoined immediate con- 
 fession and penance. Those who declined the mass on their 
 death-bed, were to be denied the rites of burial. In vain the 
 terrified Locarnese protested against the flagitious bond, which 
 came upon them like an avalanche. In vain they implored the 
 interference of the Protestant Cantons, whose good intentions 
 were defeated by cruel reports, accusing the Locarnese of having 
 departed from the doctrines of the Reformation. In vain they 
 published their confession of faith, and in vain was the false bond 
 set aside by two successive edicts, Riverda, Bishop of Terracina, 
 was sent, by the Pope, into Switzerland to urge its enforcement. 
 The Cathohc Cantons, at that time the majority, prevailed, and it 
 was decreed that the inhabitants of Locarno should either em- 
 brace the Catholic faith, or leave their native country, taking with 
 them their families and property. The execution of this barbar- 
 ^ 2* 
 
34 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 ous decree was entrusted to the representatives of the seven 
 CathoUc Cantons, provided the four Protestant ones refused to 
 share its iniquity. One of the latter, Zurich, recorded on the 
 spot its protest against the measure. But it was either too weak 
 or unwilling to proceed to extremities to prevent its execution. 
 
 It was winter. The cold winds were howling among the rocks, 
 and the snow-wreaths filled up the valleys. The Locarnese were 
 summoned to comply with the decision of their superiors; a 
 number, from weakness or fear, recanted ; but two hundred heads 
 of families were seen, the men abreast, followed by their wives 
 and children, some of them infants in the arm, walking to the 
 City Hall, meekly but boldly to confront their enemies in full 
 council. When the question was put, whether, at the bidding of 
 foreign tyrants, they were prepared to renounce their faith, they 
 with one voice replied, '' We will live in it, we will die in it !" 
 while the exclamations, '* It is the only true faith ! it is the only 
 saving faith !'' continued, for some time, to resound from various 
 parts of the assembly, ''like the murmurs," to quote the lan- 
 guage of the accurate and eloquent McCrie, author of the Annals 
 of the Reformation in Italy, " which succeed the principal peal 
 in a thunder-storm." 
 
 Their calm and solemn appeals to Scripture as the foundation 
 of their belief, and to the compassion of the audience towards 
 helpless women and children, proved ineffectual with judges ' 
 stern and cruel as the snow-clad Alps to which they consigned 
 these unoffending pilgrims. Their petitions to be spared a jour- 
 ney in winter were disregarded ; and it was only by suffering 
 persecution that they succeeded in securing a brief delay. 
 
 At this juncture, Riverda, the Papal nuncio, arrived at Lo- 
 carno to complete the measure of injustice. Though failing in 
 his endeavor to secure the confiscation of their property, or the 
 detention of their children, he obtained full power to embitter the 
 
CHURCH IN LOCARNO. 35 
 
 sojourn of tlye exiles by attempts at conversion. These, however, 
 proved unavaiUng. Among others, several ladies were subjected 
 to severe trial, one of whom, the heroic Barbara di Montalto, was 
 about to be thrown into prison for what her persecutors called 
 ''blasphemy against the mass." Her husband's house on the 
 margin of the lake, constructed as a place of defense in the wars 
 of the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, had a secret door of immense 
 strength opening on the water, where a boat was always kept, to 
 carry off the inmates in case of sudden alarm. In consequence 
 of a terrifying dream, relating to himself, her husband caused the 
 servants to leave the door open before night. Early next morn- 
 ing the officers of justice burst into the lady's apartment, while 
 she was dressing, with a warrant for her apprehension. With 
 admirable presence of mind, she begged permission to retire to 
 complete her dress ; and, availing herself of the secret door, leaped 
 into the boat, and was rowed instantly beyond the reach of her 
 enemies. The property however of her husband, was confiscated ; 
 and a poor tradesman was tortured, and subsequently executed, 
 for expressions derogatory to the Virgin Mary. 
 
 On the third of March, 1555, the harassed exiles were per- 
 mitted to depart from their home, now no longer a home to them. 
 And yet how many bitter tears they must have shed in tearing 
 themselves away from scenes so beautiful in themselves, and so 
 hallowed by early associations. Their trials from the inclemency 
 of the weather, were aggravated by an edict forbidding all Milan- 
 ese subjects -to entertain them on pain of death, and imposing a 
 fine upon any who should even presume to converse with them. 
 Their nearest and best route being thus closed, they sailed to the 
 northern extremity of the lake, and endeavored to find some place 
 of shelter among the Grisons. Reaching Rogeretto, a small town 
 at the foot of the Alps, they found the way barred against them 
 by huge masses of ice and snow; on which account they were 
 
86 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 compelled to remain there, with great inconvenience and suffer- 
 ing, for two months. But Spring opened a passage for them to 
 their Protestant brethren among the Grisons, where one half of 
 their number found a permanent home. The remainder, amount* 
 ing to a hundred and fourteen, continued their weary journey, 
 and finally rested at the city of Zurich, capital of the Canton of 
 Berne, where many of their descendants, at this day, are among 
 the most distinguisi i^d families of that beautiful city. 
 
 Locarno, deprived of her best inhabitants, began to languish. 
 Tempest laid waste the lands, and pestilence the city. Intestine 
 broils aggravated these evils, and finally drew upon it the curse 
 of a large foreign garrison. It is now but an obscure town, which 
 will be known to the world only in connection with the heroic 
 faith of her persecuted children. 
 
 Such atrocities are sometimes traceable to the spirit of cruelty, 
 but they are the result mainly of false principles. Protestants 
 as well as Catholics have been guilty of them, but Protestantism 
 does not justify such enormities. Nay, it earnestly protests 
 against them, as alien from its spirit and aim. Freedom is the 
 basis of all true faith, and any system of religion which cannot 
 sustain itself without physical force, is false and dangerous. How 
 strange that rational, and even religious men will be guilty of all 
 oppression and cruelty, for the sake of pleasing God and blessing 
 the world ! In this respect, the greatest curse of Italy has been her 
 intense bigotry. TI:3 Papal faith has felt itself insecure without 
 the use of the scaffold, the bayonet and the dungeon. Religious 
 freedom, freedom of thought on the sublimest of all subjects, the 
 grandest of all interests, has never been permitted there. The 
 Reformation in Italy was quenched in blood.* 
 
 * See "Annals of the Reformation in Italy," by Dr. McCrie, and "Pro- 
 testantism in Italy," by Dr. Baird. 
 
ARONA. 37 
 
 But a new era, Tve trust, is dawning upon Italy. Soul freedom— 
 tlie highest and best of all, in fact the only true freedom — begins to 
 be understood even in Rome. Myriad hearts, from the snow-clad 
 Alps to the golden Calabria, long for its attainment. God grant 
 that all Italy may yet add to her other distinctions, that of 
 religious liberty. 
 
 We have arrived at Arona, in the Sardinian States, a consider- 
 able village at the southern extremity of the lake, where it 
 stretches into a wide and magnificent expanse of water, the upper 
 portions being narrow and secluded. After refreshing ourselves 
 at the principal hotel, we saunter through the place, which is 
 filled by a poor and cheerful population. As it is evening, the 
 majority of the inhabitants are enjoying themselves in the open 
 air ; some seated upon benches smoking their pipes, others loung- 
 ing under the shadow of the trees, or chatting with their friends, 
 others sauntering in the principal square ; and others listening to 
 the music of a couple of strolHng singers, one of whom plays the 
 harp with tolerable grace, and the other a tambourine as an 
 accompaniment. Two or three cafh are filled with eager politi- 
 cal talkers. Under the shadow of the trees there, a group are 
 gathered, discussing with earnest look and gesture a protocol of 
 Charles Albert, King of Sardinia, who has given a pretty liberal 
 constitution to his people, the necessity of which no one acquaint- 
 ed with the state of Sardinia will question. This monarch sits 
 uneasy upon his throne. He has more ambition than power, 
 more cunning than virtue. Should he maintain his position as a 
 prince, he may deem himself extremely fortunate. As to his 
 being the saviour of Italy it is pure *' humbug." 
 
 But let us go toward the brink of the lake. The last rays of 
 sunset are tinging, with supernal glories, the tops of the trees, 
 some of which run down into the water, and cast long shadows 
 in its pellucid depths. A few light clouds are hanging on the 
 
38 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 horizon, giving back the amber radiance of departing day, and 
 shading " the deep serene'' which reposes far above, reminding 
 as of those hnes by James Montgomery, in which he so strikingly 
 diiscribes the beauty of a dead girl. 
 
 " And clustering round her brow serene 
 Her golden tresses lay, 
 As .sunburnt clouds on summer lake 
 Aj-e hung at close of day;" 
 
 White skiffs are gliding here and there, like shadowy spirits, 
 and far off in the distance a small steamer is ploughing the placid 
 waves. Masses of shadow are beginning to fall upon the other 
 side of the lake, and deepening in the low grounds to our right. 
 A lute-like sound now and then breaks upon the ear, apparently 
 from one of the skiffs. Now it swells and vibrates over the 
 waters, with a sweet ringing tone, and then again dies away. All 
 is hushed except the ripple of the waves upon the pebbly shore, 
 or the plash of a distant oar. It is as if the spirit of heaven had 
 cast its shadow upon the earth. 
 
 " It is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; 
 The holy ti 1 1 1 e is quiet as a nun 
 Breathless y^ i th adoration ; the broad sun 
 Is sinking down in its tranquility ; 
 Listen ! the mighty Being is awake, 
 And doth with his eternal motion make 
 A sound like thunder — everlastingly." 
 
 Yes, silence in such a scene becomes vocal. The heart listens 
 while God himself speaks. His infinite voice resounds within the 
 chambers of the soul, like the echo of distant thunder. 
 
 Still as it is here, so still as to seem instinct with divinity, what 
 is Italy, in her great centres, doing at the present moment ? Who 
 
PINDEMONTE. 39 
 
 can tell ? One thing however is certain, her restless spirit is 
 awake, and panting for freedom. Already has the struggle com- 
 menced ; and the issues cannot fail to be glorious — if not now, at 
 least hereafter. 
 
 But the shadows are deepening around us, and night settles 
 upon hill and vale ; one after another the stars look out from the 
 sky and mirror themselves, like thoughts in the heart of a good 
 man, in the broad bosom of the lake. The light of the moon is 
 gilding the towers of the old *' Collegiate Church,'* for Arona 
 boasts such an edifice, and burning with *' an unconsuming fire" 
 in '* the leafy umbrage" of the tall trees. Slowly we retrace our 
 steps to our temporary home for the night, drinking the beauty 
 of the scene, and conning, as we go, the rich verses of Ippo- 
 llto Pindemonte, the friend of Alfieri and Foscolo, and one of the 
 most gifted and elegant of the modern Italian poets.* 
 
 " Night dew-lipped comes, and every gleaming star 
 Its silent place assigns in yonder sky ; 
 
 The moon walks forth, and fields and groves afar, 
 Touched by her light, in silver beauty lie 
 
 In solemn peace, that no sound comes to mar ; 
 Hamlets and peopled cities slumber nigh : 
 
 While on this rock, in meditative mien, 
 
 Lord of the unconscious world I sit unseen. 
 
 * Ippolito Pindemonte was descended from a noble family in Verona. 
 He was born there in 1783, and died in the same place in 1828. Retrans- 
 lated Racine's Berenice," and was the author of " Armenio," a tragedy, " Poesi 
 Campestri," and many fugitive pieces. He spent a considerable portion ot 
 his life in Venice, travelled extensively, made himself familiar with English 
 literature, and devoted his later years exclusively to literature. His stjle 
 is rich and harmonious. His lyrics are especially admired. They are dis- 
 tinguished, however, more for beauty than originality and strength. 
 
40 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 " How deep the quiet of this penf^ive hour ! 
 
 Nature bids labor cease — and all obey. 
 How sweet this stillness in its magic power, 
 
 O'er hearts that know her voice, and own her sway 1 
 Stillness unbroken, save when, from the flower, 
 
 The i^hirring locust takes her upward way ; 
 And murmuring o'er the verdant turf is heard 
 The passing brook — or leaf by breezes stirred. 
 
 " Borne on the pinions of night's freshening air. 
 Unfettered thoughts with calm reflection come : 
 
 And fancy's train that shuns the daylight's glare 
 
 To wake when midnight shrouds the heavens in gloom j 
 
 New tranquil joys, and hopes untouched by care. 
 Within my bosom throng to seek a home ; 
 
 Where far around the brooding darkness spreads. 
 
 And o'er the soiJ. its pleasing sadness sheds."*^ 
 
 * It may be proper to say here, once for all, that we shall quote freely 
 from the Italian poets, not only to illustrate the text, but to furnish speci- 
 mens of the " Genius of Italy." This, we think, will furnish a sufficient 
 apology for the length of some of the quotations. As we write for Eng- 
 lish readers, we shall make our quotations from such English versions as 
 may be within our reach. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Lombardy — Aspect of the Country — Condition of the Inhabitants — Brief 
 Sketch of the History of Lombardy — Milan — Description of the City — 
 The Cathedral — View from the Summit — Sunset on the Alps — Interior 
 of the Cathedral. 
 
 Early next morning we are off in the direction of Milan, and 
 soon find ourselves traversing the rich plains of Lombardy, so 
 long under the dominion of Austria, and the scene of so many 
 struggles. On every side are innumerable farms and villages, oc- 
 cupied by a poor but industrious peasantry. The lands are 
 divided and subdivided to an astonishing extent, and as the peas- 
 antry who work them are not the proprietors and have large 
 taxes to pay to government, while one-half the produce of their 
 little farms goes to their owners, few or none of them acquire 
 property. They merely live and transmit from father to son 
 their scanty heritage of labor. Let it not, however, be supposed 
 that they are an unhappy race. Doubtless they long for some- 
 thing better, and most of them, with the true Italian spirit, yearn 
 for freedom and national independence, but they toil on with pa- 
 tience and cheerfulness. Their religion would seem to be of a 
 darker and severer character than that of southern Italy. Every- 
 where you see hideous crucifixes, with skeleton Christs. The 
 churches have a sombre look, and their interior is often quite 
 gloomy. The scenery is agreeable but monotonous, and the vil- 
 lages through which we are passing have a poor and squalid look« 
 
42 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 The proprietors and gentry live in the large cities, while the 
 country is left to the peasantry, priests and monks. 
 
 The Lombardo-Yenetian kingdom, as it is called, has been for 
 years one of the most valuable possessions of Austria, and will 
 never be willingly abandoned by that powerful and grasping Em- 
 pire. It extends from the Alpine heights, including Carinthia, 
 Tyrol and the Grisons, to the banks of the Po ; and thus em- 
 braces the whole expanse of northern Italy, except the portions 
 which belong to Sardinia, and one or two of the smaller duchies 
 on the northwest, from the shores of the Adriatic on the one side 
 towards those of the Mediterranean on the other. It is the best 
 watered, and, in agriculture, the richest portion of Italy. This, in 
 connection with various alliances, has enabled Austria, till within 
 a very recent period, to control the whole Italian peninsula. A 
 new and formidable power has arisen in opposition to Austrian 
 rule, composed of Sardinia, Tuscany, and the Roman States. 
 Pope Pius the Ninth, the King of Sardinia, and the Grand Duke 
 of Tuscany, with their people, are pledged to the doctrines of 
 national independence, political amelioration and social progress.* 
 But whether they will hold together, and accomplish their de- 
 signs, is yet to be seen. They enjoy the sympathies of the entire 
 Italian race, one of whose distinctive traits is a love of country, 
 and a detestation of foreign rule. This feeling glows with intense 
 energy in their literature, and doubtless forms the polar star in 
 their history. It will, therefore, surmount all obstacles, and, 
 
 * Already the Pope gives unequivocal signs of weakness and irresolu- 
 tion. The fact is, his position is a peculiar and difficult ^one. No man can 
 serve two masters ; and it will speedily be seen that the freedom of the 
 nineteenth century cannot be promoted without endangering the supremacy 
 of the Papal See. — The above, written some time ago, has been strikingly 
 verified. And now Pope Pius fulminates anathemas aganst the revolution- 
 ists of Rome. 
 
LOMBARDY. 43 
 
 though frequently checked and weakened, will yet win its way 
 to permanent victory. 
 
 On the fall of the Roman Empire, Lombard y was overrun and 
 settled by the rough but vigorous Goths. Under Odoacer and 
 Theodoric the Ostrogoth, Ravenna was established as the capital 
 of their half-barbarous empire. Overthrown by Belisarius and 
 the Greek Eunuch, Narses, they gave place to the Lombards, a 
 new horde of barbarians who made Pavia the seat of their do- 
 minion, which extended on every side, and finally reached the 
 gates of Iniperial Rome. Two hundred years the Lombard power 
 flourished under twenty successive sovereigns, who displayed all 
 the energy and splendor of a semi-barbarous but powerful rule. 
 In the middle of the eighth century it received its first shock 
 from Pepin of France, and was soon after overturned by the 
 power of Charlemagne. 
 
 But the iron crown of Lombardy fell from the French kings in 
 the reign of the feeble Charles le Gros. Italy, left to herself, 
 long continued a prey to internal dissensions. But the necessity 
 of defending her possessions against the fierce Hungarians of the 
 north and the piratical Saracens of the south, and the erection of 
 forts and towers for the defense of the towns, taught the cities to 
 estimate their natural strength, and the possibility of attaining 
 freedom and independence. The large concessions wrung from 
 the rival competitors for the empire, Berenger, Duke of Friuh, 
 and Guido, Duke of Spoleto, greatly aided the cause of liberty. 
 The descendants of Berenger being overthrown by Otho the 
 Great, of Germany, and the towns being encouraged to throw oflf 
 their allegiance to their respective Counts, gave an additional im- 
 pulse to the movement, and led to the formation of municipal 
 institutions all over Italy. These, however, did not yet trench 
 upon the rights of the Emperor ; and the imperial authority was 
 firmly maintained in the tenth century by the Othos of that era. 
 
44 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 But this authority waned, and during the first half of the eleventh 
 century it scarcely existed at all. The free cities prospered 
 abundantly, and Milan rose in population and wealth. 
 
 A cruel interruption of this prosperity was suffered under the 
 fierce and imperious Frederick Barbarossa, who attacked the city 
 of Milan, and after a long and terrible struggle, razed it to its 
 foundations. But the disasters which befel this despot, restored 
 independence and freedom to the different repubhcs. 
 . In the thirteenth century various petty chiefs, who, under the 
 name of dukes, princes, and so forth, subsequently played such 
 an important part in the affairs of Italy, began to make their 
 appearance in the different republics. In difficult and dangerous 
 crises, they were called to act as governors or protectors of the 
 several towns ; but taking advantage of their opportunities, they 
 aggrandized their own families, and • ended by usurping the gov- 
 ernment and extinguishing the liberties of the republics. 
 
 In this manner the family Delia Torre took possession of the 
 government of Milan, and diminished, if not altogether extinguish- 
 ed, her early freedom. Some of the governors, it is true, were 
 men of superior military talents, and of great legislative as well 
 as executive sagacity, and the city long continued to reap the 
 benefit of her free institutions, being blessed with a numerous 
 population, great commercial and mechanical prosperity, and 
 much refinement in arts and literature. 
 
 Milan came into the possession of Charles the Fifth, whose 
 Spanish descendants, bigoted and cruel, long tyrannized over her, 
 either in person or by their overbearing vicegerents. After the 
 war of the Spanish succession, the duchies of Milan and Mantua 
 were assigned to Austria. Wrested from her hands for a brief 
 period by Napoleon, who rushed from the Alps like an eagle 
 upon his prey, and displayed all the resources of his transcend- 
 ent military genius, in the rapid subjugation of Italy, Milan revert- 
 
MILAN. 46 
 
 ed to the dominion of lier old masters, at the treaty of Vienna 
 in 1815. United with Venice, it formed the Lombardo- Vene- 
 tian kingdom, and has been governed by Austria, with a strong 
 and steady hand. It is true, the resources of the country have 
 been well developed, and even elementary instruction provided for 
 every commtine ; but the general policy has been despotic and 
 cruel. The inhabitants intensely hate their oppressors, and must 
 have independence. And no wonder, for, under Austrian rule, 
 every Italian is excluded from office, the press is muzzled, and 
 enormous sums levied from the inhabitants in the shape of taxes. 
 A free word, or a free act, has entailed instant imprisonment and 
 death. The paternal government is well supplied with dungeons 
 and bayonets, and to maintain its rule will not hesitate to deluge 
 the whole land in blood. 
 
 We have only to add, (after a lapse of six months,) that it has 
 done so. Suddenly expelled from Milan, which prematurely sang 
 paeans over its recovered liberty, the Austrians have returned at 
 the point of the bayonet, and, at the moment we write, are in 
 quiet possession of the city. Once more freedom lies bleeding in 
 the streets. 
 
 But yonder is Milan, '' which stands," says Von Raumur, " in 
 a sea of green trees, as Venice in a sea of green waters." It con- 
 tains something more than a hundred and fifty thousand inhabit- 
 ants, and boasts the possession of an extensive commerce, splendid 
 public edifices, and an active, enterprising population. In form it 
 is nearly circular, lying in a vast plain, and surrounded by a slight 
 bastioned wall and broad ramparts adorned with trees. We pass 
 under its lofty arches, guarded by Austrian bayonets, and take 
 possession of apartments near the Duomo, the largest and most 
 beautiful cathedral of northern Italy, and only inferior in size and 
 splendor to St. Peter's in Rome. 
 
 Sauntering around the city, we visit the old church of St. 
 
46 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Ambrose, where repose the bones of that devout and simple- 
 hearted bishop, an object of adoration to the faithful ; and in 
 whose crypts are to be seen some singular relics, among which 
 an immense brazen serpent is conspicuous, claimed to be nothing 
 less than *' the serpent in the wilderness !" This will do very well 
 to put alongside of '' the top of the well of Samaria," " the lance 
 that pierced our Saviour's side,'' and *' the veil of Veronica," ex- 
 hibited in Rome itself ! The defaced painting of Leonardo da 
 Yinci also attracts our attention, but it is interesting only as a 
 memorial of what it once was, and of the transcendent genius 
 who painted it ; for it is much injured by time, and has lost near- 
 ly all its distinctive traits. The Ambrosian library and the pub- 
 lic museum, in which are some fine paintings of the old masters, 
 are not neglected ; but of these we say nothing. For, to tell the 
 honest truth, Milan is interesting to us chiefly on account of its 
 great men, its ancient memories, its generous aspirations, and 
 noble struggles for freedom. Here Beccaria, Monti, and Foscolo 
 wrote and sang. Here especially, Silvio Pellico, Manzoni, Maron- 
 celli and others were associated not only in friendship, but in the 
 sacred cause of liberty and progress ; and from this place some of 
 them were driven forth to exile and imprisonment. 
 
 But we must indulge ourselves with one sight — the view from 
 the summit of the Cathedral. Ascending by long winding stairs, 
 we find ourselves far above the dust and din of the hot and busy 
 city, amid a forest of pinnacles with sculptured saints and angels, 
 glittering like frostwork in the light of the setting sun — 
 
 " An aerial host 
 Of figures, human and divine, 
 White as the snows of Apennine 
 Indurated by frost." 
 
 It is as if a mountain of marble had become vital, and flowered 
 into that '* starry zone." But an object of vaster grandeur and 
 
PELLICO. 4T 
 
 more tlirilling beauty instantly attracts our attention. Yonder, 
 at the distance ^of a hundred miles or more, but clearly marked 
 against the sky, are the lofty ranges of the Alps, bathed in mel- 
 low light. How gloriously they lift their calm summits into the 
 heavens, as if they formed a pathway to the throne of God, on 
 which the angels, as in Jacob's dream, might be seen '' ascending 
 and descending." The colors change and deepen, now taking a 
 soft, rosy tint, now a rich crimson, and then a brilliant purple. 
 The plains beneath are putting on the '' sober livery" of evening, 
 the base of the mountains is itself covered with shadows ; but the 
 light, as if loth to depart, lingers upon their summits, and grows 
 more and more intense, among the white glacier peaks. Vast and 
 shadowy, these everlasting mountains seem invested with an awful 
 but delightful serenity, reminding us of the ''peace of God which 
 passeth all understanding" — the profound and eternal repose of the 
 spirits of just men made perfect. Gazing on them, at this hushed 
 hour, 
 
 " We receive into our soul 
 A something that informs us 'tis an hour 
 Whence we may date henceforward and forever." 
 
 It was some such sight which originated that fine sonnet of Words- 
 worth, in which moral and poetical beauty are equally blended. 
 
 " Glory to God ! and to the power that came 
 
 In filial duty, clothed with love divine ; 
 
 That made his human tabernacle shine, 
 Like ocean burning with purpureal flame ; 
 Or like the Alpine mount, that takes its name 
 
 From roseate hues, far kenn'd at morn and even, 
 
 In times of peace, or when the storm is driven 
 Along the nether regions' rugged frame ! 
 
 Earth prompts — Heaven urges ; let us seek the light 
 Studious of that pure intercourse begun, 
 
48 GENIUS OF ITALY 
 
 When first our infant brows their lustre won ; 
 
 So like the mountains may we grow more bright, 
 From unimpeded commerce with the sun 
 
 At the approach of all-involving night !" 
 
 We have just time to take a glance at the dim aisles of the 
 Cathedral. Yespers, attended by a few solitary females, are al- 
 ready begun, and a flickering light is burning in a subterranean 
 chapel, immediately under the choir, where, in a silver coffin, 
 adorned with gems and gold, repose the remains of Cardinal Bor- 
 romeo, an object of more apparent veneration to devout Cath- 
 ohcs than even the Cross itself. Here, morning, noon and night, 
 you mny see some poor devotee kneeling, in prostrate reverence, 
 and imploring the intercession of the saint. Behind the grand 
 altar is a statue of St. Bartholomew flayed, with his skin hanging 
 behind his back, a truthful but rather repulsive representation. 
 The artist, who was vain of his work, has inscribed it thus : *' Non 
 me Praxiteles, sed Marcus Arates fecit,'' a piece of information 
 quite unnecessary ! St. Bartholomew does not attract so many 
 devotees as St. Borromeo ; but whether this is to be referred to 
 taste or devotion it is impossible to say. But we find little to 
 delay us here ; for although there is something subduing in the 
 vast proportions, awful stillness, and dim light of these large ca- 
 thedrals, we feel it less, at this moment, from the influence of 
 the resplendent scene which we have just left. How little are 
 all the works of man in comparison with the everlasting moun- 
 tains, or the azure canopy of heaven. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Silvio Pellico — Sketch of his Life — Distinguished writers in Milan — Estab- 
 lishment of " the Conciliator" — Its suppression — Imprisonment of Silvio 
 Pellico, Maroncelli and others — The " Mie Prigioni" (My Prisons) of 
 Silvio— Extracts — Canzone written in Prison. 
 
 Though not bora here, Milan was the chosen home of Silvio 
 Pellico ; and his name therefore has become associated with the 
 history of the place. The story of his wrongs has become known 
 throughout Europe, and excited the most thrilling interest in all 
 generous hearts. He was born at Saluzzo in Piedmont, a prov- 
 ince of Sardinia, in the year 1789, at which time his father, a 
 highly respectable and intelligent man, held an office under gov- 
 ernment. The latter was subsequently promoted to a seat in the 
 war department at Turin, to which place he removed his family. 
 Silvio was then six years of age, and had given tokens of his sen- 
 sitive and poetical temperament. He was a beautiful child, at 
 once intelligent, affectionate and playful. A translation of Ossian 
 fell into his hands, which he read with avidity and delight. The 
 shadowy beauty and wild grandeur of that irregular, but striking 
 production, seized upon his youthful imagination, and awakened 
 within him all strange musings and poetical images. He was 
 carefully trained in religion and morals, as well as in literature 
 and science. His home was a happy one; for all its members 
 were pious, affectionate, and cheerful. 
 
 In his sixteenth year Silvio Pellico accompanied his twin sister, 
 3 
 
60 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 to whom he was devotedly attached, to Lyons, in France, where 
 he remained, until the poem of Ugo Foscolo, entitled " Dei Sepol- 
 cri Carme," or, '' Poem of the Tombs," containing some affecting 
 references .to the history and natm^al features of Italy, awakened 
 such a passionate longing for his native land, that he immediately 
 hastened to it, and rejoined his father, then settled in Milan, as 
 a member of the government under Napoleon. His young and 
 ardent spirit was fired with the visions of glory which then seemed 
 to be dawning upon Italy, and he entered with spirit into all the 
 plans suggested for its improvement. 
 
 But Napoleon was overthrown, and Lombardy reverted to the 
 Austrians. The father of Silvio Pellico being displaced, returned 
 to Turin, accompanied by his family, except Silvio, who preferred 
 to remain in Milan, in the hope that the Austrians would pursue a 
 generous policy. 
 
 With an ardent imagination and a love of letters, he had formed 
 an intimate connection with Monti, Manzoni and others, who 
 sighed over the subjugation of their country to a foreign yoke, 
 and longed for its emancipation and improvement. His popular 
 tragedy of "Francesca Rimini," founded upon a well-known 
 passage in Dante, had given him a high reputation as a poet. He 
 also formed an acquaintance with Byron, then resident for a 
 * short time in Milan, whose poem of Manfred he translated into 
 Italian. His great acquirements and agreeable manners made his 
 society much sought after among the best circles of Milan. The 
 Count Briche committed to his care one of his sons, and subse- 
 quently he was introduced into the family of the illustrious and 
 enlightened Count Porro Lambertenghi, as tutor to his sons. 
 Here he found a congenial home," and contracted an intimate 
 and enduring friendship with Count Porro and his family. 
 
 It was at the suggestion of Silvio Pellico that the scholars and 
 writers who were aiming at the regeneration of Italy established 
 
PELLICO. oi 
 
 a journal called *' II Conciliatore" — The Conciliator, witli a view 
 to the enlightenment of the people. Count Porro advanced the 
 funds necessary for the purpose, and some of the most celebrated 
 men in Italy became its contributors. Besides those " resident in 
 Milan, were Grossi, the author of " Ildegonda ;"* Romagnosi of 
 Venice, a distinguished Jurisconsult ; Melchior Gioga, a celebra- 
 ted writer on political economy ; and Maroncelli, fated to be 
 Pellico's future companion in prison, a man of fine genius and 
 noble heart. It was in this journal that Pellico's "Eufemio di 
 Messina" was first printed, as well as Manzoni's *' Conte di Car- 
 magnuola," one of the best productions of modern Italy. Though 
 pohtics were not discussed, the liberal tone of the journal became 
 offensive to the Austrian government. Some of its articles on 
 hterature were erased by the censors of the press, and the journal 
 went forth with half its columns blank. On this account it was 
 given up. 
 
 The unfortunate revolution which took place in Naples, in 1820, 
 excited the fdkrs of the Austrian government. A proclamation 
 was issued, forbidding all persons in 'Hhe Lombardo-Venetian 
 Kingdom," to belong to any secret society, on pain of death. 
 The Carbonari, as the party were called who sought the indepen- 
 dence of Italy, were everywhere arrested. Among others, the 
 Counts Porro and Confalonieri excited the jealousy of the gov- 
 ernment. They were men of enlarged minds, and were laying 
 cut their vast property in the promotion of common-school 
 instruction, science and the arts. They procured philosophical 
 apparatus from foreign countries, and, in conjunction with Alex- 
 ander Yisconti, constructed the first steamboat which made its 
 appearance in Italy. But these were the very things which 
 
 * G rossi has been styled " the poet of the heart." He has written some 
 fine things. 
 
52 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 excited the hatred and suspicions of the Austrians. Of course, 
 all connected with their families, and especially the contributors 
 to " The Conciliator," were regarded with jealousy. Orders were 
 issued for their arrest. Porro alone escaped by a timely flight 
 into a foreign land. Confalonieri was torn from a sick bed and 
 the arms of his wife and children. Pellico, Maroncelli, and the 
 other contributors to the Conciliator, then resident in Milan, were 
 all arrested and hurried to prison. Ugo Foscolo had long before 
 this left Milan, and was residing in England. 
 
 For ten long and weary years Silvio Pellico suffered imprison- 
 ment, first in a convent at Milan, then in Venice, subjected to fre- 
 quent and harassing investigations, with much mental and bodily 
 suffering, and finally in the castle of Spielberg, in Moravia. The 
 details were given to the world by himself, in that most charming 
 of records, " Le Mie Prigioni,'' *' My Prisons," as he called 
 the history of his trials. He was released in 1830 ; but up to 
 that time he knew not whether he should perish in prison, or be 
 led forth to execution. Some of his companions died. Maroncelli 
 suffered severely from sickness, and was compelled to have one 
 of his limbs amputated. This amiable and courageous man sub- 
 sequently made his way to the United States, and died recently 
 in the city of 'New York, old and blind, and, what is worse, 
 deprived of his reason, but with the love and homage of all who 
 knew him. Pellico returned to Turin, where he yet lives, in the 
 bosom of his family and friends, enjoying the affectionate respect 
 of his countrymen, and spending his time in pious offices and 
 literary labors. His works are numerous, and all of them indicate 
 genius, good sense and piety. The "Mie Prigione" has the 
 charm of simplicity, naturalness and vivacity, and reminds us of 
 such works as Robinson Crusoe and the Pilgrim's Progress. It has 
 all the life and variety of the autobiography of Benvenuto CeUini, 
 with a deeper piety, and a more refinsd and beautiful simplicity. 
 
PELLICO. 53 
 
 Some of its most interesting passages are those in which he 
 describes the sufferings, the patience,, the serenity, and the tri- 
 umphant deaths of some of his fellow prisoners. How touching, 
 and yet how instructive, the story of the noble and youthful Oro- 
 boni ! How affecting the narrative of his calm and glorious death 
 It is at once interesting and dehghtful to find among these mar- 
 tyrs of liberty, all of them members of the Papal church, so 
 much true piety and virtue. Pelhco himself is a model, not only 
 of virtue, but of strong and elevated faith. It was the reading 
 of his Bible and prayer which sustained him in his long and pain- 
 ful imprisonment. His patience, his gentleness, his all-embracing, 
 all-forgiving charity, are conspicuous on every page. 
 
 ** To awake," says he, " during the first night in prison, is 
 horrible. Is it possible, said I, recollecting where I was ; is it 
 possible ? Am I here ? Is it not a dream ? ^ ^ ^ The repose, 
 the perfect silence, the short sleep, which had restored my mental 
 strength, seemed to have increased a hundred-fold my capacity 
 of suffering. In this total absence of everything to distract my 
 thoughts, the distress of all my friends, and particularly of my 
 father and mother, when they should hear of my arrest, was pic- 
 tured in my imagination with incredible force. 
 
 '^ At this moment," said I, " they are yet sleeping tranquilly, 
 or, if awake, are perhaps thinking of me with pleasure, having no 
 apprehension of the place where I am ! Oh ! happy would it be 
 for them, if God should take them from the world before the 
 news of my misfortune reaches Turin! Who will give them 
 strength to sustain the blow ? 
 
 *' A voice from within seemed to reply to me : ' He whom all 
 the afflicted invoke, and love, and feel within them ! He who 
 gave strength to a mother to follow to Golgotha, and to stand under 
 his cross ! The friend of the unhappy, the friend of mortals !' 
 
54 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 *'This was the first moment that rehgion triumphed in my 
 heart ; and I owed this blessing to filial love. 
 
 '* Hitherto, without being hostile to religion, I had felt its influ- 
 ence but little and imperfectly. The common objections, which 
 are brought against it, had not appeared to me of much weight, 
 and yet a thousand sophistical doubts had weakened my faith. 
 These doubts had not for a long time related to the existence of 
 God ; and I had continually repeated to myself, if God exists, it 
 necessarily follows from His justice that there is another life for 
 man who suffers in a world so unjust ; hence follows the great 
 reasonableness of aspiring to the blessings of that second life. 
 Hence follows a worship, consisting of love to God and our neigh- 
 bor, a perpetual striving to ennoble ourselves by generous sacri- 
 fices. I had for a long time gone on repeating all this, and I had 
 added : ^ And what is Christianity but this perpetual aspiration 
 after perfection?' And Christianity, in its essential character, 
 being so pure, so philosophical, so unimpeachable, I marvelled that 
 an age should have arrived, when philosophy should dare to say, 
 * Henceforth I will fill its place.' ' And in what manner wouldst 
 thou fill its place? By teaching vice?' 'No, surely.' By 
 teaching virtue ? That will be the love of God and our neighbor. 
 It will be precisely what Christianity teaches! 
 
 " Although I had thus felt for several years, I had avoided the 
 conclusion : * Be then consistent ! Be a Christian ! Be no longer 
 offended by abuses ! No longer dwell perversely upon some dif- 
 ficult doctrine of the church, since the principal point is this, and 
 it is most plain, ' Love God and your neighbor.' 
 
 '' In prison I determined at least to embrace this conclusion, and 
 I did embrace it. I hesitated somewhat from the fear, that, if 
 any one should happen to learn that I was more religious than 
 formerly, he might think he had a right to consider me a bigot. 
 
PELLICO. 55 
 
 made abject by misfortune. But knowing that I was neither ab- 
 ject nor bigoted, I felt complacency in disregarding the possible 
 blame I did not deserve ; and I resolved from that time forward 
 to be, and avow myself a Christian.'* 
 
 How easily and naturally does this " regenerate soul" cast off 
 the obscurities, the superstitions and absurdities of the church in 
 which he was educated, and cling to the " one essential thing" 
 in our holy faith, common alike to Catholics and Protestants, 
 when they truly love God and keep his commandments. 
 
 This was the grand support and solace of Pellico in his dun- 
 geon. This, with friendship and literature, made his life beautiful 
 and blessed even there. He had with him a copy of Dante and 
 the Bible. Speaking of the latter, he says : 
 
 ** This divine book, which I had always loved much, even when 
 I thought myself an unbeliever, I now studied with more respect 
 than ever. Nevertheless, in spite of my will, I often read it with 
 my thoughts wandering, and without receiving its meaning. But 
 by degrees I became able to meditate upon it more intently, and 
 with constantly increasing interest. Such reading never produced 
 in me the slightest tendency to bigotry ; I mean to that ignorant 
 devotion, which renders one pusillanimous or fanatical. But it 
 taught me to love God and man, to desire more and more ear- 
 nestly the reign of justice, and to abhor sin, while I pardoned the 
 sinner. Christianity instead of destroying any good dispositions, 
 which philosophy had formed in me, confirmed and animated 
 them by more elevated and more powerful motives. 
 
 '' One day, having read that we ought to pray continually, and 
 that true prayer is not the muttering over of many words, after 
 the manner of the heathen, but consists in adoring God with sin- 
 cerity, both in words and in actions^ and in so living as to make 
 them the fulfilments of His holy will, I proposed to myself to 
 begin in earnest this unceasing prayer ; that is, never to indulge a 
 
56 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 thought not inspired by the desire of conforming myself to the 
 laws of God. 
 
 " The forms of prayer I used in adoration were always few ; not 
 because I undervalue forms, but because I feel myself so consti- 
 tuted as to be unable to repeat many, without having my thoughts 
 distracted, and forgetting the duty in which I am engaged. 
 
 '' This purpose of always considering myself as in the presence 
 of God, instead of being a fatiguing effort of mind and exciting 
 my fears, was delightful to me. By remembering that God is 
 always near us, that He is in us, or rather that we are in Him, 
 solitude became daily less terrible to me. ' Have I not the most 
 excellent society V I used to say. And I became cheerful ; I sung 
 and whistled with pleasure and tender emotion." 
 
 But, like all others, Silvio had his inward conflicts and trials. 
 His harassing imprisonment, his imperfect food, his mental excite- 
 ment, and occasional moments of deep and terrible anguish were 
 sources of temptation. Once he yielded to their influence, and 
 for some days had neglected his Bible and prayer. All this he 
 confesses, with the most simple-hearted frankness. But how 
 touching and beautiful the account of his restoration to peace and 
 his Bible ! . . 
 
 '* My Bible was covered with dust. One of the children of the 
 jailer said to me one day, while caressing, ' Since you have left ofi* 
 reading in that villain of a book, it seems to me that you are not 
 so sad as before!' 
 
 " ' Do you think so V said I. 
 
 *' And taking the Bible, I wiped the dust from it with my hand- 
 kerchief, and, opening it at random, my eyes fell upon these 
 words : * Then said he to his disciples, it is impossible that of- 
 fences should not come,' etc. 
 
 '' I was struck by finding these words, and blushed that the boy 
 should have perceived, iv^om the dust which he saw upon it, that 
 
PELLICO. 57 
 
 I no longer read the Bible, and that he should suppose I had 
 become more amiable by being regardless of G-od. 
 
 '* * You graceless little fellow/ said I to him, reproving him 
 gently, and grieved for having been an offence to him ; ' this is 
 not an ugly hook, and I am in a very bad state since I neglected 
 to read it ! When your mother permits you to stay a moment 
 with me, I endeavor to drive away my bad humor ; but you 
 do not know how it overcomes me when I am alone, when you 
 hear me sing like a madman !' 
 
 " The boy left me ; and I felt a degree of pleasure at having 
 again taken the Bible in my hand, and having confessed that I 
 was in a worse state without it. 
 
 ** And had I abandoned thee, my God ? I exclaimed. And 
 had I become perverted ? And could I believe that the infa- 
 mous sneer of cynicism was suited to my desperate situation ? 
 
 " I pronounced these words with indescribable emotion ; I 
 placed the Bible upon a chair, knelt down to read, and I, who 
 am so often unable to weep, burst into tears. 
 
 *' Those tears were a thousand times sweeter than all irrational 
 mirth. I again' felt the presence of God ! I loved Him, I re- 
 pented having offended Him by degrading myself, and I vowed 
 never again to separate myself from Him, never again ! 
 
 " Oh, how a sincere return to religion consoles and elevates the 
 spirit ! 
 
 *' I read and wept for more than an hour, and rose full of faith, 
 that God was with me, that God had pardoned all my folly. 
 Then my misfortunes, the torments of the examination, the scaf- 
 fold, which w^ould probably be my fate, appeared to me small 
 things. I exulted in suffering, since that gave me opportunity 
 for the exercise of virtue ; since by suffering, with a resigned spirit, 
 I obeyed the Lord." 
 
 Silvio Pellico wrote much in prison, much that perished and 
 8* 
 
58 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 much that was subsequently published. The following will fur* 
 nish a fair specimen of his poetical powers : 
 
 CANZOISrE WRITTEN IN PRISON. 
 
 " The love of song what can impart 
 To the lone captive's sinking heart ? 
 Thou sun 1 thou fount divine 
 Of light ! the gift is Thine I 
 
 O, how beyond the gloom 
 
 That wraps my living tomb. 
 
 Through forest, garden, mead and grove, 
 
 All nature drinks the ray 
 
 Of glorious day — 
 Inebriate with love I 
 
 The jocund torrents flow 
 To distant worlds, that owe 
 
 Their life to Thee ! 
 And if a slender ray 
 Chance through my bars to stray 
 
 And pierce to me, 
 My cell, no more a tomb, 
 Smiles in its caverned gloom — 
 
 As nature to the free. 
 
 If scarce thy bounty yields 
 To these ungenial fields 
 
 The gift divine ; 
 shed thy blessings here^ 
 Now while in dungeons drear, 
 
 Italians pine ! 
 
 Thy splendors faintly known, 
 Sclavonia may not own 
 For thee the love 
 Our hearts must move,^ 
 
PELLICO. 59 
 
 Who from our cradle learn 
 To adore thee, and to yearn 
 
 With passionate desire 
 (Our nature's fondest prayer, 
 Needful as vital air) 
 
 To see thee, or expire 
 
 Beneath my native, distant sky, 
 The captive's sire and mother sigh ; 
 O never there may darkling cloud, 
 With veil of circling horror shroud 
 
 The rising day ; 
 But thy warm beams, still glowing bright, 
 Enchant their hearts with joyous light, 
 
 And charm their grief away." 
 
 In his later years poor Pellico became timid and conservative. 
 He lost the hope and enthusiasm of his youth, and died, it is 
 said, a devotee of the Papal church. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Ugo Foscolo — Sketch of his Life — Hymn to the Graces — Poem of * I Se- 
 pofbri' — Alessandro Manzoni — Tragedy of the Conte Carmagnola — Ode 
 on the Death of Napoleon — Vicenzo Monti — His career — Poetry — The 
 fall of Jerusalem from the Bassevilliana — Parini — Beccaria. 
 
 Ugo Foscolo, whose name we have mentioned as forming a part 
 of the brilliant circle in Milan, during the brief reign of Napoleon 
 in Italy, was born at sea, near the Ionian Islands. His parents, 
 were Venetians. He received the elementary branches of educa- 
 tion at Venice, but completed his studies at the University of 
 Padua. He studied diligently the Greek and Roman poets and 
 historians, and became enamored of republican freedom. His 
 first appearance as an author was in the tragedy of " Tieste," 
 which attracted attention chiefly by its bold political sentiments 
 and love of liberty. Ardent and impassioned, he longed to real- 
 ize his own political dreams. In this way he subjected himself 
 to the suspicions of the government, and found it desirable to 
 leave Venice for Florence, where he devoted his attention to liter- 
 ature, and took great pleasure in brooding over the tombs of the 
 mighty dead in Santa Croce. Thence he went to Milan, the cap- 
 ital of the so-called Cisalpine RepubUc, whose existence was as 
 brief as its rise was sudden and premature. Here he took an 
 active part in the political agitations of the times ; plunged head 
 and ears in love w'th a noble Roman lady of extraordiiaary beauty, 
 and described his passion in a work, entitled " Letters of Two 
 
FOSCOLO. 61 
 
 Lovers." He joined the Lombard legion, and suffered a two 
 months' siege in Genoa, during which he composed several of 
 his poems. 
 
 The return of Napoleon from Egypt restored Foscolo to Milan, 
 about which time he wrote the celebrated ** Letters of Jacopo 
 Ortis," which, with a considerable infusion of sentimentalism and 
 extravagance, contain some fine bursts of indignant eloquence on 
 the wrongs of his suffering country. He urges the necessity of 
 a complete, and, if necessary, a bloody revolution. 
 
 Being a captain in the army with which Napoleon proposed to 
 invade England, he was stationed for some time at St. Omer, 
 where he commenced the study of the English language. 
 
 In 1805 he returned to Italy, and resided for a short time in 
 Brescia, where he wrote the / Sepolcri, the most touching and 
 popular of all his poems. He was subsequently appointed pro- 
 fessor of eloquence at Pavia ; but the professorship being abol- 
 ished, he retired to the house of a friend near Lake Como, where 
 scenes of rural beauty, pleasant society, and literary converse, 
 aided in dissipating the gloom which so frequently overshadowed 
 his spirit. From his singular and outre appearance, long hair, 
 flashing eyes, and enthusiastic notions, the daughter of his host 
 wittily styled him, '' a sentimental thunderbolt !" 
 
 He returned once more to Florence, and wrote one or two trage- 
 dies, which "v^ere not particularly successful. On the fall of 
 Napoleon he retired into Switzerland, and resided two years in 
 the fine, old, picturesque town of Zurich. Thence he passed over 
 to England, and was received with great enthusiasm by the liter- 
 ary circles, and the liberal portion of the nobility. He wrote 
 many articles for the Reviews, and took part in the celebrated 
 discussion about the Digamma. He also delivered, in his native 
 tongue, a brilliant course of lectures on Italian literature, for 
 which he received a thousand pounds, and might have lived with 
 
(52 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 much respectability and comfort, had he not indulged an un- 
 bounded extravagance. He gave himself up to all the enjoyments 
 of life, built a splendid villa, which was called by his friends 
 " Digamma Cottage,'' furnished it in the most costly style, and 
 entertained company like a nabob, attended by three beautiful 
 servants, whom he called 'the Graces.' Unfortunately, sceptical 
 and extravagant in all his notions, Foscolo, unlike his noble friend 
 and admirer, Pellico, was ever an epicurean, and yielded implicitly 
 to the current of his passions. He was not only extravagant, but 
 fiery and ungovernable ; and hence lost not merely his friends, 
 but his credit and standing in society. Much injured by evil re- 
 ports among his countrymen, he shut himself out from their soci- 
 ety, and would not see any of them. '* I am resolved hereafter," 
 says he, '' no more to hear the voice or see the face of an Italian. 
 I should love the conversation of some of them ; but seeing that 
 they all persecute me, and that the report of new scandals comes 
 to my ears, I shut myself out from you all. A curse on you ! 
 Be it my happiness no more to hear you ! Italy now is a dead 
 hodt/.^' He fell into deep melancholy. Digamma Cottage was 
 abandoned ; his books even were sold to buy bread ; and at last, 
 poor and desolate, he died in 1830, without sufficient means to 
 defray the expenses of his funeral. But he was a true poet, and 
 has exerted much influence upon the Italian mind. His " Hymn 
 to the Graces," addressed to Luigi Pallavicini, is worthy of the 
 theme, and glows with beauty. What can be finer than the open- 
 ing stanzas ? 
 
 " As when forth beams from ocean's caves 
 
 The star to Love's own mother dear; 
 Her dew-bespangled tresses wave, 
 
 Scattering the night shades dim and drear, 
 And far illumes her heavenly way, 
 With light poured from the eternal founts of day : 
 
FOSCOLO. 63 
 
 So beauty from the curtained couch, 
 
 Her charms divine, and features rare, 
 More lovely with the shadowing touch 
 
 Of sorrow that yet lingers there, 
 Revives — and radiant glads our eyes. 
 Still, sweetest soother of man's woe-bom sighs. 
 
 Soon, like the roses on thy cheek, 
 
 The buds of joy again unfold ; 
 Those large dark eyes, so wild, yet meek — 
 
 Bewitching smiles and looks untold — 
 With all those wiles that wake again 
 Each mother's fears, and lover's keener pain." 
 
 But the " I Sepolcri," the Sepulchres, is Foscolo's most per- 
 fect poem. It breathes ** the very soul of melancholy and 
 poetry." Its reference especially to the graves of Italy, and its 
 descriptions of those hallowed localities where repose the dust of 
 Dante, Machiavelli, Michael Angelo, and other poets and sages 
 of his native land, are exceedingly touching. 
 
 " Yes, Pindemonte ! 
 The aspiring soul is fired to lofty deeds 
 By great men's monuments, and they make fair 
 And holy to the pilgrim's eye the earth 
 That has received their dust. When I beheld 
 The spot where sleeps enshrined that noble genius,* 
 Who humbling the proud sceptres of earth's kings, 
 Stripped thence the illusive wreaths, and showed the nations 
 What tears and blood defiled them — when I saw 
 His mausoleum, who upreared in Romef 
 A new Olympus to the Deity — 
 And his,:!: who 'neath heaven's azure canopy, 
 Saw worlds unnumbered roll, and suns unmoved 
 
 * Machiavelli. f Michasl Angelo. J Galileo. 
 
64 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Irradiate countless systems — treading first 
 
 For Albion's son, who soared, on wings sublime, 
 
 The shining pathways of the firmament — 
 
 ' blest art thou, Etruria's Queen,'* I cried, 
 
 * For thy pure airs so redolent of life, 
 
 And the fresh streams thy mountain summits pour, 
 
 In homage at thy feet ! In thy blue sky 
 
 The glad moon walks — and robes with silver light 
 
 Thy vintage-smiling hills ; and valleys fair, 
 
 Studded with domes and olive groves, send up 
 
 To heaven the incense of a thousand flowers. 
 
 Thou, FloreiTce, first did hear the song divine. 
 
 That cheered the Ghibelline'sf indignant flight, 
 
 And thou the kindred and sweet language gav'st 
 
 To him,, the chosen of Calliope,;}: 
 
 Who love with purest veil adorning — Love 
 
 That went unrobed in elder Greece and Rome, 
 
 Restored him to a heavenly Yenus' smile. 
 
 Yet far more blest, that in thy fane repose 
 
 Italia's buried glories! — all perchance 
 
 She e'er may boast! Since o'er the barrier frail 
 
 Of Alpine rocks the overwhelming tide of fate 
 
 Hath swept in mighty wreck her arms, her wealth, 
 
 Altars and country, and, save memory — all ! 
 
 When from past fan^o springs hope of future deeds 
 
 In daring minds, for Italy enslaved. 
 
 Draw we our auspice-;. Around these tombs 
 
 In thought entranced, Alfieri wandered oft, 
 
 Indignant at his country ; hither strayed. 
 
 O'er Arno's desert plain, and looked abroad 
 
 With silent longing on the field and sky ; 
 
 And when no living aspect soothed his grief 
 
 •* Florence ; where, in the old church of Santa Croce, may be seen the 
 monuments of Machiavelli, Dante, Galileo, Alfieri, and others, 
 f Dante. 
 X Petrarch. 
 
MANZONI. 65 
 
 Turned to the voiceless dead ; while on his brow 
 There sat the paleness, with the hope of death. 
 With them he dwells forever ; here his bones 
 Murmur a patriot's love. 0, truly speaks 
 A god from his abode of pious rest ! 
 The same which fired of old, in Grecian bosoms, 
 Hatred of Persian foes a I Marathon, 
 Where Athens consecrates her heroes gone.' " 
 
 One of the contributors to tbe " Conciliator" was Alessandro 
 Manzoni, a man of fine character and resplendent genius, who 
 has attained equal celebrity in prose and verse. He was born at 
 Milan in 1784, of a noble family, and early distinguished himself 
 by his poetical talent. His mother was a daughter of the cele- 
 brated Marquis Beccaria, one of the noblest men, and one of the 
 best writers on political subjects that Italy has produced. It 
 was the " Inni Sacri," or "Sacred Hymns," in which he cre- 
 ated a new species of Italian poetry, that first attracted the 
 public admiration. His tragedies, though slightly deficient in 
 dramatic power, have placed him at the very head of this species 
 of literature in Italy. They abound in magnificent pictures and 
 noble sentiments, and breathe the very spirit of patriotism and 
 virtue. His *' Conte di Carmagnola" was published in 1820,. 
 and made a great sensation not only in Italy, but in Germany 
 and England. It is founded on an incident in Venetian history, 
 which gives it a national interest. 
 
 From the condition of a peasant, Francesco Buffo, for that was 
 the original name of the Count of Carmagnola, had risen, by the 
 force of his energy and heroism, to the highest distinctions in the 
 republic of Milan. But those who had aided in his elevation 
 became jealous of his greatness, and sought hiis ruin. Escaping 
 from Milan, he took refuge in Venice, and after signalizing his 
 fidehty and fortitude in some well-fought fields, he was appointed 
 
66 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 general of the Venetian army. The highest success justified the 
 appointment, and he became the object of universal admiration 
 among the Venetians. Some slight reverses, however, and a 
 suspicion of treachery, caused the Council of Ten to pronounce 
 against him the sentence of death. It was kept a profound 
 secret from the Count, who was recalled home, and conducted to 
 the house of the Doge Foscari, with great pomp and ceremony. 
 The Doge excused himself from making his appearance, on the 
 ground of indisposition. As it grew later, the unsuspecting 
 Count took his leave, and was accompanied, on the plea of re- 
 spect, by some of the nobles, to the palace court. There, as he 
 was taking the ordinary path to the gates, one of them requested 
 him to pass over to the other side, in the direction of the pris- 
 ons. "That is not my way," he remarked ; and he was signifi- 
 cantly answered : " It is your way." As he crossed the thresh- 
 old of the dungeon, the truth flashed upon him, and deeply 
 sighing, he exclaimed : '* I see it — I am a dead man !" For three 
 days he refused all sustenance ; and at their expiration he was 
 led to the chamber of torture, and subjected to tlie most appall- 
 ing cruelties. Yielding to the pressure of pain, he confessed enough 
 to justify the Ten in executing their sentence. He lingered in 
 prison for three weeks, and was then conducted, after vespers, on 
 the fifth of May, to " the two columns." To prevent his speaking 
 to the multitude, in order to excite their pity by a reference to 
 his former services, or appealing against what might be deemed 
 an unjust sentence, his mouth was gagged. He was clad in scar- 
 let hose, a cap of velvet from his native town, a crimson mantle, 
 and a scarlet vest, with the sleeves tied behind his back. It was 
 not till the third stroke, that his head was severed from his 
 body ; his remains were then removed in a gondola, and 
 buried by torch-light in the church of San Francesco della 
 Vigna. Such are the historical facts, on the basis of which 
 
MANZONI. 67 
 
 Manzoni has constructed his tragedy ; and it can readily be con- 
 ceived what a mournful interest he has thrown into it, and what 
 noble sentiments he has suggested in connection with the various 
 incidents. His descriptions are bold and striking. Among others, 
 it contains one of the piost vivid pictures of the horrors of battle 
 which we have seen. 
 
 " "Woe to the victors, and the vanquished woe ! 
 
 The earth is heaped, is loaded with the slain 
 Loud and more loud the cries of fury grow ; 
 
 A sea of blood is swelling o'er the plain. 
 But from the embattled front already, lo ! 
 
 A band recedes — it flies — all hope is vain ; 
 And vernal hearts, despairing of the strife 
 "Wake to the love, the clinging love of life. 
 
 As the light grain disperses in the air, 
 
 Borne by the winnowing of the gales around, 
 
 Thus fly the vanquished, in their wild despair, 
 Chased, severed, scattered, o'er the ample ground. 
 
 But mightier bands, that lay in ambush there, 
 
 Burst on their flight — and hark, the deepening sound 
 
 Of fierce pursuit ! — still nearer, and more near, 
 
 The rush of war-steeds trampling in the rear ! 
 
 The day is won ! — they fall — disarmed they yield, 
 Low at the conqueror's feet all suppliant lying 1 
 
 'Midst shouts of victory, pealing o'er the field. 
 Ah ! who may hear the murmurs of the dying ? 
 
 "Haste 1 let the tale of triumph be revealed ! 
 E'en now the courier to his steed is flying ; 
 
 He spurs — he speeds — the tidings of the day, 
 
 To rouse up cities in his lightening way. 
 
 "Why pour ye forth from your deserted homes, 
 O eager multitudes around him pressing ; 
 
68 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Each hurrying where his breathless courser foams, 
 Each tongue, each eye infatuate hope confessing ? 
 
 Know ye not whence the ill-omened herald comes, 
 And dare ye dream he comes with words of blessing ? 
 
 Brothers by brothers slain, lie low and cold I 
 
 Be ye content ! the glorious tale is told. 
 
 I hear the voice of joy, the exulting cry ! 
 
 They deck the shrine, they swell the choral strains ; 
 E'en now the homicides assail the sky 
 
 "With paeans, which indignant Heaven disdains ! 
 But from the soaring Alps, the stranger's eye. 
 
 Looks watchful down on our ensanguined plains, 
 And with the cruel rapture of a foe, 
 I^umbers the mighty stretched in death below." 
 
 Italy has suffered more than any other country from war, ex- 
 ternal and internal. It has been one of her most terrible curses. 
 Every great quarrel among the different states ; every vital ques- 
 tion, moral, social, political and religious, has been settled in blood. 
 This extinguished liberty — this destroyed the reformation — and 
 this, we fear, even now, will retard the happy day of her final 
 emancipation. What she wants is freedom — freedom of thought — 
 freedom of worship — freedom of virtue. Then will come peace, 
 harmony and progress. Manzoni sees this, if not with reference 
 to religion, at least with reference to civil and political rights. He 
 would unite all Italy in one common brotherhood, and give it 
 freedom, independence and progress. 
 
 " Are we not creatures of one hand divine. 
 
 Formed in one mould, to one redemption born — 
 Kindred alike, where'er our skies may shine, 
 Where'er our sight first drank the vital morn ? 
 
MANZONL 69 
 
 Brothers, one bond around our souls should twine ; 
 And woe to him by whom that bond is torn — 
 Who mounts, by trampling broken hearts to earth, 
 Who bows down spirits of immortal birth !" 
 
 Manzoni is the author of one or two more tragedies, in all of 
 which he has thrown off the restraints of the French school, and 
 discarded -^ the unities/' as they are called, which till then had 
 cramped the genius of Italian tragedy. He has also distinguish- 
 ed himself as a novel writer, of the Scott and Cooper school. 
 His " I Promessi Sposi,'' or ** The Betrothed y*^ is well known, 
 having been translated into various languages. Manzoni is pro- 
 foundly interested in the regeneration of Italy, and enters heartily 
 into the views of Gioberti, Yentura, and others, who propose to 
 unite the interests of religion with political amelioration, and 
 make the Church the means of social and civil progress. 
 Among his miscellaneous poems, one of the best known, and 
 most admired, is the ode on the death of Napoleon, entitled, 
 '' II Cinque Maggio," or '' The Fifth of May.'* It -possesses, in a 
 high degree, grandeur and energy. 
 
 " He was. — As motionless as lay 
 
 First mingled with the dead, 
 The relics of the senseless clay, 
 
 Whence such a soul had jfled — 
 The earth astounded holds her breath, 
 Struck with the tidings of his death ; 
 She pauses, the last hour to see. 
 Of the dread Man of Destiny ; 
 Nor knows she when another tread, 
 Like that of the once mighty dead, 
 Shall such a footprint leave impressed 
 As his, in blood, upon her breast. 
 
10 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 I saw him blazing on his throne, 
 
 Yet hailed him not ; by restless fate 
 . Hmied from the giddy summit down, 
 
 Kesume again his lofty state ; 
 Saw him at last forever fall, 
 Still mute amid the shouts of all ; 
 Free from base flattery when he rose, 
 
 From baser outrage when he fell ; 
 Now his career has reached its close. 
 
 My voice is raised the truth to tell, 
 And o'er his exiled urn will try 
 To pour a strain that shall not die. 
 
 From Alps to Pyramids were thrown 
 His bolts, from Scylla to the Don, 
 
 From Manzanares to the Rhine, 
 From sea to sea, unerring hurled ; 
 
 And ere the flash had ceased to shine, 
 Burst on their aim and shook the world. 
 
 "Was this true glory ? — the high doom 
 Must be pronounced by times to come : 
 
 For us we bow before his throne, 
 "Who willed, in giving mortal clay, 
 With such a spirit, to display 
 
 A grander impress of his own. 
 
 His was the stormy, fierce delight 
 
 To dare adventure's boldest scheme ; 
 The soul of fire that burned for might. 
 
 And could of naught but empire dream 
 And his the indomitable will 
 That dream of empire to fulfill, 
 And to a greatness to attain, 
 'Twere madness to have hoped to gain : ' 
 All these were his ; nor these alone — 
 Flight, victory, exile, and the throne — 
 Twice in the dust by thousands trod, 
 Twice on the altar as a god. 
 
MANZONI. Tl 
 
 Two ages stood in anus arrayed, 
 
 Contending which should victor be: 
 He spake — his mandate they obeyed, 
 
 And bowed to hear their destiny. 
 He stepped between them, to assume 
 The mastery, and pronounce their doom ; 
 Then vanished, and inactive wore 
 Life's remnant out on that lone shore. 
 What envy did his palmy state, 
 
 What pity his reverses move ! 
 Object of unrelenting hate, 
 
 And unextinguishable love ! 
 
 As beat innumerable waves, 
 
 O'er the last floating plank that saves 
 
 One sailor from the wreck, whose eye 
 
 Intently gazes o'er the main, 
 Far in the distance to descry 
 
 Some speck of hope — ^but all in vain ; 
 Did countless waves of memory roll 
 Incessant, thronging on his soul ; 
 Recording for a future age, 
 
 The tale of his renown, • 
 How often on the immortal page 
 
 His hand sank weary down ! 
 
 Oft on some sea-beat cliff, alone 
 
 He stood — the lingering daylight gone, 
 
 And pensive evening come at last-^ 
 With folded arms, and eyes declined; 
 While, O I what visions on his mind 
 
 Came rushing — of the past ! 
 The rampart stormed, the tented field, 
 
 His eagles glittering far and wide, 
 His columns never taught to yield. 
 
 His cavalry's resistless tide, 
 Watching each motion of his hand, 
 Swift to obey the swift command. 
 
72 7ENIUS OF ITALY 
 
 Such thoughts perchance last filled his breast, 
 And his departing soul oppressed, 
 
 To tempt it to despair ; 
 Till from on high a hand of might 
 In mercy came, to guide its flight 
 
 Up to a purer air — 
 Leading it o'er hope's path of flowers 
 
 To the celestial plains, 
 Where greater happiness is ours 
 
 Than even fancy feigns ; 
 And where earth's fleeting glories fade 
 Into the shadow of a shade. 
 
 Immortal, bright, beneficent, 
 
 Faith used to victories, on thy roll 
 "Write this with joy ; for never bent 
 "^ Beneath death's hand a haughtier soul ; 
 
 Thou from the worn and pallid clay 
 Chase every bitter word away, 
 
 1? hat would ins-ult the dead : 
 His holy crucifix, whose breath 
 Has power to raise, or to depress, 
 Send consolation and distress, 
 
 Lay by him on that lowly bed, ^ 
 
 And hallowed it in death."* 
 
 One other name, that of Vicenzo Monti, changeable and 
 inconsistent as he was, we must not omit to mention in con- 
 nection with those of Foscolo and Manzoni. He was born, in 
 IY54, at Fusignano, a town of Romagna, and died, we beheve, in 
 Milan, in 1828. He was intended for one of the learned pro- 
 
 * It is well known that Napoleon, previous to his death, professed his 
 conviction of the truth of Christianity, which in the days of his prosperity 
 he had denied ; and that he died in express dependence upon the Son of God, 
 of whose death the crucifix, among Catholics, is the emblem. But of his final 
 state, who dare?, with confidence, to speak ? 
 
MONTI. 78 
 
 fessions, but abandoned everything for literature and poetry. 
 While a student at Ferrara, his talents attracted the attention of 
 Cardinal Borg hese, the Pope's legate, who took him to Rome, 
 where he received considerable attention, was elected a member 
 of the Arcadia, and appointed secretary to Luigi Braschi, the 
 Pope's nephew. About this time he was married to Theresa 
 Pichler, daughter of the celebrated artist. Fired with the tragedies 
 of Alfieri, who introduced an entire revolution in that species of 
 literature in Italy, and eager to emulate the genius of that extra- 
 ordinary man, he produced *' Aristodemo," a drama, which was 
 received at the time with the highest enthusiasm, and still con- 
 tinues to excite mingled surprise and delight, as a production of 
 great finish and power from the hand of so young a man. His 
 other tragedies, however, did not meet the public expectation. 
 This decay of talent has been ascribed by some to his renuncia- 
 tion of his early principles ; and certainly, political tergiversation 
 and sycophancy are well fitted to blunt, if not to extinguish, the 
 generous aspirations of poetry. He began his career by exposing 
 in his " Bassevilliana," a poem in four cantos, on the model of the 
 '^ Divina Commedia," the atrocious principles of the first French 
 Revolution. It was written on the occasion of the assassination in 
 Rome of the French Minister, Basseville, whence its peculiar title, 
 whose soul he represents as condemned to wander over France to 
 behold the desolations produced by the Revolution, the death of 
 Louis Sixteenth, and the advance of the armies of the Holy Alli- 
 ance towards France, for the restoration of the Bourbons. When 
 repubhcanism was established in Italy, he unhesitatingly veered 
 about, and wrote the *' Prometheus," in which he proclaimed 
 himself a zealous republican. But as soon as Napoleon decided 
 that a stern military rule was the best for Italy, Monti, after 
 some deliberation, came to the same conclusion, and glorified, in 
 his songs, the indomitable Emperor of Italy ! He was appointed 
 4 
 
74 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 by Napo.eon, Assessor of the Ministry of the Interior, Court Poet, 
 Knight of the Iron Crown, Member of the Legion of Honor, and 
 Historiographer of the kingdom. 
 
 On the downfall of Napoleon, he lost all his honors, but was 
 instantly prepared to yield to the power of Austria, and magnify 
 the splendor of the House of Hapsburg. "It is well," one sar- 
 castically remarks, " that Satan has not since appeared in Italy, 
 or verily Monti would have knelt down and worshipped him also." 
 This, however, is too severe, or at least too harshly expressed. 
 Monti, like many others, possessed a vacillating disposition, and 
 although disposed, upon the whole, to do right, was not capable 
 of making great sacrifices on its behalf. He too easily persuaded 
 himself that '^ whatever is, is best," and, at all hazards, tried to 
 secure personal peace and comfort. He is the type of a large 
 class in Italy who shout for freedom, but cannot suffer for it ; 
 who, to-day, will devoutly offer incense upon the altar of patriot- 
 ism, and to-morrow will suffer any despot to set his foot upon 
 their necks. 
 
 The follow^ing, from his " Basse villiana," describing the destruc- 
 tion of Jerusalem, by the hand of the Almighty, will give a good 
 idea of his poetical power : 
 
 " Under his feet the heavens and starry train 
 
 Tremble and roll ; the howling whirlwinds fly, 
 Calling each tempest-winged hurricane, 
 
 Chanting its thunder-psalm throughout the sky ; 
 And filled with arrows of consuming fire, 
 
 His quiver he hath slung upon his thigh. 
 As smoke before the storm's ungoverned ire, 
 
 The mountains melt before his dread approach ; 
 The rapid eye marks not the avenging sire, 
 
 Whilst burning to remove the foul reproach.* 
 
 * The reproach of the crucifixioa 
 
MONTI. 75 
 
 Now from Ausonia's strand the troop departs, 
 
 On the inviolate temple to encroach. 
 Oedron afar the murmur hears and starts ; 
 
 But, lifting not to heaven his trembling font, 
 Through Siloa's slender brook confounded darts. 
 
 Wow scorning to attire with splendor wont 
 Thy plains, the Sun eclipses, and the brand 
 
 God from the sheath draws on thy impious front. 
 I see his lightnings flash upon the band 
 
 Of armies round thy synagogue impure, 
 Thine altars blazing as the fires expand ! 
 
 I see where war, and death, and fear secure, 
 Midst the hoarse clang of each terrific sound, 
 
 Gigantic stalk through falling towers obscure ! 
 Like deer, when sharp the springing tigers bound 
 
 Upon their timid troop, thy virgins' trains 
 And sires unwarlike every foe surround. 
 
 With glaring eyeballs and distended veins, 
 Forth desperation flies from throng to throng, 
 
 And frantic life at his own hand disdains. 
 Diso rder follows fast, and shrieks prolong 
 
 The hideous tumult. Then the city falls, 
 Avenging horribly her prophet's wrong. 
 
 Amidst the carnage on the toppling walls. 
 Howls and exults and leaps wild Cruelty, 
 
 And priest and youth and age alike appalls. 
 With naked swords, and through a blood-red sea, 
 
 Flowing around the mountains of the dead. 
 Victorious rides the insulting enemy; 
 
 The flames, the buildings, temple, soon o'erspread 
 With divine fury, and the heavens despised 
 
 Smile on the horror which their tempest bred. 
 Thus with foul scorn dishonored and disguised, 
 
 The conquering Latin eagles bore enchained 
 Jerusalem's disloyal ark chastised ; 
 
 And she now lies witli frightful footsteps stained, 
 Buried 'midst thorns and sand, and the hot sun 
 
1e GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Scares the fierce dragon where her judge once reigned 
 
 Thus when from heaven the fatal bolt hath done 
 Sad desolation in some glorious wood, 
 
 Striking the boughs which upward highest run ; 
 Though scorched and burnt, still o'er its neighborhood 
 
 Majestic towers aloft the giant oak, 
 As poised bj its own ponderous weight it stood, 
 
 Waiting the thunder of a second stroke." 
 
 But we cannot remain longer in Milan, attractive as it is, and 
 although there are other distinguished names connected with its 
 history which demand our attention, Parini in particular, a man 
 of great wit and learning, who died in 1799, author of *'I1 
 Giorno," (The Day,) a satirical poem, which describes with much 
 force and wit the manners of the great ; and above all, the Mar- 
 quis Beccaria, contemporary with Parini, who, by his philosophical 
 and political writings, did more than any other man of his age to 
 banish the barbarities of the feudal system, and the cruelties of 
 the dark ages, from criminal legislation. But other parts of Italy 
 attract us more powerfully, and the diligenza waits to take us 
 across the country to Venice, a long and fatiguing journey, but 
 passing through a region of much historical interest and many 
 charming localities. Of these, however, we say nothing, as they 
 have often been described, and can easily be imagined by the 
 intelligent reader. Brescia, Cremona, Mantua, and other places 
 redolent of antiquity, but much faded by time, successively re- 
 ceive us. At last we embark upon the river Adige, and erelong 
 find ourselves gliding through the liquid streets of Venice, among 
 the grotesque buildings and flitting gondolas of that singular but 
 beautiful city. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Venice — Yiew from the Tower of St. Mark — Sketch of Venetian history — 
 Prosperity — Freedom — Degeneracy — Narrow and Despotic Policy — Cru- 
 elty — The Foscari — Council of Ten — Police — Anecdote of a French No- 
 bleman — Revolution — First, Second and Third Acts of the Drama — Hope. 
 
 Early in the morning, just as the sun is rising from the blue 
 waves of the Adriatic, we ascend the lofty tower of St. Mark, that 
 ancient, oriental looking cathedral, whose Byzantine magnificence 
 reminds us of the early glory of the Republic, and the blind old 
 Doge Dandolo, who brought back from his eastern crusade the 
 treasures of Constantinople to adorn the capital. The light be- 
 gins to cast a deep flush upon the bosom of the deep, and tinge, 
 with purple glories, the distant summits of the Euganean hills. A 
 slight haze, flecked with sunshine, hovers over the city far be- 
 neath us. Half in shadow, half in light, gleam the long ranges 
 of streets, old palaces, towers and churches, threaded by innu- 
 merable canals, in which the dark gondolas, loaded with pro- 
 visions, fruits and flowers from the country, are seen gliding to 
 and fro, and making their way to the centre of the city. Yonder 
 is the magnificent arch of the Rialto, the palace of the Doge, the 
 Giant's Stairs, and beneath, the Bridge of Sighs, over which 
 criminals passed on their way to imprisonment and death, and 
 the dark, deep dungeons below, where the lonely prisoner, in the 
 hush of the morning, or the silence of the night, could hear the 
 plashing of the water, and the stroke of the oar above his head. 
 
78 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Bridges innumerable span the canals, and everywhere you see 
 marks of the former wealth and splendor of Yenice. But the 
 light deepens, and the whole city glows, like an oriental dream, 
 in the soft radiance of the flickering sun. 
 
 " Underneath day's azure eyes. 
 Ocean's nursling, Venice, lies- — 
 A peopled labyrinth of walls, 
 Amphitrite's destined halls. 
 Which her hoary sire now paves, 
 With his blue and beaming waves. 
 Lo, the sun up-springs behind, 
 Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined 
 On the level quivering line 
 Of the waters crystalline ; 
 And before that chasm of light, 
 As within a furnace bright. 
 Column, tower, and dome and spire, 
 Shine like obelisks of fire. 
 Pointing with inconstant motion 
 From the altar of dark ocean. 
 To the sapphire-tinted skies, 
 As the flames of sacrifice 
 From the marble shrines did rise. 
 As to pierce the dome of gold 
 Where Apollo spoke of old." * 
 
 But this is the poetical aspect of Venice. Descend into the 
 streets, or canals, and pass around from point to point, and every- 
 where you will see tokens of decay. Many of the old palaces 
 are deserted, or faUing into ruins ; and although much of gran- 
 deur and beauty yet remains, it is faded and dim. The city con- 
 tains a large population, and has considerable commerce, but 
 nothing in comparison to what it once enjoyed, when it was the 
 
 * Shelley 
 
VENICE, 79 
 
 •' Queen of the seas," and " Mistress of a hundred isles." Indeed, 
 it is but the shadow of its former self. 
 
 Venice boasts a remote antiquity. In the days of Attila, when 
 the Huns and Lombards overran the north of Italy, the poor in- 
 habitants took refuge in the reedy islands of the Adriatic, par 
 ticularly in the Riva Alto, or Rial to, where they built their rude 
 huts, and ramparts to protect them from their enemies. Silently 
 and imperceptibly rose the city from the sea, occupied by a nu- 
 merous and enterprising population. A small democratic repub- 
 lic, the first in modern Europe, was established under magistrates 
 called tribunes. In the year 697, the islands elected their first 
 Do^e, or Dux, that is, leader or chief, in the person of Paolucci 
 Anafesto. The tribunes, or the nobility, had the judiciary, the 
 people the legislative, and the Doge the executive power^ Gradu- 
 ally Yenice increased her commerce, and extended her dominion. 
 The sea was covered with her ships, and the land with her citizens, 
 artisans and merchants. The cities of Dalmatia put themselves 
 under her protection, and Constantinople and the East poured 
 their treasures at her feet. She gained immense advantages in 
 the Crusades; not only fame, but marts for her commerce in 
 Ptolemais, Jerusalem, Tyre and Ascalon. In 1202, Constantino- 
 ple was taken by the Venetians, French and others, under the 
 brave' Henrico Dandolo, old and blind as he was, from which 
 resulted the acquisition of Candia, several Ionian islands, and 
 others in the Archipelago. 
 
 Venice added to her power and glory, by assisting Alexander 
 Third in humbling the fierce Barbarossa ; in return for which ser- 
 vice, and as a lasting memorial of his esteem, that able but ambi- 
 tious pontiff bestowed upon her a ring, with which to espouse 
 the sea, and symbolize the empire which he bestowed upon her 
 over the waters of the globe. This was the origin of the well- 
 
80 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 known nuptials of Venice with the Adriatic, celebrated each year, 
 with great pomp and ceremony, in the Bucentaur. 
 
 This was the period of her greatest commercial and military 
 glory ; the manners of the people were softened, and the arts 
 began to flourish. 
 
 At the close of the thirteenth century the East India trade 
 passed from Constantinople to Alexandria ; Genoa, the rival of 
 Venice, possessed herself of the commerce of the Byzantine Em- 
 pire; and the overreaching nobles of the Venetian Repubhc 
 declared themselves hereditary. Then commenced the subversion 
 of her free institutions ; and although Venice continued to increase 
 in wealth and greatness until the fifteenth century, and gained 
 great advantages over Genoa and the neighboring countries, the 
 seeds of decline were sown in her constitution. From that time 
 she gradually descended from her high and palmy state. The 
 Portuguese discovered a passage by sea to the East Indies ; the 
 Turks, who had become masters of Constantinople, swept every- 
 thing before them, and took possession of most of her oriental 
 conquests ; while long and harassing wars with the neighboring 
 repubhcs exhausted her resources and reduced her wealth. The 
 government of the State was invested in a Council of Ten, and 
 three Inquisitors were chosen, with unlimited powers to cite, 
 imprison and punish all suspected persons. For this purpose 
 they made ample use of spies and informers, racks and dungeons. 
 Thousands of citizens disappeared, no one could tell when or how ; 
 and a spirit of fear and suspicion took possession of the public 
 mind. Yet was Venice ever a gay and giddy scene. The citi- 
 zens gave themselves up to the pursuit of pleasure. Intrigue and 
 debauchery went hand in hand with tyranny and fear. 
 
 " The sea, that emblem of uncertainty 
 Changed not so fast for many and many an age 
 
VErviCK. 81 
 
 As this small spot. To day 'twas full of masks ; 
 
 And lo ! the madness of the carnival, 
 
 The monk, the nun, the holy legate masked ! 
 
 To-morrow came the scaffold and the wheel ; 
 
 And he died there by torch-light, bound and gagged, 
 
 Whose name and crime they knew not." 
 
 And yet, strange to tell, this lasted for many long years ; and 
 the strength, energy and consistency of the Venetian government 
 were a wonder and mystery to all the States of Europe. Machia- 
 velli is in raptures with it ; and, even now, it inspires, in many 
 minds, a feeling of reverence and awe. Doubtless many of the 
 State councillors and inquisitors were men not only of profound 
 sagacity, but of lofty patriotism. Occasionally they displayed all 
 the resources of genius and virtue. But, generally, they were a 
 proud and ambitious race, who used their tremendous power for 
 purposes of oppression and revenge. One of the most striking 
 instances of the exertion *of their irresponsible authority, occurred 
 in the case of the Doge Marino Faliero — 
 
 " Whose grizzly head 
 Rolled down the Giant's stairs" — 
 
 for an alleged conspiracy against the State, to which he had been 
 urged on, in order to take revenge on the nobles for an insult 
 which had been offered him by Michael Steno, one of that proud 
 aristocracy, who had reflected on the virtue of the Doge's wife. 
 A still more striking instance occurred in the case of Giacomo 
 Foscari, son of the old Doge of that name, for the alleged crime 
 of receiving a bribe from a foreign State. This fact has been 
 made the basis of a tragedy by Lord Byron, and finely versified 
 by Rogers in his beautiful poem of Italy. After all, the simple 
 narrative is more affecting than either. 
 
 Wearied with the cares of State, and foreseeing troubles ahead. 
 
82 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 the old Doge had once and again asked permission to retire from 
 his office; but so far from granting his request, the Council 
 exacted of him an oath to retain it for life. Three of his four 
 sons were already dead, *' hunted down" by the fell adversaries 
 of his house. Giacomo, young, beautiful and brave, was his only 
 pride and hope. He had formed a splendid alliance with the 
 noble family of the Contarini, and was one of the greatest favorites 
 among the Venetians. But four years, from his marriage he was 
 accused of having received presents from foreign potentates, a 
 high crime in Venice ; and, in the presence of his own father, he 
 was subjected to the rack, and when a confession was extorted 
 from him in his agony, that father was compelled to pronounce 
 his sentence of banishment for life. 
 
 Some years after, an assassination occurred in the streets of 
 Venice. The chief of the Ten, Donato, was murdered on his 
 return from a sitting of the Council, at his own door, by un- 
 known hands. A victim was demanded for this monstrous offense, 
 and the coadjutors of the slain magistrate eagerly caught at the 
 slightest clue which might lead to the detection of the offender. 
 A servant of Giacomo Foscari had been seen in Venice on the 
 evening of the murder, and it was said that, on being met by the 
 <5hief of the Ten in a boat off Mestre, the ijext morning, he had, 
 in answer to the question, ** What news V reported the assassina- 
 tion some hours before it was generally known. The servant was 
 arrested, examined, and barbarously tortured; but even the 
 eightieth application of the Strappado failed to elicit a word 
 which might justify their suspicion. And yet the young Foscari 
 was recalled, placed on the rack vacated by his servant, tortured 
 in his father's presence, and condemned, although he persisted 
 to the last in asserting^ his innocence. On this he was banished 
 to a more distant and painful exile. In the mean while Niccolo 
 Erizzo, a noble infamous for his crimes, confessed on his death- 
 
VENICE. 83 
 
 bed, that it was under his dagger that the murdered councillor 
 had fallen. And yet Giacomo Foscari suffered no remission of 
 his punishment ! 
 
 But the love of home was strong upon the exile. Day and 
 night he dreamed of his wife and children, until his brain reeled, 
 and he resolved that he would procure his recall at any risk. So, 
 writing to the Prince of Milan, imploring his good offices with the 
 Senate, he left the letter where it would easily be found by the 
 spies, whowatched him even in his exile. The result was a hasty 
 summons to Venice, to answer for the heavy crime of soliciting 
 foreign intercession with his native government. 
 
 For a third time Francesco Foscari listened to the accusation 
 of his son, who calmly avowed his offense, but stated that he had 
 committed it for the sole purpose of being recalled. But there 
 was " no flesh" in the obdurate hearts of his judges. Thirty times 
 was he raised on '' the accursed cord,'* and yet no false confession 
 came from the quivering lips of the sufferer. Torn, bleeding and 
 senseless, he was carried to the apartments of the Doge, firm in 
 his original purpose. But the judges were equally firm in theirs, 
 and again renewed his sentence of exile, with the addition that its 
 first year should be spent in prison. Before his departure, one 
 interview was permitted with his family. The Doge, his father^ 
 was now old and decrepit, and when he came, supported by his 
 crutch, into the chamber, he spake with great firmness, so that it 
 might appear as if he was addressing another than his son — his 
 only son ! '^ Go, Giacomo," was his reply, when entreated for the 
 last time to solicit mercy, '' submit to the will of your country, 
 and seek nothing further." It was too much for the old man ; 
 when he retired he swooned in the arms of his attendants. His 
 son again departed into exile, and was soon afterwards relieved 
 by death. 
 
84 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 But severer trials awaited the aged father. He was opposed 
 in all his plans, and finally deposed from his office by the Ten, 
 who released him from the obligation of his oath. On the fifth 
 day after his deposition, another was elected in his stead ; and 
 when the dethroned Duke heard the announcement of his succes- 
 sor, he ruptured a blood-vessel in the attempt to suppress his 
 agitation, and died in a few hours. 
 
 Loredano, one of the Ten, was the author of all this mischief. 
 To revenge an injury, supposed to have been inflicted by the 
 Foscari on his father, he had consecrated his life to the accom- 
 plishment of his fell purpose. It is said that when the close of 
 the mournful tragedy was announced to him, Loredano, who was 
 engaged in commerce, like most of the Venetian nobles, took 
 down one of his ledgers, and turned to a blank leaf. Opposite to 
 that page was an entry in his own hand among his list of debtors : 
 ** Francesco Foscari, for the death of my father and uncle." On 
 the other side he wrote : " He has paid me !"* 
 
 The jurisdiction of the Ten was prompt and energetic ; their 
 police, the most perfect in the world ! ]N"either innocence nor 
 crime, neither power nor cunning could escape them, when bent 
 upon the execution of their plans. A Frenchman of high rank 
 was robbed in Venice, and had complained that the police 
 were vigilant only as spies upon strangers. On leaving the city, 
 his gondola was suddenly stopped. Inquiring the reason, the 
 gondoliers pointed to a boat with a red flag that had just made 
 them a signal. It arrived, and he was called on board : 
 
 ** You are the Prince de Craon ? Were you not robbed on 
 Friday evening ?" 
 
 "^ See Smedley's History of Venice, who has given a more accurate ac- 
 count of this transaction than either Sismondi, Rogers pr Lord Byron. His 
 principal authorities are Sanuto and Daru. 
 
VENICE. 85 
 
 -I was." 
 
 -Of what?" 
 
 '' Of five hundred ducats." 
 
 ** And where were they ?" 
 
 " In a green purse ?" 
 
 ** Do you suspect anybody ?" 
 
 "I do ; a servant." 
 
 " Would you know him again ?" 
 
 '' Certainly." 
 
 The questioner with his foot turned aside an old cloak that lay 
 there, and the prince beheld his purse in the hand of a corpse ! 
 
 "Take it, and remember, that none set their feet again in 
 a country where they have presumed to doubt the wisdom of the 
 government."* 
 
 But the old Venetian Republic, State Council and Inquisition, 
 have passed away forever. The government yielded to Napoleon 
 without a blow, and after his downfall, Austria set her foot upon 
 the proud and beautiful city. But the memory of the past burns 
 in the heart of the people. They will never submit to despotism, 
 and must be free once more. 
 
 Pass into St. Mark's Place of an evening, and all seems life 
 and pleasure. Gay and various costumes, illuminated coffee- 
 houses, parties of pleasure, joyous conversation, and sprightly 
 music, make the scene like one of fairy land. Can such a people 
 long for independence ? Can they fight for freedom ? — have they 
 strength to grasp it, and, above all, to keep it, in the face of glit- 
 tering bayonets, of exile and death ? 
 
 It is done ! All Italy, from Alps to Apennines, is in arms ! 
 Freedom or death echoes from Turin to Naples. Old Rome is 
 rising in her might. All Lombardy is rushing to the contest. 
 
 * Rogers's Italy, Paris edition, p. 68. 
 
86 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Milan, after a bloody struggle, is free. The Austrians are re- 
 treating toward the Alps !*" The cry of freedom rings along the 
 canals of Venice, and the whole population rush in mass to the 
 square of St. Mark, and vow to sacrifice their lives or the oppres- 
 sors of their country. The Austrian authorities are struck dumb 
 with astonishment at the new and startling attitude of the hitherto 
 peaceable and pleasure-loving Venetians. The soldiers are called 
 out, and an attempt made to awe the populace by a display of 
 bristling bayonets. But this expedient only exasperates the crowd. 
 Unarmed as they are, they become perfectly furious, tear up the 
 pavement of the Place of St. Mark, with giant force break the 
 stones to pieces, and hurl them, with unremitting energy, at their 
 assailants. Several discharges of musketry follow this mad attack, 
 and five ghastly bodies lie sweltering in their blood, and many 
 wounded in the middle of the square. The infuriated people 
 shout for arms, and at last Count Palffi, the civil orovernor, inca- 
 pable of restraining the popular movement, summons- the Munici- 
 pal Council, and gives order for the formation of a national guard, 
 with the hope of preserving tranquillity. But the reverse follows, 
 and the next day a successful attack is made upon the arsenal, 
 which, after the death of the commanding officer, yields without 
 a struggle. From that nv>iaent the victory is gained. Arms are 
 distributed to the entire populace. The Austrian commanders, 
 beholding the imposing spectacle from their palace windows, and 
 terrified at the threatening aspect of the victorious crowd, instant- 
 ly sign a capitulation, engaging that all the imperial troops, 
 amounting to five thousand, shall immediately evacuate the city, 
 and be sent back towards Vienna, and furthermore that the civil and 
 military government of Austria in Venice has " ceased to exist.** 
 
 * Alas ! much of this is already reversed. This, indeed, is but the first 
 act of the drama. Let the reader pass on, and he will find the second and 
 the third. 
 
VENICE. - 87 
 
 The news spreads through the city like hghtning, and sends an 
 electric thrill to every heart. The crowd rush, with Manini, a 
 distinguished jurist, who had been imprisoned for his political 
 opinions, to the Place of St. Mark, where, borne upon the shoul- 
 ders of the people, this martyr for liberty proclaims that Venice 
 ■ is again a republic. With a voice like the rush of many waters, 
 the people echo his words. Loud and prolonged cries of Viva 
 San Marco ! Viva Repuhlica ! Viva Manini ! rend the air, and 
 make the old cathedral shake with the mighty echo. 
 
 The following day the tri-colored flag is consecrated, amid the 
 vivas of the crowd and the benedictions of the priests. Con- 
 gratulations are presented to the Consul of the United States, who, 
 of course, partakes of the general enthusiasm, and the people shout. 
 Viva il Consolo! Viva gli Stati Uniti ! Viva la gran Repuhlica ! 
 
 This is the first act of the drama. The second is widely diff'er- 
 ent. The Austrians have returned from the Alps, have repelled 
 the Piedmontese army, and again taken possession of Milan! 
 Prince Albert, with his fine speeches and lofty pretensions, has 
 been driven back to Turin. The Italians, we fear, have been be- 
 trayed. At all events, King Albert has proved himself incapable 
 of achieving the freedom of Italy. He has pride enough, ambi- 
 tion enough, but not high capacity and virtue. He is more con- 
 cerned for his own kingly prerogatives and personal aggrandize- 
 ment, than for all the freedom and glory in the world. 
 
 It is well known that when Duke of Carignano, Charles Albert 
 consorted with the Carbonari, and proclaimed himself a patriot. 
 But he betrayed his too credulous companions, and gave indica- 
 tions either of a vacillating or a mercenary spirit. He is said to 
 be brave and hardy; and in the carnpaign of 1823 commanded, 
 with success, a column of the French army, which broke up the 
 Spanish liberals, and reinstated the King upon his throne. But 
 he lacks stern integrity and self-sacrifice, without which, no man 
 
88 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 can achieve the freedom and independence of his country. He is 
 more of a Borgia or a Castrucci, than a Tell or a Washington. 
 Moreover, he is either bigoted himself, or ministers to the bigotry 
 of his people with a view to their better government. For years 
 he cherished the Jesuits. Recently, however, he has adopted the 
 views of Gioberti, which, though liberal in some respects, look to 
 Charles Albert's becoming the king of northern Italy,' and at the 
 instance of his people he has banished the Jesuits. One of these 
 days he may take them back again, and sacrifice to their vengeance 
 the Constitution he has given his people. This indeed may be im- 
 possible ; and King Albert may be compelled, by force of circum- 
 stances, to pursue a liberal course. No one, however, need expect 
 him to act from other than narrow and selfish motives. The Italian 
 princes, as a general thing, have been a sorry set ; and we suspect 
 Charles Albert is little better than his brethren. 
 
 In resources, and in the power of endurance, Venice is weak, 
 and if not supported by Piedmont and Lombardy, must fall again 
 under the dominion of Austria. Long years of degradation have 
 exhausted her energy. As to a permanent republic there, or in any 
 other part of Italy, for the present, we fear we must give it up. 
 It is one thing to make fine speeches, or even to achieve revolu- 
 tions ; another to lay the foundations of a free and enduring com- 
 monwealth. To attain that, knowledge, integrity and self-sacrifice 
 are absoutely indispensable. 
 
 We confess, then, that the second act of the drama is rather 
 flat. The third, we hope, will be more spirited. 
 
 " Order reigns in Warsaw.'' The Austrian " Leopard " has 
 again placed her paw upon Lombardy. Notwithstanding the pro- 
 gress of revolution, even in eastern Germany, the government of 
 Vienna yields nothing with reference to her Italian possessions. 
 Her influence there is increasing with every change. She promises 
 a Ziiera? Constitution to Lombardy ; but will flot bate one **jotor 
 
VENICE. 89 
 
 tittle" of her right of taxation and control. Charles Albert growls, 
 but shrinks from responsibility — of course ! Gioberti, Azeglio, 
 and the Turin patriots make speeches and write pamphlets, but 
 accomplish little or nothing. Venice crouches in her sea-girt 
 home, stunned and bewildered by the strange events through 
 which she has passed. Pio ISTono, the Liberator of Italy, and 
 the " hero of the nineteenth century," is at his wits' end, and 
 trembles alike at the power of Austria and the spirit of revolu- 
 tion. His subjects are in rebellion, and if not subdued by foreign 
 intervention, will strip his Holiness of his temporal rule.^ The 
 Grand Duke of Tuscany is doing the best he can to mind his own 
 business, and steer his bark amid contending currents.f Ferdi- 
 nand of Naples exults in the success of his cruel and despotic 
 policy, and is thoroughly prepared to co-operate with Austria, or 
 any other selfish government, to maintain '^ tranquillity" in Italy. 
 
 Such is the third act of the drama, ^a^^^r even than the second, 
 and without much apparent promise as to the future. 
 
 But how long will this state of things last ? Surely the play, 
 tragedy or comedy, we scarcely know which to call it, is not yet 
 ended ! No, indeed ! A few days, a few years at least, will see 
 the whole reversed. Italy is not yet dead. Exhausted and per- 
 haps bound in chains, but alive and sensitive ; wounded and 
 almost despairing, " but hoping against hope," and ready, when- 
 ever the time comes, for htr great, her final, her successful strug- 
 gle. God and the right will yet prevail. 
 
 But it is only through much tribulation, that any State or peo- 
 ple, as in the case of an mdividual, can enter into the possession 
 of a true and lasting freedom. 
 
 We rejoice to say, after waiting a short time, that a new phase 
 in the history of the Venetian republic has just revealed itself. It 
 seems that the annexation to Piedmont, voted by the General As- 
 
 * They have done so. f He has fled from Tuscany. 
 
90 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 sembly, is annulled. The armistice, signed by Charles Albert, by 
 which he resigned the Avhole of upper Italy to Austria, is vio- 
 lently rejected by the Venetians, and the Republic is once more 
 declared independent. Manini is again called to the head of the 
 government, and the citizens are resolved to defend themselves to 
 the last extremity. The Austrians have not yet been able to 
 take the city. It is defended by the inhabitants with most de- 
 voted bravery. Great sacrifices are made by rich and poor. The 
 ladies abandon their costly dresses and jewels, the patricians and 
 bankers their splendid furniture and plate, for the defense of the 
 republic. ** I regret," said one of the most distinguished ladies 
 of the city> *' I regret having no more, because I have nothing to 
 give." All pay prodigious taxes without a murmur. All watch, 
 night and day, arms in hand, upon the walls and in their ships. 
 They are resolved to perish before yielding their city to the rapa- 
 cious despotism of the Austrians. We cherish the liveliest hope, 
 therefore, that the last and closing act of this smgular drama will 
 be one of triumph and joy. 
 
 We are disappointed. Venice once more succumbs to the 
 power of her oppressors ; and thus ends for the present this too 
 tragic drama. So we write, while our work is passing to a third 
 edition. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Celebrated Venetians — Marco Polo — Pietro Bembo — Fra Paolo Sarpi — 
 Titian — Tintoretto — Goldoni — Canova — Ochino or Ocello of Sienna — Spe- 
 cimen of his preaching — Justification bj Faith. 
 
 Venice is less distinguished in arts and literature than Florence 
 and Rome. But it boasts many illustrious names, and is rich in 
 the spoils of antiquity, and in the splendors of architecture and 
 painting. Among its distinguished men, the names of Marco 
 Polo, the celebrated traveller ; Pietro Bembo, cardinal, historian, 
 and poet ; Fra Paolo, philosopher and divine ; Titian, Tintoretto, 
 and Paul Veronese, eminent painters ; Canova, the sculptor ; Gol- 
 doni, the father of Italian comedy, and others will occur to the 
 intelligent reader. Here Petrarch spent a considerable portion 
 of his time, much revered and loved by the Venetians ; and as a 
 mark of his affection bequeathed his library to the city, vrhich, 
 we regret to say, has been permitted to go to decay. Galileo also 
 lived for some time in Venice, when professor of astronomy in the 
 neighboring University of Padua, and made his celebrated lunar 
 observations in the old tower of St. Mark. His telescope excited 
 the amazement and curiosity of the people so much, that he was 
 obliged to keep himself out of the way, to escape their pressing 
 importunities. 
 
 In those old churches, too, once preached the venerable and elo- 
 quent Ocello of Sienna, a man of apostolic piety, great simplicity 
 of manners, and rare oratorical powers. He was also one of the 
 
92 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 first Protestants in Italy, and exerted a wide-spread influence in 
 favor of pure religion. Ugo Foscolo, of whom we have already 
 spoken, belongs to Venice, but his long exile from his native 
 country has identified him quite as much with Milan or London, 
 as with Venice. 
 
 A few words respecting these distinguished men ^vill conclude 
 our notices of this ancient city, and beguile our journey to Fer- 
 rara, where we propose to linger for a time, before reaching the 
 capital of Tuscany, the far-famed and beautiful Florence. 
 
 And, first of all, Marco Polo, with his majestic bearing and 
 oriental dress, glides before us, joking pleasantly, and telling won- 
 derful stories about Kublai Khan and the marvels of the far dis- 
 tant East. This greatest traveller and story-teller of the thirteenth 
 century was the son of a Venetian merchant, Nicolo Polo, who, 
 with his brother Matteo, had penetrated to the court of the con- 
 queror Kublai, the illustrious Khan of the Tartars, where they 
 were received with great kindness and hospitality. Among other 
 things, the Khan was so much pleased with their account of Eu- 
 rope, that he made them his ambassadors to the Pope, on which 
 they travelled back to Rome ; and, after some delay, returned once 
 more to the Tartar court, taking with them two missionaries and 
 young Marco, who, in consequence of his aptitude in the acquisi- 
 tion of languages, graceful manners, and energetic character, be- 
 came a great favorite with the Khan. He was employed on many 
 important embassies, and traversed a large portion of Asia. Af- 
 ter an absence of many years, and a series of singular adventures, 
 he returned to Venice, and astonished his fellow- citizens by his 
 great wealth, and his glowing descriptions of the wonders of ex- 
 treme Asia. At their feasts and carnivals, among those most 
 followed, was always a mask in a magnificent habit, relating mar- 
 vellous adventures, and calling himself Messer Marco Millioni. 
 This was the name given to Marco Polo by his fellow-citizens, on 
 
BEMBO. 93 
 
 account of his immense wealth. His house was called La Corte 
 del MilHoni, the palace of the rich man, or rather the millionaire, 
 and was the frequent resort, during his life, of the curious and 
 the learned. 
 
 Marco Polo was engaged as commander of a Venetian vessel 
 in the unfortunate action with Genoa, off Curzola, in the Adri- 
 atic, where he was foremost in the attack, and, being wounded, 
 was taken prisoner. To beguile the tediousness of four years' 
 imprisonment, he committed his adventures to writing, in which 
 he gives many startling descriptions, and strange incidents by 
 flood and field, long doubted by the sceptical, but most of which 
 have been singularly confirmed by succeeding travellers.* Hap- 
 pily, the admiration he excited among the Genoese led to his 
 release from prison ; but what became of him afterwards, history 
 does not inform us. 
 
 Pietro Bembo, subsequently the celebrated secretary and car- 
 dinal at the court of Rome, whose touching sonnet on Italy we 
 have already quoted, was born in Venice, in 1470, and died at 
 Rome, loaded with honors, in 1547. He was a great connoisseur 
 in the arts, a thorough Greek scholar, and a complete master of 
 the niceties of his native tongue. He was familiar also with many 
 sciences, and composed an elaborate history of Venice. During 
 the early part of his life he resided in Venice, and became histo- 
 riographer to the republic. 
 
 Of courtly manners and great conversational powers, Bembo 
 became the favorite of popes and princes, and having acquired 
 much wealth, he passed a considerable portion of his time in 
 literary recreations, in the study of antiquities, the collection of 
 
 * We except, of course, his superstitious fancies, and some Sinbad stories 
 which he heard from others. What he relates from his own observation 
 may generally be relied on as true. 
 
94: GENIUS OF IT/iLY 
 
 medals, and especially in the composition of poetry, in which he 
 was supposed to excel all his contemporaries. Indeed Bembo 
 was the Petrarch of his day, though far inferior to that master of 
 the lyre in the flow of his numbers, and ■ especially in the depth 
 and power of his aflfections. His style has beauty and elegance, 
 but lacks originality and fire. 
 
 In 1512, Bembo repaired to Rome with Giulio de Medici, whose 
 brother. Pope Leo Tenth, made him his secretary, and where he 
 lived in great refinement and splendor, " the admired of all ad- 
 mirers." During the whole of his early life, and perhaps some- 
 time afterwards, he was essentially epicurean in his tastes, and, 
 like Leo Tenth, Sadaleto and other dignitaries of the Papal court, 
 for long years pursued the enchantress Pleasure through all her 
 mazy labyrinths.''^ Pope Paul the Third conferred upon him a 
 cardinal's hat, from which time he renounced literature and the 
 grosser forms of worldly pleasure, betaking himself to the study 
 of the Fathers and the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 Bembo did much to restore a pure Latin style. He also aided 
 in the improvement and polish of his native tongue. He was so 
 fastidious respecting style that he is said to have had forty dif- 
 ferent partitions through which his compositions, as he polished 
 them, successively passed. He published extensively in prose 
 and verse. His poems appeared under the simple title of *' Le 
 Rime," a collection of exquisite sonnets and canzonets, somewhat 
 in the spirit and style of Petrarch, of whose elaborate polish 
 Bembo was a studious and not unsuccessful imitator. The fol- 
 lowing has a peculiar interest, as indicating his views of his early 
 life. 
 
 * He never abandoned the fair Morosina, with whom he had formed a 
 connection in early hfe. But such things have been frequentlv allowed in 
 the Papal court. 
 
BEMBO. 95 
 
 TURNING TO GOD. 
 
 ' If, gracious God, in life's green ardent year, 
 
 A thousand times thy patient love I tried ; 
 With reckless heart, with conscience hard and sere. 
 
 Thy gifts perverted and thy power defied ; 
 O grant me, now that wint'ry snows appear 
 
 Around my brow, and youth's bright promise hide- 
 Grant me with reverential awe to hear 
 
 Thy holy voice, and in thy word confide I 
 Blot from my book of life its early stain ! 
 
 Since days misspent will never more return, 
 My future path do thou in mercy trace ; 
 
 So cause my soul with pious zeal to burn. 
 That all the trust, which in thy name I place, 
 Frail as I am, may not prove wholly vain." 
 
 The following has a soft and solemn beauty. 
 
 DEATH. 
 " From the stern monarch of dismay. 
 
 Whom Nature trembles to survey — 
 
 Death ! to me, the child of grief, 
 
 Thy welcome power would bring relief. 
 Changing to peaceful slumber many a care. 
 
 And though thy stroke may thrill with pain 
 
 Each throbbing pulse, each quivering vein ; 
 
 The pangs that bid existence close. 
 
 Ah ! sure, are far less keen than those 
 Which cloud its lingering moments with despair.'* 
 
 One of the most honest, earnest, and learned men of Venice, 
 was Fra Paolo Sarpi ; Fra Paolo, as he is ordinarily termed, 
 or as we should say. Father Paul, an ecclesiastic whose impartial 
 history of the Council of Trent is well known, for its frank and 
 fearless exhibition of the chicanery and intrigue which prevailed 
 among the cardinals and bishops composing that famous body. 
 
96 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 He was the son of a merchant, born in Venice in 1552, and edu- 
 cated for the church. In his twentieth year he entered a mo- 
 nastic order, and was appointed chaplain to the Grand Duke of 
 Mantua and lecturer on canon law. Returning to Venice, he was 
 made provincial of his order, and subsequently procurator-general. 
 He was accused of heresy, on the ground of a letter betrayed by 
 a treacherous correspondent, in which he had observed that so far 
 from courting the dignities of the church of Rome he held them 
 in utter contempt. His liberal intercourse with distinguished 
 Protestants tended to deepen the suspicion, so that he became an 
 object of some fear and aversion to the Papal court, at that time 
 sunk in venality and crime. A dispute between the Venetian 
 government and the Pope, in which Fra Paolo took part on be- 
 half of his country and the cause of freedom, .was the occasion of 
 his being summoned to Rome, on pain of excommunication, to 
 answer for his conduct ; but the matter was compromised. It did 
 not, however, terminate here. During a visit which Sciopius, 
 *' one of the most learned as well as impudent men of his time," 
 paid to Venice, he informed Fra Paolo that he knew, by certain 
 advice, how much the court of Rome desired either his arrest 
 or assassination ; at the same time intimating to him, what was 
 then well known, that the Popes have long arms. Fra Paolo re- 
 plied that he had only defended a just cause, and that the Pontiff 
 ought not to feel offended ; that he v/as specially included in " the 
 public accomodation ;'' that he could not mistrust the word of a 
 sovereign ; and moreover, that assassination on political grounds 
 was rarely directed against the person of a private individual. 
 ** But if the worst happens," he added, " I am prepared for 
 death. If however they should think to take me alive and carry 
 me off to Rome, not all the power of the Pope can hinder a man 
 from being more master of himself than others can be ; so thd;t 
 my life will be more in my own keeping than in that of the 
 
TITIAN. 97 
 
 Pontiff — a noble and striking reply, indicating tne genius and 
 courage of the man. 
 
 One night in the following October, when Fra Paolo was re- 
 turning, at a late hour, to the Convent Dei Serveti, at that time 
 his residence, he was suddenly attacked on the neighboring 
 bridg e of Santa Fosca by five bravos, some of whom kept watch 
 while the others fell upon their victim. Fifteen stabs were aimed 
 at him, of which only three took effect ; two in the neck, and one 
 on the cheek close to the nose, where the stiletto was turned 
 aside by the bone and left in the wound. The assassins were seen 
 to escape in a gondola, which conveyed them to the palace of the 
 Papal nuncio, from which they passed over to Lido, and proceed- 
 ed in a well-armed, ten-oared vessel in the direction of Ravenna. 
 The life of Fra Paolo was long doubtful, but he bore his sufiFer- 
 ings with the greatest patience and even cheerfulness, deprecating 
 inquiry after the assassins, and even drawing smiles from his 
 attendants by his good humor and occasional pleasantries. 
 
 Father Paul wrote ably on speculative philosophy, and was 
 the forerunner of Locke, many of whose ideas he suggested. He 
 also wrote on optics and other subjects of natural science ; on 
 the rights of the Church ; on benefices, and other topics of a 
 kindred character. He was familiar with anatomy, and appears 
 to have discovered the valves of the veins which aid in the circu- 
 lation of the blood. He died in Yenice, in 1622, uttering the 
 words Esto perpetua^ which have been construed as a prayer for 
 the prosperity of his native country. 
 
 Of Titian, the founder of the Venetian school of painting, and 
 his successful pupil, Tinteretto, we have little to say. Their names 
 and works are known throughout the world. Titian created an 
 era in the art of painting, and although inferior in design to 
 Michael Angelo, and in execution to Raffaele, is one of the im- 
 mortal names of Italy. His designs are sometimes feeble, and 
 5 
 
98 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 his angels too delicate and feminine. But in the soft beauty of 
 his forms, and the mellow splendor of his coloring, he stands pre- 
 eminent. In personal character and in the style of his painting, 
 Titian was too much of a voluptuary. Hence his female figures^ 
 his Venuses and Magdalenes, though delicate as houris, possess 
 little ideal beauty, none of that purity or grandeur of expression 
 so conspicuous in those of RafFaele and Domenichino. Titian 
 died in the great plague of 1576, at the venerable age of ninety- 
 six. He was a great favorite of the Venetians, and aided with 
 Tintoretto, Paul Veronese, and others, in adorning and beautifying 
 their capital. 
 
 Of Goldoni, who was born in lYC? and died in 1793, it is suffi- 
 cient to say, that he was the greatest writer of comedy in the 
 Italian language. He reformed the drama, which certainly is 
 high praise, and was distinguished by fertility of invention, great 
 dramatic vigor, and beauty of style. His life was restless and 
 changeable, and frequently not quite reputable. His plays are 
 loose in their moral tone, and abound in love intrigues ; but they 
 are said to be a vast improvement on those which preceded them. 
 
 Canova, one of the greatest sculptors of modern times, was 
 born at Possagno in the Venetian territory. He first displayed 
 his peculiar genius, when only twelve years of age, by modelling 
 the figure of a lion in butter, which was placed on the table of 
 Faliere, the seigneur of the palace. This led to his being placed 
 as an apprentice with a sculptor in Bassano, and afterwards in 
 the academy at Venice. His success at first was slow and 
 gradual ; for his genius developed itself only by degrees, and 
 through the influence of much culture and discipline. The fine 
 attitude and classic finish of his Theseus, and the extreme beauty 
 of his Cupid and Psyche, stamped his fame as one of the great 
 and original sculptors of the age. His style is not majestic and 
 striking, like that of Michael Angelo, but soft and singularly beau- 
 
OCELLO. 99 
 
 tiful. It has an ideal grace which charms alike the philosopher 
 and the peasant. His tomb for Alfieri, in Florence, is exceeding- 
 ly chaste and striking, and, as they were personal friends, is a 
 charming link in their history. The name of Canova was inscrib- 
 ed by Pius Seventh in the *' Golden Book of the Capitol," who 
 also made him Marquis of Ischia, with a handsome pension. As 
 a man, Canova was remarkable for his amiable temper and 
 benevolent disposition. His opinion of himself was modest, and 
 his appreciation of others cordial and generous. His last work 
 was a large group, in which religion is represented as victorious. 
 He died in Venice in 1802, loved and venerated by all. 
 
 We have mentioned the name of cello of Sienna, as one of the 
 most eloquent preachers of his day. He was contemporary with 
 Bembo, and enjoyed the esteem and affection of that gifted man. 
 '' He discourses," says the latter, writing to Vittoria Colonna, the 
 celebrated Marchioness of Pescara, at whose solicitation Ocello 
 had visited Venice, *' in a very different and more Christian style, 
 than any other that has mounted the pulpit in my day, and, with 
 more hvely charity and love, brings forth truth of superior excel- 
 lence and usefulness." Again, he says : " There is not a man or 
 woman in the city who does not extol him to the skies. 0, what 
 pleasure, what delight, what joy he has given !" Little did the 
 courtly and too worldly cardinal know, that in all this lay the 
 seeds of that Protestantism which he aided to persecute and ex- 
 tinguish. 
 
 Bernardino Ochino, for that was his real name — the other, we 
 presume, being his ecclesiastical one — was born in Sienna, and 
 educated as a monk. He was not distinguished for learning, but 
 possessed a commanding person, powerful emotions, and an extra- 
 ordinary force of eloquence. When advanced in years, his hair 
 was white as the driven snow, and his beard, of the same color, 
 flowed down to his girdle. His voice too, perfectly under com- 
 
100 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 mand, had a clear, powerful and ringing tone. With a pale face, 
 and dark, penetrating eyes, his aspect was exceedingly venerable 
 and striking. He preached in Naples, Venice and other places. 
 The sanctity of his life added to the force of his words ; and he was 
 appointed general of his order. His pilpularity was unbounded, 
 and it was acknowledged on all hands that he was the greatest 
 preacher in Italy. But he long struggled with his convictions, 
 endeavoring to gain peace of mind by merits and penance. At 
 last he found rest in the great doctrine of justification by faith, 
 and preached it long before his Protestantism was discovered. 
 At last he was indicted for heretical opinions, and his death re- 
 solved on ; in consequence of which he fled to Ferrara, and thence 
 to Geneva. His defection from the Papal church was a matter 
 of infinite regret to many. '' Ah, Bernardino !" exclaims his 
 former friend, CarafFa, " how great wert thou in the eyes of all 
 men ! how beautiful and fair ! Thy coarse but sacred cap, ex- 
 celled the cardinal's hat, and the pope's mitre ; thy mean dress, 
 the most gorgeous apparel ; thy bed of wattles, the softest and 
 most delicious couch ; thy deep poverty, the riches of the world. 
 Thou wert the herald of the Highest, the trumpet sounding far 
 and wide ; thou wert full of wisdom and adorned with knowledge ;* 
 the Lord placed thee in the garden of Eden, in his holy mount, 
 as a light above the candlestick, as the sun of the people, as a 
 pillar in his temple, as a watchman in his vineyard, as a shepherd 
 to feed his flock. "Still thy eloquent discourses sound in our ears ; 
 still we see thy unshodden feet !'' He then goes on to mourn his 
 defection, intimating that some demon must have taken possession 
 of the holy Bernardino, " like the reprobate King of Israel of old." 
 But Ochino was rejoicing in the God of his salvation, and went 
 everywhere, in Geneva, Augsburg, Basel and other cities, preach- 
 ing the word to his countrymen resident in those places. He 
 went with Peter Martyr, another Italian Protestant, an exile from 
 
OCELLO. 101 
 
 home, to England, and thence returned with him to Germany ; 
 the one settling at Strasburg, and the other at Zurich, where he 
 succeeded Beccario as pastor of the exiled Locarnese. 
 
 Having adopted some peculiar views on the subject of the 
 Trinity, he was banished from the city by the council of Zurich — 
 an act of gross injustice and persecution. At the age of seventy- 
 six he departed thence with his four little children, in the depth 
 of winter. He went first to Basel, and thence to Moravia in Ger- 
 many, and, in the year 1564, died in Slacovia, having previously 
 lost a daughter and two sons by the plague, which was then 
 raging in that place. Notwithstanding his Arian sentiments, he 
 was a good man, full of faith ; full also of that divine energy which 
 is the soul of all true eloquence. Celio Secundo Curio, another 
 Italian preacher and scholar, the friend of Olympia Morata, and 
 one of the most devout and energetic of the Italian Protestants, 
 who fled for his life from his native country, and settled in Basel, 
 in Switzerland, has left a Latin translation of a sermon by Ochino, 
 on justification by faith. This has all the clearness and point of 
 some of Luther's discourses on the same subject, the great key- 
 note of the Reformation, and ''the test of a rising or a falling 
 church/' A brief extract from this discourse will doubtless 
 interest our readers, as a specimen of Italian preaching in the 
 sixteenth century, such as Yittoria Colonna and Olympia Morata 
 loved to hear. 
 
 " There is a law," says he, " or rather custom, in certain cities 
 and districts, that in the last week of Lent, which they call the 
 Great or Holy Week, a certain number of malefactors and pris- 
 oners are liberated without any punishment, fine, or restitution 
 on their own part, but solely from the mercy of their sovereign. 
 Now, though in mentioning this custom, whil6 I praise the clem- 
 ency, I blame the superstition which has given rise to it ; yet it 
 very appropriately represents to us the goodness of God. For 
 
102 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 even as these criminals are freed without any exertion or attempt 
 on their part, and not only undeserving of the kindness, but wor- 
 thy of severe punishment ; so we are preserved by the mercy of 
 God, through the mediation of Jesus Christ. 
 
 " Do you wish to know how this is brought about ? Look to 
 the thief who was affixed to the accursed tree along with Christ; 
 and tell me, I pray you, what good did he ever do, that he should 
 hear from Christ these words : ' This day shalt thou be with me 
 in Paradise !' You say, perhaps, * he suffered stripes, tortures, 
 and the cross.' I answer, ' he deserved all these on account of 
 his crimes, and not these only, but greater, eternal death.' For 
 though by these sufferings he might atone the breach of human 
 laws, were he to die a thousand times he could not give satisfac- 
 tion to Divine justice. And if you should say, that the thief 
 was saved by a miracle, or by some singular privilege, I will tell 
 you that it is by an equal miracle, and by the singular mercy of 
 God, that any will be saved ; and if they are saved, as all men 
 are of the same nature, it must be through grace. For by na- 
 ture we are all liable to eternal perdition, and, as St. Paul says, 
 * to the wrath of the Son.' 
 
 *' But God, who is rich in mercy, ' before the creation of the 
 world elected whom he chose to be saved in Christ ; and those 
 whom he elected he also called, and whom he called he also jus- 
 tified and glorified.' These words are not mine, but the Apostle 
 Paul's, the teacher of the Gentiles. So our justification, salva- 
 tion, and blessedness have their sole foundation in Christ — not 
 partly in Christ, and partly in ourselves. Whence Paul teaches 
 the Corinthians, that ^no man can lay other foundation than that 
 which is laid, namely, Jesus Christ ;' and those who ground their 
 salvation on any other thing are foolish and ignorant of divine 
 truth, and resemble those who build their house not upon the 
 solid rock, but upon the quicksands, which the force of the winds 
 and waves will destroy." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Ferrara — Its Past and Present Condition— The Days of Duke Borso — Fer- 
 rara the Asylum of Literary Men — Its Distinction in Literature — Duke 
 Alphonso and his Sisters — Ariosto — Sketch of his Life — Orlando Furio- 
 80 — Specimens of his Poetry. 
 
 In a wide and desolate plain, a few miles from the river Po, lies 
 Ferrara, once the magnificent and polished capital of the ancient 
 duchy of that name, but now a faded and melancholy town, 
 whose grass -grown streets and crumbling palaces give back the 
 echoes of the stranger's foot, as, in sombre mood, he traverses its 
 smooth-flagged pavements. Once it contained a hundred thousand 
 inhabitants, and was the scene of commercial activity, of literary 
 and military splendor. Now it can scarcely boast the fourth part 
 of its former population, and looks deserted and woe-begone. 
 Under Papal dominion it has suffered a sad decline, and is seldom 
 nsited, except by the lovers of antiquity, and the admirers of the 
 genius of Ariosto and Tasso. The principal streets are spacious 
 and handsome, adorned with superb old palaces, whose fronts 
 extend on either side, as far as the eye can reach, with arched 
 gateways below, and proud cornices above. Long, narrow streets 
 are found in other parts of the city ; but in these the grass grows 
 rank, and all is silent and desolate. Monasteries and convents 
 open into them ; but no bell is heard from the towers, no monk 
 is seen at the gate, no beggar even lying under the wall. The 
 court-yards are desolate ; no horsemen, " unbonneted and rib- 
 
104 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 boned/* are dashing through the streets ; and no beautiful eyes 
 are glancing from the balcbnies. 
 
 But here you may yet see the old ducal palace, where the 
 Duke Alphonso and his noble sisters listened to the strains of 
 Ariosto, standing all alone, " moated and flanked with towers, in 
 the heart of the subjugated town, like a tyrant intrenched among 
 slaves." Here also you may visit the house of Ariosto, where 
 he cultivated his garden, and dreamed of haunted castles, love- 
 lorn knights, beautiful maidens and Eden bowers. Moreover, 
 you may see, in the public museum or library, his arm-chair, auto- 
 graph, and inkstand, a manuscript of the Orlando Furioso — nay, 
 his very tomb, so venerated by the Ferrarese, and so dear to all 
 lovers of Italian song. Ariosto was buried in the church of the 
 Benedictines, and '' it is a curious fact, that the bust on his tomb, 
 being struck by lightning towards the middle of the last century, 
 the iron laurels that wreathed the brows of the poet were melted." 
 To this circumstance Lord Byron has alluded, in the following 
 well-known lines: 
 
 " The lightning rent from Ariosto's bust 
 The iron crown of laurel's mimicked leaves — 
 Nor was the ominous element unjust, 
 For the true laurel wreath which genius weaves, 
 Is of the tree no bolt of thunder cleaves ; 
 And the false semblance but disgraced his brow. 
 Yet still, if fondly superstition grieves, 
 Know that the lightning sanctifies below 
 Whate'er it strikes ; yon head is doubly sacred now." 
 
 In Ferrara, too, is shown a small cell in the lunatic hospital of 
 Santa Anna, lighted by a grated window, where Tasso was con- 
 fined for a time, through the ill-judged severity of the Duke 
 Alphonso, and in which he wrote some of the most beautiful and 
 
FERRARA. 105 
 
 touching letters and poems that have ever issued from a prison. 
 What, for example, can be more affecting than the following, 
 addressed to his friend, Scipio Gonzaga ? 
 
 " Sure, pity, Scipio, on earth has fled 
 
 From royal breasts to seek abode in heaven ; 
 For if she were not banished, scorned, or dead, 
 
 Would not some ear to my complaints be given ? 
 
 Is noble faith at pleasure to be riven, 
 Though freely pledged that I had naught to dread, 
 
 And I, by endless outrage to be driven 
 To worse than death — the death-like life I've led ? 
 
 For this is of the quick a grave ; and here 
 Am I, a living, breathing corpse, interred, 
 
 To go not forth till prisoned in my bier. 
 O earth ! heaven I if love and truth are heard. 
 
 Or honor, fame and virtue worth a tear, 
 Let not my prayer be fruitless or deferred." 
 
 But we forget the present. The strains of Ariosto, Tasso, and 
 Guarini are in our ears. Ferrara is herself again ! Its wide and 
 handsome streets are filled with cavahers, as in the days of Borso, 
 or of his descendants, Alphonso and Ercolo. Rich tapestries a.re 
 hanging from the balconies, crowded with fair forms ; proud cav- 
 ahers are prancing through the streets ; busy throngs are tripping 
 along the pavements, and a confused murmur, mingled with mar- 
 tial music, is heard in the grand piazza, where stand bronze 
 monuments of two of the most illustrious Dukes of Ferrara. 
 
 Frederick the Third, on his way to Rome, has been invited by 
 Borso to visit the city ; and for a whole week is treated there 
 magnificently, with all his train, consisting of two thousand per- 
 sons. The Emperor, wonderfully taken with the noble nature of 
 his entertainer, as an old chronicler informs us, is resolved to 
 advance him to the dignity of Duke, which, on his return from 
 5* 
 
106 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 the Eternal City, is accomplished in the following manner. A 
 large theatre being erected in the centre of the piazza before the 
 palace, and upon it a throne of cloth of gold, the Emperor, in his 
 imperial robes, with the crown which the Pope had placed on 
 his head a few days before, comes thither, takes his seat on his 
 throne, with the King of Hungary on the one side, and the 
 Duke of Austria on the other, besides many German princes 
 placed according to their quality. Borso, richly apparelled and 
 attended by four hundred gentlemen, dressed in the same man- 
 ner, rides from the old castle to the piazza, with streaming banners 
 and nodding plumes. Kneeling before the throne, the ducal 
 robes are put upon him by the Emperor, who invests him with his 
 various titles, as the Duke of Mondena, Earl of Rovigo, and so forth, 
 placing in his hand a naked sword, as a badge of his absolute 
 authority, and then making him sit down by the King of Hungary. 
 
 That Borso well deserved this honor is conceded by all, " for in . 
 truth he was a just, splendid and bountiful prince.'^ 
 
 Under his administration, and that of his more immediate 
 descendants, Ferrara increased in wealth and refinement. It was 
 the asylum of learned men from all quarters of the world. 
 Thither, as well as to Florence, came those distinguished Greeks, 
 who first introduced into Italy the learning and polish of the 
 ancient schools. There some of the most distinguished Italian 
 poets found an asylum and a home, and, except in the case of the 
 unfortunate Tasso, furnish evidence of the wisdom and liberality of 
 its dukes. '' The Court," says an old writer, already quoted, " was 
 an epitome of all that was fine or great in France, Germany or 
 Italy.'' Princes came long journeys on purpose to see it ; and, by 
 all their confessions, " though some courts might be greater, yet 
 none in other respects come near that of Ferrara." The whole 
 city resembled " a great university," academies being everywhere 
 erected for painting, music, poetry and mathematics. 
 
ARIOSTO. 107 
 
 The Duke Alplionso and his sisters were fond ol poetry, or at 
 least claimed to be so ; and we can well imagine, taking the hint 
 from Ginguene, that Ariosto came to the ducal palace of an evening, 
 and read the Orlando Furioso for their entertainment. We are 
 not certain, indeed, that this ever literally took place, but the 
 whole of Ariosto 's poem was written under the supposition that 
 he had such a circle for his listeners. The poet, we are informed, 
 was tall and stout, with a dark complexion, lofty forehead, black 
 curling hair, thick clustering beard, aquiline nose, and dark 
 bright eyes. His shoulders were broad and stooped a little ; his 
 countenance thoughtful and benignant, with a slight gleam of 
 roguery in his dark eyes, and sometimes a playful smile upon his 
 genial mouth, half hidden by his exuberant beard. He was often 
 to be seen in his garden, or sauntering about the city and the 
 neighboring fields. Nature ever wooed him to her bosom. He 
 loved long rambles among the trees and streams. But he was 
 never happier than when rapt in the visions of " fairy land," in 
 imagination rehearsing his wild and irregular, but beautiful crea- 
 tions to the ducal circle. In this noble and festive assembly, says 
 Ginguene, in his Histoire Litteraire d'ltalie, '' You must imagine 
 the bard to be rivetting all eyes and ears during an hour or more, 
 for forty-six evenings. The first day he proposes his subject ; 
 he addresses himself to the Cardinal, his patron ; he promises to 
 celebrate the origin of his illustrious race ; he commences the re- 
 cital ; but as soon as he thinks the attention of his audience may 
 be wearied, he stops, saying that what remains to be told is re- 
 served for another canto. The next day the party again assem- 
 ble, and wait with impatience the appearance of the poet ; he 
 enters, and after some short reflections on the capriciousness of 
 love, resumes the thread of his story. The third day he changes 
 his tone and method, and consecrates this period of his song to 
 predicting the glory of the bouse of Este. Having completed his 
 
108 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 complimentary stanzas, he ceases, and, as usual, promises to renew 
 the recital in another canto, sometimes adding, ' If it be agree- 
 able to you to hear this story ;' or, ' You will hear the rest in 
 another canto, if you come again to hear me.' He found these 
 forms established by the custom of the oldest romantic poets ; he 
 considered them natural and convenient for his purpose, and he 
 borrowed them. Like these his predecessors, he also avoids los- 
 ing sight of his audience, even in the course of his recital. He 
 addresses himself to the princes who might be presiding at the 
 meeting, and to the ladies who graced it by their presence ; not 
 unfrequently apologizing, when he told some incident which seem- 
 ed incredible, with such words as these : ' This is very wonderful ; 
 you believe it not ; but I do not say it of myself, but, Turpin 
 having put it into his history, I put it into mine.' Place yourself 
 in this point of view ; seat yourself in the midst of that attentive 
 assembly ; attend, join in its admiration of that fertile genius — 
 that inimitable story-teller — that adroit courtier — that sublime 
 poet ; stop when he stops ; suffer yourself to wander, to be ele- 
 vated, to be inflamed, as he does himself; lay aside the too 
 severe taste which might diminish your pleasure. Hear Ariosto, 
 above all, in his own language ; study his niceties ; learn to per- 
 ceive their grace, their force, their harmony ; and you will then 
 know what to think of the atrabihous critics who have dared to 
 treat unjustly so true and great a genius." 
 
 Ariosto was born inReggio, in 1474, the oldest of ten children, 
 five sons and five daughters. He gave indications of poetical 
 talent at an early age, but his father wished him to study law, 
 from which he recoiled with abhorrence. This being abandoned, 
 he led an unrestrained and cheerful life, for the next four or five 
 years, divided between study and poetry. Some of his happiest 
 days were spent at a villa, called La Mauriziana, near Reggio. 
 Years after, when leading a less simple, and perhaps a less inno- 
 
ARIOSTO. 109 
 
 cent life, he recalled, with sighs, the pleasant spots which fired 
 him with the inspiration of poetry — the garden, the little river, the 
 mill, the trees by the water-side, and all the other quiet and 
 shady places in which he enjoyed himself in his early prime. 
 
 In his twenty-first year he lost his father, and found himself 
 with a large family left on his hands, in narrow circumstances. 
 The charge was heavy, and at times he wished to die. But he 
 struggled manfully with his difficulties, and finally overcame them. 
 
 In 1504 he entered the service of the heartless, though talent- 
 ed prince. Cardinal Ippolito, brother of Duke Alphonso, of Fer-" 
 rara. The situation was by no means an enviable one, though 
 many regarded it as such at the time, and Ariosto was tolerably 
 content with it, at least for a season. Amid his multifarious en- 
 gagements, he found time to write his great poem, which was 
 under his care for a number of years. It was placed in the hands 
 of the Cardinal, to whom it was dedicated, who, turning to Ariosto 
 quickly, exclaimed, with an oath, " Where, Master Ludovick, 
 have you picked up such a parcel of trumpery V^ which, in all 
 probabihty, stung the poet to the quick, for not long after they 
 came to a rupture. 
 
 Previous to this he had privately married Alessandra Ben- 
 nuci, the widow of one of the Strozzi family, a lady of much 
 beauty, good temper and agreeable manners. She had, to qu€>te 
 the language of Ariosto himself, '' a serene forehead,'' and *' gold- 
 en tresses.'' With this lady he lived in the enjoyment of much do- 
 mestic happiness, though, like too many of his countrymen, 
 somewhat unfaithful to the marriage vow. Indeed, his marriage 
 was never legally acknowledged, for at the time he was in posses- 
 sion of some church-benefices, which he could not hold as a 
 married man. *' This is one of the falsehoods," says Leigh Hunt, 
 " which the Roman Catholic religion thinks itself warranted in 
 tempting honest men to fall into ; thus perplexing their faith as 
 
no GENIUS OF iPALY. 
 
 to the roots of all faith, and tending to maintain a sensual hy- 
 pocrisy, which can do no good to the strongest minds, and must 
 terribly injure the weak." 
 
 He entered the Duke's service in the year 1518, and remained 
 in it during the rest of his life. The Orlando Furioso had at first 
 a limited sale, and struggled for popularity, which it finally se- 
 cured, in an unbounded degree. Its splendor and richness of 
 conception, and marvellously skillful narrative, made it a universal 
 favorite, especially in Italy. Bernardo Tasso, in a letter to Var- 
 ► chi, written in 1559, says, "There is neither scholar, nor artisan, 
 nor boy, nor girl, nor old man, who is content to read it only once. 
 Are not those stanzas of his the comfort of the exhausted traveller 
 on his weary journey, who relieves the cold and the fatigue by 
 singing them on his way ? Do you not hear people singing them 
 every day — singing them in the streets and in the fields ? I do 
 not believe that, in the same length of time as has passed since 
 that most learned gentleman gave his poem to the world, there 
 have been printed or seen so many Homers, or Virgils, or 
 Furiosos.'^ 
 
 While Ariosto was governor of a wild district, which he as- 
 sisted to reduce to order, he was riding out one day, with a few 
 attendants, som^ say walking out in a musing fit, when all at 
 oi\pe he found himself in the midst of a band of outlaws, who 
 in a suspicious manner barely suffered him to pass. But the 
 leader of the band, discovering who he was, came riding back, 
 with much earnestness, and, bowing low to the poet, said that he 
 never should have allowed him to pass in that manner, had he 
 known him to be Signor Ludovico Ariosto, author of the Orlando 
 Furioso ; and that his men and himself, so far from doing the 
 Signor displeasure, would have the honor of conducting him 
 back to his castle. And this they did, entertaining him all the 
 way with the various beauties they had discerned in his poem, 
 
ARIOSTO. Ill 
 
 and bestowing upon it the most rapturous praises — " a rare proof," 
 says Baretti, ''of the irresistible powers of poetry/' 
 
 But Ariosto best loved his home in Ferrara. His small house 
 suited his turn of mind ; and there, in the correction of his poem, 
 and other congenial employments, such as gardening, he spent 
 many happy days. The manuscript of his poem in the Fer- 
 rarese library contains abundant proof of elaborate correction and 
 and polish, proving, what some are slow to believe, that labor is 
 as essential to true genius, as genius is to successful labor. He 
 possessed a fine ear, and was somewhat sensitive to the manner 
 in which his poem was read. Upon this subject Sir John Har- 
 rington tells the following anecdote : 'Coming one day by a pot- 
 ter's shop, that had many earthen vessels ready made to sell on 
 his stall, the potter fortuned, at that time, to sing some stave or 
 other out of the Orlando Furioso. But he plotted the verses out 
 so ill-favoredly, (as might well beseem his dirty occupation,) that 
 Ariosto being, or at least making semblance to be in a great rage 
 withal, with a little walking-stick he had in his hand brake divers 
 pots. The poor potter, put quite beside his song, and almost 
 beside himself, to see his market half marred before it was quar- 
 ter done, in a pitiful, sour manner, between railing and whining, 
 asked what he meant, to wrong a poor man that had never done 
 him an injury in his life. " Yes, varlet," quoth Ariosto, " I a»m 
 scarce even with thee for the wrong thou hast done me here be- 
 fore my face ; for I have broken but half a dozen base pots of 
 thine, that are not worth so many' half-pence,; but thou hast 
 broken and mAgledafine stanza of mine, worth a mark of gold."* 
 
 Ariosto was of an easy, good-natured turn. Somebody won- 
 dering how he could content himself with so small an abode, when 
 he built such magnificent mansions in his poetry, he replied, that 
 it was easier to put words together than blocks of stone. He did 
 not care to travel out of Italy. He preferred, he says, going 
 
112 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 round the earth in a map ; visiting countries, without having to 
 pay inn 'keepers, and ploughing harmless seas, without thunder 
 and lightning. In an age when popes, cardinals and bishops 
 lived in greater splendor, and often with greater dissoluteness 
 than the men of the world ; when Pope Leo Tenth cared more for 
 a medal or a statue than for the word of God, or the purity of 
 the church ; when Cardinal Ippolito was guilty of gross debauche- 
 ry, and even cruelty, and the courtly Bembo exhorted Ariosto 
 not to be too scrupulous respecting the infidelities of his female 
 friends, it will not be surprising if the poet was somewhat indif- 
 ferent to religion, or made a jest of the Church and its dignita- 
 ries. His outward religion, it has been remarked, like that which 
 he ascribed to his friend, Cardinal Bembo, " was that of other 
 people." He was not precisely a sceptic ; and he had a great 
 horror of bigotry and hypocrisy. Doubtless he possessed trans- 
 cendent genius ; though some would say, and say justly, that it 
 was not exerted upon objects worthy of a great man. After 
 protracted sickness and suffering, he died, worn away to a skele- 
 ton, in June, 1533, at the age of fifty-eight. His body was taken, 
 according to his own directions, by four men, during the night, to 
 the church of the Benedictines, and buried there without much 
 ceremony. The monks followed it to the grave, out of respect, 
 contrary to their usual custom. 
 
 The Orlando Furioso is simply a continuation of Boiardo's 
 poem of Orlando Innamorata, which consists of wild and gor- 
 geous legends, borrowed from the Fablicists and Troubadours of 
 Provence, who sang the glories of Charlemagne, and the pleasures 
 of love and chivalry. This rude poem of Boiardo's, who was o'f 
 an illustrious family in Lombardy, was rewritten in fine Tuscan 
 style by Berni, no mean poet, and became one of the greatest 
 favorites in Italy. Ariosto takes it up, and carries it through a 
 long succession of intricate, unconnected, but picturesque and 
 
ARIOSTO. 113 
 
 vivacious stories, interspersed with ricli aad lively descriptions, 
 which gleam through the whole, like the light of an Italian sky 
 among the mountain ranges of the Apennines. Its plots and 
 incidents are numberless, and often extravagant and absurd ; so 
 that the reader is hurried on from point to point, finding no end, 
 
 ** In wandering mazes lost." 
 
 But every thing is painted by the hand of a master, and the 
 style is remarkable for ease, elegance and vigor. It has all the 
 freshness and beauty of a summer morning, bathed in sunhght 
 and dew. The Orlando doubtless has many faults, and to most 
 readers is all but intolerable on account of its length and intricacy. 
 Its licentiousness is its greatc^st blemish ; but in this respect it 
 only mirrors the manners of the times, and throws a painful light 
 upon the dissoluteness of Italian society. Its originality, too, has 
 frequently been questioned ; and doubtless this consists rather in 
 the form than in the substance of the poem ; in the force and 
 beauty of the expression, than in the grandeur and consistency of 
 the plan. Yet most critics concede to Ariosto a large amount of 
 invention. Leigh Hunt is a perfect worshipper of his genius. 
 " Ariosto,'' says the Foreign Quarterly Review, " may be justly 
 considered the most inventive and original of poets ; yet, strip 
 him of all he has collected in a thousand parts, and made his own 
 by skillful appropriation, and what will remain even of him ! He 
 takes a story out of a fabliau, varies it, adds dramatis personoi 
 from Apuleius, supphes them with sentiments from Ovid, and 
 here and there intersperses his own beautiful stanzas with verses 
 tolte da peso, as the Italians phrase it, that is, taken boldly out of 
 Dante and Petrarch. He does, in short, what every good poet, 
 whose operations we are able to trace, has done ; and it is a most 
 curious point to ascertain what is that quaUty which we call 
 
114 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 invention, and to prove how almost entirely made up of borrowed 
 parts is that which may be designated original as a whole." 
 Which is as much as to say, if you plagiarize handsomely, and 
 really give indications of original power in other parts of your 
 poem, you may pass for a great inventive genius as a whole. 
 This, in our humble judgment, is a little too generous, and places 
 at great disadvantage those honest fellows, poets and others, who 
 feel bound to indicate their extracts from others by quotation 
 marks. 
 
 But, with all its drawbacks, the Orlando Furioso has an exhaust- 
 less charm in the limpid clearness, raciness and beauty of the 
 style ; in the natural glow of life and joy pervading the whole ; in 
 the facility, force and elegance of the narrative ; and in those 
 inimitable pictures of Nature which every where appear in it, like 
 " apples of gold in pictures of silver.'"^ Of course it wants the 
 purity and grandeur of Milton, the terror and energy of Dante ; 
 but it has much of the life, versatility, force and vivacity of 
 Shakspeare and Goldoni. We ought, however, never to shut our 
 eyes to Ariosto's licentious tendencies, the greatest fault in Italian 
 literature. ** His conceptions," says Prescott, with fine discrimina- 
 tion, '' were of the earth ; and his pure style, which may be com- 
 pared, with Alcina's transparent arapery, too often reveals to us 
 the grossest impurity of thought."! With this abatement — a 
 heavy one, it is true — we may allow the justice of Leigh Hunt's 
 splendid rhapsody. *' The great charm of the Orlando Furioso," 
 says he, *' is not in its knight-errantry, or its main plot, or the 
 cunning interweavement of its minor ones, but in its endless 
 variety, truth, force and animal spirits ; in its fidelity to actual 
 nature, while it keeps within the bounds of the probable ; and its 
 no less enchanting verisimilitude during its wildest sallies of 
 
 * Original, " Citrons of gold in baskets of feilver." 
 f Miscellanies, by William Prescott. 
 
ARIOSTO. 115 
 
 imagination. At one moment we are in the midst of flesh and 
 blood like ourselves ; at the next, with fairies and goblins ; at the 
 next, in a tremendous battle or tempest ; then in one of the love- 
 Hest of solitudes ; then hearing a tragedy, then a comedy ; then 
 mystified in some enchanted palace ; then riding, dancing, dining, 
 looking at pictures ; then again descending to the depths of the 
 the earth, or soaring to the moon, or seeing lovers in a glade, or 
 witnessing the extravagances of the great, jealous hero, Orlando ; 
 and the music of an enchanting style perpetually attends us, and 
 the sweet face of Angehca glances here and there like a bud ; 
 and there are gallantries of all kinds, and stories endless, and 
 honest tears, and joyous bursts of laughter, and beardings for all 
 base opinions, and no bigotry, and reverence for whatsoever is 
 venerable, and candor exquisite, and the happy interwoven names 
 of Angehca and Medora, young forever.'^* 
 
 As a specimen of Ariosto^s descriptive powers, and of the 
 beauty, harmony and splendor of his style, vf e give the following 
 from the Capitoli Amorosi, requesting the reader to make due 
 allowance, as in all similar instances, for the diminished force and 
 beauty of a translation. 
 
 THE LAUREL. 
 
 In that sweet season, when 'twas springtime still, 
 
 A laurel slip I set with careful hand ; 
 On a small plain half up an easy hill. 
 
 Fortune smiled on it ; the bright air was bland ; 
 " The sun upon it shone benignly too, 
 
 Both from the Indian and the Moorish strand. 
 Refreshing streams with patient zeal I drew 
 
 To where it stood, their grassy banks between, > 
 
 And brought to it the earth, from which it grew. 
 
 It faded not — its leaves a cheerful green 
 
 * Life and Genius of Ariosto. 
 
116 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Still wore ; and, to reward my care and toil, 
 
 It took new root, and soon fresh buds were seen. 
 Nor nature strove my earnest hopes to foil, • 
 
 But breathed benignant on my rising tree, 
 Which seemed to flourish in a genial soil. 
 
 Sweet, lonely, faithful bowers it made for me. 
 Within whose shades I poured my plaints of love 
 
 From my fond heart, while none could hear or see. 
 Yenus ofttimes forsook her seat above 
 
 And Cytherean fanes, where odors sweet 
 Of gums and rich Sabean spices strove. 
 
 The rose-linked Graces on this spot to meet ; 
 And while the loves above them plied the wing, 
 
 Danced round my laurel with unwearied feet. 
 Thither Diana her bright nymphs would bring ; 
 
 For she preferred my laurel to all those 
 That in the woods of Erymanthus spring. 
 
 Other fair deities its shadows chose. 
 To spend the sultry day in cool delight ; 
 
 Blessing the hand that placed it where it rose. 
 Whence came the early tempest thus to blight 
 
 My tree so loved ? And whence the pinching cold 
 That covered it with snows untimely white ? 
 
 Ah why did Heaven its favoring smile withhold ? 
 My laurel drooped ; its foliage green was reft ; 
 
 A bare bleak trunk it rose from barren mold ! 
 Still one small branch, with few pale leaves is left ; 
 
 And between hope and fear I still exist. 
 Lest even of that rude winter should make theft. 
 
 Yet fear prevails ; hope is well nigh dismissed— 
 That icy frosts, not yet I fear me o'er ; 
 
 This last and weakly spray should not resist. 
 And are there none to teach me how, before 
 
 The sickly root itself is quite decayed. 
 Its former vigorous life I may restore ? 
 
 Phoebus, by whom the heavenly signs are swayed, 
 By whom in Thessaly a laurel crown 
 
ARIOSTO. 117 
 
 So oft was borne, now lend this tree thine aid ! 
 Vertumnus and Pomona, both look down, 
 
 Bacchus, Njmphs, Satyrs, Fauns and Dryads fair! 
 On this, my tree, o'er which the Seasons frown ! 
 
 And all ye deities, that have in care 
 The woods and forests, bend a favoring eye 
 
 Towards my laurel ! I its fate must share ; 
 Living, I live with it, or dying, die I" 
 
 The Italian poets, especially the more ancient, love, more than 
 all others, unless it be the Hebrews and the Arabians, bold alle- 
 gories and emblematic figures. The laurel to which Ariosto re- 
 fers, might be a child, a friend, a lover, as the fancy might dic- 
 tate. In Dante especially, and also in Tasso, emblematic figures 
 and allegories play a conspicuous part. The whole of the Geru- 
 salemme, and, we are inclined to think, the Divina Commedia also, 
 is an extended allegory. But more of this hereafter. The fol- 
 lowing sonnet by Ariosto consists of a single bold and beautiful 
 figure : 
 
 The sun was hid in veil of blackest dye, 
 
 That trailing swept the horizon's verge around. 
 The leaves all trailing moaned with hollow sound, 
 
 And peals of thunder scoured along the sky ; 
 
 I saw fierce rain, or icy storm was nigh, 
 
 Yet ready stood o'er the rough waves to bound 
 Of that proud stream that hides, in tomb profound, 
 
 The Delean lord's adventurous progeny ; 
 
 When peering o'er the distant, shore, the beam 
 
 I caught of thy bright eyes, and words I lieard 
 That me Leander's fate may bring, one day ; 
 Instant the gathered clouds dispersed away, 
 
 At once unveiled the sun's bright orb appeared. 
 The winds were silent, gently flowed the stream.*' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Tasso — His Character and Genius — The Gerusalemme Liberata. 
 
 The life of Tasso, styled the Homer of Italy, is a long and mel- 
 ancholy romance. His seven years' imprisonment in the hospital 
 of St. Anna especially, is one of the most mournful events in lite-^ 
 rary history. But his birth and his death were both crowned 
 with honor ; and now he stands acknowledged one of the best 
 men, and one of the greatest poets of his age. Differing essen- 
 tially from Ariosto, his great contemporary, and much inferior to 
 that poet in simplicity and vivacity of style, he must be allowed 
 to be his superior in the dignity of his subject and in the grandeur 
 of his aim. Both as to the purity of its tone and the loftiness 
 of its style, the Gerusalemme Liberata infinitely transcends the 
 Orlando Furioso, with which it has been frequently, but with 
 much injustice, compared. The Orlando has beauties of its own ; 
 but the Gerusalemme is a lofty epic, and makes a nSar approach 
 to the Divina Commedia of Dante, and the Paradise Lost of Mil- 
 ton. Indeed, it is a great moral a,nd religious poem, the true 
 Pilgrim's Progress, or Paradise Regained of the Italian muse.* 
 
 Bernardo Tasso, the father of Torquato, was one of the most 
 •distinguished men of his time. Somewhat restless and change- 
 
 * Leigh Hunt has given the name of " the Pilgrim's Progress" to the 
 Divina Commedia, which every reader of taste must regard as awkward 
 and inappropriate. 
 
TASSO- 119 
 
 able, lie found time tc write many elegant lyrics, some volumes 
 of excellent letters, and an epic poem not much known. His 
 wife, Porzia di Rossi, was a young lady of fine accomplishments 
 and a handsome dowry. She was also beautiful and affectionate, 
 and inspired the profoundest affection in her husband and son. 
 Torquato was born under the happiest auspices, in 1544, at Sor- 
 rento, near Naples, amid the orange trees and olives, the flowers 
 and breezes of "an aromatic coast, '* a region so charming as to 
 be considered the habitation of the sirens. He died in Rome, in 
 1595, in the immediate prospect of a poet's coronation, entirely 
 satisfied and happy ; for, having received the Pope's benediction, 
 he said : " This is the crown with which I hope to be crowned, 
 not as a poet in the Capitol, but with the glory of the blessed in 
 heaven." 
 
 The interval between these two periods, his birth and his death, 
 was mostly filled with change, grief, and care. Sensitive and 
 impassioned, his only solace was his poetry, his dream of love, 
 and especially his long and earnest yearning after uncreated and 
 everlasting beauty. Like most of the great Italian poets, he com- 
 bined singular contrasts. He possessed great faults and great vir- 
 tues. Restless and proud, amorous and resentful, he was yet gen- 
 tle and devout, afifectionate and self-sacrificing. In one aspect 
 of his character he seemed to live only for this world, in another 
 only for the next. He had the free and worldly manners of the 
 age, and yet no man of his time possessed a stronger faith, and a 
 more ardent longing for the good and true. 
 
 His first great grief, mourned over to his dying day, and em- 
 balmed, twenty-four years after the event, in the most touching 
 verses, was his separation from his mother. This took place in 
 his eleventh year, in consequence of his father's exile with the 
 Prince of Salerno, to whose fortunes he was attached ; his mo- 
 ther remaining at home to look after her dowry, which she never 
 
120 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 received. In two years after she died, it was supposed of poison ; 
 so that Torquato never saw her again. In a beautiful fragment, 
 beginning "• del grand' Apennino," he thus refers to the tears 
 with which " the kisses of his poor mother were bathed," when 
 he was forced from her embrace. 
 
 ** Me, from my mother's breast, a child, 
 
 Did cruel fortune tear ; 
 The tears she shed, the kisses wild, 
 
 She pressed in her despair 
 On my pale cheek, and oh, the zeal 
 Of her most passionate appeal 
 
 To Heaven for me in air 
 Alone recorded — with regret, 
 I yet remember — weep for yet I 
 
 Kever, ah ! never more was I 
 
 To meet her face to face. 
 And feel my full heart beat more high 
 
 In her beloved embrace ! 
 I left her — oh the pang severe ! 
 Like young Camilla, or more drear, 
 
 Ascanius-like, to trace 
 O'er hill and dale, through bush and brier, 
 The footsteps of my wandering sire." 
 
 Like all young and sensitive natures, Tasso loved, but loved ir 
 vain, first Laura Peperara, and then Eleonora, one of the noble 
 sisters of the Duke Alphonso."* In connection with the latter, 
 many circumstances, imperfectly known, and only alluded to in 
 Tasso*s letters and poems, deepened the morbid sensitiveness of 
 his nature. It is said, and this is the opinion of Manzo, Gin- 
 
 * Not that the beautiful Eleonora was insensible to the devotion ot 
 Tasso, but their affection was checked and thwarted by untoward circum- 
 stances. 
 
TASSO. 121 
 
 guene, Rosini, and others, that he aspn-ed to her hand, which, 
 according to the usages of society then existing, he could never 
 hope to win ; that afterwards he was guilty of some slight indis- 
 cretion, and his mind being somewhat unhinged, the Duke Al- 
 phonso, of Ferrara, under whose patronage he had placed himself, 
 and whose praises he had sung in the Gerusalemme, threw him 
 into prison, a mournful expiation of a shght folly, and a monstrous 
 usurpation of power over the fate of genius. 
 
 Released at last, he wandered, like a ghost, here and there, 
 now lingering in Mantua, and now returning to Ferrara, and then 
 again suddenly abandoning it, as if he were haunted by some evil 
 genius. He spent a short time in his native Sorrento, but even 
 the serene beauty of that Eden could not detain him. His great 
 poem had been surreptitiously printed, while he was confined to 
 the lunatic hospital, and subjected to much cruel and ungen- 
 erous criticism. True, it was greeted by the mass of readers with 
 a storm of applause ; but the poisonous shafts of envy were let 
 loose upon the poor poet. Leonora, too, was in her grave, and 
 there seemed nothing on earth to satisfy the cravings of his too 
 morbid and ethereal spirit. 
 
 His visit to Naples during the latter part of his life was a great 
 solace to his heart. Here he found friends and quiet, and for a 
 season enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the neighborhood. Still 
 his mind was unsatisfied, and, in our apprehension, somewhat de- 
 ranged. A highly characteristic incident is narrated by his 
 biographer, Manso, the Marquis of Villa. He had regarded him- 
 self as an object of interest to some invisible spirit whom he 
 denominated his messenger. Manso, expressing his doubts of the 
 existence of such a spirit, received for reply that he should have 
 ocular demonstration of the fact. Accordingly, one day, while 
 they were sitting together at the Marquis's fireside, *'he turned 
 his eyes," says Manso, '' towards a Avindow, and held them a long 
 6 
 
122 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 time so intensely on it, that when I called him, he did not answer. 
 At last, ' Behold,' said he, ' the friendly spirit which has cour- 
 teously come to talk with me. Lift up your eyes, and see the 
 truth.' I turned my eyes thither immediately," continues the 
 Marquis, '* but though I endeavored to look as keenly as I could, 
 I beheld nothing but the rays of the sun, which streamed through 
 the panes of the window into the chamber. Whilst I still looked 
 around, without beholding any object, Torquato began to hold, 
 with this unknown something, a most lofty converse. I heard, 
 indeed, and saw nothing but himself ; nevertheless, his words, at 
 one time questioning, at another replying, were such as take place 
 between those who reason strictly on some important subject. 
 And from what was said by the one, the reply of the other might 
 be easily comprehended by the intellect, although it was not 
 heard by the ear. The discourses were so lofty and marvellous, 
 both by the sublimity of their topics and the unwonted manner 
 of talking, that, exalted above myself in a kind of ecstacy, I did 
 not dare to interrupt them, nor ask Tasso about the spirit, which 
 he had announced to me, but which I did not see. In this way, 
 while I listened between stupefaction and rapture, a considerable 
 time had elapsed ; till at last the spirit departed, as I learned 
 from the words of Torquato ; who, turning to me, said, ' From 
 this day forward all your doubts will have vanished from your 
 mind.' * ISTay,' said I, ' they are rather increased ; since though I 
 have heard many things worthy of marvel, I have seen nothing 
 of what you promised to show me to dispel them.' He smiled, 
 and said : ' You have seen and heard more of him, perhaps' — 
 and here he paused. Fearful of importuning him with new 
 questions, the discourse ended ; and the only conclusion I can 
 draw is, what I before said, that it is more likely his visions or 
 frenzies will disorder my own mind than that I shall extirpate his 
 true or imaginary opinion." 
 
TASSO. 123 
 
 The poet, for three years, had desired to be crowned with 
 laurel at the Capitol, and his friends knowing that his genius 
 deserved it, were inclined to gratify his wish. For this purpose 
 he went to Rome, but in the meanwhile died in the arms of his 
 friend. Cardinal Cinzio, closely embracing the crucifix, and feebly 
 uttering the beginning of the sentence : " Into thy hands, 
 Lord" — '* In manus tuas Domine /" The coronation took place 
 after his death. His head was wreathed with laurel, and a mag- 
 nificent toga was thrown around his body, placed in a sitting pos- 
 ture ; a procession took place through the city by torch -light, all 
 the inhabitants pouring out to gaze upon the august but mournful 
 spectacle. He was buried in the church of St. Onofrio ; a plain 
 slab being placed over his remains, with a simple Latin inscrip- 
 tion : 
 
 HERE LIE THE BONES OF TORQUATO TASSO. 
 
 Some years after a handsome^ tomb was erected to his memory. 
 
 Thus passed the life of a great and original poet, sometimes in 
 sunshine, but mostly in shadow. A morbid temperament and 
 unfavorable circumstances disturbed the balance of his mind, 
 which was yet a great and beautiful, and heaven-aspiring mind. 
 Like some august temple, shattered by the lightnings of heaven, 
 it retained the sacred fire, and ever and anon, from its lonely 
 altar, arose to God the hallowed incense of genius and love.* 
 
 Tasso was pre-eminently learned, and besides the Gerusalemme 
 Liberata, wrote many elaborate treatises, and innumerable lyrics, 
 letters, and occasional poems. He was an ardent student of the 
 "divine Plato," and possessed much of the sublime eloquence of 
 
 "'*' To those who wish tc investigate the subject, we recommend Leigh 
 Hunt's critiqwe on the cnaracter and genius of Tasso, and especially, 
 "Wilde's Conjectures and Researches on the Love, Madness, and Imprison- 
 ment of Torquato Tasso," (2 vols ) 
 
124 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 that prince of ancient philosophers. He had the same reverence 
 for the " first good and the first fair/^ the same profound sense 
 of " uncreated and eternal beauty," the same love of purity and 
 truth, and the same longing for perfection, *' absolute and im- 
 mortal." His style, too, has the same clearness, elegance, and 
 splendor ; so that, in every way, Tasso is justly entitled to be 
 called the Plato of the poets. Perhaps Milton might dispute 
 with him the propriety of the name, for in him we find, even in a 
 higher degree, the same elements of lofty grandeur and serene 
 beauty, the same reverence for God, and yearning for immortality. 
 Both give utterance to thoughts " which wander through eter- 
 nity," and sing the same loud, clear, solemn psalm of thanks- 
 giving and adoration. In our view, the note of Milton is stronger 
 and more thrilling. It awakens deeper echoes, and leaves upon 
 the mind a purer and sublimer impression. But they belong to 
 the same order of genius, and aid in prolonging those lofty strains 
 first heard at the creation of the worid, " when the morning stars 
 sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." 
 
 Tasso was tall and well proportioned, with a fair face, rich 
 brown hair, large head, and lofty brow. His eyes were blue 
 and penetrating, surmounted by finely arched eyebrows ; his nose 
 large, lips thin, teeth white and regular, a well developed chest, 
 and a vigorous frame. But he was worn by care ; and his deep 
 blue orbs flashed from beneath his wrinkled but lofty forehead. 
 His manners were mostly courteous and agreeable, though, from 
 the peculiar state of his mind, frequently gloomy and reserved. 
 He was a hard student, and continued writing , and composing to 
 his dying day. His Gerusalemme cost him intense application, 
 and much laborious revision. The manuscript copy at Ferrara is 
 written in a bold hand, but frequently erased and interlined. It 
 is an irregular epic, with an allegorical import, describing the 
 crusade to Jerusalem, then fresh in -.he minds of men, and pes- 
 
TASSO. 125 
 
 sessing the highest, popular and rehgious interest. This, of 
 course, is much diminished by time, and we can scarcely conceive 
 the avidity and delight, with which the poem was read and recited 
 in Tasso's age. It is written, as may naturally be supposed, with 
 poetic license, and interwoven with supernatural machinery. In 
 this respect, perhaps, consist its most obvious faults. The 
 stanza is elaborate and stately ; to a modern reader, the whole 
 poem may seem somewhat artificial and dull. But it is radiant 
 with ideal beauty, and abounds in lyric power, felicitous descrip- 
 tion, and melodious rhythm. It occasionally betrays too much 
 effort, and an affectation of splendor and wit, but the whole is pene- 
 trated with a genial and lofty spirit, and particular portions glow 
 with a beauty all but supernal. Its occasional pictures are re- 
 markably felicitous. What, for example, can be more striking 
 than the following description of the angel commissioned to God- 
 frey ? 
 
 " This said, the angel swift himself prepared 
 
 To execute the charge imposed aright ; 
 In form of airy members fair embarred, 
 
 His spirits pure were subject to our sight ; 
 A stripling, scarce he seemed five winters old, 
 And radiant beams adorned his locks of gold. 
 Of silver wings he took a shining pair, 
 
 Fringed with gold, unwearied, nimble, swift ; 
 With these he parts the winds, the clouds, the air, 
 
 And over seas and earth himself doth lift; 
 Thus clad he cuts the spheres and circles fair, 
 
 And the pure skies with sacred feathers clift. 
 On Lebanon at first his foot he set. 
 And shook his wings with rosy May-dews wet." 
 
 The close of a rain-storm, described with astonishing force, is 
 thus briefly pictured,with the addition of a fine moral sentiment : 
 
126 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 " Ceased the rain ; the sun began to shine 
 
 With fruitful, sweet, benign and gentle ray, 
 
 Full of strong power and vigor masculine, 
 As are his beams in April or in May, 
 
 O happy zeal ! who trusts in help divine, 
 The world's afflictions thus can drive away 
 
 Can storms appease, and times and seasons change, 
 
 And conquer fortune, fate, and destiny strange." 
 
 His energy and sublimity of description may be seen in the fol- 
 lowing well-known stanza, which Voltaire himself has quoted, to 
 show what the Italian language can do in the way of grandeur : 
 
 •* The drearie trumpet blew a dreadful blast, 
 
 And rombled through the lands and kingdoms under, 
 
 Through wastness wide it roared and hollows vast, 
 And filled the deep with horror, fear and. wonder ; 
 
 Not half so dreadful noise the tempests cast 
 
 That fall from skies with storms of hail and thunder, 
 
 Nor half so loud the whistling winds do sing, 
 
 Broke from the earthen prisons of their king."* 
 
 Some of his descriptions of natural scenery possess great fresh- 
 ness and beauty. Take the following as a specimen : 
 
 " The heavens were clear, and wholesome was the air, 
 High trees, sweet meadows, waters pure and good ; 
 
 For there, in thickest shade of myrtles fair, 
 A crystal spring poured out a silver flood ; 
 
 Amid the herbs, the grass, and flowers rare, 
 
 The falling leaves down pattered from the wood ; 
 
 The birds sang hymns of love ; yet speak I naught 
 
 Of gold and marble rich, and richly wrought." 
 
 * These translations are from the quaint but powerful version of Fair- 
 fax, which, though defective, makes the nearest approach to the original. 
 
TASSO. 127 
 
 We have said that the Gerusalemme is an epic, with an alle- 
 gorical import — a circumstance distinctly announced by the author, 
 but seldom noticed by his critics. Leigh Hunt, for example, has 
 a long and elaborate critique on the character and genius of Tas- 
 so, and yet never mentions this circumstance. It may be claimed, 
 indeed, that this was an after-thought of the author, and did not 
 enter the first draft of his poem ; nay more, that it injures its 
 beauty and perfection. It seems to us, however, that an author 
 is the best judge of his own meaning and design ; and it is quite 
 evident that this feature of the poem enters into its very essence, 
 and ought to be taken into consideration in every just estimate of 
 its value. Not to do so, were the same thing as to treat Spen- 
 ser's '* Fairie Queen'' or Bunyan's '* Pilgrim's Progress" as a 
 veritable history, or a mere romance, having only an occasional 
 or an incidental moral. The Jerusalem of Tasso is the celestial 
 city of Bunyan ; his warriors are the vices and virtues which 
 struggle in deadly combat, like the warriors of ** Mansoul ;" the 
 . final victory, under Godfrey and Rinaldo, the triumph of the soul 
 over evil ; their possession of the Holy City, its beatification and 
 enthronement in the realms of glory. ** The army," says the 
 poet himself, " composed of divers princes and other Christian 
 soldiers, signifies man compounded of soul and body, and of a 
 soul not simple, but divided into many and divers powers. Jeru- 
 salem, the strong city, placed in a rough and hilly country, 
 whereunto, as to the last end, are directed all the enterprises of 
 the faithful army here, denotes the civil happiness which may 
 come to a Christian man." So also, he proceeds to show, that God- 
 frey, the leader of the crusade, stands for understanding, '* which 
 is of God ;" and Rinaldo for passion, or the motive power of the 
 soul, which may be seduced, but under the control of the under- 
 standing performs all godlike exploits. The devils which hin- 
 der the taking of Jerusalem are both things and figures^ repre- 
 
128 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 senting the vices which hinder our attainment of virtue. The 
 enchantments of Ismen, in the wood, are deceptive illusions. The 
 fire, the whirlwind, the darkness, the monsters, and other feigned 
 semblances, are seductive allurements, under their real aspects. 
 The flowers, the fountains, the rivers, the musical instruments, 
 the nymphs, are the same enticements in borrowed colors. 
 The angels do signify sometimes heavenly helps, and sometimes 
 inspiration. Finally, the subjection of Rinaldo with the other 
 chieftains and army to Godfrey, signifies the subjection, and har- 
 mony, by the blessing of God, of all the mental and moral pow- 
 ers, the superior commanding, and the inferior *' obeying as they 
 should.'^ Thus man attains '' politic happiness.'* But this 
 ought not to be "the last aim of a Christian man;" he ought 
 to '' look higher," that is, to everlasting fehcity ; " for this cause 
 Godfrey does not desire to win the earthly Jerusalem, to have 
 therein only temporal dominion ; but because herein may be cele- 
 brated the worship of God, and that the holy sepulchre may be 
 more freely visited by godly strangers and devout pilgrims." The 
 poem is closed with the prayers of Godfrey, in which is '* shown 
 us that the understanding, wearied and exhausted in civil matters, 
 ought in the end to rest in devotion, and in the contemplation of 
 the eternal blessedness of the other most happy and immortal 
 life." 
 
 Whether this was written before or after the composition of 
 the poem is no matter. It indicates the true, though somewhat 
 occult design of the author, and sheds a divine light over the 
 whole. It is in the spirit of Plato, and of the ancient poets, 
 especially of Dante and of Spenser. Nay, it is in the spirit of the 
 old Hebrew prophets and seers, who were inspired of Heaven, 
 to clothe their sublime revelations in the gorgeous drapery of 
 oriental allegories and dreams. And as Nature herself is a sort 
 of allegory, an outward and visual representation of inward and 
 
TASSO. 129 
 
 everlasting truth, " the garment of the Almighty" — in other words, 
 the visible image of his might and love — this style of poetry, well 
 managed, has a peculiar charm for lofty and meditative souls, 
 who, like Dante, Milton and Tasso, can " unsphere the spirit of 
 Plato, '^ and invest with new and more splendid embodiment the 
 eternal verities of God. What significance does such a view give 
 to the various scenes of the Gerusalemme ! What new and 
 strange beauty does it shed upon its magnificent close ! What 
 radiance, especially, does it impart to the touching description of 
 the Crusaders' first sight of Jerusalem — a passage admirable in 
 itself, and simply as a description, but infinitely more so, as 
 imaging the first view which a Christian man enjoys of his ulti- 
 mate triumph over sin, and of his admission to celestial glory. 
 With this description we close our brief notices of Tasso."^ 
 
 " Winged is each heart, and winged is each heel ; 
 They fly, yet notice not how fast they fly ; 
 But by the time the dewless meads reveal 
 The fervent sun's ascension in the sky, 
 Lo, towered Jerusalem salutes the eye ! 
 A thousand pointing fingers tell the tale • 
 
 Jerusalem, a thousand voices cry, 
 All hail, Jerusalem ! hill, down and dale 
 Catch the glad sound and shout, Jerusalem, all hail 1 
 
 To the pure pleasure which that first fair view, 
 
 In their reviving spirits sweetly shed, 
 Succeeds a deep contrition, feelings new — 
 
 Grief mixed with awe, affection mixed with dread. 
 
 Scarce dare they now upraise the abject head. 
 Or turn toward Zion their desiring eyes, 
 
 The elected city where Messias bled, 
 Defrauded death of his long tyrannies, 
 New clothed his limbs with life, and re assumed the skies. 
 
 * We use Herbert's translation here. 
 6* 
 
130 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Low accents, plaintive whispers, groans profound, 
 
 Sighs of a nation that in gladness grieves, 
 And melancholy mm*murs float around, ^ 
 
 Till the sad air a thrilling sound receives, 
 
 Like that which sobs amid the dying leaves. 
 When with autumnal wind, the forest waves ; 
 
 Dash of an insurgent sea, that heaves 
 On lonely rocks, or locked in weeping caves. 
 Hoarse through their hollow aisles in wild low cadence raves * 
 
 * The original of this is inexpressibly harmonious and tender. What 
 can be more beautiful than the following ? 
 
 "Ma quando il sol gli aridi cam pi fiede 
 Con raggi assai ferventi, e in alto sorge 
 
 Ecco apparir Gerusalem si vede, 
 Ecco additar Gerusalem si scorge, 
 
 Ecco da mille voci unitamente 
 
 Gerusalemme salutar si sent©." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Ducal Circle in the youth of Tasso — Queen Renee and her daughters — 
 Visitors — Calvin and Marot — French Version of the Psalms — Madame de 
 Soubise and her daughter Anne of Parthenai — Giraldi — Fulvio Morata — 
 Ourio' — Aonio Paleario — Calcagnani and Pier Manzolli — Olympia Morata 
 — Brief Sketch of her Life — Poems on her Death— Tiraboschi, Muratori, 
 Guarini and others — Bologna — Its Schools of Painting and LaY'' — Dis- 
 tinguished Italian females — Prospects of Bologna. 
 
 Previous to the birth, and during the youth of Tasso, we find 
 in Ferrara a brilliant group of amiable and learned persons, in 
 connection witli the ducal circle, among whom were several dis- 
 tinguished Protestants, Italians and foreigners, attracted thither 
 by the noble hospitality of Renee, herself a Protestant, daugh- 
 ter of Louis XII, King of France, and wife of Hercules, Duke of 
 Ferrara. Brantome, who is enthusiastic in his praises of this 
 queen-like woman, and her noble daughters, Anne of Este, the 
 most beautiful princess of the age, and Eleonora the favorite of 
 Tasso, informs us, that while Renee was rather plain in her per- 
 sonal appearance, she possessed the highest qualities of intellect 
 and heart, being at once accomplished and generous. Her man- 
 ners, too,, were particularly engaging. She had ** an agreeable 
 expression, fine eyes, beautiful teeth, and an air of youthful 
 bloom, inexpressibly pleasing." Wise, witty, and virtuous, are 
 terms used by her biographers to express their admiration of her 
 character. She was well versed in mathematics and astronomy. 
 
132 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 and conversed, with ease, on the profoundest topics of philoso- 
 phy and divinity. 
 
 This noble woman, though somewhat tried in her own domestic 
 relations — her husband a bigoted Catholic, and urged by the 
 Papal court to restrain the free expression of his wife's opinions — 
 afforded ample protection to the numerous Prostestant refugees 
 who found their way to Ferrara. Among others that came 
 thither we find no less a person than Calvin himself, who spent 
 some time in Ferrara, under the assumed name of George Hep- 
 peville ; and Clement Marot, a French poet, a man of elevated 
 character and pure piety, and the first to translate the psalms of 
 David into the French language. This he accomplished with 
 rare felicity, so that his version was introduced into universal use 
 among the Protestant churches, and became a great favorite 
 with the most devout and learned men. It is a little curious that 
 it was dedicated to Francis the First, and continued at his re- 
 quest, although subsequently prohibited by the same authority. 
 On its first appearance, it was received with great avidity by both 
 Catholics and Protestants, who testified their admiration for this 
 new species of poetry, by adapting to it the most popular ballad 
 tunes. 
 
 Francis himself, who was fond of singing, set to music the 
 hundred and twenty-eighth psalm ; while Henry the Second made 
 the hunting fields resound with his favorite, '* As pants the hart." 
 The queen, the royal mistress, and the King of Navarre, all 
 chose separate ones adapted to their peculiar tastes, and sung 
 them to favorite airs. 
 
 But this reign of court favor was brief. After the version was 
 adopted by the Protestants, and became a part of the ritual of 
 Geneva, it was prohibited by the King of France. Theodore 
 Beza who completecj. the version, has left on record this pleas- 
 ing testimony to its value. In a paraphrase on the Psalter, he 
 
UNIVERSITY. 13a 
 
 thus writes in 1581 : " It is now exactly thirty-two years since 
 I heard for the first time this ninety-first psalm sung in a Chris- 
 tian assembly ; and I may truly say, I heard it with such delight, 
 on so good an occasion, that I have ever since borne it engraved 
 on my heart." The celebrated Madame de Soubise, governess to 
 Renee, and her beautiful daughter, Anne de Parthenai, both 
 Protestants, formed a part of the circle of which Renee was the 
 centre ; and often, we doubt not, the private rooms of the ducal 
 palace rang with their music, as they chanted the psalms of 
 Marot. 
 
 The University of Ferrara, at this time, enjoyed the highest 
 distinction. It was founded by the Emperor Frederick the Sec- 
 ond, and for centuries after its foundation was thronged with 
 students from various parts of Italy, and even from Germany 
 and England. Connected with it were some very distinguished 
 men ; among others, Lilio Gregorio Giraldi, represented by De 
 Thou and others as the most learned man of his age. He was 
 well versed in science, and assisted, by his calculations. Pope 
 Gregory the Thirteenth in the reformation of the calendar. Dur- 
 ing the reign of Duke Hercules, the English students in attend- 
 ance at this university were so numerous as to form a distinct 
 "nation," or community. Many of these, doubtless, were Pro- 
 testants, and many more strongly inclined to the new views, at 
 that time spreading everywhere. Fulvio Morata, the father of 
 the celebrated Olympia Morata ; Celio Secundo Curio, one of the 
 most learned, men of his time, and subsequently professor of 
 Roman eloquence in the university of Basel ; Antonio Flaminio,* 
 Aonio Paleario, a distinguished Italian martyr, and many other 
 Protestants, were at this time resident in Ferrara. Calcagfnani, 
 the canon of the cathedral, was liberal in his views, and Pier 
 
 * Author of a celebrated work, on " The Benefit of Christ's Death.'* 
 
134 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Manzolli, court physician, a poet and a man of science, leaned 
 strongly to Protestant sentiments.* Fannio, said to be the first 
 Protestant martyr in Italy, was lying, at this very time, in prison 
 at Ferrara. 
 
 But among all these, none have attracted deeper interest than 
 Olympia Morata, the favorite of Queen Renee, and the companion, 
 in their studies, of her daughters, Anne of Este, Lucretia, who 
 niarried the Duke of Urbino, and the beautiful Leonora, made 
 immortal by the love and admiration of Tasso. Olympia was not 
 only beautiful in person, and engaging in manners, but possessed 
 of uncommon genius. At an early age she read the Greek lan- 
 guage fluently, and composed graceful poems in that classic 
 tongue. She was also well versed in philosophy and theology, 
 wrote a learned defense of Cicero, of whom she was a great ad- 
 mirer, and emulated the beauty of his style. Her correspond- 
 ents were the most learned men of the age, who express the high- 
 est admiration of her talents and virtues. At the age of sixteen 
 she had attained such celebrity, that she was requested to assume 
 the professional habit, and actually delivered lectures in the 
 Academy of Ferrara. Her works, many of which are lost, were 
 collected by her friend and correspondent, the amiable and learned 
 Secundo Curio, and her life, elaborately written in Latin, by 
 Noltenius, a distinguished Herman scholar. From the pages of 
 this biography we make the following extract, in reference to the 
 fact of her giving public lectures: ''The year in which she put 
 on the professional habit, we learn from the Epistle of Curio to 
 Xystus Butuleius, was that before the death of her father, when 
 she had just completed her sixteenth year. This is more dis- 
 tinctly stated in the preface to the first edition of the works of 
 
 * He was the author of *' The Zodiac of Life," whose severe reflections 
 upon the errors of Rome caused it to be placed among the prohibited books, 
 and burned by the common executioner. 
 
OLYMPIA MORATA. 135 
 
 Olympia, which Curio dedicated to that illustrious lady, Isabella 
 Manricha, of Bresagna, where he circumstantially relates the par- 
 ticulars of her entrance into the Academy of Ferrara; and as 
 this account of Curio is of much importance in her history, I sub- 
 join his precise words. * She wrote observations on Homer, the 
 prince of poets, whom she translated with great strength and 
 sweetness. She composed many and various poems with great 
 elegance, especially on divine subjet^ts, and dialogues in Greek and 
 Latin, in imitation of Plato and Cicero, in such perfection that 
 even Zoilus could have found nothing to criticise. She wrote also 
 those three essays on the paradoxes of Cicero, which in Greek 
 are called prefaces, when she was scarcely sixteen years of age ; 
 and declaimed, from memory, and with excellent pronunciation, 
 her explanation of the paradoxes in the private academy of the 
 Duchess of Ferrara.' " Among other things, Olympia wrote an ode 
 in Sapphic Greek, of great force and beauty, in which she cele- 
 brates the praises of the Almighty. This poem attracted so much 
 admiration, that many doubted whether it could be the work of 
 a real Olympia, which Curio in a letter assures a learned friend 
 it really was, and adds : '' She is skilled in Greek and Roman lit- 
 erature, beyond what any one can credit ; and is skilled also in 
 her knowledge of religion.'* 
 
 While this youthful genius astonished the learned by her 
 marvellous attainments, she was distinguished by a rare modesty. 
 In person she was exceedingly attractive, and in manners, bland 
 and engaging. Her letters are models of beautiful composition, 
 genuine modesty, and profound piety. She was the favorite of 
 all, and one of the wonders of the age. 
 
 But becoming, through the study of the Scriptures — which 
 she read not only in the Italian, but in the original tongues — the 
 converse of good men, and the influence of Renee, a decided Pro- 
 testant, she was subjected to harassing trials, and even to severe 
 
136 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 persecution. The Inquisition had been estabhshed in Italy, and 
 many distinguished Protestants were exiled, cast into prison, or 
 burned at the stake. Duke Hercules had yielded to the bigoted 
 suggestions of the Pope, and did what he could to purge his fam- 
 ily from the leaven of Protestantism. Somehow her enemies 
 succeeded in estranging from Olympia the affection of Renee ; 
 her father, too, died, and she was left alone in the midst of a cold 
 and selfish world. At this juncture a young German physician, 
 of high character and accomplished manners, who had visited 
 Ferrara in the prosecution of his studies, offered Olympia his 
 hand, which she accepted ; and, after infinite regrets, and torrents 
 of tears, permitted herself to be torn from her native land. After 
 many trials and wanderings, she found a home on the banks of 
 the Neckar, in the old and beautiful city of Heidelberg, But 
 her misfortunes and exposures had undermined her health, and 
 she died in her twenty-ninth year, wept by her friends, and 
 mourned by the whole literary world. Her entire life was a 
 comment on the dignity and purity of the Christian character. 
 She was serene, gentle, self-possessed and happy. Her death 
 was calm and beautiful as a summer's eve — 
 
 "Kot weary, worn-out winds expire more soft." 
 
 A short time before her death, on awaking from a tranquil 
 sleep into which she had fallen, '' I observed her," says her hus- 
 band, writing to a friend, ^' smiling very sweetly ; and I went 
 near, and asked her whence that heavenly smile proceeded. * I 
 beheld,' said she, * just now, while lying quiet, a place filled with 
 the clearest and brightest light.' Weakness prevented her from 
 saying more. * Come,' said I, ^ be of good cheer, my dearest 
 wife, you are about to dwell in that" beautiful light.' She again 
 smiled and nodded to me, and in a little while said, 'I am 
 all gladness ;' nor did she again speak, till her eyes becoming dim, 
 
OLYMPIA MORATA. 137 
 
 she said, ' 1 can scarcely know you, but all places appear to me to 
 be full of the fairest flowers.' " '' Not long after," he adds, '' as 
 {{fallen into a sweet slumber , she expired/' Her husband soon fol- 
 lowed her, and was laid in the grave by her side. She died at 
 Heidelberg, October 25, 1555. 
 
 * It sank at length subdued, that martyr frame, 
 
 A seraph spirit's perishable shrine. 
 
 How brighter glowed in death the undying flame 
 
 Of raptured faith ! while many a tender line 
 Proved how pure earthly ties with homeward thoughts may twine ; 
 
 While parting words with heaven's own odors fraught, 
 
 Drop balm-distilling on each sorrowing heart, 
 
 Fancy revives the scene — we see in thought 
 
 The loved of mortals to that sphere depart 
 
 Where mortal loves are all unknown. Oh ! why ? 
 Blest thought I — all there are robed in immortality." 
 
 Tlie following is an elegy, in the form of an epitaph, written by 
 the celebrated Mycillus : 
 
 " Within this hallowed mound the ashes rest 
 Of her, bright leader of the Aonian band, 
 Olympia! once I talia's fairest, best ! 
 Led thence by love and duty's summons bland, 
 Franconia's vine-clad hills her footsteps pressed, 
 
 Lingering awhile by crystal Maine, and Saava's golden sand. 
 There while vexed cities felt war's flaming brand, 
 And thrones and altars hostile bands molest. 
 Twice spoiled, twice captive, by the Almighty's hand 
 From death preserved — His power her lips confest, 
 
 Which gave repose at last on Neckar's peaceful breast. 
 
 Alike by Hature and by genius blest. 
 Born on sublimest heights of lore to stand; 
 
138 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Twining — though at a simple maid's behest — 
 The muse of Greece and Rome in roseate band, . 
 Herself a muse — and by the graces drest; 
 Nor fame nor genius could the fates withstand, 
 Nor grace ward off the arrow from her breast — 
 Stranger ! yet these may well thy tears demand ! 
 Invoke through death's long night, her weary spirit's rest." 
 
 Secundo Curio also wrote an epitaph on Olympia, expressive 
 of his love and reverence. It is marred by some conceits, like 
 most of the poetry of his age, but has traits of beauty and ten- 
 derness. It closes thus : 
 
 " To mortals known 
 As one that all her sisterhood outshone 
 In genius, learning, and that brighter fame. 
 Pure, spotless life, and pure Religion claim ! 
 - For this, who gave the earth to view 
 For a brief space her virtues heavenward drew, 
 First each pm'e thought, and then a soul so bright, 
 With Him to dwell, in realms of endless light. 
 There rest and bliss are hers. Traveller, adieu ! 
 Be thine such paths and blessings to pursue !" 
 
 There are other distinguished persons connected vi^ith Ferrara, 
 upon whose character and writings we might profitably dwell, did 
 our space permit, such as Tiraboschi, author of the " History of 
 Italian Literature," Muratori, who wrote learnedly on history and 
 antiquities, and Guarini, author of the '' Pastor Fido," a work 
 of much elegance and beauty, though too dainty in style, and 
 partaking too largely of the loose tendencies of Italian literature. 
 
 But we must tear ourselves from this ancient and interesting 
 city, now so changed from what it once was, and glorious only 
 from the memory of the past, in which romance and reality, the 
 
BOLOGNA. 139 
 
 dreams of earth and the hopes of heaven have been so singularly 
 blended. 
 
 Of our journey to Florence we say comparatively nothing. 
 Passing over the ground rapidly, and interested more in ideas 
 and men than in localities and scenery, we linger only a short time 
 at the somewhat dingy and antique city of Bologna, famous for 
 its hanging towers and mighty sausages, and yet more famous for 
 its ancient university, its learned professors, its rich paintings and 
 its patriotic citizens. But we are compelled to dismiss all this 
 with a few words, for it would take a volume to give the history 
 of the university, with its former attendance of eight to ten 
 thousand students, its learned professors and its magnificent col- 
 lections in natural history and the arts ; of the Caracci, Ludovico, 
 Annibale and Agostino, founders of the celebrated Bologna school 
 of painting ; and above all of their pupils, Domenichino, whose 
 Communion of St. Jerome and Annunciation of the Virgin are 
 among the most striking and beautiful paintings in Half ; Guido, 
 whose St. John is world-renowned, and Guercini, '' v,^ho combined 
 the boldness of Caravaggio with the beauty and sweetness of 
 Guido.'' The University of Bologna was especially famous for 
 its schools of law and medicine. li was here that Werner, or 
 Irnerius, a native of that city, a man of the highest character 
 and extensive attainments, favored by Henry Fifth of Germany, 
 and by the high-minded Countess Matilda, opened, at the begin- 
 ning of the twelfth century, the first law school, and began to 
 read and expound the recently discovered pandects of Justinian, 
 which had either fallen into disuse, or were entirely lost, till re- 
 covered by the Pisans at the taking of Amalfi. Thence proceed- 
 ed various law schools, founded in Italy and among the transal- 
 pine nations, and modelled after that of Bologna. The influence 
 of this study upon the political and social destinies of Italy was 
 immense. It introduced a new element into society, and vastly 
 
140 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 aided in its refinement and elevation. Connected with tins insti- 
 tution we find the illustrious name of Casini, who drew the first 
 meridian, Malpighi, famous for his discoveries in physiology, and 
 ahove all Marsigli, " soldier and philosopher,'' who, by presenting 
 a noble collection of scientific apparatus, became the founder of 
 the present institution, which is rich in objects of natural sci- 
 ence. But the University of Bologna has acquired a yet further 
 distinction from the large number of its female professors. In 
 the fourteenth century, if we may believe the somewhat gossiping 
 chroniclers, Novella d' Andrea, daughter of the celebrated canon- 
 ist, frequently occupied her father's chair. Her beauty, it is said, 
 was so great that a curtain was drawn before her in order to pre- 
 vent the inevitable distraction of the students' minds ! 
 
 " Drawn before her, 
 Lest if her charms were seen, the students 
 Should let their young eyes wander o'er her, 
 And quite forget their jurisprudence." — Moore, 
 
 Laura Bassi, in more recent times, was professor of mathemat- 
 ics and natural philosophy. She had conferred upon her the 
 doctorate of laws, and her lectures were regularly attended by 
 many learned ladies of France and Germany. A still more sin- 
 gular instance is that of Madonna Manzolina who was professor 
 of anatomy, and highly celebrated for her attainments in surgery ! 
 Still more recently the Greek chair was filled by the learned Ma- 
 tilda Tambroni, who preceded the extraordinary Mezzofanti, now 
 a cardinal, and one of the greatest linguists in the world. Indeed, 
 Italy has been highly distinguished for its women of learning and 
 genius ; among whom were the infamous but beautiful Tullia 
 d'Aragona, the favorite of Cardinal Hippolito de Medici and others ; 
 Morosina, the mistress of the wordly Bembo, whom he did not 
 desert even when a cardinal ; Imperia Cortisana Romana, who re- 
 
BOLOGNA. 141 
 
 ceived the homage of Sadaleto ; and, at an infinite remove from all 
 these in the superiority of their piety and virtue, the beautiful 
 and high-souled Yittoria Colonna, and the no less accomplished 
 and amiable Olympia Morata. All these, and many others in the 
 same walks of life, were well versed not only in Italian, but in 
 classical literature. Latin, and especially Greek, was a favorite 
 study of the ladies, as much so as French and German in our 
 days. The daughters of Renee were educated under the care of 
 the brothers Sinapii, famous classical scholars, and read freely the 
 Greek and Roman authors. Olympia Morata, as we have already 
 seen, declaimed in Latin, and wrote magnificent odes in the lan- 
 guage of Sappho and Homer. Nor did all this detract from the 
 beauty and simplicity of their character. They were no less ami- 
 able for perusing the lofty meditations of Plato and Cicero, or 
 scanning, with intense delight, the burning lines of ^schylus and 
 Pindar. 
 
 Bologna has seen many painful changes. Its citizens are bold 
 and patriotic, and rejoice, with exceeding joy, in the prospective 
 emancipation of their country. They have done and suflfered 
 much in the cause of liberty ; and, although their city is greatly 
 diminished in grandeur and influence, and their noble university, 
 like those of Padua, Pisa and Ferrara, has dwindled into com- 
 parative insignificance ; although their school of painting has 
 passed away, and their old towers are nodding to their fall, yet 
 they bear an important part in the battle for freedom and inde- 
 pendence, and may yet see the sun of a high and enduring pros- 
 perity dawn upon their destiny. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Sunrise among the Apennines — Scenery — Feudal Castles — Spirit of the 
 early Republics — Tendencies in Italy to centralization — False views of 
 liberty — Its true nature — Based on virtue — "No true freedom in Italy — 
 Hopes — Scenery — Fellow travellers — Conversation on Religion — Catho- 
 lic miracles and so forth — Approach to Florence — Its beauty — Associa- 
 tions and Distinctions — Sketch of the history of Florence — Its present 
 state and prospects. 
 
 One of the most delightful mornings that ever broke upon the 
 world, finds us among the verdant Apennines, on our way to 
 Florence, The eastern sky is **all roseate," while the rest of the 
 heavens is beginning to tremble with the flashing radiance. 
 The summits of the mountains, crowned here and there with the 
 ruins of an old castle, a church or a convent, are burning in the 
 golden hght of opening day, while the vales beneath are reposing 
 in a soft but rapidly vanishing twilight. Now we are rattling 
 along the base of the steep mountain, with a stream on one side 
 and a pretty village on the other ; anon, we are climbing some 
 wooded acclivity or rough ascent, from which a wide expanse 
 of hills and vales, trees and streams, exhilarates the eye. At 
 one time we pass a small chapel with a dark-looking shrine, 
 where kneel a few devotees before the sacred relics of some 
 ancient saint, or an image of the Virgin mother, the beautiful god- 
 dess of the Papal worship ; at another, we descry some pretty 
 cottages nestling among the trees and sheltering vines of the 
 mountain's side; and just beyond them the remains of an 
 
FREEDOM IN ITALY. 143 
 
 old feudal castle, in which some fierce Bolognese or Florentine 
 noble cooped himself in the dark and stormy times of the twelfth 
 century. 
 
 When the cities on the plains had achieved their liberty, many 
 of the old aristocratic families were driven to their strongholds 
 among the mountains, where they hunted and feasted, plotted 
 and watched, until invited by the citizens to return to their former 
 homes. Taking up their permanent abode in the free cities, in 
 times of peace, they united or attempted to unite, the feudal 
 and democratic elements ; in other words, the aristocracy and the 
 people. In this, we discover the source of most of the difficulties 
 which assailed the early Italian republics, and the occasion of 
 their final destruction. For in that chaotic and changeful age, 
 when everything was in a state of movement and transition, fierce 
 contests and bloody wars prevailed between the different cities, 
 and between the different crafts, families and individuals of the 
 same city, which naturally called into action the superior, courage 
 and resources of the richer and more aristocratic citizens. These, 
 availing themselves of the influence thus acquired, broke down 
 the liberties of the people, and constituted themselves masters 
 and sovereigns of the state. True, they were often defeated, 
 sometimes destroyed, and not unfrequently driven back to the 
 mountains ; but in the end they uniformly succeeded in raising 
 themselves and their families to supreme power and dominion. 
 
 In addition to this, the tendency to centralization has ever been 
 resistless in Italy. The people are passionately attached to what 
 they call liberty and independence ; but scarcely know in what 
 these consist. They expect everything from government, little 
 from individual character. The crosier and the sword, not virtue 
 and the truth, are their main dependence. They have a talent, it 
 is said, for revolutions, but little for n constructions. They love 
 to fight, but cannot govern. In fact, their love of freedom is a 
 
144 GENIUS OF ITALi^. 
 
 blind impulse, not an iatelligent, well-regulated sentiment. They 
 sigh for independence, but it is independence rather of external 
 than of internal despotism. Proud of their country, they wish to 
 see it united and powerful ; but they do not dread the sovereign- 
 ty of a Pope, of an Emperor, or of a Council. If only free from 
 a foreign yoke, they will bow their necks to a domestic one. True, 
 that yoke must be strong, consistent and paternal, or they will 
 cast it from them with disdain ; but they have no objection to 
 kingly or priestly despotism in the hands of able and judicious 
 men, who understand their temper, and oppress them handsomely 
 and consistently ! 
 
 In Italy the idea of Papal supremacy, at least in matters spir- 
 itual, of Catholic as well as national unity and independence, has 
 ever been a favorite one. It is cherished even by some professed 
 reformers. All their efforts for freedom presuppose this, or intend 
 its realization. Of individual responsibility in matters of the 
 highest import, such as the government of the soul, of the church, 
 or even of the state, they have no just or adequate conception. 
 In the one they yield themselves without a murmur to the priest- 
 hood, their " spiritual rulers," as they call them ; in the other, to 
 such ruler or rulers as God or the nation may select. One of their 
 most distinguished writers of the present day affirms, in the 
 strongest terms, that the Italians will never abandon the idea of 
 Catholic unity ; that they wdll not suffer the formation of sects, and 
 that they will give their heart and hand to the support of the 
 Pope, if he will only put himself at the head of national pro- 
 gress and independence. In this way everything tends to a cen- 
 tre ; power floating about among the people, returns into the 
 hands of one or of a few, the source of all despotisms and corrup- 
 tions in church and state. Hence all the changes, startling as 
 ma-ny of them have been, through which the people of Italy have 
 passed, except th<? early struggles of the free cities, have only 
 
FREEDOM. 145 
 
 served to aggrandize the power of some pope, prince or duke ! 
 How indeed can man be free in his social, when a slave in his 
 spiritual relations ? How govern the state, when he cannot gov- 
 ern himself? When he abandons to a priest, or a hierarchy 
 of priests, his higher, his immortal interests, how act the part of 
 a freeman and a sovereign in regard to his inferior and secular 
 interests ? To be free as an individual, man must possess the 
 power of self-control — that is to say, before being a freeman, 
 and while a freeman, he must be a sovereign to himself. So also 
 as a state, man will never be free, until he is capable of control- 
 ling or governing the state. To achieve this honor he must be 
 virtuous, both as an individual and a state. First of all, the 
 deathless spirit must be the home of freedom — of all order, stabil- 
 ity and repose — of submission to God, but to none but God, and 
 God's vicegerent, which is conscience, enlightened by the truth and 
 spirit of Heaven. Then let his pastor be his teacher, his moni- 
 tor and friend, but not his master or sovereign. God only is fit 
 to govern in such a realm. He is the true sovereign of the soul ; 
 and his only representative on earth is the soul itself ; in other 
 words, conscience, sitting supreme amid the inferior powers, and 
 guiding them all to their legitimate results. The soul, in fact, is 
 both subject and sovereign ; as the state, in its highest form, must 
 ever be both subject and sovereign. This is the theory of gov- 
 ernment in the United States ; for here every man, while a sub- 
 ject, orderly and submissive, is for that very reason a sovereign. 
 The people, under God, are autocrats, self-ruled, which is only 
 saying that they are a democracy, (demo-kratia,) governed by their 
 own chosen rulers, the only condition of society in which the 
 highest form of freedom can be realized. Thence comes stability 
 to the family, to the community and the state. Thence proceeds 
 the government of opinion, of thought and of law, not of kingly 
 or aristocratic power, of standing armies and brute force. 
 7 
 
146 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 So long then as the soul of the individual is given up to the 
 guidance of others, so long as the church is governed not by God 
 and his spirit, in other words, by truth and love, but by fallible 
 or infallible despots, so long will the man, individual and social, 
 be feeble and enslaved. If freedom, or rather its image, be grasp- 
 ed as an ideal, or even enjoyed for a few brief and struggling 
 years, it will finally be lost in the aristocratic and centralizing 
 tendencies of such a condition of society. For the higher will 
 always control the lower, the spiritual, the natural, the priestly, 
 the social and secular. This is the result in the long run. Re- 
 ligion pertains to the soul, and the soul is the fountain-head of all 
 influences in society, whether good or bad Now centralization 
 is an essential element of the Papal church, and consequently of 
 society formed under its influence. The Romish priesthood can- 
 not exist without a hierarchy or a sovereignty of priests. Unity, 
 universality, that is, the dead level of an universal despotism, is 
 their dominant impulse and aim. This of course enters into the 
 social fabric, and combines with all the forms of government. 
 Hence the divine right of kings, the doctrine of slavish submission, 
 of central authority and universal obedience ; hence, in a word, 
 the whole framework and history of Italian society. Even in the 
 early republics, the tendency constantly was to the centralization 
 of power. It could never be retained by the people, even for a 
 few years, except by desperate struggles. Indeed, these repub- 
 lics were not democracies, but aristocracies. The governors ever 
 tyrannized over the governed, the priests over the people, and the 
 people over one another. Thus the final form of government 
 was either an aristocracy, an oligarchy, a dukedom or a monar- 
 chy. Democracy has never established itself in Italy — a perfect 
 republic is an impossibility there, without a revolution not only in 
 government, but in society. 
 
 It is a striking circumstance that in all the speculations of their 
 
FREEDOM. 147 
 
 leading reformers, Gioberti, Yentura, Azeglio, Balbo and Manzoni, 
 the integrity of the Papal power, Cathohc unity and universality, are 
 strongly maintained as the safeguards of society and the last hope of 
 the people. In this way, all their present efforts, revolutions and 
 struggles, some of them sublime and worthy of the heroic ages, are 
 tending — to what ? To the elevation of some prince or duke, or it 
 may be Pope, to the sovereignty, or, which will come to the same 
 thing in the end, to the presidency of the Itahan people. Even the 
 democracies of Italy, supposing them established, will have to be 
 governed or controlled by some central Junto, At present, how- 
 ever, neither Milan nor Rome, and we fear not even Florence and 
 Venice, can be a republic worthy of the name. They yet need the 
 control of the bayonet, and it makes little difference whether that 
 is in the hands of a sovereign, or of an assembly. Centralization 
 is the order of the day ; and it will be found, for some time to 
 come, that papal and kingly thrones are the centres to which all 
 the radii tend. The Pope, indeed, may abdicate his temporal power ; 
 but his spiritual dominion will be enhanced by that very means. "^ 
 
 Religion is not yet free in any part of Italy . Consequently, thought, 
 the vital impulse of the soul, the vital impulse of the State, is not 
 free— worship and utterance are not free. And if thought, wor- 
 ship and utterance are not free, what is free ? The press ? No ! 
 The pulpit ? No. The bar ? No. The individual man— all I 
 mean that constitutes a man — thought, feeling, worship, utter- 
 ance, action — is enslaved. The State is enslaved. 
 
 If you cannot trust man with his religion, you cannot trust him 
 with himself. In fact he is fit for nothing. Certainly he is not 
 fit for the government of the State ! You treat him as a child or 
 a slave as to his conscience ; how then is it possible to make him 
 a man as to anything besides ? 
 
 * Recent changes have defeated the plans of the Reformers referred to. 
 We let these remarks stand, however; they will yet be verified. 
 
148 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Doubtless the Italians have partly outlived their creeds. They 
 have somewhat outgrown the usages of feudalism and tyranny. 
 Thought, if not free, is fermenting in the mass. The people be- 
 gin to shake themselves from the dust, to emerge from the horri- 
 ble chaos in which they have struggled for ages. They are on 
 the way to freedom. The night is far spent. The day, the bright 
 and beautiful day, is at hand. Even now it is rising in the orient, 
 and sending its beams far over the gloom yet brooding upon hill 
 and vale. The people begin to think for themselves, at least in 
 some things. Soon they will think, nay more, act for themselves 
 in all things. The very idea of civil freedom, if they can only get 
 the true idea, will introduce that of rehgious freedom ; then 
 liberty of worship, liberty of speech and of the press, liberty of 
 action and pursuit — all will follow. So that, after the struggle 
 of years, the whole structure of despotism, civil and ecclesiastical, 
 shall give way, and the nation, soul and body, be free. It is a 
 work of time, belonging as it does to the very life and essence of 
 society. A. few steps towards it is all we can now look for. Yet 
 that is much, very much ; for once fairly on the way to freedom, 
 no power in the universe can impede the march of society. It is 
 like the rush of the river to the distant ocean, or the progress of 
 sunlight to perfect day. 
 
 All this, says my reader, or companion rather, may be very 
 true ; but it is rather dull talk among the mountains. Look 
 abroad over the face of Kature ; see how attractive it is, how grand 
 and spirit-stirring, especially amid these sublime but beautiful 
 Apennines. Softer and greener than the mountains of Switzerland, 
 and falling far below them in height and majesty, they yet possess 
 a grandeur of their own, softening at every step into the most 
 delicate and entrancing beauty. The scattered cottages, poor 
 enough in themselves, but rich in their garniture of trees and vines ; 
 groups of peasantry here and there, poor as their mountain homes, 
 
ITALIANS. 149 
 
 but with picturesque dresses, and in some instances fine forms , 
 orchards and gardens scattered on the hillsides and in the plains — 
 in one or two places, broken arches stretching from the mountain 
 to the bottom of the valley ; in others, some monastery or convent, 
 perched on the very summit of the rocky ridge ; frequent flowers 
 and clumps of trees hanging over fountains, or dipping their green 
 branches in pellucid pools asleep in the valleys ; goats clambering 
 the rough precipice, or balancing themselves upon the topphng 
 edge of a deep ravine ; the shout or song of shepherds echoing 
 far and near amid the stillness of the mountains ; glad voices of 
 children at play in the villages beneath ; and over all, the radiant 
 sky burning like a chrysolite, and bathing the landscape with its 
 ethereal hues— all combine to attract our attention, and thrill our 
 hearts with bright and blessed thoughts. Oh, how delightful to 
 turn away from the care and sorrow of earth, the turmoil of poli- 
 tics, and the contests of ambition, to the quiet retreats of Nature, 
 where God and man may meet and commune, without distraction 
 and annoyance ! 
 
 But here, perhaps, it may be well enough to describe our fel- 
 low-travellers ; for their earnest talking has withdrawn us from 
 our reveries. Right opposite sits a tall, military looking gentle- 
 man, with a keen eye and handsome moustaches. As we learn 
 from conversation, he is a native of Tuscany, and connected with 
 the army, and although rather taller than the Tuscans generally, 
 is a fair representative of his countrymen. His quick, dark eye, 
 polished manners and vivacious temper well correspond to the 
 idea which we have formed of their appearance and character. 
 On one side is a well-made, grave, yet oheerful looking priest 
 from Germany on his way to the Holy City. He is evidently in- 
 telligent ; but, as we readily ascertain, bigotedly attached to the 
 Papal church, with whose doctrines he seems famihar. Sitting 
 beside him is a friar, sandalled and bareheaded, with a shaven 
 
150 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 crown, and a demure but rosy, good-natured look. He cons his 
 breviary with remarkable ease and perseverance, but without the 
 slightest appearance of devotion ; and now and then ventures a 
 remark, indicating more sense than one would think he possessed. 
 He belongs to the order of Franciscans, many of whom are fat and 
 lazy ; a few lean and ascetic ; and others, and perhaps the greater 
 number, proud and assuming. The Franciscans are, rather more 
 than the other orders, devoted to preaching, but few of them pos- 
 sess much learning or oratorical power. A few are earnest and 
 impassioned speakers, and produce some effect upon their excita- 
 ble hearers during the season of Lent, the great preaching time 
 of the CathoUc church. On this side sits a Lombard merchant 
 from Milan, the finest looking of them all, with a capacious fore- 
 head, auburn hair and blue eyes, an expression of firmness and 
 serenity about the mouth, a good clear voice, and a common- 
 sense style of talking. Next to him is a little, fiery fellow, in 
 black clothes, and a three-cornered hat, a Jesuit perhaps from the 
 ^NTeapolitan States, full of zeal for the holy Catholic, apostolical 
 Church, and yet no great friend to Pope Pius the Ninth. All 
 these are fair types of their respective countrymen, who have 
 marked peculiarities which distinguish them from one another. This 
 is especially the case with the Milanese merchant, who reminds 
 us of the fine race who occupy the fertile vales of the Adige and 
 the Po. Descended from the old Ostrogoths and Lombards, 
 they possess considerable energy and worth of character. Not 
 quite so impetuous as some of their southern neighbors, particu- 
 larly the Romans and Neapolitans, the latter of whom have some 
 infusion of Grecian and Moorish blood, the nations of northern 
 Italy have more firmness and consistency of character, and are 
 capable of great effort and endurance. They are the best sol- 
 diers in Italy, and one of the most auspicious circumstances as to 
 the prospects of ItaHan freedom and independence, is that this 
 
ITALIANS. 151 
 
 question is yet to be settled on the plains of Lombardy. The 
 Piedmontese on. one side and the Venetians on the other, differ 
 somewhat from these ; the former being keen, worldly and pene- 
 trating, and the latter ingenious and pleasure-loving. The Tus- 
 cans are versatile and polished, the Romans thoughtful and aspir- 
 ing, and the Neapolitans impetuous and fickle. 
 
 But we are getting prosy again ; and the dihgenza, with jts six 
 horses, and huge-booted, black-moustached postilhons, whooping, 
 groaning, and spurring, is rattling down hill, and our friend the 
 friar is reading his breviary so earnestly, that we fall back upon 
 our cushioned seat, and let the fresh air of the cool valley which 
 is receiving us blow upon our forehead, and the serene, festal 
 aspect of the landscape steal into our heart. 
 
 But our friends are getting loquacious, and the subject of their 
 conversation, suggested by a remark of the German canon, on 
 the present condition of Italy, turns upon the church. All are 
 rigid Catholics, except the Lombard merchant, who, though ob- 
 viously attached to the church of his fathers, distinguishes between 
 its superstitions, and the great spirit of faith and love by which 
 it ought to be animated. But the friar and canon, and especially 
 the Jesuit, defend everything, and express the greatest horror of 
 liberality, as leading to error and ruin. They confine salvation to 
 the pale of the holy Catholic and apostolic Church, as they love 
 to call it, and denounce Protestants as heretics and apostates. 
 
 " But surely," we say, " you do not defend the superstitions of 
 the Church — the pretended miracles, the holy coats, mystic amu- 
 lets and heathen ceremonies, which every candid man in the nine- 
 teenth century must acknowledge as errors and deformities." 
 
 *' Sir," is the quick and somewhat offended reply, *' the 
 Church has no superstitions, no pretended miracles, no heathen 
 ceremonies." 
 
 " Well now, tell us candidly," we rejoin, '' do you really believe 
 
152 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 that actual miracles are performed at the present day in the 
 •Papal church ? Do priests generally believe them ? Do popes, 
 cardinals, and bishops maintain their credibility ?" 
 
 ** Most assuredly they do/' is the decisive answer. 
 
 To confirm this statement, the canon, aided by the Jesuit and 
 friar, goes into a lengthened statement, too prosy and too absurd 
 to be repeated, as to the occurrence of recent miracles in Italy, in 
 one of which the Holy Virgin opened her eyes upon a young 
 devotee who craved her aid ; another, in which she appeared, in 
 glory, to some children on the mountains ; a third, in which she 
 revealed herself to an infidel Jew, who was thereby converted ; 
 and a fourth, in which she delivered a young man from the grasp 
 of robbers and murderers ; how also certain holy women, in an 
 ecstacy, received the stigmata of Christ — sacred wounds inflicted 
 by an invisible hand, and resembling those on our Saviour's cru- 
 cified body. 
 
 Here we imagine that we discover a smile of derision on the 
 lips of the Tuscan officer. Catholic as he is, and the Milan mer- 
 chant absolutely laughs outright, to the great discomfiture of our 
 priestly companions. 
 
 To try them upon another point, we ask one question more : 
 
 *' Do you really believe that the Catholic Church is the only 
 true, universal church, and that all who die in her communion 
 will certainly go to heaven ?" 
 
 '' Undoubtedly," they all respond at once ; and the Jesuit is 
 proceeding to give his reasons, when we cut the discussion short, 
 by exclaiming, in a playful voice — 
 
 " Well, well ! your view is undoubtedly consistent enough ; 
 but for our part, we rejoice in the sublime and cheering thought, 
 that the true church consists of all those, in any land, and in any 
 sect or church, who believe in Jesus Christ, incarnate love and 
 purity, breathe His spirit, and obey His laws. At all events, we 
 
FLORENCE. 153 
 
 are disposed to think and act for ourselves in the matter of reli- 
 gion, and willingly take our risk with the myriads of good and 
 holy men, in all Protestant communions, who have blest the world 
 with their love and zeal." 
 
 To this our friend from Lombardy nods an emphatic assent ; 
 while the canon, the friar, and the Jesuit enter their protest 
 against it as heretical and dangerous, adding, that there is only 
 one God, one Saviour, one church, and that said church can be 
 none other than the holy Catholic church — a sentiment to which 
 we inwardly assent, but not in the narrow and local sense of 
 priestly assumption and bigotry. 
 
 But polemics we dislike ; moreover, we have something better 
 in prospect, for we are drawing near the capital of Tuscany. The 
 increasing beauty of the country, the richness of the fields and 
 gardens, the vines hanging in long and luxuriant festoons from 
 the tall trees by the wayside, the smoothness of the roads, and 
 the increase of travel, indicate our approach to a great city. Now 
 we have attained the summit of the mountain ridge which encir- 
 cles the magnificent natural amphitheatre in which stands the 
 city of Florence, like Jerusalem of old amid her coronet of moun- 
 tains ; and all at once it flashes upon our sight — palace, dome, 
 and tower blushing like a bride in the warm light of a Tuscan 
 sky. Yonder, towering above the rest of the city, is the cupola 
 of the cathedral, the work of Brunelleschi, and the model upon 
 which Michael Angelo formed the cupola of St. Peter's ; the beau- 
 tiful Campinille, by Giotto, worthy, as Charles the Fifth declared, 
 to be encased in gold ; and nearer, the Pitti palace, the gardens 
 of the Boboli, and the Arno, " classic stream," on whose banks 
 once wandered the youthful Milton, on his visit to Italy, '' framing 
 Ovidian verse," and those other illustrious men, sculptors, paint- 
 ers, and poets, who have shed over Florence and its environs the 
 glory of poetical inspiration 
 7* 
 
154 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Without crossing the Arno, and entering what may be called 
 the heart of the city, we find a home for the present under the 
 shadow of the Pitti palace, and not far from the Boboli gardens, 
 in whose spacious and cool retreats we shall love to linger, in the 
 liot summer day, or in the still and beautiful twilight, soothed by 
 the noise of falling fountains, the music of evening bells, or the 
 deep hum of the busy city. 
 
 Florence, the city of flowers, as the name imports, has ever 
 been a favorite with poets and travellers. And certainly, though 
 not so magnificent as Rome, or so striking as Naples, it has a 
 quiet beauty of its own, which instantly wins our regard. 
 
 " Of all the cities of the earth 
 None is so fair as Florence^ — 
 
 is the enthusiastic expression of the gentle and classic Rogers, 
 " the poet of Italy.'' 
 
 "Florence, beneath the sun, 
 Of cities fairest one, 
 Blushes within her bower," 
 
 is the yet more harmonious and striking language of Shelley. By- 
 ron, too, was an enthusiastic admirer of Florence, and has embalmed 
 its glory in the verses of '* Childe Harold." Ugo Foscolo has 
 celebrated its graves, in his poem of ** The Sepulchres,'' a portion 
 of which we have quoted in another part of this work. Macau- 
 lay speaks of " the fair, the happy, the glorious Florence," as it 
 was in the days of Lorenzo de Medici ; of '^ the halls which rung 
 with the mirth of Pulci, the cell where twinkled the midnight 
 lamp of Politian, the statues where the young aye of Michael 
 Angelo -glowed with a kindred inspiration, and the gardens in 
 which the young Lorenzo meditated some sparkling song for the 
 May- day dance of the Etrurian virgins." 
 
 It is obvious that much of the attraction with which Florence 
 
FLORENCE. 155 
 
 is invested, is owing to association of ideas ; to the golden memo- 
 ries of that old heroic time when Dante and Petrarch sang, and 
 a new era of power and splendor dawned upon Italy. 
 
 " Along the banks where smihng Arno sweeps, 
 
 Was modern luxury of commerce borne, 
 And buried learning rose, redeemed to a new morn." — Byron. 
 
 But in addition- to its rich memories and hallowed associations, 
 Florence has much in its situation, its pure air, its venerable as- 
 pect, its massive but elegant buildings, its verdant gardens, and 
 its peaceful river spanned wath handsome bridges, to inspire ad- 
 miration. Its environs are among the finest in the world. Lying 
 on the banks of the Arno, and stretching gradually to the tops 
 of the mountains which gird it on every side, with green mead- 
 ows, clustering vines, and clumps of trees ; dotted, in every part, 
 with villas, cottages, convents, and towers ; invested w^ith the 
 warm, rich coloring of an Italian sun ; the whole scene is one of 
 rare and inspiring beauty. It contains the treasures of ancient 
 and of modern art, the Venus de Medici, '' Eve of the land which 
 yet is Paradise/' the Wrestler, the Niobe, the works of An^'elo, 
 Cellini, RafFaele, Titian, Canova, and a host of others ; the tombs 
 of the Medici ; the wonderful statues of ]^ight and Day ; the old 
 Laurentian library, containing some rare and curious manuscripts, 
 and among other things, a finger of Gahleo, preserved in a glass 
 case, and pointing to the stars ; the old church of Santa Maria 
 Novella, adorned with the radiant Madonna of Gimabue ; the 
 bronze gates of the Baptistery, fit, according to Michael Angelo, 
 to be the gates of paradise ; and above all, Santa Croce, the 
 Westminster of Florence, where repose 
 
 " Angelo's, Alfieri's bones, and his, 
 
 The starry Gahleo with his woes ; 
 Where Machiavelli's earth returned to whence it rose!* 
 
156 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 No wonder, then, if to imaginative minds the " Athens of Etru- 
 ria" should possess so many charms ; and that the poets should 
 unite in shedding over it ideal splendors. 
 
 " Search within, 
 Without; all is enchantment. 'Tis the past 
 Contending with the present ; and in turn 
 Each has the mastery." — Rogers, 
 
 But we do not intend to weary our readers with a minute de- 
 scription of Florence, attractive as the subject is; for this has 
 been frequently done by others. Neither will we tire their 
 patience with a long catalogue or attempted description of her 
 artistic treasures. We will not say a word even of the Tribune, 
 the Chapel de Depositi, the squares adorned with equestrian 
 statues, nor of the vast museums of the Pitti palace. All this, 
 and much more, we pass over as familiar to all. For, in good 
 truth, these subjects have been written to perfect inanity by all 
 sorts of tourists and sketchers who have seen but little else in 
 their rapid flight through the country. It is the genius of Flor- 
 ence (which in many respects is the genius of Italy) which at- 
 tracts our attention. Her old heroic history, her spirit of wisdom 
 and refinement, her dreams of glory, her long struggle for free- 
 dom, her love of the beautiful, and above all the magnificent 
 flowering of her poetical and artistic gemus, possess an interest 
 and a charm of the highest and most ennobling kind. 
 
 The history of Florence reminds us often of the history of 
 Athens ; and yet it possesses a deeper interest, from the preva- 
 lence of a new class of influences, and a new form of civilization. 
 In the Tuscan Republic, not only the spirit of Grecian refinement, 
 but also of Gothic strength and Christian virtue, came into con- 
 tact with a thousand opposing obstacles, which resulted from the 
 universal prevalence of ignorance, superstition and licentiousness. 
 
FLORENCE. I57 
 
 Thus the forms of society and the elements of progress were 
 more striking and energetic, and in their action and results more 
 stupendous and far-reaching. For although Florence herself, as 
 a republic, has passed away, and much of the grandeur and 
 power of Christianity has been vitiated and overborne by those 
 heathen and papal admixtures everywhere cherished in Italy ; 
 yet the form of civilization wrought out in that land has diffused 
 itself through the European world, and is yet destined to the 
 highest triumphs even in Italy. We can discern in it a vitality 
 which will yet cast off the wrappages of superstition, and emerge 
 as from a tomb, glowing with immortal youth and vigor. So 
 long as Christianity, in its great principles, whether contained in 
 books or institutions, remains in a country, however covered up 
 with the rubbish of superstition and vice, there is hope for that 
 country. Lying in that crude mass, like the chrysalis in the dust, 
 is an organic life, which, quickened by the sun of liberty, shall 
 yet burst its cerements, and go forth, in celestial beauty, to bless 
 the world. But Florence has seen many dark and stormy changes. 
 She is not now, what she was in the days of old, although even 
 then, far from realizing the idea of a free or a truly Christian re- 
 public. She was born in the middle ages, in tempest and blood ; 
 grew up, like a young giant, amid rapine and war, and held her 
 liberties only by the stern hand of violence and crime. Yet her 
 internal vigor was wonderful, and for a long series of years she 
 mantained her integrity, and developed her resources with a 
 genius and force such as the world has seldom seen. After all, 
 her freedom was short-lived. It was based not upon virtue, but 
 upon force ; upon expediency, '' not upon'' principle. Gothic 
 feudalism contended with Christian democracy, Papal supremacy 
 with repubhcan rule. Hence the constant struggle between the 
 people and the nobles, between the Guelphs and Ghibellines, 
 the power of the Emperor and the power of the Pope. Hence 
 
158 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 also the final supremacy of the Medici, and the loss of Florentine 
 liberty. *' All republics," says Machiavelli, with admirable saga- 
 city, in his history of Florence, book fourth — *' especially such as 
 are not well constituted, undergo frequent changes in their laws 
 and manner of government. And this is not owing -to the nature 
 of liberty or subjection in general, as many think, but to down- 
 right oppression on the one hand, or unbridled licentiousness on 
 the other. For the name of liberty is often nothing more than a 
 specious pretense, made use of by the instruments of licentious- 
 ness, who, for the most part, are the commoners, and by the 
 promoters of slavery, who generally are the nobles, each side 
 being equally impatient of submission and restraint.'' 
 
 This struggle between the people and the aristocracy, aggra- 
 vated by the opposing interests of the Smperor and the Pope, 
 ruined the liberties of all the .Italian republics. But the impulse 
 received from their early freedom, and their struggles to maintain 
 it, perpetuated itself during many years of ducal and imperial 
 sway. So that the Republic of Florence, as it continued to be 
 called, attained its highest degree of refinement and worldly 
 splendor under the government of the Medici. In the fourteenth 
 century '' the revenue of the republic amounted to three hundred 
 thousand florins; a sum ^v'lich, allowing for the depreciation of 
 the precious metals, was at least equivalent to six hundred thou- 
 sand pounds sterling, (three millions of dollars ;) a larger sum 
 than England or Ireland, tw^o centuries ago, yielded annually to 
 Elizabeth ; a larger sum than, according to any computation we 
 have seen, the Grand Duke of Tuscany now derives from a terri- 
 tory of much greater extent. The manufacture of wool alone 
 employed two hundred factories and thirty thousand workmen. 
 The cloth annually produced sold, at an average, for twelve hun- 
 dred thousand florins — a sum fairly equal, in exchangeable value, 
 to two millions and a half of our money. Four hundred thou- 
 
FLORENCE. 159 
 
 sand florins were annually coined. Eighty banks conducted the 
 commercial operations, not of Florence only, but of all Europe. 
 The transactions of those establishments were sometimes of a 
 magnitude which may surprise even the contemporaries of the 
 Barings and the Rothschilds. Two nouses advanced tu Edward 
 the Third upwards of three hundred marks at a time when the 
 mark contained more silver than fifty shillings of the present day, 
 and when the value of silver was more than quadruple of what it 
 now is. The city and its environs contained a hundred and 
 seventy thousand inhabitants. In the various schools about ten 
 thousand children were taught to read ; twelve hundred studied 
 arithmetic ; six hundred received a learned education. The pro- 
 gress of elegant literature and of the fine arts was proportioned 
 to that of the public prosperity. Under the despotic successors 
 of Augustus, all the fields of the intellect had been turned into 
 arid wastes, still marked out by formal boundaries, still retaining 
 the traces of old cultivation, but yielding neither flowers nor 
 fruit. The deluge of barbarism came. It swept away all the land- 
 marks ; it obliterated all the signs of former tillage. But it fer- 
 tilized that which it devastated. When it receded, the wilderness 
 was as the garden of the Lord, rejoicing on every side, laughing, 
 clapping its hands, pouring forth, in spontaneous abundance, 
 everything brilliant, or fragant, or nourishing."* 
 
 The early part of the fifteenth century, the age of Lorenzo de 
 Medici, justly styled the Pericles of Florence, was, if possible, . 
 still more distinguished for wealth and splendor. Florence was 
 the resort of learned men from all parts of Italy and the world ; 
 her merchants were princes and corresponded with kings. Poets, 
 orators and artists produced, in their highest perfection, the 
 bright creations of their genius and art. The people yet en- 
 
 * T. B. Macaulay ; Miscellanies, vol. i, p. S6. 
 
160 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 joyed a high degree of freedom ; the Medici professed to rule 
 according to the spirit of the Republic, and claimed to be the 
 guardians of the rights and liberties of the citizens. Guicciardini, 
 styled the Tuscan Thucydides, describes the state of Italy at that 
 time, in the following enthusiastic style :* '' Restored to supreme 
 peace and tranquillity, cultivated no less in her most mountainous 
 and sterile places than in her plains and more fertile regions, and 
 subject to no other empire than her own, not only was she most 
 abundant in inhabitants and wealth, but in the highest degree 
 illustrious by the magnificence of many princes, by the splendor 
 of many most noble and beautiful cities, and by the seat and ma- 
 jesty of religion, she flourished with men pre-eminent in the ad- 
 ministration of public affairs, and with genuises skilled in all the 
 sciences, and in every elegant and useful art."f 
 
 But an enfeebled faith and a boundless luxury begot venality 
 and lust. The most shameless profligacy prevailed among the 
 clergy, especially of the higher orders, the most outrageous self- 
 ishness and ambition among the nobles. The common people 
 were violent and disorderly ; the diff'erent republics coveted each 
 other's possessions, and thirsted for each other's blood. The spirit 
 
 ^ Notwithstanding his celebrity, the prolixity of Guicciardini is proverbial 
 in Italy. There was a criminal, we are told, who was permitted to make his 
 choice between the reading of that author's History and the galleys. But 
 the war of Pisa proved too much for him, and rather than wade through it, 
 he was satisfied to live the life of a galley slave ! 
 
 Italy is rich in historical writers. The names of Baronio, Bembo, Tirabos- 
 chi, Muratori, Denina, Bossi, Giannone, Daru, Litta, Botta, Balbo, Cantu, and 
 others, will occur to the student of Italian literature. Sismondi, though he 
 wrote in French, is essentially Italian. Mccolini, the poet, is engaged on a 
 history of the house of Suabia. Rosini, a successful novelist, has left ro- 
 mance, for the more important task of historical painting Azeglio and 
 Balbo are engaged in historical researches. 
 
 f History of Florence, book I 
 
FLORENCE. 161 
 
 of freedom took its flight, and Florence sunk in the gulf of des- 
 potism and crime. Deceived and betrayed by her professed 
 friends, especially by Leo the Tenth, and subsequently by Clement 
 the Seventh, she fell under the dominion of a foreign power ; and 
 a long night of oppression and sorrow ensued. This indeed was 
 the state of things over the whole of the Italian peninsula. It was 
 the consummation of papal ambition and imperial lust,in those beau- 
 tiful cities, once the home of the free and the hope of the world. 
 In the modern partition of Italy, Florence with Tuscany fell 
 into the hands of a member of the House of Hapsburg, under 
 whose reign, not over liberal or wise, the country has somewhat 
 prospered. Yet it is poor and heavily taxed. Until recentl}^ 
 lotteries and all sorts of gambling, aided by superstitious usages, 
 have been supported as a source of revenue by the State. But 
 the Grand Duke of Tuscany has had sagacity enough to advance 
 with the spirit of the age. For an Austrian his course has been fair. 
 To secure himself, he has conceded a liberal Constitution. Osten- 
 sibly the press is free, and religious toleration is promised to all. 
 But whether the provisions of this Constitution will be carried out, 
 remains to be seen. The greatest enthusiasm for liberty prevails 
 among the people. Literature and the arts have revived, and a 
 new era is obviously breaking upon Tuscany. But we are startled 
 by the news that the Grand Duke, following, we presume, his Aus- 
 trian instincts, has fled from Tuscany, as Pope Pius from Rome, 
 and that a Republican government has been proclaimed in Florence. 
 The progress of reform was going too far to suit his ducal dignity. 
 The Pope threatened excommunication, and in all probability Aus- 
 tria threatened something worse. Doubtless he hopes to return, 
 with the conquering armies of Austria ; and perhaps he may. 
 *t * * * * 
 
 The Duke has returned, and Florence falls under the same 
 despotism with Milan, Venice, and Rome. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Florence distinguished in Literature — Dante and " The Divina Commedia" — 
 His character and genius — Early days — Portrait — Beatrice and the " Yita 
 Kuova" — Wanderings — Controlling spirit and object of his Life — His 
 Death — Honors — Extraordinary Genuis — Real import of the Commedia — 
 Dante and Michael Angelo — Characteristics of Dante's poetry — Origin of 
 the Commedia — Its general character and aim. 
 
 Florence is rich in literature ; richer indeed than any other Italian 
 city. With the single exception of Ferrara, it has produced more 
 men of genius than all the rest put together. Taken in connec- 
 tion with her great men, her literature illustrates her moral and 
 political history, and some knowledge of the one is essential to 
 a just conception of the other. Indeed every civilized people 
 embodies its genius and hfe in literature. This evermore is the 
 blossoming of character, the flowering of that vital root which 
 lives in the heart of the community. 
 
 The earliest and greatest poet of Florence is Dante Alighieri, 
 author of the Divina Commedia, or the Vision of Hell, Purgatory 
 and Paradise, one of the greatest poems in any language, and yet 
 one of the most. singular compounds of truth and error, of beauty 
 and deformity. If, however, we make allowance for its narrow 
 views^ its superstitious fancies, and intense bigotries, as due rather 
 to the age than to the man, we shall be compelled to acknowledge 
 it one of the sublimes t epics that ever was written. Severe, 
 gloomy and cumbrous, it is yet radiant with the light of genius. 
 Stern as the fanaticism of the dark ages, it contains pictures of 
 
DANTE. 163 
 
 truth and virtue the most vivid and entrancing. At times the 
 author seems absolutely inspired. Brief, rapid, condensed, burn- 
 ing with heat and beauty, his language rushes and sparkles, like 
 the molten lava, on a dark night, from the crater of ^tna or Ve- 
 suvius. To peruse some portions of the Commedia, is actually 
 like descending into the infernal regions, or wandering amid the 
 stars of light. The rapt reader is compelled to hold his breath 
 in alternate horror and delight. True, every now and then, we 
 are shocked with some strange sentiment, some superstitious fig- 
 ment — some atrocious bigotry. ISTot unfrequently we are bewil- 
 dered with extravagant metaphysics or still more extravagant 
 theology, yet all the while awed by the spirit of grandeur and 
 beauty, gleaming out upon our vision, like stars through the gloom, 
 or the faces of angels amid the clouds of heaven. Then again, 
 after a long and fatiguing journey through the storm and dark- 
 ness of the Inferno, we come to some scene of cool refreshment 
 or serene beauty, some terrestrial paradise, it may be, in the wide 
 waste of horror ; we listen, amid the groans and shudderings of 
 the lost, to angel voices or the w^ailing melody of the pitying min- 
 strel, bathe our eyes in celestial dews, and then catch vivid 
 glimpses of the distant fields of light ; by which, invigorated and 
 cheered, we gradually ascend, as on the wings of the morning, to 
 mingle with the spirits of the just, and lose ourselves in the bea- 
 tific vision of the upper heaven. 
 
 As Mont Blanc not only rises far above his fellows, but is often 
 crowned with light, while the rest of the world is reposing in 
 shadow, so Dante not only rises far above all his contemporaries, 
 and indeed above all the poets of Italy, ancient or modern, but 
 seems invested with a supernal radiance, as if he held communion 
 with a higher sphere. Yet, like Mont Blanc, he is of '' the earth, 
 earthy/' " His foundation is in the dust." In him the fiercest 
 fanaticism is mingled witli the widest sympathy, the most intol- 
 
164 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 erant passion with the gentlest love. On acquaintance, however, 
 you forgive everything, forget everything, just as in gazing upon 
 the Alps at sunrise or at sunset, you forget that their rosy sum- 
 mits form a part of the dull earth, and imagine that they must 
 be the very portals of eternal day, so near to heaven they seem, 
 and so radiant with the beauty which comes from afar. 
 
 All the darkness of Dante's inferior nature is thus forgotten, or 
 if you please, absorbed in the ravishing splendor which he caught 
 from a higher world. His Beatrice, once human, becomes divine ; 
 the incarnation of truth and beauty, the very sum and essence of 
 eternal goodness, purity, and joy. All in her and about her is 
 transfigured and glorified. The love of heaven burns in her se- 
 rene orbs, the joy of God trembles in her ineffable smile. So 
 also his fierce judgments both of the living and the dead, his in- 
 tolerant scorn of his enemies, and the burning sarcasm which he 
 heaps upon the lost, assume the character of heavenly justice, 
 stern and awful as that of God. This doubtless is owing to the 
 intense vividness of his imagination, and the overpowering force 
 of his language, exceeding in this respect all the uninspired poets 
 of ancient or of modern times. Indeed, from his profound sin- 
 cerity and tragic earnestness, Dante becomes to us a sort of spirit- 
 ual being, having a greater affinity both with angels and devils, 
 than with living men and women. It is scarcely the man Dante 
 that penetrates the shadowy circles of the Inferno, and then as- 
 cends, with a serene, airy motion, towards the light of Paradise. 
 It is rather the spirit of Dante, or a spirit in the form . of Dante, 
 a sort of half-human, half-divine Mephistopheles, that glides with 
 such unresisting might, first amid the horrors of the bottomless 
 pit, and then amid the glories of heaven. Hence, also, everything 
 which he describes, even the most grotesque and horrible, appears 
 as if it must be true and real, so clear, so palpable he makes it. 
 " Surely this man/' said the old women of Yerona, who, in his 
 
DANTE. 165 
 
 dark complexion, sharp features, and frizzled locks, imagined they 
 saw the traces of his exposure to the smoke and heat of the in- 
 fernal regions, " surely this man has seen and touched the horrors 
 he depicts.'' But Dante reached first the terrestrial, and then 
 the heavenly Paradise ; and, as if he had never seen the horrors of 
 hell, lingered long amid the unutterable joys of the Divine pres- 
 ence ; so that the last impression which he leaves upon us is that 
 of a purified spirit, a large-hearted, ethereal, contemplative angel, 
 who has seen the face not only of the glorified Beatrice, but of 
 the uncreated God. 
 
 In this way, the author of the Divina Commedia has become 
 ideahzed in our minds as the poet of Paradise. That stern and 
 melancholy countenance of his at last glows with unearthly joy, 
 and smiles upon us from the highest heaven. 
 
 " Forth from the last corporeal did He come 
 Into the heaven that is unbodied light, 
 Light intellectual, replete with love ; 
 Love of true happiness, replete with joy ; 
 Joy that transcends all sweetness of delight."* 
 
 Dante was born in Florence, on the 14th of May, 1265, sixty- 
 three years before the birth of Chaucer, the morning-star of Eng- 
 lish poetry, and about three centuries before that of Shakspeare. 
 He was thus the child of the middle ages, and in none did that 
 strange and stirring period more gloriously mirror itself. Indeed, 
 the character and poetry of Dante may be regarded as the richest 
 flowering of the mediaeval spirit. This was the age of Thomas 
 Aquinas and Father Bonaventura, of Arabian poetry and Proven- 
 cal song. Dante loved them both, and thus mingles the subtleties 
 of seraphic doctors with the dreams of fablicists and troubadours ; 
 
 * Paradise, canto xxx. 
 
166 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 the stern seventies of persecuting monks with the soft amenities 
 of poetry and love. He belonged to the Church of St. Dominic 
 and Francis D'Assizi, and yielded consequently to the bigotries 
 and superstitions of the times ; but his inner creed, derived from 
 the pure principles of Christianity, was true and beautiful, and 
 shed over his stormy career, and yet more stormy verse, the hght 
 and glory of Heaven. 
 
 His youth was spent in Florence, amid the activity and splen- 
 dor of that changeful and ambitious republic. Losing his father 
 in early life, he was placed under the care of guardians, who se- 
 cured for him the amplest means of mental and physical disci- 
 pline. 
 
 His progress in literary and philosophical studies was surpris- 
 ing. At ^ the age of eighteen he had shown such a genius for 
 poetry as to attract the friendship of many distinguished men ; 
 among others, of Guido Cavalcanti, a young nobleman of high 
 accomplishments and poetical temperament, and of Giotto, who 
 painted his portrait. This long-lost portrait was discovered in 
 the Bargello at Florence, in 1841, and presents him in his youth- 
 ful vigor. Judging from this, he must have been eminently hand- 
 some, with noble and expressive features, full of sensibility and 
 sweetness. A shade of thoughtfulness, .and even of melancholy, 
 lingers in the lustrous eyes and chiselled mouth, but the prevail- 
 ing expression is that of dignity and gentleness. Tall and swar- 
 thy, with dark eyes and black hair, lofty forehead and serene 
 mouth, he seems the beau-ideal of manly strength and beauty. 
 But care and sorrow, in subsequent life, greatly changed his ap- 
 pearance. His features, yet noble and striking, became sharp 
 and angular, his eyes sunken, his hair matted, his brow wrinkled, 
 and his mouth severe and mournful, yet with a wonderful expres 
 sion of dignity, purity, and power. 
 
 Even in his youth, although buoyant as others, the nature of 
 
DANTE. 167 
 
 Dante was strong, brooding and sensitive. At the early age of 
 nine he became enamored of Beatrice Portanari, ''the gentle 
 Bice," as he loved to call her, whom he had met at her father's 
 house. With azure eyes, '* soft as a dove's'* and penetrating '' as 
 an eagle's," " amber tresses," where '' love doth lie," "a spacious 
 forehead" — 
 
 " radiant with truth, 
 White fingers, even nose and eyebrow smooth 
 And brown, as though it had been pencilled there ;" 
 
 above all, the blended "gentleness and majesty" of her entire 
 mien — 
 
 " Divinely tinctured with a pearl-like hue, 
 Gentle and sweet to view, 
 
 With looks of scorn, where scornfuiness were meet ; 
 Meek, unpretending, self-controlled, and still 
 With sense instinctive shrinking from all ill :" 
 
 it is no marvel if Dante beheld in her all attributes of excellence 
 and beauty. Her very gait, if we may believe the young enthu- 
 siast, was that of an angel ! 
 
 " Onward she moves clothed with humility 
 Hearing with look benign her praises sung — 
 A being seeming sent from heaven, among 
 Mankind to show what heavenly wonders be." 
 
 A^ether she reciprocated his passion is not known ; indeed, it is 
 altogether uncertain whether he ever ventured to declare it. At 
 all events she was married to another, and died in early life. 
 Dante never forgot her. Her image haunted him like a vision of 
 paradise. It awoke in him a new life. Mingling even in his de- 
 votions, as the type of innocence and eternal purity, it formed 
 the guiding star of his destiny. Like Burns's " Mary in heaven," 
 
168 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 the glorified Beatrice drew his affections *' beyond the visible di- 
 urnal sphere." Her relations to earth were forgotten. All in 
 her that was human vanished from his sight. He saw her only 
 as the favorite of Heaven, the beau-ideal of uncreated and eter- 
 nal beauty. It is true that in after Hfe he wedded another; but 
 there is no good evidence to believe that he ever cherished for 
 Beatrice aught but the purest feelings. Evermore he heard her 
 gentle voice chiding his folhes and wooing him to virtue. Ever- 
 more he beheld her glorified form, in the dim future, beckoning 
 him to immortality. Often falling into temptation, sorely buffet- 
 ed by the storms of adversity, tortured by contempt and shame, 
 and yielding, too frequently, to the tempestuous passions of his 
 heart, he never turned his eye from Beatrice, and the high goal 
 of perfection and repose which she had reached before him. The 
 real was transformed into the ideal, the natural into the divine — 
 hope sprang from disappointment, and desire itself became idola- 
 try and worship. Brighter and brighter grew the vision — stronger 
 and stronger the attraction, from the first dream of his earthly 
 love, to its last triumph amid the agonies of death. So far from 
 alienating his heart from God and duty, as human loves are wont 
 to do, his passion for Beatrice, sublimated by ethereal fancy, dis- 
 solved the ties which bound him to earth, and impelled him to- 
 wards heaven. Indeed, after her death, Beatrice never appeared 
 to Dante except as '* a blessed spirit," 
 
 " Where angels dwell and are at peace." 
 
 In the beautiful dirge which he wrote on the occasion of her 
 
 death, he says : 
 
 " Forth, from the lowly habitation where 
 Supreme in grace it dwelt, her soul is gone, 
 And in a worthy place shines starry bright." 
 
DANTE. 169 
 
 Of all this he had some presentiment in a singular waking dream 
 or trance, which just preceded the sad event. He had been sick, 
 and, on one occasion, imagined himself dead. " At last," he says, 
 m his Vita Nuova, or New Life, wherein he gives an account of 
 his affection for Beatrice, and its influence upon his character, 
 '* At last I came to this point, that I knew not where I was, and 
 it seemed to me as though I beheld women passing before me 
 weeping, and with dishevelled hair marvellously sad ; and me- 
 thought I saw the sun darkened, so that the stars were visible, 
 and of a color which made me think they wept ; and methought 
 the birds, as they flew along, fell dead, and that the earth quaked 
 fearfully. And as I lay wonder-stricken at these fantasies, and 
 grievously alarmed, I imagined that a friend came to me and said, 
 * Dost thou not know that thy admirable lady has departed from this 
 world ?' Thereupon I fell to weeping most piteously, and I wept 
 not only in imagination, but with my eyes — bathing them with 
 veritable tears. Then methought I looked towards heaven, and 
 it seemed as though I beheld a multitude of angels, who were as- 
 cending upwards, and before them they carried a little cloud of 
 exceeding whiteness. To me it appeared that those angels were 
 singing gloriously, and the words of their song, methought, were 
 these : Osanna in excelsis ; and other than that I did not hear. 
 Then it seemed to me that my heart, wherein is so much love, 
 said to me, * It is true that our lady lieth dead !' And upon this, 
 methought I went to behold the body, in which that most noble 
 and blessed spirit had been. And such force had my erring fancy, 
 that it showed me this lady dead ; and it seemed to me that wo- 
 men were covering her head with a white veil ; and her features 
 wore such an aspect of humility, that they seemed to say, ' Now 
 do I behold the beginning of peace !' While in this trance an 
 humility so profound seized me on beholding her, that I called 
 upon death and said, ' Come to me like a churl, forasmuch as it 
 8 
 
170 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 behooveth thee to be gentle, seated where thou art. Then come 
 to me, that do desire thee so much. Thou seest that already I 
 wear thy colors.' And when I had seen all the mournful myste- 
 ries completed, which are wont to be performed to the bodies of 
 the dead, methought I turned into my chamber, and there me- 
 thought I looked up to heaven ; and so patient was my imagina- 
 tion that I began to weep and cry with my veritable voice, * Oh 
 most lovely soul, how blest is he that beholds thee !' And utter- 
 ing these words with heavy sobs of woe, and calling on death to 
 come to me, a young and noble lady, who was at the side of my 
 couch, thinking that my words were lamentations caused by the 
 pain of my disorder, was seized with great alarm and began to 
 weep, whereupon certain other ladies who were in the chamber, 
 perceived that I was weeping by the tears which they saw her 
 shed, and having made this lady, who was the most nearly allied 
 to me by blood, to leave my side, they drew near to wake me, 
 thinking that I dreamt, and told me ' to sleep no more, and not to 
 disquiet myself.' Hearing them accost me thus, the potent fancy 
 ended, just as I was on the point of saying, ' Oh Beatrice, mayst 
 thou be blest !' And already had I said ' Oh Beatrice,' when, 
 recovering myself, I opened my eyes and saw that I had been 
 deceived." 
 
 In this singular waking vision, as it may be termed, we dis- 
 cover the germ of the Divina Commedia, a view corroborated 
 by the closing paragraph of the Vita JSTuova : " But I deter- 
 mined," says he, " to write no more of this divine saint, until I 
 should be able to write of her more worthily ; and of a surety 
 she knows that I study to attain to "this with all my powers. So 
 if it shall please Him, by whom all things live, to spare my life 
 for some years longer, I hope to say that of her which never yet 
 hath been said of any lady. And then may it please Him who is 
 the Father of all good, to suffer my soul to see the glory of its 
 
DANTE. 171 
 
 mistress, that is, of the sainted Beatrice, who now, abiding in 
 glory, looketh upon the face of Him, qui est per omnia secula hene- 
 dictus.^^ 
 
 Dante, notwithstanding his poetry and dreams, mingled freely 
 with his fellow -citizens, and acquired high distinction in the Re- 
 public. Near the church of San Giovanni, a stone seat used to 
 be pointed out, where in his prosperous days he was wont to sit, 
 of a summer afternoon, conversing gaily with his friends and 
 associates. 
 
 " On that ancient seat, 
 The seat of stone that runs along the wall 
 South of the church, east of the belfry tower, 
 (Thou canst not miss it,) in tlie sultry time, 
 Would Dante sit conversing, and with those 
 Who little thought that in his hand he held 
 The balance, and assigned at his good pleasure 
 To each his place in the invisible world." — Rogers. 
 
 He loved 'to wander, sometimes alone, and sometimes in com- 
 pany, in and about the Baptistery. It was here that he broke 
 the marble of the baptismal font into which a child had acci- 
 dentally fallen ; a mishap ascribed by his enemies to evil motives, 
 and from which he so strikingly clears himself, in the last line of 
 the following singular comparison. Describing the wells or pits 
 in which simoniacal offenders, and among others no less a man 
 than Pope Nicholas III, head downward, were tormented with 
 flames that flashed from heel to toe along the upturned soles of 
 their feet, he says : 
 
 " The sides and bottom of that livid rock 
 Were scooped into round holes of equal size, 
 Which seemed not less nor larger than the fonts 
 For baptism in my beautiful St. John's ; \ 
 
 And one of which, not many years ago, 
 
172 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 I broke to save a drowning child from death: 
 Be this my seal to undeceive the world."* 
 
 Like all thinkers, however, Dante loved solitude, and was 
 sometimes accused of unsocial habits. His mind was intense and 
 sensitive, eager for knowledge and panting for glory. Boccaccic 
 states that, on one occasion, being in Siena, and unexpectedly- 
 finding at a shop window a book which he had not seen, but 
 which he had long desired, he placed himself on a bench before 
 the door, at nine o'clock in the morning, and never removed his 
 eyes from the volume until vespers, when he had run through 
 the whole contents, with such absorption as to have entirely dis- 
 regarded the festivities of processions and music, which had been 
 passing through the streets the greater part of the day, and on 
 being questioned as to what had happened in his presence, he 
 denied having knowledge of anything except what he had been 
 reading. In company, sometimes he scarcely uttered a word, 
 but when he did speak it was with an energy and brilliancy which 
 astonished the listeners. His mind, indeed, was so intense and 
 imaginative that, at times, he seems to have almost believed the 
 creations of his own genius. How natural, for example, and how 
 striking the following ; especially the lines at the close, where he 
 ascribes, like the old women of Verona, the duskiness of his 
 visage to " the infernal air'' of the lower regions : 
 
 " High morn had triumphed o*er the glimmering dawn 
 Which fled before her, so that I discerned 
 The tremble of the ocean from afar : 
 We walked along the solitary plain, 
 Like men retracing their erratic steps, 
 Who think all lost till they regain the path. ' 
 
 * DeU'Inferno, canto xix. 
 
DANTE. 1Y3 
 
 Arriving where the dew-drops with the sun 
 Contended, and lay thick beneath the shade, 
 Both hands my Mentor delicately spread 
 Upon the grass ; aware of his intent, 
 I turned to him my tearful countenance, 
 And thence he wiped away the dusky hue. 
 With which the infernal air had sullied it."* 
 
 But the passionate and disdainful nature of Dante needed action 
 as well as thought. Hence we find him acquiring high distinction 
 in political life, and fighting, with heroic energy, at the battle of 
 Campaldino. He was made prior of the city of Florence, one of 
 the highest offices in its gift. But to this he ascribed all the 
 calamities of his subsequent life. Of a proud and impulsive 
 temper, he made many enemies ; and moreover, being embroiled 
 in the factions which distracted the whole of Italy, and especially 
 Florence, he was exposed to the vengeance of the dominant 
 party, to which he originally belonged,* but which, with apparent 
 inconsistency, he violently opposed. The immediate occasion of 
 his banishment was a deadly feud between two opposing factions, 
 who held undisputed sway in Florence, one of whom was expell- 
 ed from the city, by the authority of Dante. Availing himself 
 of this state of things, the Pope succeeded in sending into Flor- 
 ence Charles of Valois, who, under the pretense of friendship, 
 made himself dictator, recalled the Neri, and banished the Bian- 
 chi, with whom Dante was identified. 
 
 Then commenced his bitter exile and long wanderings, during 
 which he proved, in his own expressive words, 
 
 " How salt another's bread is, and the toil 
 Of going up and down another's stairs." i 
 
 * Purgatorio, canto i. 
 
174 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 This occurred in his thu^ty-seventh year. The calamity was im-* 
 mense and overwhehning ; for he was not only banished, but his 
 property was confiscated, and his hous^e burned to the ground. 
 Subsequently he was condemned to be burned alive, if he should 
 venture to return, or fall into the power of his enemies.* 
 
 The age of Dante, though splendid and spirit-stirring, as a 
 transition from chaos and darkness to order and light, was one of 
 violence and blood. Popes and bishops mingled in the strife of 
 ambition ; and even the best men of the age, Dante among the 
 rest, were not free from the spirit of lust and revenge. Murders 
 and assassinations were of common occurrence. The rancors of 
 the Guelphs and Ghibellines, the one the party of the Pope, the 
 other of the Emperor, were deep-rooted and violent. Family 
 feuds were vehement and bloody. Woe then to the man upon 
 whom rested the ban of a dominant faction ! No prayers or tears, 
 no threatenings or adjurations avail him aught. He can never 
 return to his home. In sorrow and anguish must he wander, 
 among strangers, with no rest but the grave. Behold then the 
 noble citizen, the warrior and poet, '* stricken, smitten and afflict- 
 ed," clad in his gray cassock, his stern brow hidden under an 
 '^ uncomely cowl," his visage pale, care-worn and stern, moving 
 about from place to place, for the space of nineteen years, long- 
 ing all the while to see his beloved Florence, but never permitted 
 to approach its gates. 
 
 We enter into no detail of this melancholy period of Dante's 
 history, as the facts in reference to it are extremely meagre and 
 uncertain. He found a temporary home, for brief seasons, at the 
 houses of his friends and admirers. Occasionally he met with kind 
 
 * This exasperation of feeling is owing in part to the fact, that after his 
 banishment Dante, with Petracco iel Ancisa and other Ghibellines, made an 
 unsuccessful attack on Florence, 
 
DANTE. 176 
 
 treatment and high distinction. But most of the time he had no 
 *' certain abiding place," and on some occasions was subjected to 
 the severest straits. It is even thought that on one emergency- 
 he suffered for the want of bread ; and there is a terrible intima- 
 tion in one part of the Commedia, that, " wrapped in his cloak," 
 with " face averted," he held out his hand, in the market-place, 
 for bread ! 
 
 But all the while he was meditating his divine poem, and 
 dreaming of Beatrice and heaven. This was his solace in *' the 
 waste howling wilderness," through which he was passing, as a 
 pilgrim to his own immortal paradise. There is a letter, said to 
 be nearly coeval with the time of Dante, and in the handwriting 
 of Boccaccio, from the prior of a monastery to a celebrated Ghi- 
 belline leader, a friend of Dante, which throws an interesting 
 light upon this fact. The writer says, that he perceived one day 
 a man coming into the monastery, whom none of its inmates 
 knew. He asked him what he wanted, but the stranger making 
 no reply, and continuing to gaze on the building as though con- 
 templating its architecture, the question was put a second time, 
 upon which, looking round upon his interrogators, he answered, 
 " Peace !" The prior, whose curiosity was excited, took the stranger 
 aside, and discovering who he was, showed him all the attention 
 becoming his fame ; and then Dante took a little book out of his 
 bosom, and observing that perhaps the prior had not seen it, ex- 
 pressed a wish to leave it with his new friend as a memorial. *' It 
 was a portion," he said, " of his work." The prior received the 
 volume with respect, and politely opening it at once, and fixing 
 his eyes on the contents, in order, it would seem, to show the in- 
 terest which he took in it, appeared suddenly to check some 
 observation which they suggested. Dante found that his reader 
 was surprised at seeing the work written in the vulgar tongue 
 instead of Latin, He explained that he wished to address him- 
 
176 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 self to readers of all classes ; and concluded with requesting the 
 prior to add some notes, with the spirit of which he furnished 
 him, and then forward it (transcribed, it is supposed, by the 
 monks) to their common friend, the Ghibelline chieftain — a com- 
 mission which, knowing the prior's intimacy with that personage, 
 appears to have been the main object of his coming to that place. 
 
 Dante made several efforts to obtain a restoration to his native 
 city ; but without success. It was indeed proposed to grant him 
 this boon, on condition of his submitting to humiliating conces- 
 sions. Of course he rejected the proposal with disdain. But he 
 never ceased to think of Florence with the yearning love of early 
 years. In his Convito he remarks, on one occasion, with reference 
 to some harhsness and obscurity in his style, that it ought to be 
 excused, in consideration of the unfavorable circumstances in 
 which he wrote, and adds most affectingly : " For it pleased the 
 citizens of the fairest and most renowned daughter of Rome- 
 Florence — to cast me out of her most sweet bosom, where I was 
 born and bred, and passed half of the life of man, and in which, 
 with her good leave, I still desire with all my heart to repose 
 my weary spirit, and finish the days allotted me ; and so I have 
 wandered in almost every place to which our language extends, 
 a stranger, almost a beggar, exposing against my will the wounds 
 given me by fortune, too often unjustly imputed to the sufferer's 
 fault. Truly, I have been a vessel without sail or rudder, driven 
 about upon different ports and shores by the dry wind that 
 springs out of dolorous poverty ; and hence I have appeared vile 
 in the eyes of many, who perhaps, by some better report, had 
 conceived of me a different impression, and in whose sight not 
 only has my person become thus debased, but an unworthy 
 opinion created of everything which I did or which I had to do." 
 
 If Dante did not always express himself in this touching and 
 lofty strain — ^if sometimes he gave way to the harshest recrimina- 
 
DANTE. 177 
 
 tions, and the most violent invectives — it is to be ascribed to the 
 cruelty of his enemies and the sharpness of his grief. It is a 
 wonder indeed that he did not go mad altogether, and end his 
 days by dagger or poison, as many did in that tempestuous age. 
 But he had a great work to perform, and this it was which really 
 sustained him in his exile. Calmly and constantly, in the house 
 and by the way, he labored on, building up his immortal epic, in 
 the certain conviction that it would live through all coming time. 
 
 His last home was at the court of Ravenna, where, in the ser- 
 vice of Guido Novella Polenta, himself a poet, and a munificent 
 benefactor of men of letters, the father too of Francesca da Ri- 
 mini, whose passionate love, and melancholy end, are embalmed in 
 the Commedia, he spent some peaceful years But the iron had 
 entered his soul, and being unsuccessful in an embassy to Venice, 
 which he undertook on behalf of his patron, he died broken- 
 hearted, September 14th, 1321. It was the day of the Holy 
 Cross. " And perhaps a solemn anthem was the last sound that 
 reached the ears of the dying man, when, between life and death, 
 he 'beheld eyes of light that wandered ake stars.'"* He was 
 buried in Ravenna with the highest honors, his noble patron him- 
 self pronouncing his funeral eulogium. 
 
 Too late Florence repented of her cruelty to her noblest citi- 
 zen. Embassy upon embassy was sent to Ravenna to claim the 
 remains of Dante, but the inhabitants of that city were too proud 
 of the treasure to give it up. Guido Polenta intended to erect a 
 gorgeous monument over his grave, but he did not live to exe- 
 cute his design, being driven from his dominions, and dying in 
 exile at Bologna. A hundred and fifty years after, Bernardo 
 Bembo, father of the celebrated cardinal, completed Polenta's 
 design ; and three centuries after that, Gonzaga raised a second 
 
 * Longfellow. 
 8* 
 
178 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 and more magnificent monument in the same place; while in 
 Florence a very beautiful and striking monument, by Ricci, has 
 recently been erected in the old church of Santa Croce, near the 
 tombs of Machiavelli, Angelo and Alfieri. The greatest honors 
 formerly conferred on his memory by his native city were the 
 restoration to his family of his confiscated property, after a lapse 
 of forty years, the erection of a bust crowned with laurel, at the 
 public expense, and the appointment of a public lecturer, to ex- 
 pound the mysteries and beauties of the Divina Commedia. This 
 office was first held by the celebrated Boccaccio. Similar insti- 
 tutions were founded in Bologna, Pisa, Venice and other Italian 
 cities ; so that in two centuries the highest renown was heaped 
 upon the man, who '' lived by sufferance and died in exile." After 
 all, it is only within a few generations that the genius of Dante 
 has been thoroughly appreciated by his own countrymen ; and 
 now they are in danger of cherishing for him an excess of venera- 
 tion, copying his faults as well as his virtues. Foscolo has de- 
 fended him with ability and enthusiasm ; Mariotti and others 
 have written eloquently in his praise. Some foreign writers, 
 among whom the celebrated French critics Ginguene and Ville- 
 main stand pre-eminent, have done justice to his extraordinary 
 genius ; while others, among whom is Leigh Hunt have mingled 
 with their admiration much vituperative and contemptuous re- 
 mark. Sir Walter Scott, who was more distinguished for his 
 genial fancy, practical good sense, and power of depicting man- 
 ners, than for profound thought or refined sensibilty, after read- 
 ing a few pages of Gary's Dante, threw it down in disgust ! 
 Robert Hall, who possessed a higher range of thought and a 
 keener taste, it is said, made himself acquainted with Italian, for 
 the sole purpose of reading the Gommedia in the original. Mac- 
 aulay says it is the only poem worthy of being compared with 
 Milton's Paradise Lost. Tieck calls it " a mystic, unfathomable 
 
DANTE. 179 
 
 song." ''I know of nothing/' says Carlyle, "so intense as 
 Dante. His painting/' he adds, "is not graphic only, but brief, 
 true, and of a vividness as of fire in a dark night ; taken on the 
 wider -scale, it is every way noble, and the outcome of a great 
 soul. On the whole, is it not an utterance, this mystic song, at 
 once of one of the greatest of human souls, and of the highest 
 thing that Europe had hitherto realized for itself?'* 
 
 It may be allowed that Dante is somewhat unfortunate in his 
 supernatural machinery ; his representations of the invisible 
 world by no means correspond with those of Holy Writ ; he 
 adopts, of course, the theology of the middle ages, and praises as 
 saints of the purest water, such men as Folco and Dominic, the 
 keenest persecutors of the age. He puts unbaptized infants, as 
 well as infidels, in hell, and describes with a relish the roasting 
 of heretics ; he mingles also with his visions, many absurd and 
 fantastic shapes, and not unfrequently indulges in expressions of 
 fierce passion and revenge. After all, his poem is penetrated 
 with the deepest energy of genius, and glows with a beauty less 
 of earth than of heaven. It is most " musical, most melancholy," 
 like the song of angels or of glorified spirits. 
 
 Then again Dante ought to have the benefit of the obvious 
 allegorical character of the entire Cdmmedia — a circumstance 
 generally overlooked, and not sufficiently taken into account even 
 by his admirers. His visions are not meant for veritable or 
 literal realities, though they appear such ; but rather as forms of 
 thought, symbols or figures, such as he could command, for en- 
 shrining the great and thrilling ideas of his poetical soul. Upon 
 this point Dante's own words are express. 
 
 " All ye whose minds are heathfully attuned, 
 Admire and prize the noble truths that lie 
 Wrapt in the mystic veil of poetry." 
 
180 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 " voi ch'avete gli intelliti sani 
 Mirate la dottrina ch'asconde 
 Sotto le velame degli versi strani." 
 
 In a letter to one of his friends, accompanied by his poem, he 
 says : " It is to be remarked that the sense of this work is not 
 simple ; but on the contrary, one may say, manifold. For the 
 very sense is that which it derives from the things signified by 
 the language ; the one literal, the other allegorical. The subject, 
 of the whole work, taken literally, is the condition of the soul 
 after death. But if you will observe the express words, you will 
 easily perceive that, in an allegorical sense, the poet is treating of 
 this hell, in which, journeying on like travellers, we may deserve 
 reward or punishment." 
 
 Rosetti, author of " the Antipapal Spirit," and the beautiful 
 poem of " Iddio e rUomo !" — '* Behold the ManT affirms that it 
 was Dante's intention to read mankind a great moral lesson, by 
 setting forth in his description of the guilty Babylon, the vices of 
 the court of Rome of his time ; to represent, in the horrors of hell, 
 the punishment awaiting these crimes, and in the bliss of Para- 
 dise, the return to more virtuous days. He finally regards Bea- 
 trice as the personification of morality or theology. But this 
 view is too narrow and jejune. In no respect can it be made to 
 correspond with the character and history of Dante's mind. He 
 revealed, it is true, the horrors of papal usurpation, and scourges 
 the guilty occupants of St. Peter's chair, with just and terrible 
 severity; but this occupies a very small portion of his great 
 poem, wfeich sweeps the whole field of human action, and passes 
 on into the retributions of eternity. It is, in fact, Dante's own 
 life and destiny, in connection with that of mankind generally, 
 and particularly that of his own age, which he would describe ; the 
 progress, so to speak, ,of sinful man, through all forms of disci- 
 
DANTE. 181 
 
 pline and wretchedness, to the final glory of the celestial state. 
 Hence he begins his progress under the guidance of Yirgil, the 
 appropriate symbol of human wisdom ; passes through the re- 
 gions of the InfernOy where he meets his own countrymen and 
 contemporaries suffering for their crimes ; from which he gradu- 
 ally ascends to a purer region, under the care of Beatrice, the 
 'ymbol of divine or heavenly wisdom ; and lands, after various 
 stages of ascent and glory, in the beatific vision of God. In this 
 view we are sustained by Foscolo, who conceives that "the 
 great drama of human life," and '' not the abuses of the papacy 
 alone," forms the real subject of the Divina Commedia. On this 
 account Dante has been styled " the historian of his age," '* the 
 voice of ten centuries," "the prophet of his country," the 
 " painter of mankind in general," who calls all our faculties into 
 action, "to reflect on all the vicissitudes of the world." The 
 forms or symbols, in which all this is expressed, are pure creations 
 of the poet*s mmd, and however grotesque some of them are, 
 they veil an import of the highest significance, and indicate the 
 vivid and all-embracing genius of their author. In this consists 
 the most decisive proof of Dante's inventive power. His pictures 
 are perfectly original, and yet perfectly natural ; on which ac- 
 count they strike the mind with wonderful freshness and force. 
 In reading Dante, you not merely read ; you see, you hear, you 
 feel. Transported for the moment into an ideal world, you look 
 through his eyes, listen with his ears, feel with his spirit. Hell 
 flashes — heaven smiles upon your terrified or enraptured 
 vision. 
 
 Connected with this, we cannot help referring to the mani- 
 festation of his creative genius in the use of language. Indeed 
 the Italian, when he wrote, scarce had an existence, except as a 
 rude and imperfect speech. He was the first great author that 
 infused into it beauty and power. Passing through the crucible 
 
182 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 of his vast and impetuous mind, it came forth, like gold, seven 
 times purified. It was subsequently further improved and 
 polished by Boccaccio, Petrarch, and others ; but it was Dante 
 who first invested his native tongue with force and melody. In 
 him thought and speech are one. The latter is as much a crea- 
 tion of his mind as the former ; hence the surprising vigor and 
 originality of his diction. It has all the precision and elegance 
 of sculptured forms, yet'is instinct with life and motion. His style, 
 we admit, is often rude in its general outline, and harsh in its oc- 
 casional expression,, resembling, in this respect, the statues of Mi-* 
 chael Angelo ; but it glows with the fire of genius, and, ever and 
 anon, breaks into shapes of ineffable beauty and splendor. Its 
 rudeness is that of nature, which often appears harsh and unfin- 
 ished in some of its details, but never fails, as a whole, to reveal 
 the harmony and perfection of the indwelling Spirit. Dante is a 
 painter in words, and quite equal, in strength and majesty, to his 
 great admirer, Michael Angelo, who has been styled the Dante 
 of painting and architecture. Indeed Dante himself possessed a 
 taste, not only for poetry and music, but also for drawing. To 
 this we find an interesting allusion in the Vita Nuova : " On the 
 day," says he, *' that completed the year after this lady (Bea- 
 trice) had been received among the denizens of eternal life, while 
 I was sitting alone, and rec illing her form to my remembrance, I 
 drew an angel on a certain tablet," &c. Thus also, Michael An- 
 gelo was not only a great painter and architect, but a distinguished 
 poet. Some of his strains are almost equal to those of Tasso. His 
 favorite author was Dante, and in many of his works, both of the 
 chisel and of the pencil, he has introduced figures, suggested by. 
 the Com media, or taken directly from its pages. Among these 
 were the statues of Leah and Rachel, from the twentj^seventh 
 canto of the Purgatorio, on the monument of Pope Julius. His 
 own copy of the Commedia, we are informed, had the margins em- 
 
DANTE. 183 
 
 bellished with sketches from the subjects m the text — a precious 
 treasure, but unfortunately lost at sea. Dante's power over lan- 
 guage was as despotic as that of Angelo over lines and colors ; 
 and hence both created eras in the history of literature and of art. 
 Appropriately and beautifully, therefore, Byron, in his " Prophecy 
 of Dante,'' puts into his lips the following words. Speaking of 
 Italy, he says : 
 
 " Thou'rt mine — my bones shall be within thy breast, 
 
 My soul within thy language, which once set 
 With our old Roman sway in the wide west 
 
 But I will make another tongue arise 
 As lofty and more sweet, in which exprest 
 
 The hero's ardor or the lover's sighs, 
 Shall find alike such sounds for every theme, 
 
 That every word as brilliant as thy skies 
 Shall realize a poet's proudest dream 
 
 And make thee Europe's nightingale of song." 
 
 It is owing to the same vividness and freshness of mind* that 
 almost every thing in the Divina Commedia assumes a definite 
 and graceful form. In this respect, how striking and beautiful his 
 angels ! Unlike all other angels that were ever imagined or de- 
 picted, they are yet not only most natural and becoming, but 
 instinct with grandeur and loveliness. The variety of their forms, 
 as well as the energy and gracefulness of their motions, cannot 
 escape the dullest observer. The angels of Titian and of Guide, 
 and even of RafFaele and Milton, are only glorified human beings ; 
 but Dante's angels are altogether supernatural, not only in their 
 temper, but in their forms, and aspects. They come from afar, as 
 it were from the misty depths of ether, glide across the " blue 
 pi'ofound," guiding the barge that is to convey tlie chosen spirits 
 to Paradise, poise themselves on wide-spread wings, of every form 
 and hue, sometimes using them as sails, and anon rising with them 
 into the highest heaven. Majestic and powerful, they disdain all 
 
184 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 earthly aid, and pass through space, as their natural element. 
 Colorless at first, as if they were a mere presence and mystery, 
 then revealing themselves, at a distance, with a dull red, like the 
 planet Mars struggling through the mist of evening, but growing 
 brighter and brighter with the rapidity of lightning. Some are 
 clad in vesture of green, vivid as " the new-born leaves," floating 
 on the ambient air, and fanned by ethereal wings — others again 
 are all a-glow with unearthly lustre, their bright armor flashing 
 like the sun, and producing a sudden dizziness in the eyes of the 
 beholder ; others have faces like the morning-star, " casting forth 
 quivering beams ;" while others are clothed in ash or coal -colored 
 garments, dusky as the night, with swords in their hands too 
 sparkling for mortal eye. One is announced by a tempest, and 
 has the face of a person "occupied by other thoughts." He 
 touches the portals of the sky with his wand, and they fly open, 
 and then, without uttering a word to his companions, he returns 
 the way he came. The agitation of another's wings makes the 
 shores tremble, and resembles a crashing whirlwind which sweeps 
 through the mountains and levels the forests ; while the presence 
 of another afi'ects the senses like the fragrance of a soft summer 
 morning. What a picture, for example, is the following ! How 
 simple in its general outline, but how striking and graceful ! 
 
 " That being came, all beautiful to meet us, 
 Clad in white raiment, and the morning-star 
 Appeared to tremble in his countenance ; 
 His arms he spread, and then he spread his wings 
 And cried, * Come on, the steps are near at hand, 
 And here the ascent is easy.' "* 
 
 He sometimes presents a complicated scene, and indeed an en- 
 tire history, with one or two brief and rapid strokes, upon which 
 
 * Purgatorio, c. xii. 
 
DANTE. 185 
 
 we might dwell for hours. The following, for example, has been 
 much admired : 
 
 " Ah I when thou hast returned to yonder world, 
 And art reposing from thy long, long journey, 
 Bemember me, for I am Pia. 
 ^ * * * 
 
 Siena gave me birth, Maremma death. 
 
 And this he knows who with his ring and jewel 
 
 But newly had espoused me." 
 
 Here, at once, you have the vision before you of Pia, young 
 and beautiful, first wedded, then confined in the marshes whither 
 her husband had conveyed her, fading away, and lastly dying, 
 all unconscious, perhaps, of the fatal wrong which her husband 
 inflicted. But who was Pia? None can tell. Pages of conjec- 
 ture have been expended upon the question, but without much 
 satisfactory result. They say she was the wife of a grandee, 
 Nello, Delia Pietra, who, becoming jealous of his young bride, 
 removed her to the putrid marshes of the Maremma, w^here she 
 soon drooped and died, -without suspicion on her part, or intima- 
 tion on his, of the terrible purpose for which she was hurried 
 thither ; her gloomy keeper, with a steady eye, watching her life 
 go out, " like a dying lamp in a sepulchre,'^ and after her death 
 abandoning himself to utter despair. 
 
 It will be seen from this, that Dante's pictures of horror and 
 grief are equally striking with those of beauty and gladness. 
 Claspings of hands, shiverings that make the air tremble, looks 
 averted, tears trickling slowly and reluctantly adown dark and 
 dusky cheeks, or congealed upon the eyehds, doleful beings, si- 
 lent and sad, others whose enforced words cause the flesh to creep 
 and the spirit to quake, and others vanishing with a sigh or a 
 stifled groan, in dismal gloom or lurid flames. One indeed is 
 
186 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 shocked and appalled, but held spell-bound by the mysterious 
 fascination. Occasionally, one is even disgusted ; for the pic- 
 tures, wonderfully truthful, are so grotesque and horrible, that 
 they could originate only in a semi-barbarous age, and in a min^ 
 liaif- demoniac and half-divine. 
 
 It is an infinite relief, however, to meet, amid the waste of 
 gloom and sorrow, so many pictures of beauty and gladness, all 
 the more fascinating from contrast, like flowers in rifted rocks, or 
 fountains in the desert. His descriptions, especially of external 
 nature, are as fresh and lovely as the dews of early morn, con- 
 tending with the sunlight. *' You long," says Leigh Hunt, " to 
 bathe your eyes, smarting with the fumes of hell, in his dews. 
 You gaze enchanted on his green fields and his celestial blue skies, 
 the more so from the pain and sorrow in the midst of which the 
 visions are created." Dante's delineations of calm scenes, of in- 
 animate nature, of picturesque objects, and pastoral images ; his 
 allusions to the nobler and tenderer feehngs of the human heart, 
 the love of home, of kindred, and of Heaven ; his pictures of un- 
 dying affection and devotion ; above all, his visions of glory, give 
 indication of a mind which, while it knew and revealed the hor- 
 rible and wicked, knew also and developed the beautiful and good. 
 If some then have felt themselves authorized, from the former, to 
 say he has the spirit of a demon, are we not authorized also, from 
 the latter, to say he has the spirit of an angel ? Moreover, if he 
 rose from the first, and rested only in the second, may we not 
 hope' that his errors were forgiven, and his nature finally purified 
 and blessed? 
 
 But let us look at some of his exquisite pictures, and gather 
 from them some solace and cheer, amid the horrors of the Inferno. 
 The miser, tormented by the thirst of Tantalus, is made perpetu- 
 ally to behold, without tasting, not water merely, but 
 
DANTE. 187 
 
 " Rivulets tliat from the verdant hills 
 Of Casentioe into the Arno flow, 
 Freshening its current with the cooler rills." 
 
 In the same way, the livid flames which illuminate the eighth 
 circle of his infernal regions are — 
 
 " Lights numberless, as by some fountain side 
 
 The silly swain reposing at the hour 
 When beams the day-star with diminished pride. 
 
 When the sunned bee deserts each rifled flower, 
 And leaves to humming gnats the populous void — 
 
 Beholds in grassy lawns or leafy bowers 
 Or orchard plot, of glow-worms emerald bright." 
 
 What can be finer than his description of the evening hour, 
 with its soothing melancholy and dreams of home ? 
 
 " 'Twas now the hour when fond desire renews 
 
 To him who wanders o'er the pathless main, 
 Raising unbidden tears, the last adieus 
 
 Of tender friends, whom fancy shapes again ; 
 While the late parted pilgrim thrills with thought 
 
 Of his loved home, if o'er the distant plain 
 Perchance his ears the village chimes have caught, 
 
 Seeming to mourn the close of dying day." 
 
 The last line, as all will allow, is melody itself, and might have 
 suggested to Gray the opening stanza of his elegy. 
 
 But none of these are equal to the portrait of the glorified 
 Beatrice, as she appears to the eyes of Dante, in a cloud of flowers. 
 
 " Even as the blessed in the new covenant 
 Shall rise up quickened, each one from his grave, 
 Wearing again the garments of the flesh — 
 So upon that celestial chariot 
 
188 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 A hundred rose ad vocem tanti seniSf 
 Ministers and messengers of life eternal, 
 They all were saying, * Benedictus qui vents /** 
 And scattering flowers above and round about, 
 , * Manibus, date lilia plenis P 
 
 I once beheld at the approach of day ^ 
 
 The orient sky all stained with roseate hues, \ 
 
 And the other heaven with light serene adorned. 
 
 And the sun's face uprising overshadowed — 
 
 So that by temperate influence of vapors. 
 
 The eye sustained his aspect for long while ; 
 
 Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers 
 
 Which from tliose liands angelic were thrown up 
 
 And down descended inside and without, 
 
 With crown of olive o'er a snow-white veil, 
 
 Appeared a lady under a green mantle 
 
 Vested in colors of the living flame." f 
 
 * " Blessed art thou that com est." This and the other Latin quotations 
 are scraps of old choral chants. 
 
 f We subjoin Gary's translation of this fine passage, in some of its lines 
 superior to the above, accompanied with a portion of the original, the 
 beauty and harmony of which are unequalled. 
 
 I have beheld ere now at break of day. 
 
 The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky 
 
 Opposed one deep and beautiful serene ; 
 
 And the sun's face so shaded, and with mists 
 
 Attempered at his rising, that the eye 
 
 Long while endured the sight : thus in a cloud 
 
 Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose. 
 
 And down and outside of the car, 
 
 Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreathett 
 
 A virgin in my view appeared, beneath 
 
 Green mantle, robed in hue of living flame ; 
 
 And o'er my spirit that in former days 
 
 Within her presence had abode so long, 
 
DANTE. 189 
 
 Another briefer, and perhaps more exquisite description of 
 Beatrice, is given in his vision of the spirits in the planet Mercury. 
 
 "I see full well how in the light divine 
 Thou dwell'st ; and -that thine eyes a joy display, 
 Which when thou smilest more serenely shine : i 
 
 But who thou art I know not ; neither why, 
 O worthy soul, a sphere is given to thee, 
 Hid by another's ray from mortal eye. 
 
 These words I spoke unto the joyous light 
 That had been first to address me — whereat she 
 Arrayed herself in splendor still more bright : 
 
 And as the sun conceals herself from view^ 
 In the pure splendor of the neio-born dai/, 
 Bursting his mantle of the early dew ; 
 
 E^en so that holy form herself concealed 
 Within the lustre of her own pure ray^ 
 
 Dante ascends to a yet higher strain, in the following, where 
 Beatrice, the symbol of religion, which is light and love, reveals 
 a beauty and glory the most intense and overpowering : 
 
 No shuddering terror crept. Mine eyes no more 
 Had knowledge of her." 
 
 " lo vidi gia nel commenciar del giorno 
 
 La parte oriental tutta rosata, 
 E I'altro ciel di bel sereno adorno ; 
 
 E la faccia del sol nascere ombrata 
 Si che, per temparanza di vapori 
 
 L'occhio lo sostenea lunga fiata : 
 Cosi dentra una nuvola di fiori 
 
 Che dalle mane angelicha saliva 
 E ricadea in giu dentro e di fuori, 
 
 Sorra Candida vel, cinta d'oliva 
 Donna m'apparve sotto verde manto 
 
 Vestita di color di fiamma viva." 
 
190 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 " Like as the bird, who on her nest all night 
 Had rested darkling with her tender brood 
 'Mid the loved foliage, longing now for light 
 
 To gaze on their dear looks and bring them food — 
 I Sweet task, whose pleasures all its toils repay, ^ 
 
 Anticipates the dawn, and through the wood 
 
 Ascending perches on the topmost spray, 
 There all impatience, watching to descry 
 The first faint glimmer of approaching day. 
 
 Thus did my lady toward the southern sky, 
 Erect and motionless her visage turn ; 
 The mute suspense that filled her wishful eye, 
 
 Made me like one who waits a friend's return, 
 Lives on this hope, and will no other own. 
 Soon did my eye a rising light discern ; 
 
 High up the heavens its kindling splendors shone, 
 And Beatrice exclaimed, * See, they appear. 
 The Lord's triumphal hosts ! For this alone 
 
 These spheres have rolled and reap their harvests here !' 
 Her face seemed all on fire, and in her eye 
 Danced joy unspeakable to mortal ear. 
 
 As when full-orbed Di.ana smiles on high, 
 While the eternal nymphs her form surround. 
 And scattering beauty through the cloudless sky. 
 
 Float on the bosom of the blue profound : 
 O'er thousands of bright flowers was seen to blaze 
 One sun transcendent,* from whom all around, 
 
 As from our sun the planets drew their rays. 
 He through these living lights poured such a tide 
 Of glory, as o'erpowered my feeble gaze." 
 
 Thus religion guides the soul to the primal and essential Light, 
 the Sun of suns, the eternal fountain of being and blessedness, 
 " God manifest in the flesh." 
 
 The goal then to which all the aspirings of the sin-stricken 
 
 * Jesus Christ, the "Sun of righteousness." 
 
DANTE. 191 
 
 wanderer reached, was God himself; and hence he obtains, at 
 last, a mystic vision of the Holy Trinity, wherein he beholds " our 
 image painted." The mystery, however, is too profound, and 
 ** vigor fails the towering fantasy." 
 
 '* But yet the will rolled onward, like a wheel 
 In even motion, by the love impelled, 
 That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars." 
 
 Much discussion has arisen respecting the origin of the Corn- 
 media.^ This, so far as its subjective character is concerned, we 
 have already found in the soul of Dante himself. Many things 
 may have aided its suggestion and development ; but, like all 
 other immortal poenas, the Commedia is a pure creation of genius. 
 It sprang from the deep fountains of the poet's heart ; and is 
 hence the best history not only of his genius, but of his life. We 
 see more of Dante in the Commedia, than in all that has ever been 
 written concerning him. It is, indeed, the development of his 
 Vita JVuovay or New Life. Through all the gloom of the Inferno, 
 as well as the light and glory of the Paradiso, we behold that 
 sinful, suffering spirit passing onward to the full perfection of its 
 being and happiness. To this, we find affecting allusion in the 
 thirtieth canto of the Purgatorio, where Beatrice, now to be re- 
 garded not as an earth-born beauty, but as the glorified symbol 
 of truth and purity, is represented as saying : 
 
 " In his new life this man was such, that he 
 Might in himself have wondrously displayed 
 All noble virtues, in supreme degree. 
 
 * The word Commedia has been thought singular in this connection. But 
 it is used simply as equivalent to Drama, and was never intended to con- 
 vey an idea of the comic or ludicrous, as some have absurdly imagined. It 
 is the drama of life ; and is thus full of action and passion. Some of its 
 scenes are eminently dramatic, both in their spirit and form. 
 
192 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Cut all the kindlier strength is in the soil, 
 So do ill seed and lack of culture breed 
 More noxious growth and ranker wilderness. 
 I for some time sustained him with my looks ; 
 To him unveiling my young eyes, I led 
 
 His steps with niine along the path of right : ^^ 
 
 • Yet soon as I the threshold gained of this 
 
 My second ag«, and laid life's vesture down, 
 He turned from me and gave himself to others. 
 When I from carnal had to spirit risen, 
 And beauty and virtue in me grew divine, 
 I was less dear to him and less esteemed ; 
 And into devious paths he turned his steps, 
 Pursuing, still false images of goody 
 That make no promise perfect to the hope. 
 Nor aught availed it, I for him besought 
 High inspirations, with the which in dreams, 
 And otherwise, I strove to lead him back ; 
 ^ So little warmed his bosom to my call, 
 
 To such vile depths he fell, that all device 
 Had failed for his salvation, save to show 
 The children of perdition to his eyes." 
 
 Jn embodying this great fact or idea, Dante chose such forms 
 and imagery as were familiar to him ; derived partly from men 
 and books, the spirit and opinions of the age, and partly 
 from the natural workings of his own mind, fusing its materials 
 and bringing them into new and unheard-of shapes. His the- 
 ology and metaphysics are hence those of the times in which he 
 lived, or which immediately preceded him. Much of his hell, 
 something too of his heaven, and, certainly, all of his purgatory, 
 are the figments of superstition and monkery ; but, the great in- 
 dwelling spirit, the genius of the whole, which gleams through 
 these fantastic shapes, or rather informs them with living splen- 
 dor, is the unborrowed inspiration of his own mighty intellect. 
 
DANTE. 19a 
 
 touclied with the finger of the Almighty. On this ground there 
 may be something in the idea of Sismondi, who refers to the 
 monkish pageants and plays sometimes enacted in the age of 
 Dante, to represent the punishments of hell, as having suggested 
 the form of the Inferno. He says, that on more than one occa- 
 sion such an exhibition, in dramatic form, was made in Florence, 
 in the bed of the Arno, with all the varied torments which the 
 imagination of the monks had called up ; its rivers of boiling pitch, 
 its gulfs of fire, its mountains of ice, and its serpents, all which 
 were brought to act upon real persons, (heretics of course,) who, 
 by their horrible shrieks, groans, and bowlings, made the illusion 
 complete. It has been remarked, however, that it is a matter of 
 uncertainty, whether this suggested the Inferno, or the Inferno 
 this; for the one is just as probable as the other. However, the 
 minds of men were familiar enough with such ideas in the twelfth 
 and thirteenth centuries. The monkish preacher of that day 
 tasked the imagination for the production of all sorts of horrors, 
 to frighten the people into obedience. Religion, enshrining a few 
 grand elements, preserved from antiquity, was gross in its char- 
 acter, and often brutal, if not demoniac, in its manifestations. 
 '* In the age of Dante," says Mariotti, " praying and fighting went 
 side by side. The Ark of the Covenant rose in the midst of mar- 
 tial encampments. The priesthood of Christ gloried in the name 
 of church mihtant. The bishop said mass in his coat of arms, 
 and rival fraternities knocked each other down with their cruci- 
 fixes. The whole system of faith and worship was made to fit 
 an age of outrage and violence. Christianity ruled by terror. 
 Religion was then indeed the fear of God. Fear of the devil had 
 been a more appropriate expression.'' The most egregious fol- 
 lies, and often the most fearful licentiousness and cruelty were 
 mingled with intense bigotry, and self-sacrificing penance. Fire 
 and sword were the weapons of the church. The roastmg of 
 9 
 
194 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 heretics, under the names of Paterini and Cathari, the Puritans 
 and Dissenters of their age, had become, in the cities of northern 
 Italy, an almost daily ceremony. 
 
 That the stern genius of Dante was imbued with something 
 of this gross and stern asceticism, cannot be doubted. At all 
 events, it must be obvious to every one, that he employs its more 
 striking forms and expressions, to reveal the daring thoughts of 
 his deep and gloomy genius. But all the while we can see his 
 better nature strugghng through the fire and smoke, and finally 
 breaking away from the whole, and ascending, like a creature of 
 heaven, winged with sunbeams, to the fountain of eternal day. 
 
 But the acute Villemain, in his " Cours de Litterature" cer- 
 tainly gives a better account of the origin of Dante^s Inferno 
 than the one suggested by Sismondi. *' One day,'* says he, *' long 
 before the epoch of Dante, in the little city of Arezzo, the Pope, 
 Nicholas Second, being present, a cardinal ascended the pulpit 
 and preached.'' This cardinal was then fifty years of age ; he was 
 small of stature ; his eyes were sparkling and animated by an ar- 
 dent and sombre fire, which made sinners tremble ; his hair, still 
 black, gave to his countenance, already aged, something more 
 inanly and harsh. His words were revered by the people. He 
 was deemed a holy man, and all the bishops of Italy trembled 
 before his power. This was Gregory Seventh, yet now only the 
 Archdeacon Hildebrand. 
 
 "But why go back so far for the inspiration of Dante ? Because 
 a man of genius having preached such a thing as the Inferno, it 
 must have entered the popular mind, and repeated, amplified, 
 exaggerated, gone down to posterity, a vast legend, which another 
 man of genius . afterwards transformed into the highest poetry. 
 Gregory indeed cared nothing for the poetry, but he wished to 
 subdue incorrigible offenders, and fix an indelible stigma upon the 
 Germans, whom he hated. Listen to him : 
 
DANTE. 195 
 
 " A certain German count," said he, " died about ten years 
 ago. After his death, a holy man descended in spirit into the 
 infernal regions, and there saw the above-mentioned count, placed 
 upon the highest step of a ladder. He affirmed that this ladder 
 seemed to rise uninjured among the roaring and eddying flames 
 of the avenging fire, and to have been placed there to receive all 
 the descendants of that race of counts. Beyond, a black chaos, 
 a frightful abyss, extended infinitely, and plunged into the infernal 
 depths, whence issued this immense ladder. This was the order 
 estabhshed then among those who succeeded each other ; the last 
 comer took the highest step of the ladder, and he who before oc- 
 cupied it, and all the others, descended, each, one step towards 
 the abyss. The men of this family coming after him, were suc- 
 cessively arranged upon the ladder, and, by an inevitable lavv, 
 went, one after another, to the bottom of the abyss. 
 
 " The holy man who witnessed these things, inquired the cause 
 of this damnation, and why the Count, his contemporary, reputed 
 to be an upright and worthy man, a rare circumstance among 
 persons of that class, was thus severely punished. A voice re- 
 plied : ' On account of a domain of the Church of Metz, which 
 one of his ancestors, of whom he is the tenth heir, had wrested 
 from the blessed Stephen ; all these have been devoted to the 
 same punishment, and as the same sin of avarice had united them 
 in the same crime, so the same punishment has united them in 
 the fires of hell.' '' 
 
 Here we have the idea of the ten degrees, or circles of the In- 
 ferno, which, issuing from that terrible mouth which made kings 
 tremble, might have floated about in the terrified versions of the 
 multitude, until arrested by the glowing mind of Dante, was 
 finally set in the framework of his immortal verse. 
 
 But speculations of this sort are more curious than profitable, 
 except as illustrating the spirit of the age, and the methods of 
 
196 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 genius ; for, while Dante derived his materials from all sources, 
 he alone possessed the power to construct them into that temple 
 of adamant, which is yet invested with all the gloom and glory 
 of the middle ages, or, to quote his own words : 
 
 *' The sacred song which heaven and earth 
 Have lent a hand to frame — which 
 Many a year bath kept me lean with thought." 
 
 In a word, the Divina Commedia is one of those old Gothic 
 edifices of the dark ages, with its many-chambered cells, and even 
 dungeons, its dim aisles and massive towers, fretted ornaments, 
 old tombs and blazing altars, illumined by the rays of the setting 
 sun, and echoing the soft ^tones of the vesper bells ; a thing at 
 once of dread and beauty, of stern bigotry and celestial devotion. 
 In that old temple, " that great supernatural world cathedral," a 
 modern, and a Protestant even, may linger in hallowed worship. 
 There, his spirit subdued by solemn thought, may rise to the 
 home of glory in the skies, where the good of all creeds finally 
 mingle ; and if, by the blessing of God he should himself at last 
 reach " the highest heaven of uncreated light," he will not be 
 much surprised, if, notwithstanding all his errors and imperfec- 
 tions, he should meet there the glorified Dante. Would to heaven 
 that in these days of scepticism and pride, when we scarce be- 
 lieve in heaven, to say nothing of hell, we had one half of the 
 clear vision, steady faith, and all- conquering love of the immortal 
 Florentine. With our better views and softer piety, we might 
 then set our foot upon the world, mount into the clear empyrean, 
 and bathe our spirits in the very fount of eternal day ! 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Petrarch and Boccaccio— Their Character and 'Genius — Influence upon liter- 
 ature. 
 
 When Dante was banished from Florence, Petracco deirAncisci, 
 a noble Florentine, and notary of the republic, was involved in 
 the same calamity. He was the father of the celebrated Pe- 
 trarch, who was born in Arezzo on the 19th of July, 1304, on the 
 very night when Dante, Petracco, and other Ghibellines, made 
 their last ineffectual attempt on Florence. A striking incident 
 in the life of Petrarch, connected with that event, is thus versified 
 by Rogers. Referring to the Arno, which glides in many beauti- 
 ful windings through the Yal de Pisa — 
 
 " Reflecting convents, castles, villages, 
 And those great rivals, in an elder day, 
 Florence and Pisa :" — 
 
 he adds, 
 
 " Once indeed 'twas thine, 
 When many a winter flood, thy tributary, 
 Was through its rocky glen rushing, resounding, 
 And thou wert in thy might, to save, restore 
 A charge most precious. To the nearest ford 
 Hastening, a horseman from Arezzo came, 
 Careless, impatient of delay, a babe 
 Blung in a basket to the knotty staff 
 That lay athwart his saddle-bow. He spurs. 
 He enters ; and his horse alarmed, perplexed, 
 
198 3ENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Halts in the midst. Great is the stir, the strife ; 
 
 And lo ! an atom on that dangerous sea, 
 
 The babe is floating ! Fast and far he flies ; 
 
 Now tempest-rocked, now whirling round and round, 
 
 But not to perish. By thy willing waves 
 
 Borne to the shore among the bulrushes, 
 
 The ark has rested ; and unhurt, secure, 
 
 As on his mother's breast, he sleeps within, 
 
 All peace ! or never had the nations heard 
 
 That voice so sweet which still enchants, inspires ; 
 
 That voice which sung of love, of liberty. 
 
 Petrarch lay there !""^ 
 
 Notwithstanding this early misfortune, the life of Petrarch was 
 only too prosperous and happy — no, not happy, except in the 
 narrow, worldly sense of the term ; for alas ! his bright career of 
 honor and pleasure grew dim before his eyes, and left him unsat- 
 isfied and melancholy. His entire life was a perfect contrast to 
 that of Dante. Honored and caressed by popes and princes, the 
 favorite of the muses and the idol of all, there was no distinction 
 which he could not reach, no pleasure which he could not taste. 
 Learned, generous and polished, a man of genius and station, 
 with no great faults, he had no great virtues. He inveighed 
 against the vices of his patrons, but ever retained their patronage. 
 The friend of Rienzi, the last of the Tribunes, and the advocate 
 of freedom, he consorted, his life long, with the most consum- 
 mate despots, and derived his highest honors "from hands that 
 reeked with blood. 
 
 Petrarch was designed for the law, and studied at Bologna and 
 other places. He made great progress in learning ; but felt so 
 strong an attraction to poetry, that he abandoned the legal pro- 
 fession, sorely to the disappointment of his father, and gave himself 
 up to the muses. 
 
 * Italy, a poem. 
 
PETRARCH. 199 
 
 His residence at Avignon, at that time the site of the Papal 
 See, and on that very account one of the most licentious cities in 
 Europe* — his attachment tothe beautiful Laura, whom he has im- 
 mortalized in his sonnets — his half devout, half carnal and Pla- 
 tonic love, which burned long after Laura was in the grave, and 
 colored his whole subsequent life — his soUtary musings by the 
 fountain of Vaucluse, and in his chosen retreat at Arqua, are well 
 known to all. 
 
 As a scholar and a courtier, a poet and a man of genius, his 
 fame, in his own day, was unbounded. He was crowned with 
 laurel in the Capitol, and received the homage and applause not 
 only of Rome, but of Florence and Venice. 
 
 Chaucer, who was well acquainted with Italian literature, and 
 drew something of his own inspiration from this source, having 
 in his youth visited Italy and conversed with Petrarch, speaks of 
 him as "the laureat poet," 
 
 " Whose rethorike sweet 
 Enlumined all Itaille of poetrie." 
 
 But Petrarch prided himself chiefly on his vast learning, his 
 majestic Latin style, his efforts for the diffusion of classical learning, 
 and, above all, his great epic poem of " Africa," which he hoped 
 to leave behind him as the richest monument of his genius. But 
 most of these, especially his huge epic, posterity has forgotten. 
 
 * In his letters from Avignon, Petrarch has given us a dark picture of the 
 vices of the Pontifical court. " I am at present," says he, in a letter to a 
 friend, " in the western Babylon, than which the sun never beheld anything 
 more hideous ; and beside the fierce Rhone, where th^successors of the poor 
 fishermen live as kings. Here the credulous crowd.of Christians are caught 
 in the name of Jesus, but by the arts of Belial ; and being stripped of 
 their scales are fried to fill the belly of gluttons." 
 
 Epistolce Familiares. 
 
200 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 The only things cf his valued now are his efforts in the diffusion 
 of Latin literature, and his lyric poems, which he regarded only as 
 his solace and amusement. 
 
 Dante created the language of Italian poetry ; Petrarch brought 
 it to perfection. If the one was the Angelo of literature, the other 
 was its Raffaele. In the extreme beauty and perfection of his 
 diction he has never been surpassed. No word of his has grown 
 obsolete, no figure has lost its freshness and elegance. Indulging 
 occasionally in refined conceits, he is never weak or redundant. 
 His style is always clear, firm and beautiful. Of deep and stormy 
 passion, of strong and startling phraseology he has nothing ; but 
 his sweetness, tenderness and elegance are inimitable. His poetry 
 has all the clearness as well as the splendor of the diamond. It 
 always reminds us of the hardest and most delicate enamel. It 
 is pervaded moreover by a serene light, a soft and pensive 
 beauty. In fact, it is the very perfection of what may be termed 
 ideal, or reflective passion, embodied in exquisite and melodious 
 verse. Here Laura looks out upon us with her calm, glorified 
 eyes."^ 
 
 * Foscolo quotes the following memorandum made by Petrarch two 
 months after the decease of Laura, in his private manuscript copy of Vir- 
 gil, now preserved in the Ambrosian library at Milan, which presents the 
 reality and depth of his afiection for Laura, in the most favorable and 
 striking light. 
 
 " It was in the early days of my youth, on the sixth of April, in the 
 morning, and in the year 1327, that Laura, distinguished by her own vir- 
 tues, and celebrated in my verses, first blessed my eye^ in the Church of 
 Santa Clara at Avignon ; and it was in the same city, on the sixth of the 
 very same month of April, at the very same hour in the morning, in the 
 year 1348, that this bright luminary was withdrawn from our sight, when I 
 was at Verona, alas ! ignorant of my calamity. The remains of her 
 chaste and beautiful body were deposited in the Church of the Cordeliers 
 on the evening of the same day. To preserve this aMcting remembrance, 
 
PETRARCH. 201 
 
 The stormy age of Dante had begun to soften. Wealth and 
 mxury begot effeminacy and weakness. Mercenaries were hired 
 to perform the fighting of the Itahans, while the citizens gave 
 themselves up to the pursuits of commerce and literature. It 
 was about this time that foreign barbarians overran the country ; 
 and Petrarch in his old age saw Italy drenched in blood. He 
 had travelled much, and seen many beautiful scenes, in other 
 lands ; but his heart turned to Italy with unceasing affection. 
 It was thence an infinite grief to his generous heart, to see his 
 native country suffering from such a cause. Some of the finest 
 passages in his poems have reference to this circumstance, and 
 rise to a high pitch of indignant eloquence. His appeals upon 
 this subject were not without effect. Native companies of patri- 
 otic citizens were formed ; and the fierce marauders were driven 
 from Italy. 
 
 But this unhappy country has never been long free from in- 
 tenstine division, or foreign invasion, and not long after this a long 
 and bloody war ensued, from the descent upon Italy of the Em- 
 peror Charles the Fourth. So that, between popes and emperors, 
 Italy has scarcely enjoyed a moment's repose, from the fall of 
 the ancient repubhcs to the present time. 
 
 Petrarch was tall and well-formed, with noble and handsome fea- 
 tures, large lustrous eyes, serene mouth, and lofty brow. His man- 
 ners were courteous and fascinating, and his character somewhat 
 generous, but by no means elevated and self-sacrificing. He was an 
 
 I have taken a bitter pleasure in recording it, particularly in this book, 
 which is most frequently before my eyes, in order that nothing in this world 
 may have any farther attraction for me ; that this great attachment to fife 
 being dissolved, I may, by frequent reflection, and a proper estimation of 
 our transitory existence, be admonished that it is high time for me to 
 think of quitting this earthly Babylon, which I trust it will not be difficult 
 for me, with a strong and manly courage, to accomplish.'* 
 9* 
 
202 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 agreeable man of the world, with an ardent desire for the welfare 
 of his friends and his native land, but without that loftiness of na- 
 ture, and energy of purpose, which are absolutely essential to high 
 patriotism and virtue. He grew weary of his own honors and 
 success, and discovered, too late, that he had failed to reach the 
 true end of life. He died in Arqua, his cherished retreat among 
 the Euganean hills, a few miles from Padua, July 18th, 13Y4. 
 He was found by his attendants dead in his chair, his head lean- 
 ing on his desk, with a book beside him, probably struck by apo- 
 plexy while engaged in reading. He was buried with great pomp, 
 being followed to his grave by the Prince of Padua, the eccclesi- 
 astical dignitaries and the students of the University. His tomb 
 is the resort of many literary pilgrims. 
 
 " There is a tomb in Arqua ; reared in air, 
 Pillared in their sarcophagus, repose 
 The bones of Laura's lover ; here repair 
 Many familiar with his well-sung woes, 
 The pilgrims of his genius. He arose 
 To raise a language, and his land reclaim 
 From the dull yoke of her barbaric foes; 
 Watering the tree that bears his lady's name 
 With his melodious tears, he gave himself to fame." — Byron. 
 
 The idolatry, with which Petrarch has ever been regarded by 
 his countrymen, has begun to subside. But they still speak of 
 him as " the tender, the elegant, the divine." Far inferior to 
 Dante, Ariosto and Tasso, in originality and vigor, he approaches 
 them, perhaps equals them occasionally, in tenderness and beauty. 
 His descriptions, mingled with sentiment and devotion, resem- 
 bhng in this respect the songs of Robert Burns, are singularly 
 touching. They remind us of the light of setting suns, or the 
 pensive beautv of the moon and stars. The following is one of 
 
PETRARCH. 203 
 
 his finest canzones, and will give as fair an idea, as a translation 
 can, of his peculiar style :* 
 
 CANZONE. 
 
 In the still even, when with rapid flight 
 
 Low in the western sky the sun descends 
 
 To give expectant nations life and lights 
 
 The aged pilgrim, in some clime unknown 
 
 Slow joujrneying, right onward fearful bends 
 
 With weary haste, a stranger and alone ; 
 
 Yet when his labor ends, 
 
 He solitary sleeps, 
 
 And in short slumber steeps 
 
 Each sense of sorrow hanging on the day, 
 
 And all the toil of the long past way ; 
 
 But 0, each pang that wakes with morn's first ray, 
 
 More piercing wounds my breast. 
 
 When heaven's eternal light sinks crimson in the west I 
 
 His burning wheels when downward Phcebus bends 
 And leaves the world to night, its lengthened shade 
 Each towering mountain o'er the vale extends ; • 
 The thrifty peasant shoulders light his spade, 
 With sylvan carol gay and uncouth note. 
 Bidding his cares upon the wild winds float. 
 Content in peace to share 
 His poor and humble fare, 
 As in that golden age 
 We honor still, yet leave its simple ways. 
 
 * When Petrarch found that the poems of his youth were the principal 
 source of his fame, h^ bestowed upon them an elaborate revision. It is im- 
 possible to say how frequently they passed through the alembic of his criti 
 cism. He brought the melody and rhythm to the highest perfection. 
 
204 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Whoe'er so list, let joj his hours engage ; 
 
 No gladness e'er has cheered my gloomy days, 
 
 Nor moment of repose, 
 
 However rolled the spheres, whatever planet rose. 
 
 When as the shepherd -marks the sloping ray 
 
 Of the great orb that sinks ,in ocean's bed, 
 
 While on the east soft steals the evening gray, 
 
 He rises and resumes the accustomed crook, 
 
 Quitting the beechen grove, the field, the brook, 
 
 And gently homeward drives the flock he fed • 
 
 Then far from human tread, 
 
 In lonely hut or cave. 
 
 O'er which the green boughs wave, 
 
 In sleep without a thought he lays his head ; 
 
 Ah ! cruel love ! at this dark, silent hour, 
 
 Thou wak'st to trace, and with redoubled power. 
 
 The voice, the step, the air 
 
 Of her, who scorns thy chain, and flies the fatal snare. 
 
 And in some sheltered bay at evening's close. 
 
 The mariners their rude coats round them fold. 
 
 Stretched on the rugged plank in deep repose ; 
 
 But I, though Phoebus sink into the main. 
 
 And leave Granada wrapt in night, with Spain, 
 
 Morocco, and the Pillars famed of old — 
 
 Though all of human kind, 
 
 And every creature blest, 
 
 All hush their ills to rest, 
 
 No end to my unceasing sorrows find : 
 
 And still the sad account swells day by day; 
 
 For since these thoughts on my born spirit prey, 
 
 I see the tenth year roll ; 
 
 Nor hope of freedom springs in my desponding soul. 
 
 Thus as I vent my bursting bosom's pain, 
 Lo I from the yoke I see the oxen feed, 
 
BOCCACCIO. , 205 
 
 Slow moving homeward o'er the furrowed plain: 
 
 Why to my sorrow is no pause decreed? 
 
 Why from my yoke no respite must I know ? 
 
 Why gush these tears, and never cease to flow t 
 
 Ah me ! what sought my eyes, 
 
 When fixed in fond surprise, 
 
 On her angelic face 
 
 I gazed, and on my heart each charm impressed ? 
 
 From which i;ior force nor art the sacred trace 
 
 Shall e'er remove, till I the victim rest 
 
 Of Death, whose mortal blow 
 
 Shall my pure spirit free, and this worn frame lay low. 
 
 The Val de Pisa, and the name of Petrarch, recall that of Gio- 
 vanni Boccaccio, born at Paris in 1313, of a French lady and a 
 Florentine merchant. He performed for Italian prose, what Pe- 
 trarch did for poetry ; having given fullness, elegance and beauty 
 to that species of composition. He is distinguished also as the 
 restorer of Greek learning in his native land, having been the 
 first Italian, in all probability, who thoroughly mastered the 
 Greek language, and having spent much time and money in pro- 
 curing the classic writers of Greece, and diffusing their influence 
 through Italy. 
 
 He first met Petrarch at Virgil's tomb, near the Grotto of 
 Pausilipo, on the margin of the bay of Naples, and from that time 
 continued his warm friend until death. 
 
 Of an uncommonly pleasing exterior, fascinating manners and 
 gay disposition, he was easily drawn within the vortex of pleasure. 
 During a large portion of his early life, both at Florence and Na- 
 ples, especially in the gorgeous and dissolute court of Queen 
 Joan, he yielded to all the seductions of the age. 
 
 Gifted with the spirit of poetry, and longing for distinction, he, 
 consecrated himself, on VirgiFs urn, to some higher and better 
 destiny than that of the gay flatterers around him. It was then. 
 
206 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 as he himself informs us, *' that he felt himself suddenly seized bya 
 sacred inspiration, and entered into a daring vow with himself 
 that his name should not perish with him.'' 
 
 But his poetry is far inferior to hisi prose ; and it is by thd lat- 
 ter, exhibited in its perfection, in the Decameron, or Tales of a 
 Hundred Days, written to please his gay female friends at the court 
 of Queen Joan, that he has acquired distinction. *' This collection 
 of tales," says Ginguene, *' which he held in no estimation, were 
 composed, as he says himself, only for the solace of the ladies, 
 who in those days led a very dismal life. Like Petrarch, he 
 looked for immortality from learned works, composed in a learned 
 language, but like him received It from the mere sports of his 
 imagination, in which he brought to maturity a language then in 
 its infancy, and till then abandoned to the people for the common 
 concerns of life, to which he was the first to give, in prose, as 
 Dante and Petrarch had done in verse, the elegance, the harmony, 
 the measured form, the happy choice of words which make a hte- 
 rary and polished language.''* The worst feature in the Decame- 
 ron is its extreme levity and licentiousness ; in this respect, how- 
 ever, too faithfully mirroring the manners of the times. In these 
 tales " we find prie'sts given up to hypocrisy and libertinism ; 
 monks abandoned to luxury, gluttony and sensuality ;- husbands 
 at once duped and credulous ; wives sly and intriguing ; the 
 young of both sexes thinking of nothing but pleasure ; the old of 
 nothing but money ; nobles ever oppressive and cruel ; knights 
 ever frank and courteous ; ladies, some amorous and frail, others 
 generous and high-minded — often victims of their frailty, and 
 tyrannized over by jealous husbands ; corsairs, malandrins, her- 
 mits, dealers in false miracles and legerdemain ; persons, in short, 
 ,of every station, every country, every age, all of them with their 
 
 * Ginguene, Histoire Litteraire. vol. iii, p. TO. 
 
BOCCACCIO. 207 
 
 peculiar passions, habits and languages.'' The book has been 
 only too popular among the Italians. Indeed, their fiery nature, 
 southern chme, bachelor priesthood, half pagan faith, frequent 
 festivals, and easy manners, have ever exposed them to tempta- 
 tion, and rendered such books the vivid exponents of their inmost 
 hearts. 
 
 But a great change took place in Boccaccio. His book had 
 made a tremendous fluttering in the convents. The monks were 
 indignant, and some of them went so far as to identify Boccaccio 
 with Antichrist. At length a Carthusian monk from Siena, 
 actuated, doubtless, by the best feelings, set out for Florence to 
 attempt his conversion. He demanded a private interview with 
 ^Boccaccio ; and after much earnest appeal, he informed him how, a 
 fcT^ days ago, " the blessed Pietro Petroni, a brother monk, had, on 
 his death-bed, under a seal of secrecy revealed to him the sen- 
 tence which awaited Giovanni Boccaccio if he continued incorrigi- 
 ble ; how the holy man in his last agony had read that doom in 
 the Saviour's face, upon whose august forehead all was written, 
 past, present, and to come." The monk added that he was 
 charged with similar messages to all the libertines of the age, and 
 that the last was intended for Petrarch. As an evidence of the 
 truth of what he said, he mentioned some facts in the life of Boc- 
 caccio, as discovered by the dying monk, which the former sup- 
 posed were known only to himself. 
 
 As in the heart of that carnal age lurked a profound supersti- 
 tion, so in the heart of Boccaccio, with all his scepticism and folly, 
 lay a germ of conviction. He was completely thrown off his 
 guard, by the profound sincerity of his ghostly adviser, and gave 
 way to a paroxysm of alarm. He resolved at once to abandon 
 the world, and repair to a convent. He burnt such of his licen- 
 tious writings as he could lay his hands on, and wrote a farewell 
 to Petrarch. Subsequently he became somewhat calmed and 
 
208 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 relieved by the admonitions of his friend Petrarch, whom he did 
 not forsake. But he persisted in his purpose to assume the garb 
 of the Church, and lead a better life. This, it is said, he was ena- 
 bled to accomplish during the rest of his life. 
 
 He was much affected by the tidings of Petrarch's death, 
 Avhich he regarded as a warning that his own hour was at hand. 
 Withdrawing from Florence, where he had been expounding the 
 Divina Commedia, which he held in the highest admiration, he 
 died at his home in Certaldo, December, 1375, in the sixty-third 
 year of his age. 
 
 Boccaccio was warm-hearted and patriotic ; a man of the finest 
 genius, and, in his later years, of exemplary virtue. His style is 
 full, and indeed somewhat redundant, but abounds in vivacity, wit 
 and humor. He performed an important service for literature in 
 the restoration of the Greek classics, and in the diffusion of a 
 higher taste and a more generous criticism among his countrymen. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Lorenzo de Medici — Pulci — Curious Scientific Anticipations — Da Yinci as a 
 Philosopher — Politian — Machiavelli and the Politics of the Age — Leo 
 Tenth and Religion — The Reformation — Decline of Italian Literature 
 in the seventeenth century — Filicaja — Science — Galileo — Kepler — Dis- 
 coveries of Galileo — His Spirit — Science devout — Persecutions of Scien- 
 tific Italians — Galileo's Condemnation by the Inquisition — Death — Tri- 
 umph of his opinions — Interview between Galileo and Milton — Science 
 in Italy — Poetry — Alfieri, Mccolini and others — The Abbe Lambru- 
 schini — Mazzini. 
 
 The rage for classical literature, and other circumstances com- 
 bining, after the death of Petrarch and Boccaccio, led to the neg- 
 lect of native Italian literature ; and no poet, or even prose 
 writer, of any great distinction, appears till the time of Lorenzo 
 de Medici, styled " the magnificent." The son of Piero, and 
 grandson of Cosmo, the founder of the brilliant political fortunes 
 of that illustrious family, he was born January 1st, 1448, and 
 died in 1492, greatly beloved and honored. Just and magnani- 
 mous, though ambitious and pleasure-loving, he carried the 
 glory of his family to the highest pitch. Himself a man of 
 genius, he gathered other men of genius around him, promoted 
 literature and the arts, and rendered Florence the very home 
 of refinement and splendor. He was an enthusiastic student of 
 Plato, and seems to have caught something of the grandeur and 
 serenity of that noblest of all pagan philosophers. *' In a villa 
 overhanging the towers of Florence, on the steep slope of that 
 
210 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 lofty hill crowned by the mother city, the ancient Fiesol6, in 
 gardens which Tully might have envied, with Ficino, Landino and 
 Politian at his side, he delighted his hours of leisure with the 
 beautiful visions of Platonic philosophy, for which the summer 
 stillness of an Italian sky appears the most congenial accompani- 
 ment."* 
 
 Lorenzo possessed decided poetical genius, and in his youth 
 wrote sonnets, dramas, and carnival songs, some of which exhibit 
 considerable merit. His Orazione, in praise of the Creator, is 
 grand and harmonious. We quote two or three of the best 
 stanzas : 
 
 " All nature hear the sacred song ! 
 
 Attend, Earth, the solemn strain ! 
 Ye whirlwinds wild that sweep along, 
 
 Ye darkening storms of beating rain. 
 Umbrageous glooms, and forests drear 
 And solitary deserts hear ! 
 Be still ye winds, whilst to the Maker's praise 
 The creature of his power aspires his voice to raise, 
 
 O, may the solemn breathing sound 
 
 Like incense rise before the throne, 
 "When he whose glory knows no bound, 
 
 Great Cause of all things, dwells alone I 
 'Tis he I sing, whose powerful hand 
 Balanced the skies, outspread the land, 
 Who spoke — from Ocean's stores sweet waters came 
 And burst resplendent forth the heaven-aspiring flame. 
 * * * * 
 
 Eternal Spirit, whose command 
 
 Light, life, and being gave to all, 
 O, hear the creature of thy hand, 
 
 Man, constant on thy goodness call 1 
 
 * Hallam. 
 
PULCI. 211 
 
 By fire, by water, air and earth, 
 
 That soul to thee that owes its birth — 
 
 By these he supplicates thy blest repose : 
 
 Absent from thee, no rest his wandering spirit knows." 
 
 The Pericles of Florence, as Lorenzo has been styled, resembled 
 his Grecian prototype in more respects than one. Like him he 
 was somewhat epicurean in his tastes, and fond of gay life. But 
 the pleasures of the banquet were relieved by coruscations of 
 wit and humor. Poems were recited and sung, and a new im- 
 pulse thence given to the cultivation of lyrical poetry. Of the 
 guests who frequented the Gem, (Gioiello,) as the ducal villa on 
 the heights of Fiesole was termed, the most distinguished were 
 Pulci and Politiano. The former w^as preceptor of the ducal 
 children, an irascible, merry-hearted fellow, not over scrupulous 
 in his jests, and too much devoted to pleasure. He is the author 
 of the Morgante Maggiore, a burlesque epic, celebrating the tra- 
 ditionary defeat of Charlemagne and his ^peers in the valley of 
 Eoncesvalles, said to have been written at the request of Lorenzo's 
 mother, and recited at his table. Among other things, it contains 
 a curious passage, anticipating the discoveries of Galileo and 
 Copernicus in relation to the solar system. One of Pulci's devils, 
 alluding to the superstitions relative to the Pillars of Hercules,* 
 thus addresses his companions : 
 
 " Know that this theory is false. 
 The daring mariner shall urge far o'er 
 The western wave a smooth and level plain, 
 Albeit the earth is fashioned like a wheel. 
 Man was in ancient ^lays of grosser mould. 
 And Hercules might blush to learn how far 
 Beyond the limits he had vainly set. 
 The dullest sea-boat soon shall wing her way. 
 Men shall descry another hemisphere, 
 
212 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Since to one common centre all things tend; 
 
 So earth by curious mystery divine, 
 
 Well balanced, hangs amid the starry spheres. 
 
 At our antipodes are cities, states, 
 
 And thronged empires ne'er divined of yore ; 
 
 But see the sun speeds on his western path, 
 
 To glad the nations with expected light." 
 
 Whence did Pulci derive this ? Was it a random guess, or a 
 happy inspiration? Or were there scholars, before Copernicus 
 and Galileo, who had discovered, dimly and imperfectly perhaps, 
 the true theory of the planetary system ? We have some reason 
 to believe that the latter supposition is the true one. Da Vinci, 
 the celebrated painter, and founder of the Florentine school, who 
 was nearly contemporary with Pulci, is said to have made this 
 grand discovery. He was as much celebrated for his knowledge 
 of mathematics and natural philosophy, as for his artistic genius. 
 His inedited works, an account of which was given by Yenturi, 
 an Italian resident in Paris, A. D. 1797, contain intimations, 
 somewhat indistinct and imperfect, of all the great results to 
 which Galileo, Kepler and Copernicus were long afterwards con- 
 ducted by their researches. He was a man of vast and varied 
 attainments, of a strong, keen, comprehensive intellect, such as 
 Galileo, Newton and Laplace only could boast. 
 
 Politian, another of the Duke Lorenzo's favorites, and also pre- 
 ceptor of his children, was a learned and accomplished scholar, 
 a commentator on the Pandects of Justinian, and the translator 
 of the Iliad into Latin hexameters. In his youth he wrote some 
 poems, which give indications of genius, and, amongst others, 
 Orfeo, the first regular drama of* the Italian stage. These are 
 immature and youthful productions. He had lyric power, and 
 some of his minor pieces are quite agreeable. The following has 
 the charm of simplicity : 
 
POLITIAN. 213 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MAID. 
 
 ** Maids of those hills so fair and ga*^, 
 Say whence you come and whither stray." 
 
 " From yonder heights our lowly shed 
 Those clumps that rise so green disclose 
 
 There by our simple parents bred 
 "We share their blessings and repose ; 
 Now evening from the flowery close 
 
 Recalls where late our flocks we fed." 
 
 " Ah, tell me in what region grew 
 
 Such fruits transcending all compare ? 
 Methinks I love's own offspring view, 
 
 Such graces deck your shape and air ; 
 
 Nor gold nor diamonds glitter there, 
 Mean your attire, but angels you. 
 
 Yet well such beauties might repine 
 
 'Mid desert hills and vales to bloom ; 
 What scenes, what pride and splendor shine, 
 Would not your brighter charms become ? 
 But say — with this your Alpine home, 
 Can ye content such bliss resign?" 
 
 Far happier we our fleecy care 
 Trip lightly after to the mead. 
 
 Than, peat in city walls, your fair 
 Foot the gay dance in silks arrayed : 
 Nor wish have we, save who should braid 
 
 With gayest wreaths her flowing hair." 
 
 Tlie close of Lorenzo's career brings us to the commencement 
 of the sixteenth century, '' the golden age of Italian poetry." It 
 is true that no one of its productions, as Professor Longfellow sug- 
 gests, can bear a moment's comparison with 
 
214 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 " The Poem sacred, 
 To which both heaven and earth have set their hand," 
 
 but this century produced more poets of a high order of genius 
 than any other. " Then in the halls of Este, Ariosto sang, in co- 
 pious and flowing numbers, the beauty of Angelica and Orlando's 
 madness; then Berni told his tale of love to the illustrious 
 Gabriella Gonzaga, and Yittoria Colonna, the glorious Marchesa 
 di Pescara, wrapped in her sable gown, and lamenting * the naked 
 spirit and litile earth' of him who was her husband ; then Gua- 
 rini found in princes' courts how cold may be the best enamel of 
 nobility ; then Tasso's songs resounded in the palaces of Ferrara, 
 and his groans in its dungeons ; then Michael Angelo crowded 
 a long life, embracing three generations of men, with noble works 
 in sculpture, in painting and in song, so that Ariosto fitly called 
 him, 
 
 "Michel, piu ch' Angelo divino;" 
 
 and then too Machiavelli, whose soul was fretted with the cares 
 of state and by the burdens of embassies, and who was forced to 
 ' eat his heart through comfortless despairs' of poverty and neg- 
 lect, enriched his native Tuscan with some of its most nervous 
 prose, and diverted himself with the Muses of Poetry and the 
 Drama."* 
 
 The history of Florence by Machiavelli is one of the most can- 
 did books that ever was written. Undertaken at the request of a 
 churchman and dedicated to him as Pope, it does not spare the 
 Papal usurpations and follies. He shows, book first, that Theo- 
 dosius, king of the Goths, having removed his court to Eavenna, 
 the Bishop of Rome endeavored to strengthen his temporal power 
 by alliances with foreigners ; that this led to jealousy and ani- 
 
 * " The Poets and Poetry of Europe, by Professor Longfellow," p. 610. 
 
MACHIAVELLI. 215 
 
 mosity between the Popes and the Emperors, and gave rise to 
 most of the divisions which agitated Jtaly for centuries. " So 
 that," says he, '*all the wars which foreigners afterwards made 
 upon Italy, were chiefly owing to the Popes, and most of the 
 several inundations of barbarians that poured themselves into it, 
 were in a great measure occasioned by their incitement and insti- 
 gation ; which practices being continued even to this time, have 
 so long kept, and still keep Italy weak and divided." 
 
 From the character of his work, entitled " The Prince," Ma- 
 chiavelli has been regarded as the symbol of political chicanery ; 
 but the fact is, he was neither better nor worse than his age. 
 Perhaps it might be shown that he was even a little better than 
 his age ; for personally he was virtuous and patriotic.^ But all 
 those maxims in his book which shock the present age, were uni- 
 versally received in his day. Taking things as they were, he 
 shows conclusively enough that, in all cases, honesty is not the 
 best policy, and that a prince must sometimes establish his au- 
 thority by deciBption and bloodshed ! While detesting the 
 character of Pope Alexander Sixth, whose whole life was a lie, he 
 expresses high admiration of his consummate policy. Caesar Bor- 
 gia, the illegitimate son of Alexander, is his model of an able and 
 energetic prince. Machiavelli seems to think that this usurper 
 took the only means within his power to consolidate his govern- 
 ment. With what coldness, nay rather relish, he relates the 
 schemes of Borgia for entrapping and destroying the counts and 
 princes who had been leagued against him, but with whom he 
 had just formed a treaty of amity and peace ! That Machiavelli 
 was wrong, cannot admit of doubt ; yet how plausible the state- 
 ment, which he makes with such infinite nonchalance, that in a 
 condition of society where all are bad, a good man, a simple 
 
 * His " Discourses on Livy" are filled with noble and patriotic sentimentf 
 
216 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 hearted, confiding prince, must be destroyed. For the sake of 
 self-preservation, therefore — for the sake even of his people's wel- 
 fare — a wise prince must be prepared sometimes to prevaricate, to 
 break his word, to violate solemn treaties, and even to commit 
 •murder ! Machiavelli, unfortunately, had no faith in man, and 
 very little in God. Everywhere he saw politics regarded as a 
 system of expedients, to gratify selfishness and the love of power. 
 Popes, princes and cardinals contended in the race of ambition ; 
 and frequently the most energetic, prudent, consummate villain 
 mcceeded the best. Virtue, according to Machiavelli, ought to 
 be preferred to vice ; and he would have all princes govern their 
 people with magnanimity and justice ; but he shows that virtue 
 must sometinaes take the weapons of vice, to defend itself; in 
 fact, he adopts the maxim that the end sanctifies the means ; 
 upon the whole, virtue is better than vice, but vice itself 
 sometimes becomes virtue, when exerted in a good cause; a 
 maxim, we fear, not yet exploded either by governments or by 
 individuals. Machiavelli, however, has brought out and ap- 
 pHed the maxim with such perfect candor, that the world are 
 shocked with its enormity. Evidently, too, he greatly admires 
 Alexander Sixth and Caesar Borgia, although the one was on the 
 point of being deposed for his cruelties, when he died, and the 
 other was stripped of his possessions and came to a miserable end. 
 
 No apology can or ought to be ofifered for Machiavelli's false 
 political creed ; and yet the whole world have still to learn the 
 true secret of virtue, which is *' to overcome evil," not with evil, 
 but '' with good:' 
 
 Bating this, however, Machiavelli was a great statesman and a 
 profound thinker. He had meddled with all knowledgie, and 
 studied the entire history of man. His judgment was quick and 
 penetrating, his information vast and various, and his style a per- 
 fect model of clearness and strength. Disappointed in his own 
 
MA-CHIAVELLI. 2l7 
 
 plans, he bore poverty and suffering with fortitude and calmness. 
 Suspected of taking part in a conspiracy against the government, 
 he was placed upon the rack, but while the flesh quivered and 
 the cheek grew pale, not a murmur, or a word escaped his lips. 
 The Medici evidently were afraid of him. Absolutely, he was too 
 honest for his generation ; and then he was permitted to die in 
 poverty and neglect ! But amid all his trials he enjoyed much 
 solid comfort in his " lowly roof and scanty farm" in the Val di 
 Pisa. In social chat with his neighbors, in long rambles among 
 the fields catching thrushes, and especially in converse with books, 
 he made the time pass quite pleasantly. 
 
 "Who sees him not, 
 ('Tis his own sketch, he drew it of himself,) 
 Laden with cages from his shoulder slung, 
 And sallying forth while yet the morn is grey, 
 To catch a thrush on every lime-twig there ; 
 Or in the wood amid his wood cutters ; 
 Or in the tavern by the highway side. 
 At tric-trac with the miller ; or, at night, 
 Doffing his rustic suit, and duly clad, 
 Entering his closet, and among his books, 
 Among the great of every age and clime, 
 A numerous court, turning to whom he pleased, 
 Questioning each why he did this or that, 
 And learning how to overcome the fear 
 Of poverty and death."* 
 
 If Machiavelli represented the politics of his age, it will be al- 
 lowed, we think, that Pope Leo the Tenth represented its religion, 
 at least in Italy. He has been much praised as the Macsenas of 
 literature ; but without any good reason ; for while he patronized 
 RafFaele and Bembo, he neglected Ariosto, Machiavelli, and even 
 
 * Rogers' Italy. 
 10 
 
218 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Michael Angelo.* The latter, indeed, was employed upon St. 
 Peter's, the grandest monument of his genius ; but he was of a 
 character too stern and lofty to please the worldly and epicurean 
 pontiff. But who is ignorant of Leo's vaulting ambition, his love 
 of pleasure and boundless profusion ? Who does not know that 
 by the sale of indulgences, and the scandalous levity and licen- 
 tiousness of the Papal court, he did much to precipitate, if not to 
 produce the Protestant Reformation ? Himself careless and scep- 
 
 * We are happy to confirm this statement respecting Leo X, by the tes- 
 imony of so good a judge and so liberal a man as Mr. Prescott, the histo- 
 rian. 
 
 "There are few phrases," says he, (Miscellanies, p. 652,) "more inaccu- 
 rately applied than that of the age of Leo X, to whose brief pontificate we 
 are accustomed to refer most of the magnificent creations of genius, scattered 
 over the sixteenth century, although very few, even of those produced in his 
 own reign, can be imputed to his influence. The nature of this influence, 
 even in regard to Italian letters, may admit of question. His early taste led 
 him to give an almost exclusive attention to the ancient classics. The great 
 poets of the century, Ariosto, Sanazzaro, the Tassos, Rucellai, Guarini, and 
 the rest, produced their immortal works far from Leo's court. Even Bembo, 
 the oracle of liis day, retired in disgust from his patron, and composed liis 
 principal writings in his retreat. Ariosto, his ancient friend, he coldly neg- 
 lected, while he pensioned the infamous Aretin. He surrounded his table 
 with buflfoon literati and parasitical poets, who amused him with feats of im- 
 provisation, gluttony and intemperance, some of whom, after expending on 
 them his convivial wit, he turned over to public derision, and most of whom, 
 debauched in morals and constitution, were abandoned, under his aus- 
 tere successor, to infamy and death. He magnificently recompensed his 
 musical retainers, making one an archbishop, another archdeacon ; but what 
 did he do for his countryman, Machiavelli, the philosopher of hi age ? He 
 hunted, and hawked, and caroused ; everything was a jest, and while the 
 nations of Europe stood aghast at the growing heresy of Luther, the merry 
 pontiff and his ministers found strange matter of mirth in witnessing the 
 representations of comedies that exposed the impudent mummeries of 
 priestcraft." 
 
.EO TENTH. 219 
 
 tical, he diffused the same spirit among his clergy. Never was 
 there an age when the Papal church, with so much external 
 pomp, was so completely corrupted in character and morals. 
 
 *' The memory of Leo, as an Itahaii prince," says Mario tti, 
 himself a Catholic, *' is disgraced by a system of irresolute, im- 
 provident, unprincipled policy ; as a Roman pontiff, by a lavish, 
 venal, simoniacal abuse of his sacred ministry ; as a private man, 
 by a free indulgence in a wanton and sometimes even vulgar epi- 
 curism." His cardinals, Bembo and Sadoleto, though much 
 praised as men of genius, and even of virtue, were both much 
 devoted to pleasure. Bembo never abandoned the fair Moro- 
 sina, and Sadoleto paid the most devoted attentions to Imperia 
 Cortisana Romana, whom he celebrates in his poems. '' The in- 
 dulgence of every kind of illicit intercourse was never visited by 
 the censure of public opinion, so far, at least, as it was carried on 
 in a manner consistent with good taste and refinement. ^ * 
 Raphael pined away in his studio for the absence of his Forna- 
 rina, and his condescending pontifical patron sent for her, lest the 
 sorrow of the love -sick painter should interfere with the progress 
 of his works. The epoch of the greatest triumph of letters and 
 arts, that golden age when popes called round their shrines such 
 men as Bembo and Sadoleto, Contarini, Flaminio, and the accom- 
 plished though inconstant and insincere EngHshman, Cardinal 
 Pole ; the age of Leo and Clement was also that of the utmost 
 depravation of morals.'"^ 
 
 It is no wonder that the Reformation made such rapid and 
 delightful progress in Italy, and that so many learned men and 
 accomplished women should have embraced it with eagerness 
 and joy. But the same system which endured the splendor and 
 luxury of Leo, could not suffer the prevalence of a pure and spir- 
 
 * Mariotti — Italy, Past and Present, vol. i. p. 852. 
 
220 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 itual faith. The Italian States, and many of their rulers, were 
 themselves averse to persecution ; but the Papal See, backed by 
 Jesuit and Dominican monks, compelled them to perform the re- 
 luctant service. Hundreds were thrown into prison, some were 
 beheaded, others were drowned, others burned, and others, espe- 
 cially in the south, massacred by thousands. A great number 
 of learned and pious men were driven into exile, their estates 
 confiscated, and their writings burnt. Persecution, which in other 
 countries has rather tended to increase the power of dissent, in 
 Italy extinguished it. Free inquiry was crushed under the hoof 
 of spiritual and political tyranny. 
 
 We have already passed over the golden age of Italian poetry. 
 During the latter part of the sixteenth, and during the seventeenth 
 centuries, no poet of commanding genius arose in Italy. Accom- 
 plished and learned men indeed appeared in abundance, but none 
 that could bear a moment's comparison with the Tassos and Ari- 
 ostos of a former age. The national taste was corrupted, and 
 found its chief expression in odes and sonnets, abounding in con- 
 ceits, and marked by an excessive refinement. Giambatista 
 Marini, certainly a man of genius, and the author of a spirited 
 and beautiful poem, entitled " Fading Beauty," was the chief 
 agent of this corruption. The learned languages were preferred 
 to the ItaHan, while the great body of the poets were a race of 
 gay and giddy triflers. Perhaps we ought to make an exception 
 in favor of Filicaja, whose sonnet on Italy has been so highly 
 honored by Byron, Rogers and others. He was born in Florence, 
 in 1642, and died in the. same place, in lYOY. His Canzoni on 
 the Siege of Vienna are lofty and spirit-stirring ; and some of his 
 odes are characterized by great beauty and energy. He steadily 
 opposed the prevalent taste, and did what he could to promote 
 the true interests of literature in his native land. Highly honored 
 by princes p<nd governments, he was distinguished by a rare mod- 
 
GALILEO. 221 
 
 esty ; and, during most of his life, spent his time in tranquillity, 
 dividing his hours between the study of poetry, the duties of reli- 
 gion, and the education of his children. The following sonnet 
 we think nearly equal to that on Italy. 
 
 TIME. 
 
 " I saw a mighty river, wild and vast, 
 
 Whose rapid waves were moments that did glide 
 So swiftly onward in their silent tide, 
 That ere their flight was heeded they were past ; 
 A river that to death's dark shores doth fast 
 Conduct all living with resistless force, 
 And though unfelt pursues its noiseless course, 
 To quench all fires in Lethe's stream at last. 
 Its current with creation's birth was bom ; 
 
 And with the heavens commenced its march sublime, 
 In days and months still hurrying on untired. 
 Marking its flight, I inwardly did mourn, 
 
 And of my musing thoughts in doubt inquired 
 The river's name — my thoughts responded. Time." 
 
 ♦ 
 If the poetry of Italy declined in the sixteenth and seventeenth 
 centuries, philosophy burst upon the world with a power and 
 splendor which awed the nations. Thought, free and spontaneous, 
 awoke, even in the bosom of the Papal Church, with all the 
 energy of a youthful giant, and proclaimed its rights. Crushed 
 for a time by the power of the Inquisition, it rose again with re- 
 newed vigor, and not only asserted, but made good its claim to 
 universal homage. Born in the sixteenth, Galileo really belonged 
 to the seventeenth century. All his great discoveries were made 
 at the opening of that era of mental and moral power. He was 
 born in Pisa, in 1564, and expired at Florence, beyond the city 
 walls, in the arms of his favorite pupil, Viviani, in 1642, the year 
 
222 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 in which Newton was born. He was contemporary with Kepler, 
 who, from the depths of Germany, addressed to him words of 
 encouragement and cheer. Galileo, discovering from the swing- 
 ing of a lamp in the great cathedral of Pisa, the isochronism of 
 the pendulum, Keplei* cried out to him, '* Take courage, and go 
 forward ;'' Confide ^ Oalilao, et progredere ! They were men of 
 kindred genius, acute, penetrating, and bold. Both possessed 
 that self-reliance, and that divine enthusiasm which ensure suc- 
 cess. Kepler was especially distinguished for this. Before re- 
 solving a problem, he exclaims, Lubet indulgere sacra furoriy " I 
 abandon myself to the sacred passion.'* Galileo saw God in na- 
 ture ; but Kepler not only saw God there, but worshipped him 
 with trembling delight. He mingles with his formulas and rea- 
 sonings, prayers, canticles, and hymns. Both, too, knew that 
 they were right, and that truth would conquer at last. After 
 recanting, on his knees, before the Inquisition, the principles he 
 had taught relative to the motion of the earth, Galileo was heard 
 muttering in a low tone, E jpur si muove — ** and yet it moves !" 
 Kepler opens his treatise upon the motions of the heavenly 
 bodies with these words, at once lofty and pious : " The die is 
 cast. I write a book which will be read by my contemporaries, 
 or by posterity, no matter which ! It may wait for a reader a 
 hundred years if need be, since God himself has waited six thou- 
 sand years for a witness of his works. "^ Galileo was not as 
 devout as Kepler, or even Copernicus, but he possessed too much 
 acuteness and candor not to acknowledge the presence of Infinite 
 wisdom in the starry host. " Keep silence,'* said one of old, 
 "and we shall hear the murmur of the gods.'* Science is essen- 
 tially devout. It sees and worships the Divine amid the forms 
 and semblances of things. It was this which awed the spirit of 
 
 * Quinet's " Koman Chnrch.** 
 
GALILEO. 223 
 
 Newton, and induced him to say, '' We account the Scriptures of 
 God the most subhme philosophy !'^ Linnaeus, discovering the 
 laws of life in the minutest animals, exclaimed : '' Deum, sempi- 
 ternum, omnisciumy omnipotentem a tergo transeuntem vidi, et oh- 
 stupui '^ — " I saw the everlasting, omniscient, omnipotent God 
 pass by me, and I was afraid." While Galileo was of an easy, 
 joyous, Ariostic turn of mind, he mingles with his treatises ac- 
 knowledgments of the Divine supremacy, wisdom, and goodness. 
 But he was a bold, original thinker ; and that was heresy in his 
 day, not to be tolerated by the priesthood of Rome. The Pope, 
 Urban VIII., was a man of narrow views, and selfish purposes. 
 He could not endure the free spirit of Galileo. The doctrine of the 
 earth's motion disturbed his equanimity. He declared it " perverse 
 in the highest degree.'' It had been proclaimed before, even in Italy, 
 by Copernicus, the Polish philosopher, the morning-star of modern 
 science, but timidly, and without much effect. Galileo brought it 
 into notice, explained it, proved it, by the clearest demonstrations. 
 He demolished at a blow the supremacy of Aristotle, and flashed 
 the light of truth in the eyes of his doting worshippers. The clergy 
 had consecrated the system of Ptolemy, and clung to it with the 
 grasp of death. When that fell, they supposed that the Church 
 must fall with it. The very heavens threatened their destruction. 
 So they pounced upon Galileo, tore him from Florence, humbled his 
 proud spirit by the fire of their terrible anathemas, and because 
 they could not fetter his free thought, cast him into the Inquisi- 
 tion. Other scientific men in Italy had been persecuted for too 
 much freedom of thought ; and it may be regarded as something 
 singular, that in the very hot-bed of bigotry, so much true sci- 
 ence should have sprung up to enlighten the world. Severi, a 
 disMnguished physician, was beheaded and thrown into the flames 
 at Modena. Fra Paoli, as stated in a former part of this work, 
 nearly lost his life by a Papal poniard. Barozzi, a mathema- 
 
224 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 tician, expired under the pressure of tortures which his age and 
 infirmities could not sustain. The mild and learned Telesio strug- 
 gled bravely against the assaults of Rome, but finally yielded, 
 through sheer exhaustion, and died prematurely, from disappoint- 
 ment and chagrin. Giordano Bruno, profound and wayward, 
 found no rest for the sole of his foot ; after being expelled from 
 all religious communions, he fell into the hands of the Inquisition 
 at Venice, was sent to Rome, and there actually burnt at the 
 stake. The noble Giannone was banished from Naples, and died 
 in the dungeons of the Inquisition. 
 
 It was not a natural, but a mental and social death to which 
 Galileo was subjected. His works were interdicted and burnt ; 
 and a solemn prohibition laid upon the action of his lofty spirit. 
 Subjected to severe penance, he was forbidden to speculate, and 
 above all to communicate his views to the world. When taken 
 from the Inquisition, and sent back to Florence, he was confined 
 at Arcetri, and an absolute silence enforced upon him for the 
 rest of his life. At times he w^as cheerful, wandering amid his 
 vines, sitting in the sunny radiance, or gazing upon the starry 
 heavens, in whose mysterious depths his spirit found a congenial 
 home. But he was old and heart-broken. His eyes, accustomed 
 to gaze at the sun, failed him ; and his beloved daughter, Maria 
 Celeste, the nun, who read to him the penitential psalms, imposed 
 as a penance by the church, grew pale and passed away. That 
 strong, free, joyous spirit, at last yields to the terrible pressure, 
 and falls into darkness and sorrow. " An immense sadness and 
 melancholy — una e melancoUa immensa/^ says he, " overwhelms 
 me." After years of trial and grief, he dies in the arms of his 
 favorite pupil, Yiviani, and Rome is satisfied. But can his 
 thoughts die? Never! ''All hell," to use the language ofHhe 
 Venetian, Micanzio, uttered when the works of Galileo were bu- 
 ried by his friends, " All hell cannot destroy things like these." The 
 
GALILEO. 225 
 
 reformation of science as well as of religion advances, even in 
 Italy ; and if the one has somewhat preceded the other, in this 
 respect, the other will come in due time. 
 
 " Truth crushed to earth shall rise again, 
 The eternal years of God are hers !' 
 
 , While Gahleo was in Arcetri, old and blind, John Milton, in his 
 youthful prime, came thither and had much pleasant converse 
 with the venerable philosopher, a circumstance interesting in it- 
 self, and furnishing food for deep reflection : 
 
 " There, unseen. 
 In manly beauty Milton stood before him 
 Gazing with reverent awe — Milton his guest, 
 Just then come forth, all life and enterprise ; 
 He in his old age and extremity, 
 Blind, at noon-day exploring with his staff; 
 His eyes upturned as to the golden sun, 
 His eyeballs idly rolling. Little then 
 Did Galileo think whom he received ; 
 That in his hand he held the hand of one 
 Who could requite him — who would spread his name 
 O'er lands and seas — great as himself, nay, greater ; 
 Milton as little thought in him he saw, 
 As in a glass, what he himself should be ; 
 Destined so soon, alas ! to live 
 In darkness, and with dangers compassed round 
 And solitude."* 
 
 Italy has prosecuted scientific research with considerable suc- 
 cess. The names of Torricelli, Yolta, Borelli, Galvani and others, 
 are enrolled in the annals of science with those of Davy, Watt 
 and Berzelius. Galileo takes his place with Kepler, Newton and 
 Laplace. • 
 
 * Italy, by Rogers. 
 10* 
 
226 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 But we return to the subject of poetry in Italy, and will close 
 this chapter with a few words respecting some of the most dis- 
 tinguished writers in that department, from the close of the sev- 
 enteenth century to the present time. 
 
 The eighteenth century opened with Metastasio, in his day the 
 most popular writer of melo-dramatic verse, but with a waning 
 reputation in more recent times, and ended with Parini, author of 
 II Giorno, a vigorous and lively satire on the dissolute manners 
 of the age ; Goldoni, the father of Italian comedy ; and Alfieri, the 
 the last of the classics, and the greatest Italian dramatist of his 
 age. His beautiful tomb, by his friend Canova, in Santa Croce, 
 where, in his lifetime, he loved to wander, meditating on the 
 glories of the mighty dead, is a worthy tribute to his memory. 
 Despising the degeneracy of his countrymen and the prevalence 
 of a spurious taste in literature, he consecrated himself to the 
 study of the ancient Italian poets, and the formation of a pure 
 and manly style. His tragedies, indeed, want freedom and elas- 
 ticity, but they are instinct with strength and grandeur. Circum- 
 scribed and rigid in their form, they can scarcely be termed poet- 
 ical, but they abound in lofty sentiments and severe eloquence. 
 Groups of marble, as they have been styled, or rather single 
 statues, majestic and incorruptible, they possess neither the hue 
 nor the freshness of life. But he succeeded in driving Metastasio, 
 with his melo-dramatic inanities, from the stage, and giving an im- 
 pulse to a nobler and purer taste. 
 
 Perhaps the manner in which Alfieri composed his dramas may 
 account, in some degree, for their peculiarities. He wrote out his 
 plays in prose, almost at a heat ; then, after a season, threw them 
 into verse ; and, on a third revision, gave them accuracy and finish. 
 The first conception of his subject was suggested while listening 
 to music. Impassioned and ambitious, he yielded himself wholly 
 to the impulse, and afterwards chiselled the production of his 
 
ALFIERI. 227 
 
 imagination into form and beauty. One of his dramas, he tells 
 us, was composed while shedding a torrent of tears. 
 
 It may be interesting to know that Alfieri cherished the pro- 
 foundest admiration of Washington, and dedicated his '' Brutus" 
 to that distinguished man, with expressions of affectionate venera- 
 tion. But, like Byron and many others, he could say : nosco 
 meliora, prohoque, deterioraque sequor, "I know and approve 
 the good, but pursue the evil."* It is one thing to admire free- 
 dom and virtue, another to be free and virtuous ourselves. Would 
 to heaven that the poets and patriots of Italy had but half the purity 
 and self-sacrificing devotion of that greatest of men, the father 
 of American liberty. 
 
 Alfieri possessed a strong but wayward nature. Outwardly 
 cold and stern, his whole interior being was a volcano of passion. 
 He was at once proud and irascible, sceptical and ambitious. 
 With indomitable resolution he overcame the difficulties of his 
 position, and the want of early culture, and left an indelible mark 
 upon the literature of his country. *' The appearance of Alfieri," 
 says Mr. Prescott, ** at this late season, of a genius so austere, in 
 the midst of the voluptuous, sybarite effeminacy of the period, 
 is a remarkable phenomenon. It was as if the severe Doric pro- 
 portions of a P^stum temple had been suddenly raised up amid 
 the airy forms of Palladian architecture."! 
 
 A new era in Italian literature, and we may add in Italian life, 
 which had run down during the preceding age to its lowest point, 
 commenced with the nineteenth century. Fresh elements, deriv- 
 ed from the influence of English and German literature, and the 
 spirit of revolution, have inspired it with a wider sympathy, a 
 
 ^ These words Byron applied to himself in his interesting letter to the 
 Rev. Mr. Shepard. In spirit and life, Byron and Alfieri were too much 
 ahke. 
 
 f Miscellanies. 
 
228 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 stronger life. It has not reached its highest attainment, but it is 
 full of energy and promises. Foscolo, Pellico, Monti, and above 
 all, Manzoni, Niccolini, Gioberti, and others of kindred spirit, in- 
 dicate the possession of much breadth and vigor of mind. The 
 last three are highly devout as well as poetical in their turn 
 of mind ; and with some errors of view, yearn for freedom and 
 progress. They belong to the age which, in Italy as elsewhere, 
 is one of revolution and reform. 
 
 The history of Niccolini, who resides in Florence, in this re- 
 spect is eminently instructive."^' He was born in Pisa in 1786, of 
 a noble Florentine family, and descended on the mother's side 
 from the celebrated Filicaja, from whom he seems to inherit his 
 lofty virtue and love of freedom. He has distinguished himself 
 chiefly by his dramatic writings, all of which breathe the spirit 
 of liberty, and aim at the regeneration of Italy. On this account 
 he has been styled '' the poet of liberalism.'' Indeed, his popu- 
 larity among his countrymen is based upon this ground. His 
 genius, perhaps, is not equal to that of Alfieri, but his mind is 
 broad, generous, and sympathetic ; his tragedies are national and 
 enthusiastic, and well fitted to arouse his countrymen to the as- 
 sertion of their civil and religious rights. His most popular dra- 
 mas are " Antonio Foscarini," *' Giovanni da Procida," and *' Ar- 
 noldo da Brescia." These have been received by his countrymen 
 with a storm of applause, because they utter the deep throbbings 
 of the popular heart. At first, however, the plays of Niccolini 
 were prohibited by the government, controlled in this instance by 
 the mfluence of Austria, which dreaded their effect. " Arnoldo 
 da Brescia" appeared in 1844, and was instantly prohibited 
 throughout Italy, f Reproducing, in grand and vivid colors, the 
 
 * Niccolini is Professor in the Academy of Fine Arts at Florence, 
 f Arnold, of Brescia, lived in the early part of the twelfth century, and 
 was a man of singular learning, courage, and patriotism. He was a disci- 
 
NICCOLINI. 229 
 
 noble sentiments of Arnold of Brescia, whose spirit burned with a 
 divine enthusiasm for freedom, civil and religious, it was a book to 
 make tyrants tremble on their thrones. It denounced, in thunder 
 tones, the double tyranny of the Church and Empire — of Austria 
 and of Rome, under which Italy has groaned for ages. Vindi- 
 cating the rights of conscience, it insisted upon the . separation of 
 Church and State, of " Ccesar and Peter, ^^ long leagued for the 
 oppression of the Italians. It called the people of Italy to union, 
 and uttered a cry of warning and of cheer, which echoed from 
 the Alps to Calabria. The book was printed at Marseilles, and 
 the custom-houses of every Italian State were commanded to 
 prevent its entrance into the peninsula. Tuscany, though loving 
 Niccolini, and cherishing his principles, could not stand alone and 
 refuse to join in the prohibition. But good books are alive and 
 winged, and no restrictions can prevent their entrance into the 
 darkest regions of tyranny and wrong. In a few weeks three 
 thousand copies were sold in Florence alone ! The Grand Duke, 
 liberal in his sentiments, winked at the sale, and lent a deaf ear to 
 the minions of tyranny who urged him to prosecute the author. 
 The following passage, addressed by Arnold of Brescia to Pope 
 Adrian, will give some idea of the quality of the work : 
 
 pie of the celebrated Abelard, and maintained the propriety of a separation 
 of Church and State, the right of the people to govern themselves according 
 to the principles of freedom and righteousness, and the necessity of an en- 
 tire reformation in the Church. He succeeded in persuading the Romans to 
 establish a repubUc, which was demolished by Pope Adrian IV, and the 
 Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. Alas ! Arnold was born out of due time» 
 and, consequently, he was crucified as a heretic and rebel, his body was 
 burned, and the ashes thrown into the Tiber, that his followers might have 
 no relic or memorial of their leader. 
 
230 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Adrian, thy hope deceives thee. Through the earth 
 The terror of Rome's thunderbolt grows weak ; 
 Reason has loosed the bonds thou fain wouldst make 
 Eternal — time will be, she will burst them. 
 As yet she is not thoroughly aroused ; 
 Already human thought has so rebelled, 
 
 Tis not in thee to rule it. Christ cries to it, " 
 
 As whilom to the sick man — ' Rise and walk ;* 
 'Twill trample thee if thou wilt not proceed. 
 The world has truths other than those proclaimed 
 Forth from thy altars ; and no more endures 
 Temples that hide high heaven from its gaze. 
 Pastor thou hast been — be a father. Man 
 Will no more own himself a shepherd's flock, 
 Too long struck backwards by the pastoral staff. 
 Mankind hath tarried on its onward march. 
 Wherefore hast thou trampled thus, in Heaven's name, 
 On man, the last born son of God's decree ?" 
 
 These lines give but a feeble impression of the beauty and harmo- 
 ny of the original, but they serve to indicate the nobleness of the 
 author's sentiments, and the vigor and boldness with which he 
 expresses them. What a grand and striking conception is that 
 which represents Christ saying to human thought, " Rise up and 
 walk !*' 
 
 At the time we write, Niccolini is considerably advanced in years, 
 but vigorous and active. He has lived to see the partial triumph 
 of his principles in Florence, and if spared a few years longer will 
 witness their complete triumph, not only in Florence, but through- 
 out the whole Italian peninsula. Long may he enjoy '* his green 
 old age," the love and applause of his countrymen, and the re- 
 spect and admiration of the world. 
 
 We have space only to mention the names of Berchet and 
 Giusti, poets of young Italy, of kindred sentiments with Niccolini. 
 
MAZZINI. 231 
 
 Giusti has been called *' the Beranger of Italy," and has written 
 some keen and pointed satires.* 
 
 * We append the following account of Mr. Mazzini, one of the most re- 
 markable of modern Italians, and for a long time the leader of Young Italy. 
 It is extracted from a letter of M. Felice, the correspondent of the New 
 York Observer. 
 
 " A young man, born at Genoa, Mr. Mazzini, established at Marseilles, in 
 1832, a journal entitled : Young Italy, (Giovane Italia.) Mr. Mazzini had all 
 the enthusiasm, all the impetuosity, and all the inexperience of youth ; he 
 was full of the most generous but inconsiderate zeal. He thought that the 
 mass of the Italians would devote themselves, body and soul, to liberty. 
 Blaming the chiefs and the rich men for lacking courage, he appealed to the 
 populace. A true republican, he attacked kings, princes, and all monarch- 
 ical institutions. In his journal he exposed the punishments inflicted on the 
 patriots. * Italians,* said he, 'awake at last from your sleep. Rise, march 
 against Austria, against your tyrants, and at your shout for liberty you will 
 see vanish all signs of despotism !' 
 
 " It is needless to say that the reading of this journal was strictly pro- 
 hibited by the Italian princes. In Piedmont, a royal decree provides that 
 whoever shall have in his house copies of the Young Italy, shall be con- 
 demned to the galleys for three years I an effectual means, truly, to prevent 
 pernicious reading ! The prosecutions were so rigid that even contraband- 
 ists refused to import the numbers of this journal ; they preferred all other 
 merchandise to this. Yet, thanks to the zeal of the patriots, the Young 
 Italy penetrated everywhere. There were in each province in each city, se- 
 cret agents who disseminated copies of the journal, at night, at the doors of 
 the theatre and other frequented places. Never did a periodical paper 
 more deeply agitate the minds of a community. At the voice of Mr. Maz- 
 zini, a vast conspiracy was formed. The cities of Genoa and Alexandria 
 were the chief centres of this republican movement. Turin and Chambery 
 were also roused, and it seemed as if all was ready for a terrible revolution. 
 
 *• Mr. Mazzini, harassed at Marseilles by the French police, thought the 
 favorable moment was come to lay down the pen and take the sword. He 
 joined a company of Polish exiles. Some hundreds of Italians joined them 
 at Geneva, under the command of Ramorino, and this small band pene- 
 trated, in 1883, into the coimtry of Savoy. But the enterprise failed. The 
 
232 GENIUS OF ITALY 
 
 The Abbe Lambruschmi, nephew of the cardinal of that name, 
 deserves the respect and affection of all good men. He has re- 
 nounced, for freedom and the truth, the most distinguished pros- 
 pects, and devotes himself, chiefly through the pages of the 
 Florence La P atria, to the defense of civil and religious liberty. 
 '* men of little faith," exclaims Lambruschini, with indignant elo- 
 quence, addressing his fellow priests, " why do you fear hberty 
 of conscience and of worship ? Do ye not confide in the force 
 of truth ? Do ye not know that God reigns, and that he makes 
 all things concur to his glory ? Where the Spirit of the Lord is, 
 there is liberty. Liberty is not to be feared, neither for religion, 
 nor for Christians, nor for ourselves." 
 
 But we have lingered too long in Florence, and must be oflf be- 
 fore the dawning of the day, in the direction of Rome. 
 
 peasantry of Italy and the people generally, refused to join the insurgents. 
 Ramorino abandoned the expedition, before he had even met the enemy ; 
 and Mr. Mazzini, discouraged, fled for refuge to London. 
 
 " For eight years he kept wholly silent. He almost despaired of the de- 
 liverance of his country. He now publishes in England a new journal under 
 the title of the People^ s Messenger, {Apostolato popolare.) The name 
 indicates its aim. Mr. Mazzini has established a sort of school for Italian 
 common people ; to them his journal is addressed ; by them he expects to 
 regenerate Italy." 
 
 Mr. Mazzini, we believe, is now in Rome, actively engaged with Mamiani, 
 and others, in revolutionizing the country. 
 
 The course of Mr. Mazzini in the Roman revolution is well known. 
 Charged by his enemies as a visionary, he has developed the highest qual- 
 ities of intellect and courage. If Rome could have been saved, he certainly 
 deserved to be her saviour. But, alas ! Mazzini is once more an exile from 
 his native land. See Appendix. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Rome — The Campagna — Approach to the city — Its General Aspects — 
 View from the Capitol — Its sacred or ecclesiastical character — Rome a 
 Chm-ch — Its citizens, priests, monks, shrines, relics, chm'ches, ceremonies, 
 etc. — The Pope — Religious services — Pagan element^ — A stroll towards 
 the Vatican, Coliseum, etc. — Capella della Humilta — Services — Preach- 
 ing. 
 
 We have left Tuscany, and entered the States of the Church, and 
 are at once impressed with the poverty-stricken aspect of 
 the country. How unlike New England or old England, with its 
 beauty and thrift — how inferior even to the vine-fields of Etruria, 
 and the plains of Lombardy. Whatever benefits Rome has con- 
 ferred upon other parts of the world, it has been a grievous bur- 
 den to central Italy. The splendor of Rome has impoverished 
 the people. 
 
 Before us stretches the desolate Campagna, once " the garden 
 of the Lord,^' now the dreariest and sickliest region in Christen- 
 dom. Encircling the " holy city," as devout Cathohcs love to 
 call it, itself suffering from internal exhaustion and decay, the 
 Campagna furnishes a sad emblem of the withered and fruitless 
 condition of the Papal church. We pass through it as we should 
 pass through a church-yard, with a sort of mournful awe ; for, 
 after all, it is hallowed ground. Here, with their colossal armies, 
 once trod the masters of the world ; and yonder, gleaming in the 
 light of a bright and balmy noon, that strange old city, with its 
 mighty memories and magnificent ruins. 
 
234 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 As we approach it, tower, column and temple, triumphal arch 
 and hoary ruin rise, distinct and beautiful, before our fixed and 
 half-dreamy gaze. Bewildered with the new and stirring thoughts 
 that rush upon our mind, we scarcely notice the dreary condition 
 of the outskirts of the city, or the lazy, squalid-looking beggars 
 that begin to beleaguer our carriage, with their whining ** Carita, 
 Signor ! Carita Signor !" 
 
 Well, well, it must be so ! The shadow of Rome, next to Je- 
 rusalem the most interesting city in the world, is upon our spirits, 
 and we yield to the impression. " Lone mother of dead empires !'* 
 " the Niobe of nations !'' 
 
 " there she stands, 
 Changeless and crownless in her voiceless woe." 
 
 Yet glorious even in her decay, enshrining all fair forms, all au- 
 gust images, all thrilling associations, quickened moreover into 
 something hke new life by the spirit of change and revolution 
 now pervading the nations. 
 
 Passing the Porta del Popolo, on the site of the old Flaminian 
 gate, and thence into the Piazza del Popolo, we soon find ourselves 
 in the heart of Rome, still dreaming of the past, and feeling that 
 we are in a city rather of the dead than of the living — 
 
 " the city that so long 
 Reigned absolute, the mistress of the world, 
 The mighty vision that the prophet saw 
 And trembled." 
 
 It seems strange to be moving, in broad daylight, under the 
 shadow of the Capitoline hill, to skirt the old Roman forum, the 
 Tarpeian rock and the Mamertine prison, to gaze upon the Par- 
 thenon, and catch a glimpse of the " yellow Tiber," the Castle 
 of St. Angelo, and the Dome of St. Peter's. 
 
ROME. 235 
 
 " Ah, little thought I, when in school I sat, 
 A schoolboy on his bench, in early dawn, 
 Glowing with Roman story, I should live 
 To tread the Appian — 
 
 — or climb the Palatine, 
 Long while the seat of Rome I" 
 
 But it is chiefly as the seat of the early triumphs of Christian- 
 ity, the scene of apostohc toils and holy martyrdoms, that we feel 
 so peculiar an interest in visiting Rome. Here, in the early days 
 of the Church, thousands were converted from heathenism to the 
 rehgion of the cross, and shed their blood in its defense. Here a 
 terrible struggle went on for ages between paganism and Chris- 
 tianity, when at last Christianity conquered and placed itself upon 
 the throne of the Caesars. But alas! it was speedily vitiated by 
 false admixtures, and worldly policy. Encircled with pomp and 
 splendor, and forgetting the purity and simplicity of its early days, 
 it grew into a monstrous form of despotism and corruption. True, 
 it was infinitely better than paganism ; it yet possessed some re- 
 deeming features, some sacred elements of purity and power, and 
 in a barbarous age, exerted over society some controlling and civ- 
 ilizing influence. Notwithstanding its degeneracy, what might, 
 what majesty did it not exhibit ! Overshadowing the earth, and 
 placing its foot on the neck of kings, it formed an object of ad- 
 miration to the world, '' a mystery" enshrined amid the symbols 
 of religion and sensual display, inspiring dread and wonder in all 
 beholders. It yet possesses elements of power, and were it only 
 divested of its ultra-montanism, its spirit of bigotry and supersti- 
 tion, its Papal hierarchy, and armies of monks, it might yet bless 
 the world. It is not so much Catholicism as Popery — not so , 
 much the great body of Catholic worshippers as the spirit of 
 Jesuitism, superstition and idolatry, which constitutes the Anti- 
 christ of Rome. It is difficult, however, if not impossible, to 
 
236 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 burn the husks and thorns, without at the same time destroying 
 the precious flower which they are intended to guard. The 
 church of Rome, as an external institution, is tottering to its faU. 
 Its foundations are sapped, and less than a century will see it in 
 the dust. Yet is it even now, a vast and mysterious power, fitted 
 to excite the deepest emotions, and well worthy of the profoundest 
 study ; like some huge edifice in the desert, covered with the weeds 
 of ages, and gradually yielding to the might of all- destroying time. 
 
 Could Rome, indeed, blend with the spirit of the age — could 
 she take into her bosom the life and energy of science and free 
 inquiry — could slie exorcise her wretched superstitions, her low 
 fetich ism and fanatical spirit — could she place her children 
 under the guidance of the Word and Spirit of God, instead of 
 traditions and hearsays ; above all, could she imbibe the free 
 spirit of an enlarged and devout Protestantism, she might yet 
 be regenerated, and become the centre of a new and glorious 
 form of civilization. The problem, however, is all but impos- 
 sible of solution. Already the spirit of change and reform has 
 shaken her to the centre, and the world are gazing, in mute ex- 
 pectation, upon the throes and agitations of the Papal See. No 
 shrewd or thoughtful man will be astonished, if, in a few years, 
 the Pope should be shorn of half his power, and become, not- 
 withstanding his recent, but waning popularity, a by-word and a 
 proverb among the nations. 
 
 The city of Rome contains a population of a hundred and fifty, 
 or, perhaps, in summer time, when strangers abound there, a 
 hundred and seventy thousand ; a goodly portion of whom are 
 priests, monks, nuns and beggars, who are of all orders, condi- 
 tions and colors, black, blue, white and grey, and may be seen at 
 any time of the day, or in any part of the city — some lounging 
 in their scarlet carriages, and others gliding, sandalled and bare- 
 headed, along the streets and avenues. 
 
ROME. 237 
 
 The city may be described as consisting of two parts, the new 
 and the old cities, interlocking, however, at particular points ; 
 still most of the ruins of the old city lie on one side of the new, 
 and form a distinct portion of the whole. They cover the seven 
 hills, a part of which only is occupied by the modern city, which 
 extends towards the north and west, to a considerable distance 
 beyond the Tiber, and covers other hills, which have received new 
 names. The Capitol, indeed, and several of the ruins of the 
 ancient city, are embraced within the limits of the new; but the 
 Aventine, Esquiline, Palatine, Yiminal and Celian hills, the Fo- 
 rum, the Cohseum, the Arches of Cons tan tine and Titus, the 
 gardens of Mecaenas and the Baths of Titus, lie on one side of the 
 modern city, forming a long line of beautiful suburbs to the east 
 and south. 
 
 Another division of the city might be given — that, namely, which 
 is made by the Tiber, which separates it into two parts, making a 
 graceful sweep from one end of the city to the other. On one 
 side would be found a strip of houses running along the right 
 bank of the river, with St. Peter's and the Vatican, forming what 
 may be called the westerji part of the city. The other would 
 contain a considerable portion of the new city, the principal 
 streets and pubHc edifices, with almost the w^hole of the old, em- 
 bracing the seven hills and the principal ruins. 
 
 The Tiber, a slow and turbid stream, but possessing a beauty 
 of its own, is spanned by several picturesque bridges, two or three 
 of which belonged to the ancient city, reminding us of the days 
 of Horace, who sang its praises to the music of the lyre. The 
 principal is that of St. Angelo, adorned with marble statues, and 
 terminating in the Castle of St. Angelo, once the Mausoleum of 
 Adrian, but now the principal fortress of the city. On the top 
 stands the statue of an angel, sword in hand, and the sides are 
 bristling with cannon. Within are prisons and dungeons, some 
 
238 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 of them formed for ingenious torture. It was in that old castle 
 that Benvenuto Cellini, the famous Florentine goldsmith and 
 sculptor was confined, by the orders of an ungrateful Pope, and 
 from which he made one of the most miraculous escapes, though 
 nearly killing himself in the attempt. It was there that Bene- 
 detto Fojano suffered a horrid and .lingering death by starvation, 
 for the crime of being a too eloquent and popular preacher, and 
 that Ludovico PaschaH, a Protestant from Piedmont, was stran- 
 gled and burned for proclaiming the Gospel in Calabria.* 
 
 The castle of St. Angelo has an underground communication 
 to St. Peter's, which has been occasionally used by the Popes in 
 times of danger and emergency. For years it remained closed, 
 but it was reopened some time since by Gregory Sixteenth. 
 
 Taken as a whole, Rome must be pronounced one of the most 
 magnificent cities in the world. It stands upon a noble site, pos- 
 sesses a great number of superb edifices and majestic views, is 
 adorned with spacious squares and fountains, and contains innu- 
 merable specimens of the most perfect painting and statuary, 
 both of ancient and of modern times. Everywhere you meet ob- 
 jects which interest and please the mind. In one place is an im- 
 mense and beautiful fountain, throwing up jets of virgin water, 
 with a pleasant, gushing sound. In another is a column or an 
 obelisk, brought from Greece or Egypt, or, it may be, dug from 
 the ruins of the ancient city. Here is the Pillar of Trajan, adorned 
 with an image of the apostle Peter, an incongruity, to be sure, 
 but not an unpleasant one. Yonder is that of Antoninus Pius, 
 
 * Many other Protestants suffered martyrdom at Rome. The celebrated 
 Florentine nobleman and Protestant, Carnessecchi, was beheaded and burned 
 at Rome, 1567. Bartolomeo Bartoccio, son of a wealthy citizen of Oastello, 
 was condemned to be burnt alive in the same city. With a firm step, he 
 went to the place of execution, and whilst the flames enveloped his body 
 he was heard exclaiming, " Vittoria I Vittoria r — Victory ! Victory I 
 
ROME. 239 
 
 surmounted by the statue of the apostle Paul. Beyond is the 
 hoary ruin of a heathen temple, transformed into a Christian 
 church. For, be it known, everything here is lustrated and puri- 
 fied by the Popes, and changed from a pagan to a Christian use. 
 
 Ascend the stairs of the Capitol, and at the top you meet the 
 colossal statues of Castor and Pollux, standing by their noble 
 steeds ; near them are the trophies of Marcus, and the two col- 
 umns which served to measure the Roman empire, and in the 
 square behind, the celebrated statue of Marcus Aurelius, which 
 Michael Angelo was wont to admire as the very master- piece of 
 art, saying that the horse did not seem to stand, but to move. 
 
 In the square fronting the palace of the Pope, on Monte Ca- 
 vallo, is another superb fountain, guarded by two colossal statues 
 of Alexander the Great and his horses ; the one by Phidias, as is 
 supposed, and the other by Praxiteles, so perfect that the noble 
 animals, for an instant, seem to be alive. Before the church of 
 St. John Lateran is an elegant and lofty obehsk, brought from the 
 Temple of the Sun in Thebes, with its mystic hieroglyphics. An- 
 other of a similar description stands in the area fronting St. 
 Peter's, between two magnificent fountains, whose waters are 
 seen falling and plashing, with a musical sound, in the soft silence 
 which reigns around. Other obelisks, columns and statues, of an 
 inferior description, are scattered over the city, in the squares, 
 and by the fountains. 
 
 The ruins of the old city, so vast and hoary, intermingling in 
 part with the buildings of the modern one, impart to the whole a 
 character of peculiar solemnity and grandeur, while the neighbor- 
 ing Campagna, so silent and deserted, and the dark volcanic 
 mountains, which skirt the horizon, greatly heighten the effect. 
 
 But it must be confessed that Rome suffers by a minute in- 
 spection. Many of the buildings, even of the modern city, are 
 mean and going to decay. Most of the streets are narrow and 
 
240 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 filthy beyond endurance. Beggars everywhere abonnd. Fou 
 meet them at the corners of every street, and even by the altar 
 of St. Peter's, arid in the centre of the Cohseum. Nuisances of 
 every description invade churches and palaces, and produce an 
 abominable stench throughout the city. The mass of the people 
 are excessively popr. Yice, and especially licentiousness, is prev- 
 alent, the foundling hospitals being generally well filled with ille- 
 gitimate children; and, besides, there is such a swarming of 
 priests, such a profusion of paltry images of the Virgin and saints, 
 such evident marks of superstition, ignorance and vice, that it 
 requires an effort to think worthily of the eternal city. The most 
 delightful part of it is that which covers the site of ancient Rpme, 
 the Forum, lying among the seven hills, and the venerable ruins 
 around, intermingled with gardens and trees. 
 
 But let us forget all that is unpleasant in Rome, and attempt 
 a description of the ancient city, with its ruins, beautiful even in 
 their decay. The finest view is enjoyed from the tower of the 
 Capitol. The Capitol itself is full of interesting recollections. Its 
 lofty heights were formerly covered with a succession of palaces, 
 temples, and statues, of which scarce a vestige remains. Their 
 place is occupied by modern structures built by Michael Angelo, 
 on the ruins of the old. On one part of it was the temple of 
 Jupiter Capitolinus, on another, those of Jupiter Moneta, Fortuna 
 Primogenia, Vejovis, and others. On that side is the Tarpeian 
 rock, down which malefactors were precipitated into the Forum, a 
 distance of a hundred feet. Below is the tranquil Forum, guarded 
 by the seven hills, adorned with arches, temples, and statues. 
 To the left is the Carcere Mamertina, in which Jugurtha, the 
 Numidian warrior, was starved to death, and where, tradition 
 says, the Apostle Paul was confined nine months previous to his 
 martyrdom. We might go down into its cold, damp dungeons, 
 and could readily believe that it was the very place where the 
 
;>^^ 
 
 j^j^i i,»r /^ ///^^ 
 
ROME. 241 
 
 great apostle of tlie Gentiles awaited the hour of liis martyrdom. 
 Our feelings, however, would be much disturbed by finding it 
 converted into a CathoHc chapel, where priests are mumbling, in 
 rapid and careless tones, their Latin prayers, for the edification 
 of their superstitious flocks, and two fellows are selhng the holy 
 water, flowing '' miraculously'^ from the rock, to the numberless 
 pilgrims who flock there at this season of the year ; while, to 
 crown the whole and make it as ridiculous as possible, a boy sta- 
 tioned inside the door is rattling his box of copper offerings in 
 the face of every person who enters, in order to attract their at- 
 tention, and secure their gifts."* The story goes, (and the Cath- 
 olic clergy encourage all such stories,) that there was no water in 
 the prison, till the apostle, by a miracle, brought it from the rock, 
 and thence, that it possesses wondrous efficacy. The devotees 
 come crowding along, and paying their bioc apiece, are supplied 
 each with half a tumbler of the precious liquid, which they drink 
 with devout satisfaction. But if all this mummery and chicanery 
 were absent, and we were to go down alone into this gloomy 
 dungeon, lighted with a lamp or two, it would require no efibrt 
 to abstract our minds from the present and palpable, and hold 
 fellowship with the spirit of that wonderful old man, who re- 
 joiced in the prospect even of a cruel and ignominious death. 
 Behind the Mamertine prison is the front of the temple of Anto- 
 ninus and Fausta, and further along the street is that of Minerva, 
 now forming the fronts and ornaments of Catholic churches. At 
 the other end of the Forum you see the arch of Titus, which com- 
 memorates the destruction of Jerusalem, and under which no Jew 
 will pass ; and immediately beyond it, near the Coliseum, the 
 arch of Constantino, a beautiful and imposing ruin, standing 
 " alone in its glory.'* 
 
 * We happened to visit the Mamertine prison during St. Paul's week 
 when services are held there daily. 
 11 
 
242 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Just beyond the Forum you see the Coliseum, the greater por- 
 tion of which yet remains in a state of excellent preservation, 
 stern, august, and beautiful, the most appropriate monument of 
 *' the havoc and splendor" of ancient Rome. 
 
 Above the Forum is the Palatine Hill, where Romulus built 
 the first palace, and where, in subsequent ages, rose the gorgeous 
 dwellings of the Caesars. Their mouldering remains are now 
 scattered around, mingled with those of temples and theatres, 
 and surmounted with the houses of religious recluses. As we 
 gaze upon these from the tower of the Capitol, the departing 
 rays of the sun tinge their summits with a melancholy splendor, 
 while the shadows of evening are beginning to gather over the 
 Forum beneath, a symbol of the glory of Rome, beautiful in decay, 
 but passing away beneath the eye of the traveller. 
 
 To the left of the Coliseum may be seen the remains of the 
 baths of Titus, and the garden of Mecaenas, where, on a tower, 
 Nero sang the song of Troy to the burning of Rome. In that 
 direction were the dwellings of Horace and Yirgil. Beyond the 
 city walls to the right are discovered the tomb of Metella, and 
 the church of St. Paul, where, tradition says, the holy man was 
 buried in the Ostian way. 
 
 After looking at these objects individually, we take one general 
 view of the whole city. Yonder, far beneath us, glides the vener- 
 able Tiber, winding through the city ; there, all around, rise the 
 ancient hills, crowned with ruins, churches and palaces. On the 
 one side are the tower of St. Angelo, and the cupola of St. Peter's, 
 glowing in the light of departing day ; on the other, the Coliseum 
 and the Forum, slightly shaded with the hues of approaching 
 twilight. Beyond the city walls stretches the quiet Campagna, 
 and in the distance, marked against the clear sky, are descried 
 the Alban hills clothed with woods, the dark Sabine mountains, 
 and the lofty summit of Mount Soracte. Words are insufficient 
 
ROME. 243 
 
 to describe our emotions, the feelings of sublimity, of mystery and 
 delight which thrill our minds as we gaze again and again on the 
 vast and beautiful scene ! 
 
 What is it that invests a region, in itself so melancholy, with a 
 beauty almost supernal ? Is it not the softening influence of Na- 
 ture, the radiance of the setting sun, and the power of mental 
 association ? But for these it would be overpoweringly mourn- 
 ful — nay, even repulsive. For the beauty upon which we are 
 gazing, is that of death ! 
 
 " 'Tis Rome, but living Rome no more !" 
 
 But the blessed light of day lingers upon the grim ruins of the 
 past ; beautiful trees and rich green foliage, types of hope and 
 resurrection, throw pleasant shadows upon the tombs ; and our 
 own minds, confiding in the goodness of " the Father of us all," 
 are serene and peaceful. And yet were one to ruminate long 
 upon these prostrate fanes and palaces, his heart would irresisti- 
 bly " grow to mournful things," and he would retire from them a 
 sadder, if not a wiser man. 
 
 . "For Italy has not a breeze 
 But comes on melancholy wings; 
 
 And even her majestic trees 
 Stand ghost-like in the Csesar's home, 
 
 As if their conscious roots were set 
 In the old graves of giant Rome, 
 
 And drew their sap all kingly yet ! 
 And every stone your feet beneath 
 
 Is broken from some mighty thought, 
 And sculptures in the dust still breathe 
 
 The fires with which their lines were wrought. 
 And sundered arch and plundered tomb 
 Still thunder back the echo — Rome 1" — Willu, 
 
244 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Next to the ruins and memories of the ancient city, Rome de- 
 rives its principal interest, as a subject of study, from its sacred 
 or ecclesiastical character. It is the seat of the Papal court, the 
 centre and focus of Catholic Christendom. Here then, if any- 
 where, the Roman church must be seen in its perfection. The 
 government and police, as well as religion and morals, are under the 
 control of ecclesiastics ; so that the city is pervaded from its heart 
 to its extremities with the spirit and energy of Catholicism. Indeed, 
 it may be said that the whole is a church, a temple of religion, a 
 sacred shrine in which is deposited the very soul of the papacy. Of 
 this church all the citizens are members ; every one must go to 
 confession ; every one, some time or other, must partake of the 
 sacrament, or sacrifice of the mass ; every one must do homage 
 to the Pope and the priesthood, must die in the faith, and be bu- 
 ried in holy ground. Unless excommunicated by the solemn ban 
 of the church, each citizen of Rome is a child of the papacy, and 
 a member of the " Holy Catholic, Apostolic Church.'' Many in- 
 deed are not particularly strict, at least on ordinary occasions, in 
 the observance of the innumerable rites and ceremonies enjoined 
 by their superiors. Others again are infidels and scoffers, but 
 privately, for fear of consequences. Others hate the priests, and 
 especially the monks, with a perfect hatred, and make no great 
 secret of it either. Many would rejoice to see the whole system 
 of ecclesiastical despotism abolished forever. The great mass of 
 the people, and especially the more wealthy and intelligent 
 classes, seldom if ever go to church, except on high festival occa- 
 sions, and even then take only a partial or a political interest in 
 the services. 
 
 We might, on a Sunday, go through all the churches in Rome; 
 and not find more than four or five thousand worshippers, from 
 among the populace, though these churches are very numerous, 
 and some of them capable of containing from ten to twenty thou- 
 
ROME. 245 
 
 sand persons. The majority in all would be found to be females 
 and poor people/''^ We have said that all must confess ; but how 
 or where they do so, it is impossible to say ; for only the poorer 
 classes confess at church. The Sabbath is very much of a holi- 
 day; in the secular sense of the term, and the greater portion of 
 the day is spent in visiting, rambhng, and other recreations. We 
 are bound, however, to regard the majority of the inhabitants as 
 devout CathoHcs, for they are so held by their ecclesiastical su- 
 periors, and form a part of the sacred city. Duly baptized and 
 confirmed, they live and die in the faith of their fathers. If it 
 is inquired whether they are truly religious, that is another ques- 
 tion, which even Pope Pius the Ninth, or Father Ventura, might 
 hesitate to answer. They fast and pray during Lent, go to church 
 and crucify the flesh. But they are dehghted when they get 
 through it. They precede it with the carnival, and follow it with 
 dancing and revelry ! 
 
 Pass around among the convents and churches, amounting in 
 all to four or five hundred, perhaps more, you find in nearly all 
 the greatest magnificence. Here are innumerable altars and 
 sacred shrines, blazing with gems and gold, consecrated to all the 
 saints in the calendar, to the Virgin Mother, to the twelve Apostles, 
 and to the Holy Trinity ; and before which men of all nations and 
 languages may bend, addressing their prayers indiscriminately to 
 saint or angel, to the blessed Virgin, or to God himself. Here 
 also are innumerable priests and confessors, an infinite variety of 
 the most rare and precious relics — bones, arms, legs and skulls, 
 fingers and nails, amulets and charms, rosaries and medals, con- 
 secrated by popes of blessed memory, or other holy men, living 
 and dead. Here also are collected, in the Vatican and in the 
 churches, the most perfect specimens of painting and statuary, 
 
 * It is estimated that there are nearly 300 churches in Rome. 
 
246 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 intended more or less for the ornament and service of religion ; 
 images of all forms and ages, apostolic and modern ; images of 
 men and angels, of saints and martyrs, of Christ and God, in 
 wood and stone, in oil-painting and fresco, some august and 
 beautiful, others grotesque and striking, and all venerable and 
 attractive to a devout Catholic. Here is the Basilica of St. 
 Peter's, the most magnificent church in the world, the work of 
 Michael Angelo, with its glorious cupola, four hundred and fifty- 
 feet from the ground, and the whole interior so vast, so beautiful, 
 so harmonious that it has been likened to " a ceaseless, changeless 
 melody ;" here, in this august temple, which is the wonder of 
 every traveller, you see *^ the veritable tomb of St. Peter." forming a 
 small subterranean chapel in the centre of the cathedral, with a 
 hundred lamps burning around it, by night and day, and sur- 
 mounted by the bronze canC/)y of Bernini, richly adorned and sup- 
 ported by four ornate pillars, a hundred and twenty feet in height, 
 the tombs of popes and princes, with all forms of pagan and 
 Christian beauty, some of them almost nude, guarding the pre- 
 cious dust of kings and priests ; on all sides altars, ornamented 
 with gorgeous paintings and sculpture, gold, silver and precious 
 stones ; and above all the bronze statue of Jupiter Capitolinus, the 
 Apostle Peter, we mean ; for the old statue of the heathen god, 
 found in the Capitol, has been lustrated by the popes, and placed 
 here, with a glory around his head, for the adoration of the faithful , 
 his sacred toes worn and polished by the rubbings and kissings of 
 innumerable pilgrims. Whatever this statue maybe on the score 
 of religion, it is certainly an incongruity on the score of taste. It 
 is only about as large as life, while everything around it is colos- 
 sal ; the infant cherubs by the vases which contain the holy water, 
 near the principal entrance, are of giant size, while the pen in the 
 hand of St. Maik, above the frieze of the cupola, is six feet in 
 length. Nevertheless it is the genius of the 'place, the great ob- 
 
ROME. 247 
 
 ject of love and reverence to the devout Catholic. This church is 
 dedicated not to the glory of the Supreme Being, but to the glory 
 of Peter, ''in honorem principis apostolorum,"^ 
 
 St. Peter's may be regarded as a symbol of the Roman Catho- 
 lic faith, vast, venerable and imposing, but enshrining many 
 heathen forms and superstitions. Relics of the past mingle with 
 embellishments of the present; pagan images with Christian 
 rites. '' The general expression of the place,'' says Madame de 
 Stael, " perfectly typifies a mixture of obscure dogmas and sump- 
 tuous ceremonies ; a mine of sad ideas, but such as may be sooth- 
 ingly applied ; severe doctrines capable of mild interpretation ; 
 Christian theology and pagan images ; in fact the most admirable 
 union of all the majestic splendors which man can give to his 
 worship of the Divinity. "f Is not this only a gentle and poetical 
 mode of expressing the fact that the religion of Rome, which 
 in another place she says, '' weds the ancient and the modern 
 faiths in the mind," is half pagan and idolatrous in its character 
 and worship ? The " majestic splendors" may dazzle a human 
 eye ; but alas ! they grow pale before the eye of Him from whose 
 face the heavens and the earth flee away. 
 
 " Richer by far is the heart's adoration, 
 Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor 1" 
 
 In Rome also is the Basilica, or church of St. John Lateran, so 
 called because it is dedicated to St. John, and built upon the site 
 occupied by the Roman Senator Plautius Lateranus ; the mother 
 church of Christendom, because it was given especially to the 
 Bishop of Rome, and founded by the Emperor Constantine. It 
 is in the special diocese of the Pope, is the church in which he 
 
 * Inscription on the front of St. Peter's. 
 
 f Corinne, ou L'ltalie, par Mad.ime De Stael. 
 
248 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 most frequentl] worships, and, in some respects, takes precedence 
 over St. Peter's. It has often been restored and remodelled, is 
 famous also for the five general councils held in it, and i^ the scene 
 of the coronations of the Popes. Its interior is extravagantly 
 rich, though very beautiful, in its decorations. Over the principal 
 entrance, you read, in large glaring capitals — " Omnium Urbis et 
 Orbis Ecclesiarum Mater et Caput ;" Mother and Hedd of all 
 Churches in the City and in the World! This church, of 
 course, is rich in wondrous relics. Among these are shown the 
 stone mouth of the well of Samaria, two pillars from Pilate's 
 house, the table on which our Lord partook of the last supper, 
 and a pillar of the temple split by the earthquake at the crucifix- 
 ion ! ! In his own chapel the Pope keeps the wood of the true 
 cross, the lance which pierced our Saviour's side, and the marvel- 
 lous veil of Veronica, celebrated nearly as much as the Holy Coat 
 of Treves; for it bears, say the Catholics, the impress of our 
 Saviour's face, transferred to it when applied to wipe away the 
 sweat which gathered on his brow, as he went to crucifixion! 
 These are shown by his Holiness — yes, by his Holiness — whether 
 he be Gregory Sixteenth, or the enlightened Pius Ninth, on great 
 occasions, such as Holy Week, to the assembled multitudes, who 
 tegard them with the same feeling that induced the enthusiastic 
 devotees at Treves, when they saw The Sacred Tunic, to exclaim. 
 Holy Coat, pray for us ! 
 
 Here also, belonging to the church of St. John Lateran, in a 
 separate building, is the Santa Scala, or holy stair, consisting of 
 twenty-eight marble steps, brought, as the authorities affirm, 
 from Pilate's palace in Jerusalem, and the identical steps up 
 which our Saviour walked to Pilate's judgment-hall. The guide 
 who shows it will inform you, with a grave face, that, in places, 
 they are blued or stained by the sweat of his sacred feet. Peni- 
 tents only are permitted to ascend these steps, and on their knees. 
 
ROME. 249 
 
 They have actually been worn by the attrition of numberless pil- 
 grims, so that the Pope has caused them to be covered with 
 wood. 
 
 Luther, it will be remembered, when in Rome, wishing to obtain 
 an indulgence, promised by the Pope to any who should ascend on 
 their knees this celebrated staircase, was slowly climbing the steps 
 which they told him had been miraculously transported from 
 Jerusalem to Rome. But while he was going through this merito- 
 rious service, he thought he heard a voice, like thunder, speak from 
 the depths of his heart — " The just shall live hy faith ^ " These 
 words," says Merle D'Aubigne, " which already on two occasions 
 had struck upon his ear as the voice of an angel of God, resounded 
 instantaneously and powerfully within him. He started up in ter- 
 ror on the steps up which he had been crawling ; he was horrified 
 at himself ; and struck with shame for the degradation to which 
 superstition had debased him, he fled from the scene of his folly. 
 This powerful text had a mysterious influence on the life of 
 Luther. It was a creative word for the Reformer and for the 
 Reformation. It was by means of that word that God said: 
 * Let there be light, and there was light.' " 
 
 There is a less sacred ascent by which strangers may gain the 
 top of the stairs. Here we find a sacred shrine, and a dark look- 
 ing image of Christ, fronting the entrance from below. Looking 
 into the dimly lighted Sancta Sanctorum, as it is called, we read : 
 '' NoN EST IN ToTO Sanctior Orbe Locus ;" There is not in the 
 world a holier place. So sacred is it, that females are not permit- 
 ted to enter ! In this place are gathered (so say the guides) a 
 number of most precious relics — a bottle of the Virgin Mother's 
 milk — an exact likeness of Jesus, painted by the Evangelist 
 Luke, and a feather from the wing of the angel Gabriel. Luke, 
 by the way, seems to have been the great painter of the early 
 churph. Rome possesses other pictures ascribed to him: at 
 11* 
 
250 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Bologna, a celebrated portrait of the Virgin Mary, surrounded by 
 filagree work, is exhibited as the production of his pencil ! One 
 has to visit Italy, and especially Rome, to satisfy himself that the 
 friar's wondrous catalogue, poured into the ear of the dreaming 
 Boccaccio, was not, after all, such an extravagant fiction ! 
 
 " A ray, imprimis, of the star that shone 
 To the wise men, a phial full of sounds, 
 The musical chimes of the great bells that hung 
 In Solomons temple, and though last not least, 
 A feather from the angel Gabriel's wing, 
 Dropt in the Yirgin's chamber." 
 
 In the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, or St. Mary the 
 Greater, the grand object of Papal adoration is the cradle of 
 the infant Jesus, which is made the occasion of a solemn re- 
 ligious service on Christmas eve. But the most popular idol in 
 Rome is the Santissimo Bambino — the most Holy Baby ; a miracu- 
 lous wooden image in the little church which goes by the name 
 of Ara Coeh. Some say that it fell from heaven, like the image 
 of Jupiter, or the sacred stone of Mecca. But others, better 
 informed, affirm that it was carved by a Franciscan monk in 
 Jerusalem, from wood cut on the Mount of Olives, as a repre- 
 sentation of the infant Saviour ! Having no paint to color the 
 image, and St. Luke not being at hand, he had recourse to prayer, 
 in which he spent the whole night, and in the morning found that 
 the little image had miraculously become the color of flesh ! This 
 image is exhibited, for adoration, in apresipio (case or closet) pre- 
 pared for it in the convent of the Ara Coeli, from the feast of the 
 Nativity to that of the Epiphany. It is regarded as a sovereign 
 preservative against all dangers of childbirth ; and, indeed, is pe- 
 culiarly useful in all cases of disease. It has been stated, on 
 good authority, that the Bambino receives more and better fees 
 than all the medical men of Rome. A stage-coach, as fine as 
 
HOME. 251 
 
 that of a cardinaFs , is kept for its transportation from patient to 
 patient. It is ordinarily accompanied, in its visits, by some 
 priests in full canonicals. Thus attended, the Bambino is con- 
 veyed through the streets at a slow and stately rate, a rapid mo- 
 tion being regarded as inconsistent with the dignity of the image. 
 When it passes, every head is uncovered and every knee bent. 
 Other images may pass, and some heads are bared ; the Pope 
 himself may pass and receive only a salutation ; nay, the conse- 
 crated Host, the very body and blood of Christ, may go by, and 
 some may kneel, while others take off their hats ; but if the Bam- 
 bino passes, every one is uncovered or prostrate on the ground, 
 whatever be the state of the streets. 
 
 , But the crowning glory of the Bambino occurs on the festival 
 of the Epiphany, when it is brought to the Capitol, or some such 
 place, and after a crash of cannon and martial music, is raised by 
 the hands of some distinguished priest, and the vast multitude fall 
 prostrate in adoration before it, as if it were filled with all the 
 fullness of the Godhead ! 
 
 In this sacred city of Rome resides the Pope, the apex of the 
 Catholic cone, the head of the Church, the vicar of God, the true 
 successor of St. Peter, who carries the sword of a kingdom on 
 earth, and the keys of a kingdom in heaven, the representative of 
 the Son of God, and the fountain of all gracious influences to his 
 militant flock, the embodiment therefore of all humility and meek- 
 ness, of all holiness and peace ! You may see him, on some 
 grand holiday, riding in a magnificent coach, which cost some 
 twelve or fifteen thousand dollars, drawn by six superb black horses, 
 attended by some four or half a dozen lacqueys with appropriate 
 costumes. He himself is dressed in gorgeous robes of silk, with 
 a crown or tiara of gold upon his head, and in his hand, or that 
 of a high officer who precedes him, a staff or crosier of gems and 
 gold. 
 
262 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Or you may see him about Christmas, or Corpus Domini, as 
 they call it, borne into St. Peter's Church on the. shoulders of 
 men, seated in his chair of state, with his eyes closed, and making 
 continually, as he passes along, the sign of the cross with the two 
 forefingers of his right hand. Two pole-bearers, with splendid 
 fans of ostrich feathers fixed upon the tops of their poles, pre- 
 cede him with a solemn and reverent air. Behind him are the 
 cardinals, in red stockings, and long, flowing robes of scarlet silk 
 cov^ered with surplices of the richest lace ; bishops in purple robes, 
 and their attendants in all the colors of the rainbow ; nobles and 
 guards, soldiers and priests, with swords and spears, true crosses, 
 images of saints, and other emblems ; a motley group of monks, 
 grey, white and black ; and, among other strange devices, eight 
 huge tents, supported by men, emblematical of the eight basili- 
 cas, or most eminent churches of Rome ! 
 
 At last the Pope is seated in state under the grand altar, and 
 after various services the Host is elevated, bells toll, cannons roar, 
 and the vast multitude are prostrate on the floor. If you have 
 time and patience to remain two or three hours, you will see all 
 sorts of changes, manoeuvres and genuflections, the forty cardinals 
 swimming around with their huge trains, proceeding with the 
 utmost gravity, in single file, to kiss the Pope's hand, and some 
 forty or fifty bishops and other clergy following them to kiss the 
 cross upon his slipper, and many others, not admitted to this 
 high honor, kneeling at a respectful distance, waiting for his bene- 
 diction. During this time your head will almost reel with the 
 crossings and counter-crossings, the kneelings and bendings, the 
 covering and uncovering of heads, the lifting and opening of 
 robes, the pulling off or putting on of vestments, the readings 
 from different books, .all in Latin, the long and monotonous chant- 
 ings, the embracings of cardinals, the runrings to and fro of the 
 assistants, altar boys and others, and the wavings of censers 
 
ROME. - 263 
 
 with burning incense, no^v to God, now to the Pope, now to the 
 sacred books and vestments, now to St. Peter, and now to the 
 Holy Virgin and the twelve apostles. " What strange idea of the 
 Deity," says Mathews, describing a similar service in the private 
 chapel of the Pope, on Monte Cavallo, " must have first sug- 
 gested this homage of postures and prostrations ! If a Chinese 
 had been present, he might well have concluded that the Pope 
 was the god of this strange worship ; and, indeed, I doubt 
 whether the thoughts of many on this occasion were elevated 
 nearer to heaven than the Popedom." 
 
 Connected with the Papal Church there are in Rome forty car- 
 dinals, more or less, quite a number of prelates, archbishops and 
 bishops, many of them noblemen by birth, and all of them noble- 
 men by station. The cardinals live in palaces, and ride about in 
 superb coaches, with well-dressed attendants. Some of them 
 are learned men — some of them we hope are pious, according to 
 their views. That the most of them are courtiers and politicians, 
 ambitious and intriguing, may be doubted anywhere else, but cer- 
 tainly not in Rome. But let that pass ; such as they are, they 
 form a conclave for the government of the Roman church, and 
 give law to Papal Christendom. 
 
 In addition to these, there are in Rome from fifteen to sixteen 
 hundred secular clergy or priests ; monks from two to three 
 thousand ; nuns from fourteen to fifteen hundred ; in all from 
 five to six thousand ecclesiastics, besides innumerable clerical 
 visitors, professors, students, &c., in a population of a little more 
 than a hundred and fifty thousand. 
 
 Looking at the ecclesiastical machinery alone, and admitting its 
 high pretensions to divine authority, one would conclude that 
 Rome must be the holiest place on earth ! Well then, is it such ? 
 Let its swarming beggars, its poverty-stricken populace, its un- 
 educated fliildren, its secret infidelity, its boundless superstition, 
 
254 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 its covert treason, its gloomy discontent, its deep licentiousness, 
 and, except for the form, its heartless irreligion, answer the ques- 
 tion. The Christianity of Rome may have some features of truth 
 and beauty, but it is secularized, say rather paganized, by super- 
 stition. The Pope represents the old Pontifex Maximus ; the 
 churches, with their innumerable altars sacrifices and incense re- 
 produce, or at least resemble, the temples of pagan worship ; the 
 nuns, with their vows of celibacy, the old vestal virgins ; the 
 sprinkling of holy water, the lustration of the Roman priests ; 
 and St. Peter, adored by the devout, the Jupiter of the Capitol. 
 These, it may be said, are merely forms ; to which, we simply sug- 
 gest, that forms are the symbols and expressions of thought ; and 
 if this be Christianity, it is Christianity mingled and debased with 
 an element of idolatry. 
 
 But enough of this. To refresh ourselves, let us take a turn 
 towards the Vatican, and some other parts of Rome, where we 
 may be free from noise and bustle. Our time, however, will not 
 admit of our giving more than a passing glance at this immense 
 building, or rather series of buildings, dedicated partly to eccle- 
 siastical and political, and partly to artistic and literary uses ; with 
 its wilderness of saloons, corridors and chambers, where " beauty 
 in everlasting repose is dreiiming of herself;" the sacristy of St. 
 Peter's, and the Sistine Cbcipel, made famous by Michael Angelo's 
 fresco of the Last Judgment ; the Capitol with its galleries of paint- 
 ings and statuary, and many other buildings and places of inte- 
 rest. Escaping from modern Rome, we pass along the edge of the 
 Capitoline hill, into the deep and solemn quiet of those beautiful but 
 melancholy ruias beyond, among which the sombre oHve, the deep 
 green ilex and the gadding vine cast pleasant shadows. Why, it 
 is as still here as if we were in the country ! Not a human being 
 is seen. Not a sound is heard, except the hollow murmur of the 
 neighboring city, or the mellow tones of the vesper belte at a dis- 
 
ROME. 255 
 
 tance. Let us take a turn towards the Coliseum ; we may find 
 some life there. We enter the huge but majestic structure. A few 
 solitary monks are offering th^ir devotions before the tombs of 
 the martyrs ; for even the Coliseum is a sort of church. Altars 
 here and there around the walls, invite the homage of the faith- 
 ful. How mournfully, but sweetly, floats their dirge-like chant 
 through the still air of the time-worn structure ! What a change 
 from the time when, in the presence of myriads bending from the 
 vast galleries above, the mighty roar of the Numidian lion startled 
 the echoes of the amphitheatre, and paled the cheek of the 
 patient Christian, placed there to encounter the famishing mon- 
 ster ! 
 
 But let us return to the city. Going round by the other side 
 of the Coliseum, in the direction of Monte Cavallo, we shall find 
 a nearer road to the Corso, our home for the night. We are now 
 m the dimly lighted streets of modern Rome. It is the time of 
 vespers. Yonder is a church, the Capella della Humiltay the 
 Chapel of Humility y as it is styled, in which some service is per- 
 forming. The blaze of light issuing from the windows near the 
 grand altar, shows it to be one of some consequence. A cardinal, 
 after alighting from his purple carriage, with four black horses, 
 and outriders, has just entered the building. Behind him are 
 several handsomely dressed ladies, who turn to the door on the 
 left, and lose themselves in the crowd. Let us enter. But in- 
 stead of a plain and humble edifice, as we, in our simplicity sup- 
 posed the Chapel of Humility must be, this is absolutely glitter- 
 ing with splendor and show. Quite a number of people are here, 
 some standing, and others, especially females, kneeling. One, in 
 particular, attracts our attention. Tall and gorgeously dressed, a 
 lady, leaning upon the arm of a genteel-looking young man, glides 
 into the principal aisle, kneels a few moments, crosses herself 
 once or twice, and then, attended by the same gentleman, hastily 
 
256 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 leaves, as if anxious to meet some important engagement at the 
 theatre, opera, or some other place. Before the altar, covered 
 with a blaze of wax lights, and blushing with gems and gold, 
 kneel two ecclesiastics in gorgeous habiliments. Soon after they 
 rise, and, bowing to the altar, pass to one side ; when a third en- 
 ters the rostrum or pulpit, and gives utterance to an extravagant 
 eulogy on the Virgin Mother, whom he styles the Mother of God, 
 the Queen of Heaven, the centre of hearts, the beauty and glory 
 of the universe ; exhorting all to cling to her, for aid and solace, 
 and adore her as the unstained Virgin, the all-prevalent Media- 
 trix with Christ and God ! He tnust be one of the preaching ab- 
 bes or friars, who at certain seasons of the year, particularly during 
 Lent, make the churches of Italy resound with their impassioned 
 eloquence. At the close, an earnest and solemn prayer is offered 
 to the Holy Virgin, as if she were omniscient and divine. Incense 
 is offered before the grand altar, and a priestly benediction pro- 
 nounced upon the people. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Pope Pius Ninth — The strongest and weakest of the Popes — Contrasts- 
 Pope Hildebrand and Pope Pius — Flight from Rome — Pontificate of Gre- 
 gory Sixteenth — Pontificate of Pius Ninth — Changes — Revolution — Real 
 position of Pius Ninth — Prospects of Italy. 
 
 We have dwelt long enough upon mere externals, though these are 
 sufficiently significant and worthy of study. But we must look 
 a little more into the interior life of Rome, of which these are the 
 expressive symbols, ascertain its political condition, and make 
 acquaintance with its distinguished men, especially with Pius 
 Ninth, who thus far has been one of the strongest and yet one of 
 the weakest of the popes. Indeed, his strength has constituted 
 his weakness ! At the commencement of the pontificate, he seemed 
 to understand the age, and discovered a noble desire to promote 
 political reform and amelioration ; there has lain his strength. 
 This has given him what little hold he possesses on the affections 
 of the people. This has secured his popularity, such as it is, 
 both at home and abroad. But change and reform after all have 
 proved his greatest weakness. These already have shorn him of 
 half his power, and, if permanently successful, will snatch from 
 him his entire temporal sovereignty. Indeed, it is virtually gone 
 now ! Subjected to the caprice of the giddy populace, tossed 
 upon the topmost wave of revolution, which he can neither con- 
 trol nor resist, he has been driven further than he dreamed. The 
 wave, gathering fury by the wind of popular violence, rushes on 
 
258 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 in spite of his protestations, and whither it will finally dash him, 
 who can tell ? 
 
 The support of Austria, the most powerful Catholic kingdom, ex- 
 cept France, on the continent of Europe, has been lost. At least, it 
 cannot be regained, except by the most abject submission, and 
 a total wreck of all that has hitherto constituted his glory. Till 
 within a short time, the Pope has been personally popular ; yet 
 all the while the priesthood, as a body, have been just the re- 
 verse. If they are endured in their spiritual, they are detested 
 in their secular capacity. Forming one twenty-eighth part of the 
 entire population, and constituting, in the persons of the cardinals 
 and other high-church dignitaries, the lords temporal as well as 
 spiritual of the Roman States, they are regarded by the great 
 body of the people as a curse, rather than a blessing. And 
 now, Pope Pius the Ninth, by his retrograde and temporizing 
 policy, has been ^' cast down from his excellency ;'* and if not 
 as a priest, yet as a prince, is receiving the anathemas of the 
 Roman populace ! The citizens, indeed, have no idea at present 
 of abjuring the Catholic faith ; far from it. That is a thing of 
 which they have scarcely tliought, and to which, thus far, they 
 have made no practical approach. But the one thing, which 
 above all others they desire, is freedom from priestly domina- 
 tion. Already have they thrown it off' in part ; everywhere, and 
 at all points, the people demand their rights. So long as the 
 Pope aided them in this, they extolled him to the skies ; but the 
 instant he interposed to prevent its accomplishment, his influence 
 as a ruler was lost forever. No one acquainted with Italian af- 
 fairs believes that the Pope has been popular simply as a pope. 
 No, it was only as a man and a reformer that he possessed any 
 hold of their affections. Already they regard him with jealousy 
 and aversion ; and have compelled him to acts which he dreaded 
 and abjured. 
 
PIUS NINTH. 259 
 
 Singular and unheard-of spectacle ! A pope in the hands of 
 the people — controlled by the popular voice — urged on without 
 the power of resistance, in the race of reform and revolution ! 
 
 In the year of our Lord, 10Y6, in the second week of Lent, 
 Pope Gregory Seventh, generally styled Pope Hildebrand, who 
 claimed universal dominion for the Church, solemnly excommuni- 
 cated King Henry, one of the most powerful and spirited monarchs 
 of Germany and Italy, who had resisted the papal claims. In the 
 presence of Henry's own mother, and of the assembled synod of 
 cardinals and bishops. Pope Hildebrand, lifting up his eyes to 
 heaven, invoked the holy Peter to hear, and *' Mary, the mother 
 of God,'' and the blessed Paul, and all the saints to bear witness, 
 " while for the honor and defense of Christ's church, in the name 
 of the sacred Trinity, and by the power and authority of Peter, 
 he interdicted to King Henry, son of Henry the Emperor, the 
 government of the whole realm of Germany and Italy, absolved 
 all Christians from their oaths of allegiance to him, and bound 
 him with the bond of anathema, that the nations may know and 
 acknowledge that thou art Peter, and that upon this rock the Son 
 of the living God hath built his church, and that the gates of hell 
 shall not prevail against it^ 
 
 Hildebrand, according to the uniform testimony of Catholic 
 writers, was one of the greatest and best of the Popes. Pro- 
 foundly pious in his way, earnest and devout beyond all his con- 
 temporaries, he united the loftiest ambition with the most con- 
 summate abihty and spirit of command. He subjugated Chris- 
 tendom to his will. Kings trembled at his nod. His sway was 
 wider and more magnificent than that of the Caesars. Indeed, 
 he came near realizing the grand idea of the Roman Catholic 
 Church, the establishment of a universal theocracy, administered 
 by the priests of Rome ! On this ground he has been styled the 
 Czar Peter of the church, the Jupiter Ecclesiasticus of Europe. 
 
260 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 In his reign culminated the glory and dominion of the Papal 
 power. 
 
 His excommunication of Henry was one of the most daring 
 acts of priestly ambitio'n ; so daring, indeed, that it claims our 
 admiration, as an act of the sublimest heroism. Resounding 
 throughout Italy and Germany, it aroused the fiercest passions, 
 the wildest commotions. Resisted everywhere, it yet worked its 
 dread purpose. Henry, with all the might and splendor of his 
 extensive and powerful rule, at last yielded to its force. Heaven 
 and earth conspired against him. His haughty spirit bent itself 
 to the dust. 
 
 Humbly, and as a penitent, he came to Canossa, in the Apen- 
 nines, where Hildebrand, with Matilda of Tuscany, the friend and 
 protector of the Papal See, held his court, to ask forgiveness of 
 the haughty pontiff. But, although surrounded by the greatest 
 princes of Italy, who owed allegiance to the Emperor, Gregory 
 turned, or affected to turn, a deaf ear to his entreaties. His hum- 
 blest concessions were spurned, his unbounded acknowledgments 
 of the sacerdotal authority over the kings and princes of the earth 
 were contemned. 
 
 Day after day, notwithstanding the intercessions of the Prin- 
 cess Matilda, Pope Hildebrand held the penitent Henry at a dis- 
 tance ; but at last, when all entreaties for reconcilement must 
 have given place to indignation and revenge, he consented reluc- 
 tantly to offer his priestly pardon *' on the condition that Henry' 
 would surrender into his hands the custody of the crown, the 
 sceptre, and the other signs of royalty, and acknowledge himself 
 imworthy to bear the royal title.'' But this was too much. The 
 heart of the sovereign was not yet abject enough to suffer so fla- 
 grant a wrong. 
 
 What was spared to the sovereign, was inflicted on the man. 
 In the end of January, the streams arrested by ice, and the 
 
PIUS NINTH. 261 
 
 earth covered with snow, Henry, the descendant of Charlemagne, 
 and the sovereign of a mighty empire, clad in a thin, penitential 
 garment, and barefooted, dragged himself along the rocky path 
 which led to the outer gate of the frowning fortress of Canossa. 
 There, an object of wonder, contempt and pity to the assembled 
 crowd gazmg with strange and painful curiosity upon the noble 
 features and majestic form of the degraded monarch, he stood, 
 after passing the first and second gateway, before the third, inex- 
 orably closed against him, not only till the dawning of the suc- 
 ceeding day, but for three successive days, devoured with shame, 
 and faint with hunger and cold. 
 
 Yielding at last, this vicar of the compassionate Redeemer, 
 and successor of the humble fisherman of Galilee, at last con- 
 ceded an interview to the wretched monarch, who " prostrated 
 himself in more than servile deference before the diminutive and 
 emaciated old man, from the terrible grace of whose countenance, 
 we are told, the eye of every beholder recoiled as the lightning." 
 Hunger, cold and nakedness had for the moniient crushed that 
 haughty spirit, who wept and cried for mercy, renewing his en- 
 treaties, until he had reached the lowest point of human degra- 
 dation. Then, but not till then, did the Pope condescend to^ re- 
 voke the anathema of the church. 
 
 In the year of our Lord 1848, on the night of the 24th of 
 ISTovember, Pope Pius the Ninth, to whom the Italian patriots, 
 the whole church Catholic, and most of the liberal nations of 
 Europe, and even the United States sang pseans, as the father 
 of his country and the regenerator of Italy, compelled by the 
 fury of his own subjects, fled from Rome, in a garb most un- 
 seemly for an arch-priest of the holy Catholic Church, " becloaked 
 and bewhiskered," like the meanest poltroon, and never rested 
 till he found refuge under the banner of his well-beloved son. 
 
262 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Ferdinand of Naples, whose hands yet reeked with the blood of 
 murdered freemen ! 
 
 His prime minister, Count Rossi, one of the ablest politicians 
 of his time, was assassinated at the foot of the palace steps, with 
 ^'no'ne so poor to do him reverence," or revenge his death; the 
 Pope was bombarded in the palace of the Quirinal ; and his sec- 
 retary shot through the head by the cannon of the populace. 
 Forsaken not only by his own children, over whom he was called 
 to reign as priest and king, but abandoned by most of his cardi- 
 nals and church dignitaries, he bade farewell to the tomb of St. 
 Peter and the glories of the Vatican, and thus virtually abdi- 
 cated the dominion of the Papal States. 
 
 From his retreat at Gaeta he thunders excommunications against 
 the rebels, as he calls them ; but so far from being alarmed, they 
 treat them with cool contempt ! 
 
 " Haud mutoMs ah illo r How changed from the Pope of the 
 eleventh century, who set his foot upon kings, and swayed his 
 double sceptre over the nations ! Well may we exclaim : " How 
 art thou fallen, Lucifer, son of the morning !'* 
 
 But Pope Pius the Ninth is an honest man — is he not ? Pro- 
 bably he is. A good man ? We hope so. A man of lofty views 
 and generous impulses ? They say so. He loves his people, 
 and has done them service ? We have no reason to doubt it. 
 He gave them a constitution, such as it was, and established him- 
 self in their heart of hearts ? Yes, undoubtedly ; but what of all 
 that now ? You say he is the strongest ; and we reply he is the 
 weakest of all the popes. He attempted a reform, but it turned out 
 a revolution. Peace was his aim, war is the result. He dreamed 
 of a theocracy, at least in Italy, but he has lost his crown. A 
 noble, kindly man, they say ; shrewd withal, well versed in politics, 
 and the ways of the world, inclined to be generous, and willing to 
 introduce reforms, not into the church, for that is infallible like 
 
PIU.S NJNTH. 263 
 
 himself, but into the state. Good, very good, so far as it goes; 
 but the question is, How far can it go, without inflicting upon the 
 Papal church a fatal wound ? 
 
 Rome papal is weak — has been growing weaker and weaker 
 for ages. Active at the extremities, it is dead at the heart. Her 
 power has departed. Nothing of mystery or of dread, as in the 
 Middle Ages, attaches to her name. She no longer rules the 
 world ; no, not even Italy. Her whole system of political and 
 ecclesiastical dominion has become effete ; one powerful stroke 
 from without or from within will dash it to pieces. The Pope, 
 the symbol and centre of Catholic power, no longer rules. He 
 cannot even control his own people. *' Othello's occupation's 
 gone !" A wise man, and a worthy priest, they say ; but a sacerdo- 
 tal king, never ! The glory has departed ; Pope Pius the Ninth, 
 with all his goodness and talent, is a mere plaything in the hands 
 of the people. It is the image of Jupiter, but not Jupiter him- 
 self. At all events it is not Jupiter Tonans ! 
 
 But to understand the real position of things at Rome, we must 
 go back a little, and give some account not only of Pius Ninth, 
 but of his predecessor, Gregory Sixteenth. 
 
 In the year 1831, the Papal conclave, after a confinement of 
 fifty-six days, during which time they had balloted and counter- 
 balloted for a worthy successor of St. Peter, at last, by the voice 
 of the Cardinal Dean, announced an election in the following 
 manner : " Magnum vobis annuncio gaudium. Habemus Pa- 
 pam, Dominum Cardinalem Capellari qui sibi nomen assumpsit 
 Gregorium XVI!" Never was a more unfortunate choice, though 
 the result of such a long succession of ballotings, and the pres- 
 ence, as claimed by the conclave, of an infallible Spirit ! Cardi- 
 nal Capellari, a native of Belluno, born a Venetian, and an 
 Austrian subject, had led the life of a recluse. In consequence 
 of some distinction as a theologian, and his success in a negotia- 
 
264 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 tion on behalf of tlii Papal court, he had been raised to the dig- 
 nity of cardinal; but he possessed no force of character, no 
 knowledge of affairs. A mere monk, advanced in life, feeble and 
 timid, he was utterly incapable of discharging the duties of the 
 pontificate, at a time, especially, of great political excitement and 
 financial depression. Narrow and bigoted also, in his religious 
 views, he dreaded liberty and detested science as the greatest of 
 all evils. In his encyclical letter of the year 1832, he describes lib- 
 erty of conscience as *' that most pestilent error,'' and denounces the 
 liberty of the press, as '* that worst and never enough to be execrat- 
 ed and detestable evil." His whole pontificate consisted of a series 
 of mistakes. The evils under which the Papal States groaned at his 
 acccc;bion were aggravated ; justice was badly administered ; the 
 people were oppressed ; science and freedom were proscribed. 
 The dungeons were filled with state prisoners, and thousands of 
 the noblest citizens were driven into foreign exile. Averse to 
 business and timid to excess, with low and carnal appetites, and 
 habits of indolence, he was preserved from deposition only by 
 the strong arm of the Swiss guards and Austrian bayonets. In 
 a word, he was thoroughly detested by his people, and contemned 
 by foreign nations. On this account his death was hailed with 
 secret rejoicings. When he was crowned, he distributed copper 
 coins to the populace, saying : "Silver and gold have I none, 
 but such as I have give I unto thee." At his death he left 
 money and personal property to the amount of two millions of 
 dollars to his nephews and nieces ; for of course none of the Popes 
 have any direct heirs. He was in the habit of receiving from the 
 French, and other governments, large presents of champagne and 
 other wines, when they wanted any favors from him ; and his 
 cellar, after his death, contained, it is said, twelve thousand bot- 
 tles of choice wines, since sold by the order of his more a^bstemi- 
 ous successor. This circumstance was made the subject of the 
 
GREGORY XVI. 265 
 
 following pasquinade in Rome at the time of Gregory's death. 
 It represents the deceased knocking for admittance at the gate of 
 Paradise. 
 
 " Who wishes to enter ?" asks St. Peter. 
 
 " Gregory, your successor at Rome.'* 
 
 "But," repUes St. Peter, ** Gregory the Great died and came 
 here a long time ago. Who are you, that have taken his name ?" 
 
 '' Why, they called me at Rome Gregory Bevone, (Gregory 
 the Tippler!") 
 
 '' Oh, I have heard of you ; come in." 
 
 This shows the spirit of the Roman populace, and their estimate 
 of Gregory Sixteenth. But the following, which appeared at the 
 same time, is still more expressive, and withal of keener wit. 
 
 St. Peter and Gregory are represented as going to Paradise. 
 The journey being hard and tedious for an aged man, he com- 
 plains to St. Peter thus : 
 
 '* How is it, St. Peter, that our journey is so long ? I did not 
 know that Paradise v/as so far from the Vatican^ 
 
 St. Peter replies, '' If you had allowed the construction of rail- 
 ways and steamers in your states, we should have arrived long 
 ago ; but now you must stop for a while in purgatory." 
 
 After remaining some months in purgatory, where (as the story 
 goes) he met his friend, Daniel O'Connell ! Gregory set out with 
 St. Peter again on his eternal journey. Coming in view of Para- 
 dise, the Pope asks St. Peter, '^ why the angels and his last prede- 
 cessors in the papal chair did not come out to meet him ?" 
 
 " Dear Gregory," replies St. Peter, '' as for the Popes there 
 are few of them in heaven, and the news of your death has not 
 reached there ; as it would have done had you estabhshed tele- 
 graphs, and granted i\iQ freedom of the press T 
 
 When the saint and the Pope arrive at the gates of Paradise, 
 St. Peter asks Gregory for his key, which after some time the 
 12 
 
266 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Pope finds and hands to him, but it proves to be the Jcey of his 
 wine-cellar. 
 
 Presently St. Peter is admitted within the gates, but Gregory 
 somehow is lost in the fog. 
 
 If these pasquinades fail to give an idea of the wretched odor 
 in which Pope Gregory Sixteenth was held at Rome, a single 
 quotation from the Marquis Azeglio, a Piedmontese nobleman, of 
 fine talents and liberal views, who has written several works on 
 Italy, and longs for the regeneration of his country, will put this 
 matter in a clearer light. Addressing the Pope, in 1845, he 
 says : '' Of the risings of Romagna, of those slaughters, those 
 exiles, of the tears of so many unhappy persons, you will have to 
 render an account to God — you, their governor, and not your 
 wretched subjects, trodden under your feet. Their blood will be 
 rained down on your head ; their sorrows, their tears, will be 
 judged of by that • tribunal before which there come neither 
 crowns nor sceptres nor tiaras — things which have mouldered in 
 the grave — but where only is presented the naked human soul, 
 with no safeguard against the sword of eternal justice, but the 
 shield of its own innocence ; where your deeds will be weighed 
 in those incorruptible scales, in which the least of injuries done to 
 the least of men, weighs heavier than all the thrones and all the 
 sceptres of the universe.'"^ 
 
 When the funeral obsequies of the deceased Pope were com- 
 pleted, the cardinals entered into solemn conclave for the election 
 of a new Pope. The greatest excitement prevailed in Rome. 
 Threatening handbills were posted upon the walls. A strong 
 commotion pervaded the provinces. Bands of young men ex- 
 
 * Degli Ultimi Casi di Romagna. In connection with the Marquis Aze- 
 glio may be mentioned the name of Count Balbo, author of an elegant work 
 entitled " I Speranze delFItalia" — The Hopes of Italy. 
 
PIUS NINTH. 261 
 
 claimed, '' We wish for no Pope I No Pope !" In fact, the 
 people were ready for insurrection, unless some one should be 
 elected who might be satisfactory to their wishes. What then was 
 their astonishment, when after a session of some two or three days, 
 it was announced from the Quirinal that Mastai Ferreti, Bishop of 
 Imola, one of the youngest and most liberal of the cardinals, was 
 chosen Pope, and that he had assumed the propitious name of 
 Pius Ninth ! Descended from a noble and popular family, with a 
 reputation for liberal views and charitable dispositions, his elec- 
 tion was hailed with the highest demonstrations of joy. Hope 
 had already sprung up in the hearts of the people. They re- 
 joiced in the prospect of some amelioration of their sad condition. 
 Rome was illuminated, and the name of Pius the Ninth was 
 hailed with universal vivas !^ 
 
 At his election, Pius IX. was 54 years of age, and little known 
 beyond his small diocese of Imola, with no reputation for politi- 
 cal sagacity, talent or learning. He was supposed to be amiable 
 and patriotic, a true Italian, of enhghtened and liberal views. The 
 circumstances under which he was elected pledged him to a line 
 of policy the reverse of that of his predecessors. His first act 
 was a political amnesty, a common thing at the accession of a 
 pope ; indeed a measure of absolute necessity under the circum- 
 stances, yet one in this instance of peculiar significance, for by 
 this means no less than six thousand prisoners obtained their 
 freedom ! It was necessary we say, but was it wise ? Indeed it 
 was far too indiscriminate to be wise. But it could not be helped, 
 and it was hailed with universal joy. 
 
 A constitution, too, was promised the people. A year elapsed, 
 during which murmurs respecting its delay might everywhere be 
 heard ; it was finally granted ; but under singular restrictions. 
 
 * Pius IX. was elected 16th June, 1846. 
 
268 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 The pope was yet to be supreme in everything, and the people 
 must not cherish extravagant expectations. The freedom of the 
 press was also conceded, but with a censorship to restrict it ! 
 Nay, more, a board of common-school education was appointed, 
 and something done for the instruction of the people. Civihties 
 and compliments passed between the pontiff and his subjects: 
 fine promises on the one hand ; vivas and illuminations on the other. 
 The people grew bolder and bolder, insisted that the government 
 and finances should be administered not by priests but by laymen, 
 and that the Pope should declare war against Austria, and unite 
 with Lombardy and Piedmont in driving the hated Teutons be- 
 yond the Alps. 
 
 It was then that Pius Ninth began to hesitate and draw back. 
 He had gone too far. He was a minister of peace ; the roar of 
 battle sounded in his ears, and he trembled. Above all he could 
 not fight against his own children. The papacy itself was en- 
 dangered. He must rather disappoint his subjects than hazard 
 the unity and perpetuity of the Church. Then the people were 
 enraged — the government resigned, and the mob talked in no 
 gentle terms of the abdication of the Pope. He held out long 
 and courageously, but at last was compelled to yield. Then 
 again Pius enjoyed a brief respite, and received the congratula- 
 tions of the people. But they soon discovered that he was not 
 altogether sincere in the matter, and again their clamors and 
 curses resounded among the hills of Rome. 
 
 One of the most significant events which occurred previous to 
 the late revolution, was the banishment of the Jesuits. It is well 
 known that at the commencement of his pontificate, Pius Ninth 
 showed great regard for the Jesuits. Enthusiastic accounts 
 reached us of the solemn and fervid manner in which he assisted 
 at high mass, in their principal church at Rome, and of his going 
 into their monasteries to assure them of his confidence and afFec- 
 
PIUS NINTH. 269 
 
 tion. He declared, with his predecessor Pius Seventh, that these 
 monks were '' the strong and experienced oarsmen who kept from 
 shipwreck the bark of St. Peter." Indeed the reputation of the 
 Pope was thrown as a shield over the Jesuits, and succeeded, for a 
 time, in protecting them from popular fury. In this respect Pius 
 was right ; for after all that has been said of them, the Jesuits 
 are the best and strongest defenders of the Papal Church. Of 
 all the monks, they are the most vigorous and devoted. It is 
 only where they are entertained, that the Church possesses much 
 stability and power. But of all places, there is none in which 
 they are held in more complete abhorrence than in the capital 
 of Catholic Christendom, the seat and centre of their influence. 
 The citizens said to one another : " These monks are worthless ; 
 we abhor them, but we will not drive them away, because it will 
 give pain to our excellent Pius Ninth." Astonishing forbearance ! 
 — but how long will it last ? 
 
 When the other States of Italy, Sardinia, Tuscany, and even 
 Naples, had expelled the disciples of Loyola, the citizens of Rome 
 could not resist the impulse, and began to make demonstrations 
 against them. Every night tumults occurred around the convents, 
 threats were made of setting fire to the buildings, if they did not 
 hasten to quit Rome, and the fierce cry of Down with the Jesuits ! 
 Down with the Jesuits ! resounded through the streets. 
 
 Pius Ninth was shocked, and made the greatest efibrts to pa- 
 cify the people. He issued proclamations from the Vatican, in 
 which he employed alternately the language of authority and 
 entreaty. He begged, he entreated his subjects, in the name of 
 the holy Catholic religion, not to attack the Jesuits, declaring that 
 they were very respectable, very pious men, ** men after his own 
 heart," who labored faithfully for the glory of Cod and the good 
 of the Church. He added, that if gentle means failed, he was re- 
 solved to punish the rioters that if the demonstrations against the 
 
270 GENIU.^ OF ITALY. 
 
 Jesuits were continued, the authors of such crimes should be con- 
 demned by the courts. 
 
 In a few days the pontifical proclamations succeeded in quiet- 
 ing the public irritation ; but it was only a lull in a tempest. The 
 anti-jesuit movement broke out afresh, and with redoubled fury. 
 The civic guard who protected the convents declared they were 
 tired of the service. The different circles or clubs of Rome sent 
 delegates to the prefect of police, to say that if the Jesuits did 
 not immediately leave, the public peace would be seriously en- 
 dangered. Scenes of disorder even occurred in the churches. 
 The appearance of a Jesuit in the pulpit excited murmurs of dis- 
 approbation. Down with the Jesuits ! — rang under the shadow of 
 St. Peter's, and the arches of the Vatican. 
 
 The popular current grew too strong even for the Pope, and on 
 the 29th of March, 1848, he requested the General of the Order, 
 Roothan, to retire with the Jesuits ; and the following day the 
 official gazette announced the event in the following significant 
 style : *' His Holiness, who has ever looked with favor upon 
 these servants of the Church, as unwearied fellow-laborers in the 
 vineyard of the Lord, is bitterly grieved at this unhappy event. 
 However, considering the growing excitement, and the numerous 
 parties which threaten serious trouble, the Pope has been forced 
 to look at these dangers. He has therefore made known, to the 
 Father- General of the company, his sentiments, as well as the 
 concern he feels, on account of the difficulty of the times and the 
 prospect of serious disturbance. Upon this announcement, the 
 Father- General, after advising with his. councillors, resolved to 
 yield to the force of circumstances, fearing lest their presence 
 would serve as a pretext to tumult and bloodshed." 
 
 It was not the people, but their rulers, that forced Clement 
 Fourteenth, Pope Ganganelli, to banish the Jesuits ; and so they 
 soon returned to Rome> and other countries from which they had 
 
PIUS NINTH. 2Hl 
 
 been driven, stronger and more numerous than ever, thus fulfiUing 
 the prediction of Francis Borgia, third general of the order, who 
 said three centuries ago : *' We are come hke lambs ; we govern 
 like wolves ; the nations will hunt us like dogs ; but we shall re- 
 new our youth like the eagles." But in the present instance it 
 was the people who demanded their expulsion. They pretended to 
 revere the Pope, but they compelled him to obey their will. 
 
 Change upon change, struggle upon struggle ensued. The 
 conduct of the Pope was uncertain and vacillating. The people 
 lost all reverence, all affection. Italy resounded with complaints 
 against poor Pio l^ono, who strengthened himself as best he could. 
 Austria must be propitiated ; but how could the Pope do this 
 without exasperating his people ? Count Rossi, a politician of 
 the Guizot school, a Frenchman, and on that account obnoxious 
 to the lovers of Italian nationality, but a man of moderate views 
 and stern decision, who had done good service to Italy and the 
 cause of the Papal church, was raised to the office of prime 
 minister. He pursued his course calmly and decisively, set the 
 people at defiance, and kept the liberals at bay. 
 
 But instantly, and when least expected, the assassin's poignard 
 is at the throat of Count Bossi, and the people approve the act ! 
 The tocsin of revolution resounds through the city. The roar of 
 cannon is heard before the Quirinal. Pope Pius flees. A pro- 
 visional government is formed. Messengers are sent to the Pope 
 to procure his return ; but they are not even permitted to see 
 Jiim. At any rate their mission is unsuccessful. Pius Ninth de- 
 nounces the provisional government, and excommunicates the 
 rebels. The people accept the alternative. A hundred and one 
 guns from the Castle of St. Angelo, booming one after another 
 over the hills of Rome, announce to the metropolis and the world 
 that the dynasty which had reigned over Rome for ten hundred 
 and forty-eight years has come to a close. The great bell of the 
 
272 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Capitol, whicli strikes only at the death of a Pope, peals sol- 
 emnly, as if sounding the requiem of Papal rule. It was exactly 
 on the 24th of November (the night of the fatal flight of Pius 
 Ninth) that, in the year of our Lord eight hundred, Charlemagne 
 appeared in Kome to be crowned on Christmas by the hands of 
 Leo Third, and to institute and formally confirm the donation of 
 Pepin, by the erection of the Papal sovereignty. 
 
 Rome, of course, is in a wretched condition. Poor and bank- 
 rupt, it is even now a prey to contending parties ; and whether 
 any permanent independent government can be established, is at 
 present quite uncertain. The Pope appeals to France and Aus- 
 tria (rare conjunction !) to restore him to the tomb of St. Peter 
 and the bosom of his flock ! He has our sincerest pity ; for what 
 could he do ? He had gone too far. The interests of the Church 
 were clashing with the interests of the State. Triumphant Aus- 
 tria, with her foot in the stirrup, threatened an everlasting 
 schism in the Church, and not only so, but was preparing to dash 
 into the very heart of Rome, and force his Holiness and the Ro- 
 man States into submission to her purposes. To displease Aus- 
 tria was to divide and distract the Church, cut off the right arm 
 of its strength, and expose even the temporal power of the Po|}e- 
 dom to possible destruction. The liberals demanded national 
 unity, opposition to Austria, and independence of all foreign con- 
 trol. To gain this, Rome, as well as Tuscany and Sardinia, must 
 fight, and fight to the death. The poor Pope was willing to do 
 his best for both, anxious to save his temporal and spirituaj 
 powers at the same time ; nay, more, ready to make the greatest 
 sacrifices ; for we yet believe him to be an honest, though weak 
 and vacillating man ; but he could not serve two masters ; he 
 must either hate the one or despise the other ; either sacrifice 
 the affection of Austria, or the aff'ection of Italy. And as Austria 
 happens to be the strongest, he wisely chose, for the sake of the 
 
PIUS NINTH. 273 
 
 Church, (what else could he do?) to cleave to Austria and aban- 
 don Italy. 
 
 That he will be restored somehow to his place in Rome, if not 
 as a sovereign, at least as a pope, we certainly anticipate. Wheth- 
 er by a reaction or counter-revolution at the Capitol, or by the 
 intervention of foreign powers, we cannot tell ; but in a short time 
 we expect to see him safely lodged in his palace on Monte Ca- 
 vallo, temporizing it may be, with Roman liberals, or denouncing 
 against them the vengeance of Heaven ! But the instant this is 
 done, he bows his neck to Austria, or some other power, and 
 loses all his influence in his native land. It is possible, indeed, 
 that he may establish his residence somewhere else, in which case 
 his spiritual supremacy, and the consequent unity of the Papal 
 church, will be seriously endangered. 
 
 These are significant events, and what will be their issue, may 
 be guessed, but not certainly foretold. The dial of the world 
 cannot well go back. Reaction and restoration even of old and 
 despotic forms of government, will not essentially check the march 
 of revolution. It is too late to bring back the dark ages. The 
 Rome of yesterday is forgotten. A new Rome is rising in every 
 part of the world, a new society, and a new age. The day of 
 Pius Ninth has passed forever. He may reign as Pontifex Maxi- 
 mus of the Papal church ; but only the shadow of his former 
 self, a mere echo of the man who seemed destined to sway a 
 double sceptre over the destinies of Italy and of the world. The 
 wand of the enchanter is broken, and even his own myrmidons^ 
 laugh him to scorn. 
 
 But do these Roman liberals, these Italian patriots, really un- 
 derstand the nature and genius of a true and orderly freedom ? 
 We think not. They have worn their fetters too long for that. 
 They have too little knowledge of the Bible, too little love of 
 truth and virtue, to appreciate its high and heavenly nature. But 
 12^ 
 
274 GENIW OP ITALY. 
 
 they possess the undying instinct, the quenchless love of liberty. 
 Time and the Gospel are the great teachers ; and, by and by, 
 they will understand it, and not only so, but possess it too. The 
 song of freedom shall yet ring from the Alps to the Apennines, 
 from the green plains of Lombardy to the sunny groves of Naples 
 and Sicily. Italy, torn and bleeding, as in years gone by, is des- 
 tined, we believe, to a rare and lasting heritage of blessing. But 
 no heritage of this kind can be secured by any people, without 
 long years — nay, sometimes ages of toil and discipline. It comes 
 as the purchase of tears and blood, of agony and prayer. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Gioberti, " The Prophet of Italy" — Theocratic views — Reception in Italy — 
 •Effect upon Charles Albert, Marquis Azeglio and others — Their effect on 
 Pius iN'inth — Their probable fate — Father Ventura — His character and 
 relations to Pius Ninth — His eloquence — Views and influence — Funeral 
 Sermon for O'Connell — Problem of Gioberti, Ventura and Pius Ninth — 
 Anticipated Fall of the Papacy. 
 
 One of the most powerful and influential writers in Italy at the 
 present time is Yicenzo Gioberti, a native of Piedmont, '' a monk 
 by profession and a philosopher by choice." His speculations are 
 exceedingly popular at Turin, and are said to have exerted a 
 great influence over Pius Ninth. Indeed, all Italy has hailed him 
 as its prophet and teacher. His shrew^d conjectures, or rather 
 extravagant hopes, were for a time partially realized ; his works, 
 therefore, have been received as a sort of new political revelation. 
 A chaplain at the court of Sardinia, he became obnoxious to the 
 Jesuits, and consequently to the government, at that time entirely 
 controlled by ''the holy Fathers/' on account of his talents and 
 somewhat liberal views. He has written able and elaborate, 
 though not popular works, on philosophy ; for his style happens 
 to be rather prolix and heavy, and by no means adapted to win 
 the public ear. That he has some originality, and a certain air 
 of profundity and earnestness, is conceded b}^ those best ac- 
 quainted with his writings. Banished from Turin, he went to 
 Paris, where he remained some time, in contented poverty, pur- 
 suing his speculations, and writing on Italy ; thence he made his 
 
276 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 way to Brussels, where he published most of his works, in Italian, 
 ostensibly for the benefit of the Belgians, but really for that of his 
 ovvn countrymen. His first great work that attracted much at- 
 tention was the Primato, or the religious, intellectual and politi- 
 cal supremacy of Italy, in which he proposes the formation of 
 Italian nationality, under the theocratic rule of the Pope, with 
 Charles Albert of Sardinia as her secular prince and defender. 
 This was written in the time of Pope Gregory Sixteenth,. when 
 the views of the author might be deemed entirely chimerical and 
 impracticable. It made its way into Italy, and produced there 
 an unusual excitement. Everywhere in Sardinia, Tuscany and 
 liome, the Primato was read with enthusiasm and dehght. 
 
 Charles Albert, who began to grow weary of Jesuitical rule, 
 took up the works of his banished chaplain. They struck a deep 
 chord in his ambitious heart. He revoked the decree of proscrip- 
 tion, invited Gioberti to his court, with the promise of patronage 
 and a pension. Gioberti, at first, declined the honor; he had 
 more to say to his countrymen, and he was afraid of the crafty 
 monarch. Subsequently, however, he accepted the invitation, 
 backed, as it appeared to be, by the unanimous voice of his coun- 
 trymen. His return to Sardinia was a triumphal procession. 
 Everywhere he was accompanied, on his journey, by crowds, 
 shouting. Viva Gioberti ! Viva Gioherti ! He is now understood 
 to be at the head of the liberals at the court of Turin, and is ex- 
 erting: a controllinsf influence in the Chambers. Whether he will 
 mamtain his position in the present peculiar condition of Italian, 
 and especially of Sardinian affairs, is a doubtful matter. The 
 most singular and startling changes, one way or the other, will 
 not much surprise us. 
 
 Gioberti, though favorable to monks in general, has written 
 powerfully against the Jesuits ; and we doubt not his appeals have 
 nad something to do with their recent banishment from Sardinia 
 and Rome. 
 
GIOBERTT. (^11 
 
 The Primato is a sort of half philosophical, half religious and 
 political romance. It is decidedly verbose, but earnest, enthusi- 
 astic and hopeful. It appeals strongly to the national vanity ; 
 for what nation would not be delighted to have it proved, that 
 they were the greatest and most influential people, on the face 
 of the earth. The greatness of Italy he deduces, partly from its 
 being the source of civilization to Europe, but chiefly from its be- 
 ing the centre of the Catholic faith, the only faith, in his view, 
 really universal, authoritative and influential. His system is a 
 theocracy — God, the source of power — and the priesthood of the 
 Roman Catholic church, its dispensers on earth. As to the Ital- 
 ian States, they must become united, as a single nation, under the 
 supremacy of the Pope, who is to be at the head of the Italian 
 league, which is to drive the Austrians from the country, and es- 
 tablish Catholic unity and freedom. Great changes must be made, 
 but without violence, and under the control of the Pope. Every 
 thing must emanate from him as a centre, he being the professor 
 of liberalism, and having for his pupils all the princes of Italy. 
 He contends that Italy is God^s chosen land ; the Italians, God's 
 chosen people ; that the true principle of Italian power is federa- 
 tion, and the true centre of that federation the supreme Pontifi"; 
 that the Roman States are to Italy, what the site of the temple 
 was to the Jewish people ; and Italy to the world, what Pales- 
 tine was in the days of the apostles. Thus the Itahans are to 
 rally around the standard of St. Peter. Hierocracy is to be es- 
 tablished as the basis of all political orders^the priesthood, the 
 centre and element of political power. Although he hates the 
 Jesuits of Italy, who opposed his views, he presents the Jesuits of 
 Paraguay as the beau ideal of a Christian State. *' The priest- 
 hood," says he, '' may rule by dictatorship or by arbitration. Its 
 absolute autocracy is necessary in an imperfect state of civilization. 
 Nothing, therefore, could be more legitimate than the sway exer- 
 
278 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 cised by the pontiffs in the Middle Ages. In progress of time the 
 ' civil conscience* of nations supersedes the necessity of his dictato- 
 rial supremacy. Then the world learns to obey the ' arbitration' or 
 moral influence of the Church. The Pope becomes the organ of 
 universal peace and union, the vindicator of the laws of nations. 
 The continual state of war and anarchy in Europe arose from its 
 rebellion against the paternal primacy. Let the Pope be obeyed, 
 and all mankind will be brethren !" 
 
 Gioberti declares himself favorable to a temperate monarchy, 
 the establishment of councils of state, a representation without an 
 election by the people, and a free press under the control of a 
 clerical censorship ! 
 
 As to the details of government, the theocratic or priestly ele- 
 ment must prevail. The monks, he claims, are, and must be, 
 leaders of pubhc opinion ! Lights of the age, philosophers and 
 thinkers, they are to guide society in the ways of truth, holiness 
 and peace ! Italy, in this respect, is to be the illuminator of the 
 world, the great thinker and philosopher for the nations. *' The 
 human mind walks in England, skips and capers in France, plods 
 and gropes in Germany, soars in Italy !" So says the Italian 
 proverb. Italy, therefore, must take her destined place, as the 
 glory of God, and the liglsl of the world ! 
 
 These views, extravagant; as they are, took with the priests 
 and hberals of Italy, at least with a class of them. Count Balbo 
 and the Marquis A^zeglio adopted them as their own. Charles 
 Albert, of Sardinia, made them the polar star of his new political 
 creed ; and last, though not least. Pope Pius the ISTinth received 
 them with enthusiam, and attempted their realization in his own 
 iliustrious person. Gioberti's league was formed ; the Pope put 
 himself for a time at the head of the movement, Charles Albert 
 attempted to drive the Austrians from the country, and secure 
 the government of Upper Italy ; and a considerable majority of 
 
 to 
 
VENTURA. 279 
 
 the Italian priests and bishops sanctioned the scheme. Is it sur- 
 prising that Gioberti should have been hailed as the philosopher 
 and prophet of his country, and that Pope Pius the Ninth should 
 have placed himself under the guidance of his principles ? For, 
 what is to be the result ? The aggrandizement of the papacy, 
 the enthronement of priestly power, the Catholic unity and fed- 
 eration of all the Italian States. 
 
 But the whole is a dream, and even now is dissolving, like the 
 baseless fabric of a vision ! Yet there is something about it gen- 
 erous and heart-inspiring ; and we can only hope that some good 
 will come out of ** the wreck" which it may leave behind. 
 
 In connection with Gioberti, the name of Father Ventura, the 
 distinguished Theatine preacher, and especial favorite of the Pope, 
 suggests itself. At the present time, this Abbate is one of the 
 most popular men in Italy. As a preacher, he is unrivalled in 
 that country. Of a warm southern temperament and glowing 
 imagination, he agitates the people like a tribune of ancient Rome. 
 In this respect, he strikingly resembles Lacordaire, the celebrated 
 Dominican preacher at Paris. Of a dark complexion, well-formed 
 and expressive features, lofty forehead and burning eyes, with a 
 complete mastery of impassioned and popular eloquence, he takes 
 captive the senses and imagination of his hearers. His voice is 
 clear and energetic, thrilling and vibrating, like the shrill tones of 
 a trumpet ; his gesture vehement and impassioned ; and his lan- 
 guage clear, full and fiery, like a torrent of burning lava, from 
 the crater of Vesuvius. With something of the energy and en- 
 thusiasm of Peter the Hermit, this eloquent monk has thrown 
 himself into the grand movement of Italian hberahsm, extols to 
 the skies Pope Pius the Ninth, and proclaims the avatar of a new 
 Cathohc freedom. In a word, he has adopted the views of Gio- 
 berti, and urges the union of papal sovereignty with national re- 
 form. " Pius Ninth," he says, in one of his discourses, " has rec- 
 
280 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 onciled obedience and authority, freedom and order, reason and 
 faith, the world and the church." On this ground, he adds, 
 *' the Pope has assured to the See of Rome unlimited conquests , 
 iineqiialled glory. ''^'^ In another discourse, he describes the hberty 
 movement in Italy as analogous to the eventful scenes of the Re- 
 formation. '' Then in the sixteenth century," he says, **the scan- 
 dal of the church having descended increasingly from ages, had 
 accumulated to such an intensity of offense, that mankind felt the 
 need of reformation." This the Reformers offered, and they were 
 hailed with acclamation. When the Church saw this, she pro 
 posed what he styles a true reformation, and, according to him, 
 the • Lutheran Reformation ceased to make progress. And now 
 he adds, through the mistakes and corruptions of the government, 
 (Rome among the rest,) the people feel the need of liberty, and 
 he warns the government, *' to grant what otherwise will soon be 
 wrenched from their desperate and pitiful clutch !" 
 
 The pohcy of Rome is not to lead, but to follow the age. If 
 aristocracy is in the ascendency, then she is aristocratic — if de- 
 mocracy, then she is democratic. Whatever happens, she must 
 be supreme and all-controlling. These, then, according to 
 Father Ventura, must be united ; and Rome Papal will gain 
 new triumphs. In this view the following passage is most signifi- 
 cant: 
 
 '' The Church which does not disdain, but seeks after, which 
 does not despise, but receives and sanctifies everything which has 
 force and life, turned towards the barbarian, whose hand had 
 done justice to the misery and faults of the Roman empire ; she 
 washed his head with a little water, anointed his brow with a little 
 oil, and performed the miracle of the Christian monarchy. If then 
 one day the successors of the barbarian chiefs suffer themselves to 
 
 * Haw completely falsified by recent events 1 
 
VENTURA. 281 
 
 be penetrated by the pagan element, essentially despotic, renouncing 
 the Christian element, essentially free, because it is wholly charity, 
 and will no longer comprehend the doctrine of the religious liberty 
 of the people, and of the independence of the Church, which con- 
 stituted the security and glory of their ancestors, the Church 
 will still know how to pass by them ; she will turn towards de- 
 mocracy ; she will baptize that heroine savage ; she will make her 
 Christian, as she has already made the barbarian Christian ; she 
 will impress upon her brow the seal of her divine consecration, 
 and will say to her, reign ! and she shall reign J^ 
 
 Of course. Father Ventura does not relish Protestant democra- 
 cy, the fruit of the Reformation, and the glory of England and 
 America. That, as yet, is barbarous and unbaptized. Speaking 
 of O'Connell, who had made a speech against Protestant claims, 
 he utters the following magniloquent nonsense : " E'ever," says 
 he, " was placed in a more conspicuous light the shameful origin 
 of the * Reformation,' the beastly nature of its author, the disso- 
 luteness of its apostles, the blasphemies and contradictions of its 
 doctrines, the baseness of its manoeuvres, the hypocrisy of its 
 promises, the turpitude of its motives, the iniquity of its spoliation, 
 the cruelty of its massacres, the horror of its sacrileges, and the 
 mighty misfortunes which it has brought upon the loveliest coun- 
 tries of Europe !" Living in Italy, under the shadow of the Vati- 
 can, with no enlarged and hberal acquaintance with the real 
 workings of Protestantism, Father Ventura has many crude and 
 narrow notions, of which the above is one of the worst specimens. 
 He forgets, in the heat and furor of his oratory, that while Italy 
 is the most wretched of all the kingdoms in Europe, England and 
 Scotland, Prussia and Holland, the very centres of Protestantism, 
 are the richest and strongest by far. But impassioned, and es- 
 pecially Italian orators, are apt to take counsel only of their 
 imagination, and give to airy nothings a local habitation and a 
 
282 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 name. Italy has a great appearance of devotion ; that is to say, 
 her churches, processions and ceremonies are numerous and im- 
 posing ; but the hfe and energy of true rehgion is extinct. For 
 what is that devotion, or religion good for, which does not trans- 
 form and elevate the national character, giving it strength, order 
 and peace ? It may be a name, an appearance, a form, resplen- 
 dent as the stars of heaven, but it is nothing more. An honest, 
 plain-spoken man would be apt to call it a magnificent sham. In 
 fact, we greatly fear, that much of the religion of Italy is a thing 
 simply to be seen, like the hired originals of those Italian pictures 
 which are sometimes sent to this country. ''Every American 
 artist that comes here," s-ays a correspondent of the I^ew York 
 Mirror, " sends home a dozen or two of the beggars, in the char- 
 acter of apostles or Virgin Marys. A sturdy old fellow who 
 blacks my boots tells me he has been painted twenty-eight times in 
 the character of St. Paul, thirteen times as St. Peter — he cannot 
 remember how many times as ' Roman Father,' and as ' the Head 
 of the Old Man' at least a thousand times. One would think that 
 from assuming these characters so often, he would have attained 
 to uncommon sanctity, but he is in truth the greatest rogue that 
 I have ever seen in Italy. 
 
 '' The rascal prides himself a good deal on being sent so often 
 to America, and the other day he told me that he believed there 
 was not a gentleman's parlor in my country in which he or one 
 of his family was not hung up in a gilt frame. He said to me 
 yesterday, ' My son and daughter have just been sent to Ameri- 
 ca again, one as 'A Peasant Boy of the Campagna,' and the other 
 as ' a Roman Lady.' Having detected him that week in an attempt 
 to secrete one of my pocket handkerchiefs — to show his contrition 
 he said, he and his daughter (who is quite as great a thief as hei 
 father) would sit to one of ray artist countrymen for a holy fami- 
 ly, if I would promise not to expose him. 'A precious pair you 
 
VENTURA. 283 
 
 are, to be sure, for a holy family!' said I. 'Why, slgnor,' said the 
 rogue, * my religious exp7'ession is worth two cents an hour more 
 than any other man^s in Rome J " 
 
 We must confess, however, that we have a great respect for 
 Father Yentura, and it does our hearts good to hear him, in the 
 city of Rome^ ring eloquent changes on the words, liberty, freedom, 
 and reform ! Something must come out of it, which may yet sur- 
 prise the world. His Funeral Oration for Daniel O'Connell, 
 dehvered at Rome, June 28th, 1847, lies before us, and certainly 
 it is one of the most remarkable productions of the age. It con- 
 tains passages of thrilling eloquence, and its great doctrine may be 
 stated as the union of freedom and religion, of which the life of 
 O'Connell, the champion of the Catholic faith and of Irish eman- 
 cipation, is taken as a model. His description of O'Connell is, as 
 one might expect, exaggerated, but beautiful and touching ; and 
 his appeals to the Roman people to imitate his example, and thus 
 advance the cause of freedom and Catholicism, thrilling and pow- 
 erful. He greatly admires the peaceful principles of the. great 
 Irish agitator, especially his avowed opposition to violent revolu- 
 tions, and urges the same principles upon his Italian brethren. 
 The refrain of the discourse, as it may be termed, is freedom, uni- 
 versal and all-pervading, but freedom with submission to the 
 powers that be, freedom especially with submission to the holy 
 Cathohc and apostolic church. The following is one of the most 
 striking passages, and will illustrate the above remark : 
 
 *' It is true, and I say it with grief, there are yet perhaps 
 among you some disciples of the revolutionary philosophy of the 
 past century — some foolish pedants who labor to realize in Chris- 
 tian Rome the republican theories of pagan Rome, and to apply 
 to society the ideas of the college.'^* It is true that there are 
 
 * Republicanism, according to Father Ventui'a, is pagan. 
 
284 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 some men to wliom, as to the sanguinary men of '93, from whom 
 they have descended, the words, liberty of the people, convey the 
 dark and terrible thought of destruction, and the horrible senti- 
 ment of hatred of monarchy ; but these degenerate citizens, (if 
 the name of citizens can be given to men who meditate the ruin 
 of their country,) are very few in number. The people, the true 
 Roman people, by their spirit of order, of obedience, of love for 
 their sovereign, become the admiration of Europe and of the world, 
 regard with horror these dark artisans of rebellion, and compel 
 them to conceal themselves and their doctrines of disorder and 
 blood. The exquisite good- sense of the people will not permit 
 them to be caught by their snares or hypocrisy. The people 
 comprehend liberty only in connection with order; they do 
 not separate the idea of their own well-being from their obe- 
 dience and fidelity to their sovereign. This people, so good and 
 intelligent, have carried into perfection the doctrine that O'Con- 
 nell has made to be esteemed throughout Europe. To the most 
 scrupulous obedience to law they have joined the enthusiasm of 
 love. They demand, through the means of a kindly agitation, 
 as Ireland demanded by means of a legal agitation, the reform 
 of abuses, which through the effect of time and the passions, as 
 it happens always and everywhere, have altered the nature of 
 the ancient Constitution of the States of the Church, in which or- 
 der and liberty are so well reconciled. And as it is impossible 
 that the language of a people who love him should not be heard 
 by a pontiff full of affections for his people, so it is impossi- 
 ble that hearts which bear such sincere love towards one another 
 should not end by fully understanding one another.^ Rome ! 
 
 * At this part of the dfscourse, the audience, which had scarcely breathed, 
 could not contain their emotion. They were checked, however, by the ora- 
 tor, who reminded them of the sanctity of the place. 
 
VENTURA. - 285 
 
 wliat glory do you prepare for yourself if you properly appre- 
 ciate your position, if you are not stopped in your career, if you 
 are not deceived, if you are not betrayed ! What a fine page 
 you will add to your history ! A page in which posterity will 
 be astonished to read the conquest you made of a wise and true 
 liberty through the means of love alone ! 
 
 " I say of true liberty, for as one description of gold is true 
 and another is false, so there is a true and false liberty. Oh ! 
 how beautiful is the one ! Oh ! how hideous is the other ! How- 
 majestic is the one ! How terrible is the other ! How much the 
 one breathes of grace and peace ! How much the other inspires 
 fear and horror ! The one has adorned its head with the splendid 
 halo of order, the other has covered it with the bloody cap of 
 anarchy. The one holds in its hand the olive-branch of peace, 
 the other the torch of discord. The one is clothed with the 
 white robe of innocence, the other is enveloped in the dark man- 
 tle of crime, soiled with blood. The one is the support of thrones, 
 the other is their ruin. The one is the glory and happiness of 
 the people, the other is its disgrace and scourge. The one is 
 vomited from hell, like the poisoned breath of the spirit of dark- 
 ness, the other descends from heaven like a sweet incarnation of 
 the Spirit of God! Ubi Spiritus Domini ibi Lihertas!^ 
 
 He then proceeds to show that true liberty must proceed from 
 the sanctuary ; that the church can alone proclaim political liberty 
 in fixing the true and just limits of obedience, the true and just 
 rights and duties of the people and of the governing powers. 
 He eulogizes in extravagant terms Pope Pius the Ninth, speaking 
 of him as the Divine Pope, the beloved and adored Pius — that 
 great soul capable of comprehending all the instincts^ all the neces- 
 sities of this religious age — that noble heart so desirous to satisfy 
 
 * " Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.*' 
 
286 ^ GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 them ; dwells with rapture on O'ConnelFs devotion to the Virgin 
 Mary, that *' queen of heaven," that '^ star of the sea," and 
 quotes with exultation his last directions : " My body to Ireland, 
 my heart to Rome, my soul to Heaven !" and exhorts his hearers 
 to imitate the great Liberator of Ireland, to support the pontifical 
 throne, true liberty and the sovereignty of the Church. '* Let us 
 be Christian citizens, and citizen Christians ; let us unite with love 
 of the people love of the Church, and love of liberty with love 
 of religion ; and thus walking in the safe path of the great 
 Christian and the great citizen, for whose soul we pray to-day, 
 and whose memory we honor, we will be partakers of the eternal 
 reward which he will enjoy in heaven ; we will on earth have the 
 glory of deserving well of our country and of religion, and 
 it will be said of us also — Liberavit gentem suam a perditione, 
 et in vita sua corroboravit templum."^ 
 
 The problem then of Gioberti, Ventura and Pius Ninth has 
 been to unite the spirit of freedom with the claims of the Papal 
 church ; the order, superstition and repose of the Middle Ages 
 with the energy, activity and democracy of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury. 
 
 But all this has already been stultified by the strange and start- 
 ling events which have occurred in Rome, and Pius Ninth, with 
 all his good qualities, is an object of contempt and aversion to the 
 great body of the Italian liberals. Even in Italy, Montazio, a 
 Florentine patriot, writes as follows, and thousands of the people 
 sympathize with him. At the close of an article which appeared 
 in Florence under the title " The Pope is Dead," he says : '' The 
 Prince is no longer possible, the Pontiff is impracticable ; the 
 Pope is dead ; and they who shall attempt to resuscitate his body 
 will only cause men the better to see that it is already mortified 
 
 * Spoken of Judas Maccabseus, who rescued the Jews from ruin. 
 
VENTURA. 287 
 
 and fast dissolving into the dust. The Pope is dead — dead by the 
 works of Pius Ninth, the last of pontifical princes. From his 
 ashes will arise not another prince, not another pontiff; but a 
 proper Father among Christians, a true servant of servants to 
 give example to the world of meekness, humility, self-denial and 
 love. The Pope is dead, and with him must die the vanity of 
 the Church, its profane pomp, its corrupt and debasing ceremo- 
 nies, its material idolatries, the cruel travesty of the true faith, the 
 robberies of the goods of the poor and honest, under the names 
 of masses, prebends and benefices.'* 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The Bay and City of Naples — Government and People — Revolution — Coun- 
 ter-Re volution — The Villa Reale — Posilipo — Yirgil's Tomb — Pozzuoii, 
 the ancient Puteoli — Grotto of Posolipo. 
 
 GLiDiNa along the coast of the Mediterranean, after a pleasant 
 sail from Civita Yecchia, at last we catch a glimpse of Vesuvius, 
 covered with a dense mass of clouds. Making a fine curve, we 
 pass the rocky promontories of Sorrento and Miseno, and en- 
 ter the bay of Naples, which opens like a vast amphitheatre, 
 bounded by the city, and the long ranges of volcanic mountains, 
 which all but encircle it with their blackened summits. Unfor- 
 tunately it begins to rain, and the whole surrounding region is 
 enveloped in misty vapor ; a grievous disappointment to those 
 who, for days, have been eagerly anticipating one of the most 
 beautiful sights in the world ! But we keep our station on the 
 deck of the steamer, and wait patiently till it clears away a little, 
 and then strain our eyes to discover the various points of interest 
 in this celebrated locahty. The clouds, however, still hover over 
 the city, and hang, like a hoary crown, upon the head of Mount 
 Vesuvius. A few moments and our highest wishes are gratified ; 
 gratified all the more for being disappointed at first. The clouds 
 suddenly break away, and the sun shines out in full-orbed splen- 
 dor. The city, with its palaces and castles, its long ranges of 
 stuccoed houses and magnificent churches, lying upon the 
 acclivity, and crowning the summits of the hill ; the wide sweep- 
 
NAPLES. 289 
 
 mg bay, with its barges, boats and steamers, sparkling in the 
 sunhght ; Mount Vesuvius, towering to the sky, and still covered 
 with its canopy of clouds ; the long ranges of mountain heights 
 sweeping to the right — all are flooded with golden radiance, and 
 appear, to our delighted vision, like scenes of fairy land. " Beauti- 
 ful! surpassingly beautiful !" exclaims one of our travelling com- 
 panions, to which we give a ready and enthusiastic response. 
 The city of Naples lies upon the margin of the bay, in the form 
 of a semicircle, and gradually spreads itself upon the acclivity 
 behind, crowned by the Castle of St. Elmo, which overlooks the 
 whole. The houses and streets rise, the one above the other, in- 
 terspersed with gardens and trees. Many of the buildings are 
 large and elegant. The palace on one of the heights, and the 
 Nuovo Castello, with various other buildings in a castellated form, 
 are excedingly striking and picturesque, as seen from the bay, 
 and give to the whole city a most imposing and graceful aspect. 
 
 Pleasant it is, on a fine summer afternoon, rapidly to approach 
 this attractive city, becoming more and more distinct, if not more 
 beautiful to the vision, and casting long shadows into the bay, 
 *' so darkly, deeply, beautifully blue." But romance must give 
 way to reality, and we have to submit, with the best grace we 
 can, to a long detention at the custom-house, where our passports 
 are examined, and our luggage ransacked, by a set of rascally 
 looking officials, who politely demand a douceur for the trouble 
 to which they have exposed us ! 
 
 After establishing ourselves in our hotel, making all right, 
 brushing up the outer man, and so forth, we sally forth in the 
 evening, and take a long stroll through the principal street of the 
 city, and along the mole, where crowds of peopl-e are lounging 
 about or sitting on benches, talking and laughing, purchasing 
 eatables, or sipping iced water. From the mole we have some 
 fine v^^ews of the bay and the neighboring mountains. At some 
 13 
 
290 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 distance on the right we can see Pozzuoli, the ancient Puteoli, 
 sacred from the memory of the apostle Paul, and nearer to us the 
 hill of Posilipo, crowned with gardens and villas. It is a clear 
 and placid evening, and we saunter as far as the Villa Reale, 
 the public garden or promenade, which runs along the edge of 
 the bay, and forms a charming retreat from the bustle of the 
 city. From this we intend to take a turn round in another di- 
 rection, so as to reach our hotel by a shorter way. But we are 
 suddenly caught in a tremendous shower of rain, accompanied by 
 the most vivid flashes of lightning. We take refuge with the 
 crowd in a sheltered spot, and are kept there an hour, while the 
 skies empty themselves in torrents. The atmosphere is filled with 
 a sulphureous vapor, as if various noxious gases had exploded in our 
 vicinity. At last we are released, and return to our temporary 
 home through the crowded streets. 
 
 The next day is a charming one ; the more so from the shower 
 of the preceding evening, which has given to the air a peculiar 
 freshness and purity, and shed over the foliage of the trees a 
 deeper green. So out we sally, and explore every nook and 
 corner in and about the city. This takes oflP something of the 
 charm which the view from the bay had imparted to the place, 
 but gives us a livelier conception of its extent and population. 
 Naples has a great appearance both of wealth and poverty ; still 
 the poverty does not seem abject, although it doubtless is so in 
 many cases. It is absolutely astonishing to find upon how httle 
 the common people, and particularly the lazzaroni, can live. The 
 streets are paved with square stones, and are very narrow, while 
 the buildings are generally large, consisting of many stories, and 
 containing, no doubt, an 'ample population. The more public 
 thoroughfares are filled with people, carriages, horses, asses and 
 mules. A dozen of these carriages will rush past you in a train, 
 making you jump from side to side to escape being run over. 
 
NAPLES. . 291 
 
 The houses are lofty, with innumerable balustrades and other 
 prominences, crowned with hanging gardens filled with flowers. 
 Some of them are immense piles ; old palaces, perhaps, with great 
 gateways and quadrangular courts. This is the form of most 
 of the hotels and of the larger dwelling-houses, not only here, but 
 throughout Italy, and to some extent in France. They are huge 
 lumbering affairs, containing a large open court in the centie, 
 entered by an arched gateway from the street. At each of tliese 
 a porter is stationed, and not unfrequently a soldier with a mus- 
 ket on his shoulder. The chambers are large and airy, with iron 
 bedsteads, smooth oaken or tile floors, in some cases of mosaic, 
 scoured clean and bright, and with many little conveniences pe- 
 cuhar to the country. 
 
 Naples contains a population of not less than three hundred 
 and sixty thousand inhabitants, a circumstance which accounts 
 for the immense crowds in the streets, and the perfect Babel of 
 noises which everywhere greet the ear. It is surrounded by 
 places and objects of great interest, such as the grotto of Posi- 
 lipo, YirgiFs tomb, Psestum, with its ruins of Grecian archi- 
 tecture, Baiee, and the scenes described in the sixth book of 
 Virgil's JEneid, Vesuvius, the disentombed cities of Herculaneum 
 and Pompeii, the islands of Ischia and Procida, the Campagna 
 Felice, and many beautiful villages which unite, by tlieir classic 
 associations, the hoary past with the youthful present. Besides, 
 the whole neighboring country abounds in the richest and most 
 varied sylvan scenery, while the climate and sky are among the 
 lovehest in the world, vindicating, to some extent, the extravagant 
 expression of the Neapolitans — Visit JVaples, and die ! 
 
 Naples existed in the times of the Greeks, by whom it was 
 called Proserpina, on account of the beauty of the situation, and 
 subsequently Neapolis, as a completely new city was built upon 
 the site of the old. Subsequently possessed by the Romans, it 
 
292 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 continued to increase in wcciltli and population. Passing suc- 
 cessively under Provencal, Spanish and Austrian dominion, it has 
 seen many changes, undergone many revoliitions. It boasts the 
 possession of the finest bay, and one of the largest collections of 
 classical antiquities in the world, a site of unrivalled beauty, and a 
 population of great quickness and versatihty, if not of high charac- 
 ter and sterling worth. The government, which embraces that of 
 the Two Sicilies, containing a population of about eight millions, 
 is despotic and badly administered, and the whole land, city and 
 country, swarms with priests, monks and beggars. There is no 
 country in the world perhaps, except Spain, more completely 
 priestridden, and none in which is found such a superabundance 
 of idle and worthless inhabitants. Yet the people generally, who 
 have Grecian and Moorish blood in their veins, are remarkably 
 vivacious and cheerful, live upon a trifle, and probably enjoy a 
 fair amount of *' material" happiness. It is a land of volcanoes 
 and earthquakes, a fervid and generous clime, in which human 
 nature is apt to become quick and passionate, improvident and 
 wild. Hence the changes in their condition have often been as 
 fierce and startling as the eruptions of JEtna or Vesuvius. At 
 times yielding quietly and passively to the most galling despot- 
 ism, and then startling the world with sudden and bloody revo- 
 lutions ; now shouting for freedom, and anon making the welkin 
 ring with vivas for kingly thrall. Immersed in sensuality, yet 
 possessed of a noble nature, there is no extravagance of good or 
 bad which they may not perpetrate. The language of Gold- 
 smith is as applicable now as it was fifty years ago : 
 
 " For small the bliss that sense alone bestows, 
 And sensual bhss is all the nation knows. 
 In florid beauty grdves and fields appear, , 
 
 Man seems the only growth that dwindles here ; 
 
NAPLES. 293 
 
 Contrasted faults through all his manners reign ; 
 Though poor, luxurious ; though submissive, vain ; 
 Though grave, yet trifling ; zealous, yet untrue ; 
 And even in penance planning sins anew." 
 
 It is on this ground that we are to explain the sudden and ter- 
 rible reaction, which followed the late revolution, reminding us of 
 the days of Masienello and the Sicilian Yespers. Naples, at last, 
 appeared on the point of attaining freedom. The feeble but 
 crafty Bourbon, now occupying the throne, seemed fairly subdued ; 
 a constitution, with elements of liberty, though sadly deficient in 
 some of its provisions, was proclaimed, and the whole land re- 
 joiced in her opening prospects. But instantly the heavens are 
 covered with blackness, the earth shakes, the lightning flashes, 
 and the moral Vesuvius of ]N'aples bursts, in flaming fires, upon 
 the terrified vision. A difficulty occurs between the new Con- 
 sulta or Parliament and his Majesty, respecting the form of the 
 oath to be taken, in support of the Constitution and the King. 
 The latter insists upon his rights, and the former demurs. 
 The troops are called out ; barricades are erected. The king 
 seems to yield, but fills the squares and castles with Swiss mer- 
 cenaries, and excites the populace to revolt against the Consti- 
 tution. A musket is fired by accident from the ranks of the 
 National Guard, who, thinking they are betrayed, immediately 
 commence firing. The Swiss retaliate with a murderous fire, 
 and the artillery pour grape into the barricades. For a moment 
 the lazzaroni appear disposed to side with the National Guard ; 
 but, induced by the hope of pillage, take part with the troops, 
 break open for them shops and houses, and excite them with 
 cries of *'Long live the King," to the most brutal excesses. 
 Plunging into palaces and private dwellings, these barbarians 
 commit the most fearful atrocities ; children are dashed from the 
 
294 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 windows, women are violated, fathers, mothers, infants, old men 
 and maidens are cruelly butchered in each other's arms ; others 
 are led naked to the slaughter, amidst the jeers and insults of the 
 mob and the soldiery, and compelled to cry vivas for the king 
 with their dying breath. The Royal Guard assassinate two sons 
 of the' Marquis Vassatore, in the palace of their father, who im- 
 mediately goes stai'k mad, and his palace is enveloped in flames. 
 Two palaces, one the beautiful palace of Gravina, are burned. 
 Nearly all the National Guards are cut to pieces, .and the sur- 
 vivors are immediately taken and shot, by order of the king. 
 Multitudes, known to entertain liberal opinions, are taken from 
 their houses and executed without a trial. After the struggle, all 
 who are taken with arms in their hands are instantly shot, and 
 many others are carried, bound hand and foot, on board a ship 
 made a temporary prison, and others are thrown into the dun- 
 geons and jails of the city. The tri-color everywhere is torn 
 down, the white Bourbonic flag placed in its stead, and Naples 
 subjected to strict martial law. 
 
 Thus the old regime returns ; the people submit, and the Je- 
 suits rejoice. 
 
 But we leave this unpleasant subject. Naples is now quiet and 
 beautiful as ever. If man groans and weeps. Nature comes with 
 her soothing ministry, and the scene of carnage and desolation 
 begins once more to smile under her gentle caress. But ah ! how 
 many sad hearts mourn in secret places, or in deep, cold dun- 
 geons. Let us leave the city and take a stroll towards Po- 
 sohpo, so named by the Greeks, from its serene beauty and its 
 consequent power to soothe the troubled breast.^ 
 
 Passing along the Chiaja, we enter the Villa Eeale, which lies 
 
 ^Posilipo; or, as it is sometimes spelt, Pausilipo; (from the Greek, 
 
NAPLES. 295 
 
 along the shores of the bay, in the direction of the grotto of Po- 
 silipo, adorned with walks and shrubbery, shady bowers and 
 beautiful statuary, with here and there a quiet fountain, and 
 pleasant seats for weary pedestrians. The day is w^arm, but de- 
 lightful ; and although walking in this climate is somewhat fa 
 tiguing, we find it exhilarating and pleasant. We pass a number 
 of fishermen, mending their nets, women washing clothes in the 
 open air, and children running or lying on the green sward. 
 Some of these are more than half naked ; and a dozen embrowned 
 urchins, looking, for all the world, like '' John Brown's Httle In- 
 dian boys,'' follow at our heels, oflfering their services to guide 
 us to the grotto, and so forth. 
 
 We are now on the heights of Posilipo, a long and lofty moun- 
 tain range, running from the city towards Pozzuoli, composed of 
 soft calcareous tufo, and giving abundant indications of volcanic 
 origin. It is covered, to the summit, with the richest verdure, 
 vines and olives, apricot and fig trees, among which run shady 
 walks, and long lines of flowers. Everywhere, also, it is perfo- 
 rated with grottoes and caverns. Parts of it are finely terraced, 
 and dotted with dwelling-houses, old walls and fortifications, a fit- 
 ting place either for the residence or the sepulchre of the poet. 
 Standing upon the brow of the mountain, we gaze, with inex- 
 pressible delight, upon the glorious landscape. To the left, on 
 one side of a shady ravine, near the grotto of Posihpo, is the quiet 
 spot where repose, as the citizens of Naples claim, the ashes of 
 the great Mantuan bard. 
 
 — " A fabric lone and gray, 
 That boasts no pillars rich, nor friezes gay ; 
 An ilex bends above its moss-clad walls ; 
 In long festoons the dark green ivy falls, 
 And pale-eyed flowers in many a crevice bloom, 
 Kneel, stranger, kneel — that cell is Virgil's tomb 1 
 
296 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Yes, doubt not, though thou find'st nor urn nor bust, 
 That slumbers there the Mantuan poet's dust ; 
 Gaze on his laurelled brow with fancy's eye, 
 And hear his harp amid the ruins sigh/'* 
 
 Before us sweeps the spacious bay, rocking gently in the light 
 of an Italian sky, as it were azure and gold woven together by 
 angelic fingers, and spread like a thin luminous gauze over the 
 trembling waves, which kiss the green margin of the wooded hill. 
 Yonder is the city with its castles and palaces, and, far out at the 
 entrance of the bay, the lofty promontories of Sorrento and Mi- 
 seno, beyond which we can descry the islands of Ischia and Pro- 
 cida amid the sparkling waves of the Mediterranean ; and nearer, 
 on the opposite side of the bay, Vesuvius with his crown of clouds, 
 and the long ranges of the dark blue Apennines. To the right of us, 
 for several miles, runs the fine range of wooded mountain heights, 
 terminating in the rocky bluff of Pozzuoli, and the low winding 
 shores of Baiae, intermingled with green fields, olive groves, gar- 
 dens and vineyards, with here and there, on the flashing waters of 
 the sea, white sails glancing in the sunlight, or diminished to mere 
 specks in the hazy distance — forming altogether a scene of un- 
 rivalled interest and magnificence, and justifying in some degree 
 the language of Byron : 
 
 " Here IN'ature loved to trace, 
 As if for gods, a dwelling-place." 
 
 With reluctance we leave the spot, and descend the hill to- 
 wards the road, or Strada Nuova, as it is called, which runs along 
 the shore towards Pozzaoli, to which we decide to walk in that 
 direction, intending to return through the grotto of Posihpo. The 
 road is cut out of the side of the mountain towards the bay, and 
 follows the windings of the sea till you come to the above-men - 
 
 * Nicholas Michel. 
 
NAPLES. 29T 
 
 tioned place. It is therefore a long and fatiguing walk, but we 
 do not regret it, as we pass through the most varied and delight- 
 ful scenery. JS'or can we cease admiring the immense excava- 
 tions in the hill of PosiUpo, the curious and somewhat eyrie-look- 
 ing houses literally built into its soft strata, and the strange old- 
 world chambers, m some of which may be seen gray-haired 
 crones twirling the distaff, in others lazy lazzaroni, or quiet asses 
 eating their provender. The grape-vines, which rise to a consid- 
 erable height, twining around old trees and poles, linking their 
 long arms together, and loaded with festoons of grapes ; other 
 fruit trees, covered with deep green foliage and golden fruit, every 
 variety of ornamental plant and shrub, some of which have a rich 
 oriental appearance, large flov/ering Cacti, and long lines of pinks 
 and roses adorn the terraced and castellated heights. Here and 
 there elegant villas' are embosomed amid foliage and flowers ; 
 while the blue waters of the bay roll, with a placid murmur, to the 
 very edge of the hill, and mirror the trees in their tranquil depths. 
 Occasionally we pass through umbrageous hedges on either side 
 of the road, or sit down to rest ourselves, on some elevated spot, 
 upon the sides of the hill, from which we can see far out into 
 '-'the melancholy main." 
 
 At last we reach Pozzuoli, a considerable village or town, which 
 rises rapidly from the sea, on a bluff or rocky height, with an an- 
 cient, time-worn appearance, and overlooking a quiet and pleas- 
 ant harbor. The sea here makes a considerable sweep inland, 
 and nearly encircles the village upon one side, while on the oppo- 
 site shore lie Baiae, aud the scenes immortalized by Virgil. It 
 was into this bay that the Apostle Paul and his company sailed, 
 when journeying from Malta to Rome. A brusque old man, by 
 the name of Pietro Rocco, or, as we should say, Peter Rock, who 
 proffers his services as our guide, shows us the very spot (so he 
 affirms!) where, tradition says, the Apostle landed. Of course 
 13^ 
 
298 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 we are quite willing to believe it, as tlie place seems the most 
 natural and convenient at which to land, and more especially as a 
 portion of the old Via Campagna is still visible at a short dis- 
 tance ; and if it be a mistake or deception, we have no wish to 
 destroy the pleasant illusion. For we can easily imagine that we 
 see "the ship of Alexandria" gliding over the waves, nearing the 
 port, and landing its precious company on the shore. The " Acts 
 of the Apostles'* informs us that Paul "tarried" in this place with 
 his Christian friends " seven days," doubtless preaching to them 
 the word of life, and giving them pious and cheering counsel. 
 As we walk along the quay and through the streets, we feel that 
 we are treading, perhaps, in the very steps of Paul and Luke, 
 who doubtless took many a stroll together through the place. 
 
 Before leaving Puteoli, we have time only to visit the remains 
 of the temple of Jupiter Serapis, which is situated at a short dis- 
 tance from the place where the Apostle Paul is said to have land- 
 ed. It is one of the finest and most imposing ruins of antiquity, 
 and impresses us, at this hushed evening hour, with a sort of 
 shuddering awe. The temple must have been very large and 
 magnificent, as the ground -plan is extensive, and the few marble 
 columns which remain are massive and high . It formed a quad- 
 rangle, rounding at one end, leaving a magnificent niche for the 
 colossal image of the god. Its pavement consisted of rich mar- 
 bles, and probably the entire walls were lined with the same ma- 
 terials. The columns are of Cipollino marble — a very beautiful 
 variegated marble, not unlike the verde-antique — and were origi- 
 nally surmounted with rich Corinthian capitals, remains of which 
 are still lying around. In the building you see various niches, 
 which were unquestionably used for bathing, besides a huge mar- 
 ble vessel, in which was poured the blood of the sacrifices, and 
 places for iron rings, to which the victims were bound. In his 
 walks around the place, the Apostle must have had his mind 
 
FUTEOLI. 299 
 
 stirred within him when he saw this majestic temple, dedicated 
 to a worship so dark and foul as that of the Jupiter Serapis. 
 
 Besides the temple, there are in Pozzuoli the remains of a Ro- 
 man amphitheatre, but we cannot visit it, as it is now quite late, 
 and we have yet to make arrangements for returning to the city. 
 It would also please us to visit Baiae, on the other side of the 
 bay, which is still covered with the ruins of ancient temples, and 
 of the villas of Nero, Marius, Csesar, and Lucullus. It would 
 still further enhance our pleasure to examine the scenes described 
 in the sixth book of the JEneid, the cave of the Cumean Sybil, 
 
 , the Lucrine lake, and the road to Avernus, in which truth and 
 fiction have been so beautifully blended. We are content, at 
 
 . present, to imagine them, which we probably do more to our sat- 
 isfaction, than if we beheld the actual scenes, which, since Virgil's 
 time, are much changed by the convulsions of Nature, and never, 
 in all respects, corresponded to the sublime imaginings of the 
 poet. In default of our own description, we give the following 
 Tery beautiful one, by a poet from whom we have already quoted : 
 
 "But Baise, soft retreat in days of yore, 
 That knew no winter, wooes us to its shore. 
 Heroes and emperors whilom trod this strand, 
 And art, song, pleasure reigned, a festive band. 
 Here Csesar stooped his pride to garden bowers, 
 And stern-browed Marius wreathed his sword with flowers 1 
 Here rich Lucullus gorgeous banquets spread, 
 ^ PoUio the hours in chains of roses led ; 
 
 Steeped in warm bliss seemed ocean, earth and sky, 
 Life one rich dream of love and luxury. 
 But BaiaB's shores ire dark and lonely now, 
 Gray, nameless ruins crown Misenum's brow ; 
 Fallen towers, crushed temples, villas 'neath the deep, 
 And scattered tombs where bards and heroes sleep, 
 Line all the coast ; and he who lingers here 
 Will tread with awe, and drop a sorrowing tear. 
 
300 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 Approach yon relic, scan its mouldering wall — 
 Age, crime, and mystery o'er it spread their pall ; 
 There sleeps a Roman empress,"^ dark her doom — 
 The fmies haunt, 'tis said, her blood-stained tomb ; 
 And when the laboring moon her crescent fills, 
 Low trumpets wail along the neighboring hills" 
 
 We hire a caleche, a light painted wagon, hung upon springs, 
 and drawn by a single horse, to convey us to the city, through 
 the grotto of Posilipo, in which the public road from Naples to 
 Pozzuoli, instead of winding around the mountain, as we did in 
 the morning, goes directly through the heart of the mountain, 
 and thus saves a distance of three or four miles. The grotto, or 
 tunnel, as it might more fitly be termed, is about half a mile in 
 length, from seventy to eighty feet high, and from twenty-five to 
 thirty feet wide. It is arched at the roof, and well lighted with 
 lamps, resembling, in some respects, the Thames Tunnel. To 
 the eye it appears even more stupendous than that surpassing 
 work of art, though inferior .to it, of course, as a production of 
 mechanical power and skill. It was cut by the ancients, doubt- 
 less, for the purpose of shortening the road to PozzuoH. We rat- 
 tle through it in our light caleche, at a good round pace, and soon 
 find ourselves in the city, where we regale ourselves, after our 
 fatiguing, but most delightful excursion, on cafi au lait, at the 
 celebrated Cafe delVEuropa ; a somewhat prosaic, but not " lame 
 and impotent conclusion" to a bright and beautiful day. 
 
 * Agrippina, the mother of Nero, who was murdered by her own son, at 
 her villa, near the Lucrine lake. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Churches of Naples — Religious and Moral Condition — Peculiarities of 
 the People — Lazzaroni — Campo Santo, etc. 
 
 There are in ^Naples a hundred and twenty-two churches, a hun- 
 dred and thirty chapels, and a hundred and fifty monasteries, some 
 of which we have visited, but found very few of them worthy of 
 admiration. Generally speaking, they are in wretched taste, or- 
 namented to excess with tinsel and gewgaws, and strikingly 
 deficient in architectural beauty. The most interesting of these 
 is the church of San Gennaro, or St. Januarius, built in 1299, 
 from the designs of Nicola Pizaro. Originally, it was of pure 
 Gothic, but the Neapolitans have somewhat impaired its beauty, 
 by alterations and additions. It is chiefly remarkable for its hun- 
 dred granite pillars which support the interior, and give it a pecu- 
 liarly rich and sombre appearance. The body of the saint lies in 
 a subterranean chapel under the choir. The guide, an ecclesi- 
 astic connected with the establishment, shows us the splendid 
 '* chapel of the treasure," in which the blood of the patron saint is 
 preserved, and informs us, with a grave face, that three times a 
 year a great miracle is performed by its liquefaction, in presence 
 of the people. The ceremony of melting the blood, which is 
 contained in a dark-looking phial, takes place with much pomp 
 and solemnity, in the midst of a prodigious concourse of citizens. 
 It is held in the hands of the officiating bishop, and exhibited to 
 tlie people as an object of adoration. The heat of his hand is 
 
302 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 probably the cause of its liquefaction, composed, as it doubtless 
 is, of ingredients easily susceptible of such a change. If it lique- 
 fies readily, the people and priests greatly rejoice, as this is a 
 sign of prosperity and happiness ; but if not, they regard it as a 
 sign of calamity, abandon themselves to grief, and offer up ear- 
 nest prayers for the safety of the city. 
 
 ISText to San Gennaro, the most attractive church is that of 
 Francesco de Paula, a comparatively recent structure in the prin- 
 cipal square of the city, right opposite the royal palace. The 
 form is circular, with a lofty and magnificent dome, finished after 
 the model of St. Peter's in Rome. The interior is adorned with 
 majestic, colossal statues of the four evangelists, and some of the 
 Greek fathers, producing a very fine efifect. Richly sculptured 
 marbles, and paintings of exquisite beauty, are placed over the 
 altars, while a soft light from the dome is diffused over the whole. 
 We stept into the church one Sabbath evening, at vespers, and 
 found in attendance a pretty large, but somewhat movable con- 
 gregation. Some were going out, others coming in ; some were 
 sitanding, and a few kneeling on the pavement, but without rever- 
 ence ; while one or two priests, gaudily dressed in the robes of 
 their office, were passing and repassing before the altar, gesticu- 
 lating, bowing, and mumbling, in a rapid, indistinct, rumbling 
 kind of voice, the Latin service, which none, or few of the people 
 understood. It reminded us of John Bunyan's vanity-fair — so 
 much glare, splendor and hubbub. Excuse the word, for that is 
 the only one which can give the idea. 
 
 The N'eapolitans are a gay, laughter-loving people, very licen- 
 tious, as all travellers affirm, and they themselves admit ; rehgious 
 enough in their way, but caring little for what is serious, except 
 in form, and that only on some particular occasions, such as the 
 celebration of high mass, and the liquefaction of the blood of St. 
 Januarius. Plenary indulgences, placarded on all the churches, 
 
NAPLES. 303 
 
 and promised for all times and occasions, affecting the past and 
 the future, and reaching from time into eternity, can be had by 
 those who choose to pay for them, and submit to the requisite 
 ceremonies ;^ and hence their reHgion sits easy enough upon their 
 consciences, and allows them all the latitude which they can de- 
 sire, either for this life or the life to come. 
 
 Naples literally swarms with priests. It is said there are at 
 least five thousand ecclesiastics of every kind ; others put them 
 at ten thousand, including the nuns and novitiates. Indeed, priests 
 and soldiers seem to be the controlling powers of the place. The 
 lawyers number four thousand, and are a wealthy and highly in- 
 fluential class, having pecuhar privileges, and in consequence of the 
 extreme length of lawsuits, liolding in their hands a large por- 
 tion of the real estate. The nobles are opulent, and fond of dis- 
 play ; and the king is as complete a despot as ever sat upon the 
 throne. But it is the priests and friars especially which attract 
 the attention of a traveller, for you cannot take a walk of half an 
 hour in any of the principal streets of the city, without meeting 
 forty or fifty of them in their peculiar costume. Multitudes of 
 friars, in their brown gowns, and black cowls, with girdled waists 
 and sandalled feet, may be seen gliding along the streets, particu- 
 larly in the morning, and collecting from the shops and stalls their 
 daily revenue of charity, in the shape of eatables, money, and other 
 things. Some of the priests are good-looking men. The higher 
 ecclesiastics, especially, have quite a respectable appearance. A 
 very few look ascetic. Some are evidently good-natured, easy, 
 jolly souls, who belong rather to the race of King Cole, than of 
 Saint Anthony ; while the great mass of the lower clergy are 
 
 * The following are some of the notices placarded on the churches. 
 "Indulgentia Plenaria." " Indulgentia Plenaria, Quotidiana, Toties Quo- 
 ties." " Indulgentia, Plenaria, Quotidiana Pro Vivis et Defunctis.'* " In- 
 dulgentia Plenaria, Perpetua, Toties et Quoties." 
 
304 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 gross looking, lazy, good-for-nothing fellows, who are as much 
 lazzaroni and beggars as any of the lowest of the rabble. 
 
 But there are some good institutions in Naples, and the clerg)^, 
 and particularly the nuns, are not without their use. Several 
 hospitals for the poor and sick are connected with the monaste- 
 ries, and something is done for the education of orphan children. 
 A common-school system, of course, there is none ; and not one- 
 half of all the people can read or write. The ignorance of the 
 mass is immense ; and we cannot, therefore, expect them to be 
 very religious or virtuous. It is a wonder, perhaps, they are not 
 woi*se. One thing, at least, is in their favor — they are not intem- 
 perate. The perfection of the climate, and the vivacious charac- 
 ter of the people, suppl}^ the place of intoxicating drinks, or they 
 have no money to procure them. General!}^ speaking, they are 
 good-natured, and by no means so suspicious and revengeful as 
 they have been represented. They love music and shows, and 
 live much in the open air. The great body of them have not, and 
 cannot have any just conception of what Christianity is. 
 ^^Pietro, what do you worship when you go to church?'' 
 ^' San Gennaro and the Holy Virgin, signor !" 
 " And of all things in the world what do you love the best ?'' 
 "To dance the Tarantuli, and eat maccaroni." 
 ''Well, but you love the service of religion, don't you ?" 
 '' yes, signor ; but we poor fellows don't know much about 
 it, and the priests, you know, manage all that." 
 
 This is about the amount of the religion of the common people. 
 The educated classes are mostly indifferent or sceptical. But 
 scepticism is a little inconvenient at times, and so it is often kept 
 in the background. The Neapolitans of the cafes — those at least 
 who have seen the world, and pretend to any enlargement of 
 mind — -will sometimes talk freely with strangers of the corruptions 
 of their government and religion, but much of all this is mere 
 
NAPLES. 305 
 
 smoke, and comes to nothing. The reaction from the late revolu- 
 tion, and the universal presence of spies and informers, now seal 
 all hps. Some of the priests are doubtless intelligent ; some, we 
 hope, are pious ; but a large proportion of them know little ex- 
 cept their breviary ; and for our part, we would rather take our 
 chance of heaven with the lazzaroni, than with the priests. But 
 another is their Judge, not we ; to their own Master they stand or 
 fall ; and so we leave them to Him '^ who knoweth our frame, and 
 remembereth that we are dust." 
 
 One newspaper only is published in Naples, a poor looking 
 quarto, subject exclusively to the control and censorship of the 
 government. A single university, not largely attended, is endow- 
 ed by the State, and exerts no great influence.^ The Jesuits 
 have two colleges, of course mechanical affairs, fitted only to 
 make the mind of a willing pupil quoad haculuniy as a staff, in the 
 hand of another, to use the words of their founder, Ignatius Loy- 
 ola. How, then, can freedom — how can religion flourish in such 
 a city, or in such a State ? But as among the desolate scorise of 
 Mount Vesuvius you see spots of green herbage, and a few soHtary 
 flowers, so, doubtless, there are pious, noble* hearted and beauti- 
 ful characters amid the corrupt and superstitious elements of Ne- 
 apolitan society. Everywhere, under Christian influences, more 
 or less perfect, God has his chosen ones ; and everywhere, there- 
 fore, we ought to cherish a spirit of charity and hope. 
 
 Thus far we have characterized the inhabitants of Naples in a 
 general Avay, particularly with reference to rehgion and morals ; 
 but there are a number of little things not yet mentioned, which 
 we will bring together in this chapter, and then dismiss the sub- 
 ject. Let the reader accompany us in a ramble through the streets, 
 
 * Gallupi, Professor of Philosophy, is one of the most learned men in the 
 country. 
 
306 GENIUS OF ITALY, 
 
 and see what is going on. Let us enter the Strada Toledo at its 
 eastern extremity, and walk through it towards the Chiaja. But 
 look out for your heels. There is no trottoir, as you perceive, and 
 the street is filled with all sorts of vehicles, driving along as furi- 
 ously as if they were in Broadway ; and, if you do not keep a 
 sharp look-out, you may presently find yourself tossed from your 
 perpendicular. Have a care of your pockets also, particularly if 
 you have any loose handkerchief which you do not wish to dispose 
 of. What a hubbub ! What a variety of costumes ! It seems as 
 if all sorts of people had come out to show themselves, and hold 
 a rag fair ! Those genteel-looking people in that flaunting car- 
 riage, open at the top, belong to the nobiUty. The gentleman 
 with the huge moustaches is an old courtier, and the lady who 
 sits by him, dazzHng with lace and jewels, is his youthful wife. 
 But look there — that carriage behind contains the bishop of S., 
 a good-looking prelate, as you perceive, with a remarkably com- 
 placent smile. His equipage is rather dashing ; in fact, that of a 
 nobleman. But yonder comes a bevy of young priests, dressed 
 in their long woolen robes, with three-cornered hats, and behind 
 them walk a couple of friars, fat and lazy, looking every now and 
 then into the pastry-shops, as if they would eat them up. The 
 street, you see, is crowded with poor people, lazzaroni and others, 
 most of them carrying burdens, moving hurriedly in different di- 
 rections. What a prodigious number of offices for the sale of lot- 
 tery tickets ! They are almost as " thick as the leaves in Yallam- 
 brosa.'* Naples is excessively addicted to gambling. All sorts 
 of games of hazard are popular here ; and in every part of the 
 city you will find gambling-houses, some of which are large es- 
 tablishments, and may be described as the very purlieus of the 
 bottomless pit. Even on Sundays and holydays are those dens 
 of infamy kept open, with perhaps one or two exceptions, during 
 Lent and Passion Week. They are under the protection of the 
 
NAPLES. 307 
 
 government, and pay a large revenue. In fact, everything in Na- 
 ples, and tliroughoiit Italy, which will bring money into the purse 
 of the church or the government, is not only tolerated, but patron- 
 ized. They are furious against republicanism and heresy, but 
 by no means unfavorable to gambling, and some other things which 
 shall be nameless. 
 
 But it is of no use to moralize in the streets, so we pass along 
 with the motley crowd. What a dashing appearance those mili- 
 tary gentlemen cut upon their prancing steeds ! With what con- 
 tempt they seem to look down upon the canaille ! They belong 
 to the royal guard, and have a right, of course, to be aristocratic. 
 But who are those coming, w^ith slow and mournful step, on one 
 side of the street ? How singularly dressed ! Why, they ap- 
 pear covered w^th white sheets, head and all, having small holes 
 for the eyes to look through ! They are monks of a certain 
 order, walking in procession at a funeral. All move aside to 
 make way for them. That keen-looking old man who passed us 
 just now, with his three-cornered hat, is a superior of one of the 
 Jesuit monasteries. There are a multitude of these wily ecclesi- 
 astics in the city, and their influence is prodigious. Once they 
 were expelled from Naples as a nuisance, but they were soon 
 restored, and now they manage everything. 
 
 Let us pass out into the grand square before the palace. It 
 is nearly filled with soldiers ; Swiss, I should think, five or six 
 thousand of whom are in the pay of government. They are 
 marching and countermarching, going through various military 
 manoeuvres, as if for the purpose of being shown to the people ; 
 saying as plainly as language itself — Take care ! Take care ! They 
 are often brought here in considerable numbers to be reviewed, ^ 
 and a weary fife they have of it, though better, perhaps, than 
 that of thousands of the lower classes. They figlit well for pay, 
 and their hands are yet red with the blood of the poor Neapolitans, 
 
308 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 What multitudes of gaily dressed people are flitting to and fro 
 but how mingled up with beggars and thieves, rascally-looking 
 fellows some of them, who would cut your throat for a couple 
 of carlines, if they could do it with impunity ! But all is quiet 
 and orderly here ! Certainly, for these soldiers are on hand to 
 keep the peace with powder and steel ; and, in addition to these, 
 the whole city swarms with policemen, keen a«i razors, while the 
 cannon on the castle of St. Elmo ^ are ever prepared, on an emer- 
 gency, to pour a murderous broadside among the riotous popu- 
 lace below. But these beggars are so importunate ! If you 
 walk sloAvly, or linger an instant, even in the finest streets, or 
 squares, ihey are at you in a moment, with their whining, ever- 
 lasting Carita, Signor ! Carita^ Signor ! So let us step into that 
 splendid -looking cafe. It is filled with gentlemen, sitting at small 
 tables with marble tops, sipping their cafi, lemonade, iced Hquors, 
 eau de vie, &c., and all engaged in animate.! conversation. What 
 terrible beards some of them have ! Their faces are literally en- 
 cased in hair. Most of them have moustaches, and very few are 
 shaven smooth. What keen black eyes, what animated features! 
 And yet they are not particularly good-looking. You see these 
 beggars and petty thieves hanging about the door. Singular 
 that they do not drive them off. But they do not seem to mind 
 them. There, one of them has darted in ! He picks up some- 
 thing ! a handkerchief, perhaps — and is off like lightning ! Well, 
 they are hungry enough, and if they cannot get sufficient by beg- 
 ging, it is perfectly natural to eke it out by steahng. 
 
 Now for a stroll along the quay, or the Chiaja, which runs 
 along the bay towards the Villa Reale, where we shall have 
 the fairest chance of seeing the lazzaroni. Here they are in all 
 possible attitudes — some sleeping in the sun, others lounging 
 about, ready for anything which may offer, and others eating mac- 
 caroni by those stalls at the corner. Well, they are a motley 
 
NAPLES. 309 
 
 set, and hardly capable of being described. Most of them are 
 half-naked, and many covered with garments which would do 
 honor to the king of the beggars. Some of them, however, are 
 fine-looking fellows. There is one, for example, with a sugar- 
 loaf hat, a httle the worse for wear, a red jacket, and whitish 
 inexpressibles reaching to his knees, legs and feet well-formed 
 and bare ! Observe his features, which are by no means bad. 
 Dark hair, keen black eyes, Grecian profile, a well-cut and 
 pleasant mouth, and a complexion of a reddish brown. If he 
 were only civilized and educated, he would make a respectable 
 and useful man. Indeed, it is affirmed by many, that the lazza- 
 roni are the finest looking men in Naples. They are not all beg- 
 gars, as is frequently supposed ; neither are they foreigners, like 
 the gipsies, as some imagine. They are rather the lowest class 
 of society, and include the beggars, loafers, runners, and infe- 
 rior porters. Most of them are willing to make themselves use- 
 ful in various ways, and are mightily pleased when they can earn 
 a grano. They live, in fact, by their wits, and when they cannot 
 work or beg, they will pilfer and rob — aye, and murder, if the 
 occasion require it. Generally, they hve in the open air, spend 
 day and night among the stalls around the hotels, wharves and 
 landing-places, and sleep in by-places, three or four together, so 
 arranged that each has his neighbor for a pillow. Few of them 
 know anything of home or of domestic ties ; and all of them are 
 more or less debased. They are ready to do any conceivable 
 thing for a little money. They will brush your shoes with their 
 nightcap, as one or two of them attempted to do mine ; bring you 
 a glass of water, show you a cq/e, guide you to YirgiFs tomb, 
 and by some Httle service rendered you, willing or unwilling, 
 succeed in getting a few granos, with which they make off de- 
 lighted to the first maccaroni stall. 
 What is the meaning of the term lazzaroni ? It is of Saxon 
 
310 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 origin, and was originally given to the lowest class of society in 
 Naples, by tlieir Spanish masters. It corresponds to the lazzi in 
 the old Saxon division of classes in Great Britain ; that is to say, 
 to the slaves, the canaille, or the ignobile vulgus of Horace. 
 
 As to their number, it is impossible to say how large it is. 
 They are often put at thirty thousand ; but this of course must 
 fluctuate, as multitudes of the inferior citizens are ever becoming 
 lazzaroni, while many of them enter into mechanical employ- 
 ments, rise in the world, form domestic relations, and thus cease 
 to be lazzaroni. 
 
 Formerly they used to elect a king or chief, by acclamation, 
 who became a person of some political consequence, and commu- 
 nicated with the government, in all cases in which the interests of 
 his ragged subjects were concerned. The government yielded 
 this condescension, for the sake of better controlling them. They 
 are probably not so numerous now as they were in former years. 
 But they are as lazy, quick-witted, and vicious as they were fifty 
 years ago. 
 
 Let us return to the city. But wait a moment. Here is a 
 curious sight. Those fellows in the boat on the water are lazza- 
 roni. They are magnificent divers ; and if you will only throw 
 two or three granos into the bay, you will see them plunge after 
 them with an agility which will surprise you. There, down they 
 go, head foremost, with the rapidity of dolphins ; and up they 
 come again with the money in their teeth, grinning with delight ! 
 
 Pass on, along the quay. It is getting dark, but so much 
 the better for sight-seeing in this part of the city. Now the 
 crowds increase. What a Babel of sounds — what laughing, talk- 
 ing and shouting ! Pulicinello, or Punch, which is indigenous in 
 Naples, begins his antics. You see fires blazing all along the 
 streets. They are for cooking ; all sorts of cookery, particularly 
 that of maccaroni, go on in the open air, in order to supply the 
 
NAPLES. 311 
 
 lazzaroni with their daily food. Those huge -cauldrons, hissing 
 and boiling, are filled with the favorite viand. A couple of gra- 
 nos' worth is enough for a meal. See that tall fellow, how he 
 gulps it down, making the long, smooth strings of maccaroni slip 
 down his capricious throat, with the rapidity of lightning. *' The 
 quay of Naples," says the author of the Diary of an Invalid, 
 '* affords a scene, such as I think can scarcely be equalled in the 
 world. Tom Fool is there in all his glory, with such a motley 
 train at his heels, and with such a chorus of noise and nonsense, • 
 wit and waggery, fun and foolery, all around him, that, however 
 a man may be disgusted at first, the effect in the end is like that 
 of : 's face in a stupid farce, when that admirable actor con- 
 descends to buffoonery, to save the author of his piece ; you are 
 constrained to laugh in spite of yourself." 
 
 But we have been here long enough. Let us return to the 
 heart of the city. That large building, brilliantly lighted, is a 
 theatre, the next is an opera-house. They are opened at nine 
 o'clock in the evening, and close at two in the morning. The 
 J^eapolitans, those at least that can afford it, turn night into day. 
 They sleep during the warm portion of the day, and spend most 
 of the night in pleasure. All classes are excessively fond of the 
 theatre, and similar amusements. Singing, playing upon musical 
 instruments, dancing the tarantula, are all going on in the even- 
 ing, and during the greater part of the night. 
 
 So fond are they of play, that they not infrequently, during 
 their sacred seasons, turn the facts of the gospel into means of 
 low theatrical amusements. *' At this pious season," says Mr. 
 Matthews, speaking of Lent, ''the strangest dramatic representa- 
 tions are prepared for the people. There is no disputing about 
 taste ; if a man in London were to get up a puppet-show to rep- 
 resent the ministry, crucifixion, and ascension of the Saviour, he 
 would probably receive an intimation the next day from the at- 
 
312 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 torney-general, and have to defend himself against a charge of 
 blasphemy. All this, however, I saw this morning for three half- 
 pence, very fairly represented, in a theatre on the quay, by pup- 
 pets of three feet high, to a crowded and admiring audience. 
 The opposition theatre held out the temptation of a grand spec- 
 tacle representing Lord Exmouth's exploits at Algiers ; but I 
 ought to record, that the sacred piece seemed to be most attrac- 
 tive." 
 
 By the way, the Neapolitans commence reckoning their hours 
 at 8 o'clock in the evening, so that 8 o'clock next morning is 
 their twelfth hour. The mechanics, such as shoemakers, hat- 
 makers, and so forth, work much in the open air ; they are not 
 air.ong those who go to bed during the day, but spend the even- 
 ing and a part of the night in such relaxation and employment 
 as they prefer, so that the streets between the hours of eight 
 and ten o'clock are swarming with people. 
 
 The streets however are becoming quiet, and so we will defer our 
 rambles, and our rambling talk till to-morrow morning. 
 
 Breakfast over, we sally out again, and pass through some of 
 the less frequented streets. How dirty they are, and how vil- 
 lanously they smell ! The people look poor and lean. Ah ! how 
 poor and wretched must some of them be ! But push along, and 
 turn to the right. Do you see that large square building ? It is 
 the Neapolitan Foundhng Hospital. You perceive the aperture 
 in the wall. Through that the infants are depositsd night and 
 day, in a box made for the purpose, where a woman attends con- 
 stantly to receive them. From fifteen hundred to two thousand 
 are received annually ; but the greater portion of them die. They 
 are let out to poor nurses, who can scarcely take care of them- 
 selves, and so the poor little things generally perish. Some of 
 them, however, are taken and adopted by the superior classes, 
 and consequently fare much better. 
 
NAPLES. 313 
 
 You are tired. Let us liail that caleche, there, at the cor- 
 joter, and drive out to the *' Albergo dei Poveri," a sort of poor- 
 house, or house of industry. It is a huge building, containing 
 some fifteen or sixteen hundred inmates, men, women and boys, 
 in comparison with whom the occupants of poor-houses in America 
 are ladies and gentlemen. The men are frequently hired as 
 mourners at funerals, and admirable mourners they make, for they 
 look the very picture of wretchedness and despair. 
 
 We will now dismiss our caleche, and walk along this pleasant 
 road to the Campo Santo, the great Golgotha of Naples, as it has 
 been called. It is situated behind the city, and externally looks 
 pleasant enough. Let us enter by that large gateway. What a 
 singular looking place for a cemetery ! It is four square, enclosed 
 by high stone walls, and paved ail over with smooth flagging 
 stones. Beneath these are three hundred and sixty -five tombs, 
 or rather caverns, one of which is opened, each day, by raising 
 one of the square stones, for the reception of the dead, brought 
 here in a huge cart or wagon, and thrown in pell-mell, without a 
 rag of covering, and without the least form or ceremony. Un- 
 fortunately we are too late to see this operation.^ But here is 
 the keeper. ^' Pray, Mr. Keeper, how many dead bodies were 
 thrown into one of these caverns this morning ?" '' Some fifteen 
 or twenty, signor." " And that is about the number you bury 
 every day, is it ?" '' Yes, signor." '* Well, have the goodness to 
 raise one of these stones ; the one that was opened about this time 
 last year ?" *' Yes, signor." So he calls for help, and pries up 
 one of the stones, and we look in with a sort of painful curiosity. 
 We see nothing but a heap of dry bones and dust in the centre, 
 
 * I describe things, in this instance, just as I saw them at the time. Per- 
 haps it ought to be stated that religious services are generally performed 
 for the dead at their houses. 
 14 
 
314 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 with hundreds of cockroaches creeping around the bottom and 
 sides of the dim-hghted cavern. The process of decomposition, 
 aided by quick-hme, which is always thrown in with the dead 
 bodies, goes on rapidly, and by the end of the year nothing re- 
 mains but skeletons and dust. 
 
 There is another Campo Santo, in the vicinity of Naples, for 
 the higher classes, beautifudy adorned with marble tombs, trees 
 and shrubs; the one we have described is used for the common 
 people, lazzaroni and others ; and nothing in all Naples so impresses 
 a stranger with the low tone of morals and religion, which can ad- 
 mit of such a mode of sepulture. 
 
 Let us leave this unpleasant subject, and return into the city. 
 We are again in the Strada Toledo, with the lively crowd who 
 think nothing of death and the grave. It is a holyday, and thou- 
 sands of well-dressed people are passing gaily along, on foot or 
 in carriages. Here is a fine opportunity to observe the features 
 of the people. The men look well, but the ladies are amazingly 
 homely. In fact, we have seen more ugly women in Naples than 
 in any other large city we have ever visited. Thev appear cheer- 
 ful and vivacious, dress gaily and converse fluently ; but except 
 their black, good-natured eyes, they have little in their brown 
 complexions and irregular features, to attract attention. Those 
 who are acquainted with society in Naples say, that the women, 
 even among what may be called the educated classes, though 
 lively, are exceedingly trivial and vain, and by no means distin- 
 guished for virtue. They are under the control of the priests, 
 and regard a flaunting carriage and a magnificent dress, as the 
 summum honum of human life. 
 
 But enough of this. We abandon our street-rambling for the 
 present, and promise something more profitable in the succeeding 
 chapter. 
 
' CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Lilerature of Naples — Sannazzaro — Costanzo — Marini — " Fading Beauty" — 
 Italian Philosophers — Mirandola — Neapolitan Philosophers — Yico — The 
 " New Science" — Closing paragraph of the " Scienza Novella" — Geno- 
 vesi — Giannone — Filangieri. 
 
 We have visited with closed lips and beating heart the smoking 
 crater of Mount Vesuvius ; we have wandered, in the hush of 
 evening, through the silent streets and tombs of Pompeii, and pene- 
 trated, by torch-light, into the dim theatres and marble halls of 
 Herculaneum ; we have gazed upon the wonders of ancient art in 
 the Museo Borbonico, Hngered in the hall of Apollo and the 
 Muses, and feasted our eyes upon the majestic statues of Marcus 
 Balbus and his son, consuls of Rome, the glorious busts of Plato, 
 Cicero, Pompey, Vespasian and Titus. We have also seen the 
 charred and curious manuscripts, dug from the ruins of the buried 
 cities, the ancient and most domestic ornaments of the inhabit- 
 ants, the frescoes from the walls, and urns from the tombs ; 
 and among other rare specimens of Grecian sculpture, the Her- 
 cules of Glycon and the Venus Gallipyge, splendid monuments 
 of ancient genius and luxury. At present, however, we pass 
 them by, as the thousand and one descriptions, by connoisseurs 
 and travellers, have made them familiar to our readers. 
 
 Naples is not undistinguished in literature and philosophy. 
 Here Boccaccio, Sannazzaro and others tuned the lyre ; and hero 
 Giannone, Vico and Filangieri speculated and wrote. Other Nea- 
 politans have acquired celebrity in various branches of science 
 
316 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 and literature; but these names are invested with pecuhar lustre. 
 Yico and Filangieri especially deserve to be had in everlasting 
 remembrance, for their wonderful genius and immense labors in 
 the cause of philosophy, history and law. With some errors, 
 they seem to us to rank among the greatest thinkers and bene- 
 factors of their age. 
 
 We have already spoken of Boccaccio, who, though not a na- 
 tive of Naples, long resided here, and caught his first inspiration 
 from his interview with Petrarch at Virgil's tomb. Tasso and 
 Metastasio, too, spent years in this city or its neighborhood- 
 Sorrento is yet redolent with the genius of Tasso, and the Nea- 
 politans justly cherish his memory. 
 
 Naples can boast quite a number of poets, though none of 
 them can take rank with that illustrious Italian triad, Dante,- Tasso, 
 and Ariosto. Sannazzaro, one of their earhest, is perhaps their 
 best and truest bard. He was descended from an ancient Italian 
 family, and born in Naples in 1458. On entering the Neapolitan 
 Academy he assumed the name of Actius Syncerus. At the 
 age of eight years he conceived a lively passion for Carmasina 
 Bonifacia, a beautiful girl of the same age, whose praises he sub- 
 sequently sung under the names of Harmosina and Phillis. Ho 
 died in 1532, full of years and honors. Sannazzaro was a simple- 
 hearted man, of great purity and elevation of character, and of a 
 truly poetical genius. His verses ^re distinguished for sweetness 
 and tenderness. Many of his poems are written in elegant Latin 
 verse. The most celebrated of these is ''Be Partu Yir- 
 ginis.'' His Italian poems are equally beautiful. His lyrics and 
 sonnets are especially admired both by his countrymen and by 
 foreigners. The following Stanza will give a good idea of his 
 style : 
 
 " Oh ! pure and blessed soul, 
 That from thy clay's control 
 
COSTANZO. 311 
 
 Escaped, hast sought and found thy native sphere, 
 
 And from thy crystal throne 
 
 Look'st down with smiles alone, 
 On this vain scene of mortal hope and fear I 
 
 Thy happy feet have trod 
 
 The starry-spangled road. 
 Celestial flocks by field and fountain gliding ; 
 
 And from the erring track 
 
 Thou charm'st thy shepherds back, 
 With the soft music of thy gentle chiding. 
 
 Oh, who shall death withstand — 
 
 Death, whose impartial hand 
 Levels the lowest plant and loftiest pine ? 
 
 When shall our years again 
 
 Drink in so sweet a strain — 
 Our eyes behold so fair a form as thine ? 
 
 Angelo de Costanzo, born at Naples in 1507, deserves honora- 
 ble mention as a poet and historian. His sonnets were very 
 popular in his day; but he devoted himself especially to the 
 composition of the history of ITaples. In the midst of his literary 
 labors he was exiled from his native land for some cause un- 
 known — some say a suspicion of heresy — and probably never 
 returned. He spent more than forty years in the composition of 
 his historical work. 
 
 Marini, the creator of a school of Italian poets, called the Ma- 
 rinisti, and distinguished for affectation and extravagance, was a 
 Neapolitan. Born in 1569, he died in 1625. He was a man of 
 unquestioned genius, but too ambitious and conceited. His writ- 
 ings are deeply stained not only with extravagances, but what is 
 worse, licentiousness. His "Fading Beauty,^' however, written 
 apparently in a lucid interval, not only of genius but of feeling, is 
 
318 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 one of the finest things in any language. The following are a 
 few of its stanzas : 
 
 " Beauty — a beam, nay, flame 
 
 Of the great lamp of light — 
 Shines for a while with fame 
 
 But presently makes night, 
 
 Like winter's short-lived bright, 
 Or summer's sudden gleams, 
 As much more dear, so much less lasting beams. 
 
 Winged love away doth fly, 
 
 And with him time doth bear ; 
 And both take suddenly 
 
 The sweet, the fair, the dear ; 
 
 To shining day and clear 
 Succeeds the darkling night, 
 And sorrow is the heir of sweet delight. 
 
 A lamp's uncertain splendor 
 
 A wandering shadow hideth ; 
 In fire or sun, the tender 
 
 Snow into water glideth; 
 
 Yet not so long abideth 
 Youth's swiftly fading blossom. 
 Which doth at once more joy and trailty too embosom 
 
 How swift thou disappearest. 
 
 Oh treasure born for dying ! 
 How rapitlly thou outwearest, 
 
 Oh dower ! Oh glory lying ! 
 
 The arrow swiftest flying, 
 Which the blind archer wasteth 
 From a fair countenance's bow not sooner hasteth. 
 
 How many kingdoms glorious, 
 
 How many cities over 
 Ruin exults victorious, 
 
VICO. 319 
 
 And sand and herbage cover ! 
 
 What boots strength ? or how discover 
 A buckler which protecteth 
 'Gainst what doth level all that earth or flesh erecteth ? 
 
 Of time with which she vieth, 
 Beauty's the trophy after ; 
 
 Irrevocably flieth 
 
 The sport, the joy, the laughter, 
 The cup from which she quaffed her 
 
 Short bliss, leaves naught that's lasting, 
 
 But sorrow and regret for that poor moment's tasting 
 
 Italy has given birth to some original and profound thinkers in 
 spiritual philosophy. Pico di Mirandola, of Bologna, who belongs 
 to the fifteenth century, was a wonder of learning and elevated 
 thought. His work, " De Uno et Ente," is, for the age in which 
 it was produced, a work of remarkable depth and power. He un- 
 sphered the spirit of Plato, and sounded some of the deepest 
 problems of metaphysics. Father Paul, of Venice, was the 
 Italian Locke, though probably inferior to Mirandola in genius 
 and learning. Giambatista, or as we should say, John Baptist 
 Vico, was a man of still more extraordinary genius and penetra- 
 tion, and in the opinion of the French and Germans, who are 
 more familiar with his works than we in England and America, he 
 deserves to rank with the greatest thinkers of any age. He has fall- 
 en, indeed, into many obvious and gross errors, but evinces the great- 
 est subtlety, comprehensiveness and vigor of mind. His favorite 
 author was Plato, and next to him he greatly admired Tacitus^ 
 Bacon and Grotius.^ But his genius was kindred especially to that 
 of Plato, whose lofty imaginings and astonishing synthetic power 
 
 * He much admired the poetry of Dante, and has been justly styled 
 " The Dante of Philosophy." 
 
320 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 he venerated, as approaching the very perfection of human reason. 
 Vico is, more than Kant, the father of the spiritual philoso- 
 phy. He is the first, moreover, who developed, with any degree 
 of force and precision, the philosophy of history ; and, what is 
 singular, he has anticipated the discoveries of Wolf and Niebuhr 
 on the subject of Greek and Roman history ; and not only so, 
 but has actually furnished, by a piiori reasoning, the key to the 
 discoveries of Champollion in Egyptian hieroglyphics. His style 
 is confused and crabbed, involved and obscure ; but his powers 
 of penetration, analysis and comprehension are astonishing. He 
 has been accused of scepticism, but most unjustly. He ever 
 manifests the greatest reverence for the Word of God, and lived 
 and died a devout member of the Cathohc church. The charge 
 of pantheism is better sustained ; for he has confounded the Cre- 
 ator with his works, and made God the all ; but he recognized 
 the individuality and free-agency of man, and thoroughly believed 
 the immortality of the soul. 
 
 Yico was born in Naples in 1668. His father, a poor and 
 honest bookseller, gave him all the facilities in his power for a 
 good education. He soon outstripped all his teachers, and be- 
 came disgusted with the prevalent philosophy, which was jejune 
 and arid in a high degree. A severe bodily injury, which he re- 
 ceived in early life, confined him much to the house, and gave 
 him an anxious and brooding temper, by throwing him too much 
 upon his own resources. He read and studied all night, rumi- 
 nating, even when a lad, with knotted brow and flushed visage, 
 upon the highest problems of philosophy and law. 
 
 All his life long Yico was misapprehended, with some slight 
 exceptions, by his contemporaries. His great merit was never 
 acknowledged in his own day ; and nearly all his attempts to pro- 
 cure a position equal to his talents were unavailing. He dabbled 
 in literature for a living, and although his verses and other com- 
 
VICO. 321 
 
 positions obtained considerable praise, and procured for him a 
 scanty living, yet he had no real genius. for letters.*^ He never 
 mastered his native tongue ; and his style is intricate and dull. 
 His bent lay in another direction. He was at home in the regions 
 of pure thought ; and his '* New Science,'' as he called it, is one 
 of the most singular, erudite and profound productions which has 
 ever seen the light. Even its errors have a peculiar charm, and 
 stimulate the soul, like voices from the world of spirits. He sees 
 God, finds God everywhere. To him God is in nature, in history, 
 in jurisprudence, in poetry, in mythology even, working his own 
 mighty and mysterious will, educing good out of evil, and bring- 
 ing about the fulfillment of his designs. 
 
 Vico lived to be more than seventy years of age ; and at last 
 died, of a severe and long-protracted illness, in the bosom of his 
 poor but affectionate family. His was a weary, life-long struggle 
 against opposing currents. He was amazed that the world did 
 not appreciate his speculations. It was a thing he could not 
 understand ; for, in his simplicity, he supposed that they would 
 at once hail him as another Plato or Mirandola. But he continued 
 to struggle with the mighty conception, and never abandoned the 
 thought that he was giving a new science to the world. It was 
 his solace and joy in hours of poverty and suffering. " Since 
 the publication of my New Science^^ he says, '* I am invested 
 with a new nature, and my disposition to complain against my 
 destiny is suppressed ; for it is owing to my unfortunate lot, that 
 I have undertaken and accompUshed that work. It even seems 
 to me (and I trust I do not deceive myself) that that work has 
 filled me with a certain heroic spirit, which does not permit the 
 
 * His appointment as historiographer to the king, with a salary of a hun- 
 dred ducats, came to him in his old age. His son was obliged to perform 
 the duties of the office. 
 
322 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 thought of death to trouble my soul, and which makes all 
 rivalry a matter of indifference. In a word, I feel myself estab- 
 lished upon a rock of adamant, a rock lifted high upon the judg- 
 ment of God, who sooner or later does justice to the works 
 of genius, by procuring for them the esteem of the wise and 
 good." 
 
 This justice has been done at last ; and now in Italy, and through- 
 out the world, the name of Vico is pronounced with reverence 
 and affection. His " Scienza N^ovella" closes with these memora- 
 ble words, which ought to be written in gems and gold : " The 
 Christian religion is true ; all others are false ; the former ope- 
 rates by grace divine, so as to secure for us an infinite and eternal 
 felicity, which can never fall under the dominion of the senses, 
 but which elevates and renders them the vehicles of virtuous ac- 
 tions ; the latter, on the contrary, promise to men only a jinit^ 
 si\di fragile felicity, both in this life and the life to come, in which 
 they expect only corporeal delights ; so that in these the senses 
 drag the spirit in their train. 
 
 " We recognize also the wonderful intervention of Providence in 
 the three sentiments, which the pretended incomparable science of 
 the ancients ha.s inspired in the learned, astonishment, veneration 
 and emulation. The divine light is the cause of these three senti- 
 ments, which in spite of the pride of the learned, and the pride 
 of nations, yet reduce themselves to this ; that all wise men ad- 
 m^ire and venerate the infinite wisdom of God, and desire to unite 
 themselves with it. All that we have said in this work demon- 
 strates that such science carries with it piety, of which it demands 
 the study, and that without being pious, none can be wise^ 
 
 The admirer and successor of Vico was Genovesi, a man of a 
 fine philosophical mind, who did much to illustrate and defend 
 the opinions of his master. 
 
 Contemporary with Vico, though born a few years later, was 
 
GfANNONE. 323 
 
 the celebrated but unfortunate Pietro Giannone."^ He wrote an 
 able and elaborate historical work on Naples, one of the princi- 
 pal designs of which was, not so much to illustrate the annals 
 of his country, as to demolish the power of Papal superstition, 
 in his j adgment the source of infinite corruptions in Italy. He 
 was a man of a vigorous mind, of a firm and heroic temper ; but he 
 could not stand against the fury of the priests, and of the Court 
 of Ro\iie in particular. IS'either the authority of the Viceroy of 
 Naples, nor the protection of the municipality of his native city, 
 of which Giannone had been elected an advocate, were able to 
 avert the storm. The priests stirred up the superstitious popu- 
 lace against him ; his book was condemned and burnt, and he 
 himself excommunicated as a heretic. After m,oving from place 
 to place with various fortunes, and unable to find a safe and per- 
 manent home in Vienna, Venice, Modena or Milan, he removed to 
 Geneva, where he was received with the highest distinction, and 
 obtained a competent support. He was preparing to publish a 
 supplement to his History of Naples, on which he had spent 
 many years, when, enticed by a villain to attend the Easter 
 festival in a village of Savoy, he was apprehended and con- 
 veyed to Turin. He was then delivered over to the Inquisition, 
 and perished, after a captivity of twelve years, in the dungeons 
 of the citadel. 
 
 Filangieri, a man of kindred genius, the friend and correspond- 
 ent of Beccaria, and the reformer, with him, of Italian jurispru- 
 dence, had a happier fate. Of the most enlarged and liberal 
 views, extensive learning and fine philosophical genius, he per- 
 formed for Italy and the world a service of the highest moment. 
 He was born at Naples in 1752, of a noble family, originally of 
 Norman origin ; and though destined to the military profession, 
 
 * He was born in Naples, A. D. IQlQ, and died in 1748. 
 
324 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 and dependent chiefly on his own resources, he made such aston- 
 ishing progress in knowledge, and discovered a genius of such 
 originality and power, that he was permitted to follow his bent. 
 His learning and eloquence soon made him distinguished, and he 
 rose to the highest offices in the gift of the Neapolitan govern- 
 ment. His work on the Science of Legislation, in two volumes, 
 was published at ISTaples, when he was only twenty-eight years of 
 age, and met with prodigious success not only in Italy but in 
 all Europe. Subsequently he published two more volumes on 
 Criminal Jurisprudence, which met with equal success. He 
 attacked the abuses of the dark ages and the evils of the feudal 
 system, not sparing the Church or the State, but cutting a clear 
 path of reform in the whole subject of criminal legislation. This 
 excited the fears of the Catholic clergy, who hired one Grippa to 
 attack him, and procured the condemnation of his work by an 
 ecclesiastical decree. But he paid no attention to them, went on 
 with his work, and rose superior to all opposition. He died in 
 I'/TS, in the midst of the most extensive plans and the noblest 
 aspirations for the welfare of man. 
 
 These noble studies have exerted an immense influence upon 
 the Italian mind, and have done much to remodel and elevate the 
 whole spirit of the national literature. But alas ! Naples yet 
 lags in the race of improvement. The people are superstitious 
 and priest ridden ; and although every now and then a great 
 philosophical mind may arise to give them a noble impulse ; yet 
 with a despotic government and enslaved church, they must pass 
 through many painful changes before attaining a solid and lasting 
 freedom. But the whole system of feudalism, despotism and su- 
 perstition is tottering to its base, and the time will come when it 
 must fall forever. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A Sail on the Bay — Views — Island of Ischia — Yittoria Colonna — Her Life 
 and Poetry — Naples by Moonlight — Hope for the Future. 
 
 What say you, this fine morning, to a sail on the bay ? Nothing 
 could, be more agreeable. Come, then, let us engage a boat and 
 be off. But wait a few moments, till we get a little basket of 
 provant to take with us. Some bread and cheese, and a little 
 fruit, will relish admirably, three or four hours hence, amid the re- 
 freshing breezes from the sea. 
 
 It is all arranged. Come, Pietro, Thomaso — don't linger there, 
 disputing with those foolish lazzaroni. Man the boat, and let us 
 start. Now we are launched upon the blue waves of the bay. 
 How beautifully glides our little craft over the scarcely ruffled 
 surface! Is not this delightful? Away from the dust and tur- 
 moil of the hot city, we are again with Nature, and feel her be- 
 nign and soothing influence. Let us get out into the centre of 
 the bay, so as to enjoy the glorious scenery all around us. How 
 splendid the appearance of the city, softened and beautified by 
 distance ! What a rich, undulating shore, from Posilipo to Baiae ! 
 What glorious mountain ranges from Vesuvius, stretching far in- 
 land, and finally lost in the dim horizon ! Yonder, in all the pomp 
 of verdure and trees, rise the majestic promontories which guard 
 the entrance of the bay, and beyond them the rolling waves of 
 the Mediterranean, and the rocky shore of Amalfi. How sweetly 
 looks Caprse, as in the days of old, bathed in sunlight ; and what 
 
326 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 *more charming than the low-lying islands of Nisida and Laza- 
 retto, reposing on the waters, and covered with a hazy radiance, 
 such as one sees only in the sunny clime of Italy ! What hfe 
 and motion are imparted to the scene by the white skiffs and 
 other craft, flitting to and fro over the waves, now turning 
 their flashing sails to the sun, or disappearing from the sight in 
 the far distance ! Those ships " of war, sleeping on the eastern 
 side of the bay, present images of grim but beautiful repose, 
 while they remind us of tempest and war, and thus vary the 
 scenery as well as associations of the place. 
 
 But let us return towards the shore. As we approach it, how 
 lovely it seems, with its green foliage and scattered villas ! 
 
 " This region surely is not of the earth. 
 Was it not dropt from heaven ? 'Not a grove 
 Citron or pine, or cedar, not a grot, 
 Sea-worn and mantled with the gadding vine, 
 But breathes enchantment. !Not a cliff but flings 
 On the clear wave some image of delight, 
 Some cabin roof glowing with crimson flowers, 
 Some ruined temple or fallen monument, 
 To muse on as the bark is gliding by." — Rogers. 
 
 Turn the prow, Thomaso, in the direction of Baiae. The breeze, 
 which blows with the softness of a zephyr, will carry us along the 
 coast of Posilipo. Laying ourselves back in our boat, we gaze 
 with increasing delight upon the fair landscape, blending earth 
 sea and sky in forms of ever- varying beauty. The air comes 
 from the shore, laden with the fragrrince of vines and flowers, 
 which adorn the green slopes above us, suff*using the mind with 
 a soft enchantment, a sort of pure poetic haze, through which 
 the memories of the past and the hopes of the future discover 
 themselves with more than earthly beautj We yield to the 
 
BAIiE. 327 
 
 dreamy influence in spite of ourselves, in spite of all the sin and 
 sorrow which infest our mortal life. Nature speaks to our hearts. 
 Strange melodies come to us as it were from afar ; shapes of 
 beauty and glory from the world of spirits, reminding us of God 
 and home and heaven. 
 
 We pass the rocky promontory of Pozzuoli, with its strange 
 old-world look, appearing as if but little changed since the times 
 of the Caesars or of the apostle Paul. Aided by the breeze, 
 blowing more freshly from the land, we reach the shores of Baiae, 
 and glide southward, meditating on the days of old, when the Em- 
 perors and warriors of Rome disported amid their palaces, which 
 studded this whole line of coast. 
 
 " The Cumean towers 
 There did they rise sun-gilt ; and here thy groves, 
 Delicious Baise. Here, (what would they not ?) 
 The masters of the earth, unsatisfied, 
 Built in the sea ; and now the boatman steers 
 O'er many a crypt and vault yet glimmering, 
 O'er many a broad and indestructible arch. 
 The deep foundations of their palaces ; 
 Nothing now heard ashore, so great the change, 
 Save where the seamew clamors, or the owl 
 Hoots in the temple." — Rogers. 
 
 Winding around, after a few hours' sailing, we pass Caprae, and 
 are floating under Miseno, anciently Misenum, once the residence 
 of the younger Pliny, and the retreat of himself and mother when 
 they fled from the destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum ; we 
 double the Cape, and before us, at a short distance, are the isl- 
 ands of Procida and Ischia. Let us approach the latter, and 
 make a landing ; for it is time to eat our bread and cheese, and 
 rest from our long sail. 
 
 Here we are then, under the shadow of the old volcanic moun- 
 
328 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 tain of San Nicola, and in siglifc of a thousand objects of interest 
 and beauty. Vineyards, gardens, groves and villages, alternating 
 in the most agreeable and picturesque variety, cover the whole 
 surface of the island. 
 
 Seated upon a gentle acclivity, under the shadow of fig-trees 
 and vines, the latter hanging in festoons from lofty elms, we re- 
 fresh ourselves from our provision basket, and regale our eyes 
 upon the majestic scene spread out before us. 
 
 " In all its length far winding lay, 
 With promontory, creek, and hay, 
 And islands that empurpled bright. 
 Floated amid the silver light; 
 And mountains that like giants stand, 
 To sentinel enchanted land." — Scott 
 
 Wandering about, we come to the place where tradition says 
 lived, for many years, the noble and gifted Yittoria Colonna, the 
 greatest of all the female poets of Italy. Here, amid scenes of 
 enchantment, she nursed her gentle grief, sung her lays of love 
 and heaven, and prepared her lofty spirit for its Upward flight to 
 the better world. Descended from one of the noblest families 
 in the kingdom of Naples, she was born in the year 1490, in Ma- 
 rino, a fief of her family. Her rare beauty and accomplishments 
 even in early life attracted universal admiration. Sovereign princes 
 souofht her hand in marriao^e, but she declined them all in favor 
 of the Marquis of Pescara, to whom she was betrothed when a 
 mere child, and to whom she had consecrated her best afi'ections. 
 Their union was eminently happy. The noble character and 
 bearing of the Marquis ; the simplicity, beauty and rare accom- 
 plishments of Vittoria ; their ample fortune and entire congeniality 
 of feeling, made of life one bright and golden dream. 
 
 But the chances of war withdrew her husband from her side^ 
 
VITTORIA COLONNA. 329 
 
 and the Marchioness of Pescara was left alone in her castle of 
 Ischia, where she solaced herself, as best she could, with the 
 charms of poetry and letters. At last the mournful news arrived 
 that he had fallen, mortally wounded, in the battle of Pavia, 
 where Francis the First was taken prisoner, and the liberties of 
 Italy were stricken to the ground. 
 
 Yittoria withdrew from the world, and found consolation in the 
 exercise of piety, and in the cultivation of those arts which had 
 been the ornament of her prosperity. She refused all offers of 
 marriage, which her beauty, talents and virtues induced several 
 nobles and princes to make, her heart clinging, with a fonder af- 
 fection, to the image of her departed husband, and finding a 
 solemn joy in the thought of that higher sphere, into which she 
 hoped erelong to enter. She was the friend of Bernardino Ochino, 
 and the noble Carnesecchi, with whose religious sentiments she 
 cherished a lively sympathy. The Cardinals Bembo, Contarini and 
 Pole, and the poets Guidiccioni, Flaminio, Molza and Alamanni, 
 were also numbered among her friends and correspondents. But 
 with none of these did she maintain a friendship so close and 
 endearing, and yet so pure and elevated, as with the noble Michael 
 Angelo, whose genius and virtue were equally conspicuous in a 
 luxurious and dissolute age. It is of her that this great poet, 
 painter and sculptor, says — 
 
 " Thou high-born spirit, on whose countenance, 
 Pure and beloved, is seen reflected all 
 That Heaven and Nature can on earth achieve, 
 Surpassing all their beauteous works with one ; — 
 Fair spirit, within whom we hope to find, 
 As in thine outward countenance appears, 
 Love, piety and mercy ; things so rare 
 As with such faith were ne'er in beauty found." 
 
 In 1541, desiring to secure a more complete seclusion, Vittoria 
 
330 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 repaired to a convent in Orvieto, wlieie she was visited by her 
 friends with a reverence approaching that of rehgion ; and where 
 she divided her time between the duties of piety and the cultiva- 
 tion of poetry. She returned however to Rome, where she had 
 formerly resided, and died there in 1547. Michael Angelo, it is 
 reported, stood by her death-bed — kissed the cold hand she held 
 out to him, and was heard subsequently to express his regret, 
 ** that the awe of that solemn moment had deterred him from 
 equally kissing her forehead and face." 
 
 Her poems are distinguished for vigor and delicacy of concep- 
 tion, vivacity and elegance of style. They breathe the spirit of a 
 tender and devoted love, a profound and elevated piety. Most 
 of them are of a religious cast, and mirror in their calm depths 
 the beauty, wonder and awe of the celestial world. Take the 
 following as a specimen : 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Father of heaven ! if, by thy mercy's grace, 
 
 A living branch I am of that true vine 
 
 Which spreads o'er all — and would we did resign 
 
 Ourselves entire by faith to thine embrace ! — 
 
 In me much drooping, Lord, thine eye will trace, 
 
 Caused by the shade of these rank leaves of mine, 
 
 Unless in season due thou dost refire 
 
 The humor gross, and quicken its dull pace ^ 
 
 So cleanse me, that, abiding e'er with thee, 
 
 I feed me hourly with the heavenly dew, 
 
 And with my falling tears refresh the root. 
 
 Thou saidst, and tliou art truth, thou'dst with me be ; 
 
 Then willing come, that I may bear much fruit. 
 
 And worthy of the stock on which it grew. 
 
 But we must not linger here, or night will surprise us in the 
 bay. 
 
NAPLES BY MOONLIGHT. 331 
 
 All right, Pietro. Let us steer directly for Naples. The wind 
 is a little unfavorable. But never mind, we will lend a helping 
 hand at the oars. There — that's it ; now we go finely, and our 
 little boat rejoices, like a strong man, to run a race. Ischia fades 
 in the distance. Miseno and Sorrento are left behind. An hour 
 or two more of rapid sailing, and we approach the Castello Uovo, 
 once more step upon the quay, and soon find ourselves in our old 
 haunt, the Cafe dell'Europa, amid the steaming of coffee and the 
 everlasting chattering of the Neapolitans. 
 
 To-morrow we leave Naples, and bid farewell to Italy, perhaps 
 forever. But there is one aspect of the city and vicinity which 
 we must not omit to see. Let us ascend then to the castle of 
 St.- Elmo, which overlooks the whole region for miles and miles ; 
 and, placing ourselves in a suitable position, let us quietly gaze 
 upon the sombre but magnificent landscape which opens on every 
 side. The last tones of the vesper bells from the old church and 
 monastery of San Martino have died on the air. The moon has 
 arisen above the mountains, and hangs in silver radiance over the 
 bay, whose small waves are rocking themselves to rest, as it were, 
 for the night. The volcanic heights which skirt it on one side 
 cut the clear sky with their ebon masses. Far out at the entry 
 of the bay you discover dimly the familiar promontories of Sor- 
 rento and Miseno, crowned with woods, and slightly burnished 
 with the rays of the moon. To the right sweeps the hill of Posi- 
 lipo, thrown into shadow, and losing itself in the distance by the 
 shores of Baiae. Far beneath us the city lies in a half shadowy 
 light, produced in part by the lamps, mingled with the radiance 
 of the moon, while the murmur ascending from its busy heart 
 only tends to deepen the silence, so profound and beautiful, which ^ 
 reigns over the whole. The Castello Nuovo and the Castello 
 Uovo throw dark and sullen shadows into the waters: On the 
 shore, towards Vesuvius, rises a tall, massive light-house, whose 
 
332 GENIUS OF ITALY. 
 
 eye of fire, burning dimly, overlooks the shipping and the bay. 
 A single strain of music from the neighboring monastery holds 
 the ear and heart intent for a few moments, succeeded by a still- 
 ness, if possible, yet more tender and solemn than that which 
 preceded it. Ah ! if we could only forget how much of sin and 
 sorrow fester and burn in the throbbing crowd of the huge city 
 beneath us — as indeed, for the moment, we do forget — and permit 
 the soul, with its mysterious yearnings, to mingle with Nature, 
 and with IS'ature's God, how pure, how blessed and inspiring, the 
 solemn and placid images which mirror themselves in the heart's 
 clear depths ! 
 
 " All things are calm, and fair and passive. Earth 
 Looks as if lulled upon an angel's lap 
 Into a breathless, dewy sleep ; so still 
 That we can only say of things, they be ! 
 The beauteous bay, no longer vexed with gusts, 
 Replaces on her breast the pictured moon, 
 Pearled round with stars. Sweet imaged scene of time 
 To come, perchance, when this vain life o'erspent, 
 Earth may some purer being's presence bear ; 
 Mayhap even God may walk among his saints, 
 In eminence and brightoe^a, like yon moon, 
 Mildly outbeaming all the beads of light 
 Strung o'er night's proud, dark brow." — Baily. 
 
 God grant that this may be fulfilled even in reference to Italy ; 
 a land so beautiful, so full of life and promise, and yet so cursed 
 with sin and sorrow ! In which sacred hope, we bid it a tender 
 
 FAREWELL ! 
 
APPENDII. 
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPH MAZZINI. 
 
 [The following is a condensed account of the life of this illus- 
 trious patriot, from an authentic and interesting biography, 
 written by Mr. William Shaen, which appeared in England in 
 the spring of 1851, in the " Public Good " Magazine :] 
 
 Joseph Mazzini was born at Genoa, in the year 1809. His 
 father, who died in 1848, previous to the breaking out of the 
 revolution at Milan, was a physician of some eminence and a 
 medical professor in the University of Genoa. He was the only 
 son, but he had two sisters, one of whom is still living with his 
 mother at Genoa. His father intended him to follow the pro- 
 fession of the law, and he studied for that purpose at the Uni- 
 versity. He was not long, however, before he conceived a 
 strong aversion to that subject, and every hour of study that 
 was at his own command he devoted to more genial pursuits, 
 and thus early acquired an extensive and accurate acquaintance 
 with the philosophy, history, and literature, not only of his own 
 country, but also of France, Germany, and England. Before he 
 was one-and-twenty, he had published, in several periodicals, 
 
834 APPENDIX. 
 
 articles professedly of a literary and critical nature, which were 
 so remarkable for vigor and originality of thought, and elo- 
 quence of language, and which also breathed so much the spirit 
 of liberty and independence, that they attracted a very general 
 notoriety, and one that was full of danger to their author in a 
 country where loyalty and truth were incompatible virtues. 
 
 At that time the old Italian Carbonarium was in full force ; 
 and Mazzini, in common with almost every young Italian who 
 possessed any patriotic feelings, joined its ranks. This very 
 remarkable conspiracy had been described and judged by Maz- 
 zini, in a paper which he contributed to the " People's Journal," 
 in 1847, to which we shall have occasion hereafter to refer; at 
 present it is only necessary to state, that he quickly perceived 
 that it was, and ever must remain, powerless to regenerate Italy ; 
 inasmuch as its only common bond was hatred of the systems 
 of tyranny in actual power from one end of the Peninsula to the 
 other ; and its only practical rule was one of blind obedience to 
 whatever commands were issued by its invisible and unknown 
 leaders. It was powerful, so long as it was only a conspiracy ; 
 it was well calculated to produce a violent and successful insur- 
 rection ; but, from the moment of its success, it must become 
 powerless. It could not consolidate a revolution ; it was utterly 
 unfitted to educate or to organize a people, and for the simple 
 reason, that it possessed no common bond of principles ; it had 
 no creed, no faith, no banner, no watchword : Mazzini, therefore, 
 speedily ceased to have any active connection with it. 
 
 Before he left college, however, he took part in a popular 
 emeute, which was speedily suppressed, and, so far as he was 
 concerned, resulted only in an imprisonment of a few days. It is, 
 however, interesting as having been the first open declaration of 
 that war against the foreign oppressors of his country which he 
 
APPENDIX. 336 
 
 has never ceased to wage, and which he has, by his teachings, 
 turned into a means of moral and spiritual regeneration, as well 
 as of political emancipation, for his countrymen. 
 
 Perceiving the defects of Carbonarism, Mazzini determined to 
 found a new National Association — secret in its nature, of course, 
 for its object was freedom in an enslaved country — the members 
 of which should be united by a common devotion to a religious 
 and political creed ; which should assert truth, as well as deny 
 falsehood ; which should be destructive only to become construc- 
 tive, and whose laws should derive their sanction, not from the 
 mere will of its own executive, but from the sphere of principles, 
 raising those whom they controlled into the character of soldiers 
 of order, at the same time that they were conspirators for liberty ; 
 looking for support and consolation, not in dreams of vengeance 
 and material well-being, but in their devotion to duty, as child- 
 ren of God working out His will. 
 
 He named this new association " Le Giovane Italia :" " Young 
 Italy." Its faith was that of democracy ; its motto, " Dio e 
 Popolo :" " God and the People." It met the wants of the 
 country, and quickly gathered around itself all that was best, 
 bravest, and noblest of the Italian people, and it has gone on up 
 to the present time, increasing in power and efficiency, Mazzini 
 remaining its representative, its expounder, and its leader. Its 
 motto was visible in 1848 on the banners of the Lombard volun- 
 teers, whose bravery and constancy amidst the most tremendous 
 trials, and under the crudest neglect, and even treachery, has 
 alone rescued the Lombard name from the contempt and con- 
 demnation to which the weakness, folly, and bad faith of her 
 nobles, who formed the provisional government of Milan, and 
 the incapacity and want of determination of Charles Albert and 
 his courtly generals, who led the brave Piedmontese army, would 
 
386 APPENDIX. 
 
 otherwise have doomed it. The same faith upheld, and the same 
 bamier floated over the brave Venetians, during the trials of 
 their long siege, which proved that they could steadily support, 
 as well as daringly confront, the horrors of war; and which 
 showed to Europe, that if in general the people of Venice are 
 now one of the most degraded of populations, it is not because 
 they are in themselves incapable of being any thing better. But 
 even beyond their exemplification of what the Italians are capa- 
 ble of, when treated as free men, and called upon to show them- 
 selves worthy of their own faith, was the defense of Rome by a 
 people who had been demoralized by centuries of priestly mis- 
 rule, with their fortifications in a state of dilapidation, yet ex- 
 tending over a space that required a force of fifty thousand at 
 least properly to garrison it, having only ten thousand, and 
 these inadequately supplied with the materials of war, yet for 
 three months keeping at bay an army of thirty thousand picked 
 French troops, who had on their side all the chances of men of 
 bad faith dealing with men of good faith, but who, after their 
 first repulse, never dared again to meet their victims in close 
 fight, but confined themselves to engineering and artillery opera- 
 tions ; different portions of the Roman territory also being, at 
 the same time, occupied by three other foreign armies. 
 
 It is only the events of 1848-9 that have established, beyond 
 dispute, the soundness of judgment displayed by Mazzini in his 
 organization of Young Italy ; but those who knew him, and some- 
 thing also of the materials he had to deal with, did not need this 
 brilliant, though melancholy vindication ; it is, however, a very 
 striking proof of his extraordinary genius, that the scheme which 
 then resulted in these European events, was conceived and real- 
 ized in its foundation by him thirty years ago, when he was a 
 youth at college. 
 
APPENDIX. 337 
 
 It is not always that the genius and zeal which can win the 
 admiration of a people are supported by the fortitude that is 
 required to justify their lasting confidence. It was not long 
 before Mazzini was put to the test. In 1830, he was arrested on ^y^ 
 suspicion of beiug connected with the Carbonari, by the orders 
 of Charles Albert, who, as crown-prince, had himself been the 
 leader of the Carbonari. He was examined by the authorities 
 at Genoa, who were, however, unable to prove any thing against 
 him ; they therefore applied for orders to Turin, and by the 
 king's command, instead of being set at liberty, Mazzini was 
 transferred to the fortress of Savonna, where he was confined for 
 six months, without being brought to trial, or having any further 
 accusation brought against him. At the end of that time, and 
 still without even the form of a trial, he was condemned to per- 
 petual banishment ; ibut, previous to his leaving the country, he 
 was allowed, as a favor, to have an interview of three hours 
 with his mother. 
 
 From that day, he has lived an exile and a wanderer on the 
 face of the earth ; he has never dwelt in the same house with 
 any member of his family ; he possessed no country, until the 
 Romans, taking advantage of their brief period of freedom, made 
 him a Roman citizen, honoring themselves in honoring him. 
 That sentence of banishment stamped him as a patriot; and 
 while it condemned him to a life of labors and sufferings, that 
 have left upon him their ineffaceable impression, yet we may 
 be sure it tended to raise and confirm his devotedness and his 
 faith, and did something to mature those powers and that cha- 
 racter which now, while they command our admiring homage, 
 win, at the same time, our reverence and our love. 
 
 On quitting Piedmont, Mazzini went to Marseilles, where 
 there were a considerable number of Italian exiles, to all of 
 15 
 
888 APPENDIX. 
 
 whom he was already well known by name, but many of them 
 had never yet seen him. One of these has related how he 
 first saw him, in the midst of a number of other strangers, prac- 
 tising rifle-shooting, at a rifle-ground that was much frequented 
 by the exiles. " I went into the ground," he says, " and looking 
 round, saw a young man leaning on his rifle, watching the shoot- 
 ers, and waiting for his turn. He was about five feet eight 
 inches high, and slightly made ; he was dressed in black Genoa 
 velvet, with the large republican hat ; his long, curling black 
 hair, which fell upon his shoulders, the extreme freshness of his 
 clear olive complexion, the chiselled delicacy of his regular and 
 beautiful features, aided by his very youthful look, and sweet- 
 ness and openness of expression, would have made his appear- 
 ance almost too feminine, if it had not been for his noble forehead, 
 the power of firmness and decision that was mingled with their 
 gayety and sweetness in the bright flashes of his dark eyes, and 
 in the varying expression of his mouth, together with his small 
 and beautiful mustachios and beard. Altogether he was, at that 
 time, the most beautiful heing^ male or female, that I had ever 
 seen ; and I have not since seen his equal. I had read what he 
 had published ; I had heard of what he had done and suflered, 
 and the moment I saw him I Imew it could be no other than 
 Joseph Mazzini.'' 
 
 The slightness of his figure has been increased by the hardships 
 he has undergone. His long black hair has become scant and 
 prematurely gray ; and his whole appearance bespeaks a life of 
 trial and suffering ; yet there is still in his face that rare mixture 
 of power, beauty, and sweetness which have been his character- 
 istics through life, and which have won at once the reverence and 
 the love of all who have had the opportunity of really knowing 
 him, and which cause even strangers to feel, when they see him. 
 
APPENDIX. 339 
 
 that there is something wonderful in him, and that he is indeed 
 unlike all other men. 
 
 At Marseilles Mazzini remained nearly two years, and, during 
 all that time, he labored indefatigably to extend and consolidate 
 the association of Young Italy. For this purpose he commenced 
 a weekly paper, which was the organ of his party, and also called 
 " Young Italy." In its pages he first appeared as the political 
 teacher of his countrymen, and he urged his views with such 
 power and eloquence, and exhibited such a thorough knowledge 
 of the wants of his country, in every thing he wrote, together 
 with such a mingled wisdom and beauty, and such evidence of 
 genius and of virtue, that he irresistibly attracted to himself all 
 the best of those whom his writings reached, and necessarily be- 
 came, once and for ever, the head of the struggle for the eman- 
 cipation of Italy — a struggle that has never since ceased, and has 
 rarely become even invisible, for any length of time, and that 
 never will cease until his prophecy has become fulfilled, and his 
 dream is a dream no more, but a bright and glorious reality — 
 and Italy is one and free, with the Eternal City for her capital. 
 From Marseilles Mazzini was able, without any very great diffi- 
 culty, to spread copies of his paper through all parts of Italy. 
 Wherever it was seen it was eagerly read, especially by the 
 young, who are the active and the hopeful. Wherever it was 
 read, it produced effects which not only threatened the tranquil- 
 lity, but evidently endangered the very existence of all the actual 
 governments, founded, as they all were, upon the ignorance, the 
 degradation, and the fear of their subjects. The following is 
 Mazzini' s own testimony to the power and effect of the National 
 Association : — '^ The Italian youth had found its men. The lan- 
 guage which was addressed to it expressed all which it had long 
 felt without giving it utterance — all the secrets of its heart. It 
 caugh*- the inspiration — it took its fire — organization commenced 
 
840 APPENDIX. 
 
 at every point. In the twinkling of an eye, the chain of com- 
 munication was formed from one extremity to the other of the 
 peninsula. , Everywhere the principles of ' La Giovini Italia' were 
 preached ; everywhere its standard was recognized and hailed. 
 Its members continued to increase; its emissaries were con- 
 tinually meeting each other crossing from province to province. 
 Every day the demand for its publications became louder ; 
 presses were set up in some parts of the interior, where small 
 publications, dictated by local circumstances, or reprints of what 
 were sent from Marseilles, were thrown off. Fear was unknown ; 
 there was no doubt of success. All this was the result of prin- 
 ciples ; and all this effected by some young men, without great 
 means, without the influence of rank, without material force, is 
 strong evidence, it appears to me, in favor of the standard they 
 had reared." 
 
 The Governments of Europe having become alarmed, the 
 King of the French was requested to hunt out and utterly expel 
 this energetic disturber of public order. The result was a 
 melancholy one to all those who had not yet learned how vain 
 it is " to put trust in princes ;" but all true democrats should 
 rejoice when an evil principle is seen to produce evil fruit, and 
 they therefore should be glad that that huge sham, the King of 
 the Barricades, proved himself to be a sham by at once consent- 
 ing to a decree that Mazzini, the representative and advocate of 
 a friendly and enslaved people, should be expelled from the soil 
 of France. Mazzini, however, was not a man to be extinguished 
 by the breath of kings, and he knew well that this outrage upon 
 their national honor was suffered, and not inflicted, by the French 
 people, and he therefore refused to go. The French police are 
 notorious for their skill and the excellence of their organization, 
 and it would have appeared to most men a hopeless thing to 
 attempt not only to baffle all their researches and to remain in 
 
APPEIS'DIX. 341 
 
 Marseilles, but also to continue to conduct a voluminous corre- 
 spondence, to superintend a national conspiracy, and to edit and 
 publish a weekly journal ; and unless he could succeed in also 
 effecting these objects, his merely remaining concealed in Mar- 
 seilles would be useless. 
 
 At length, however, it became evident that a longer stay 
 must lead to his being discovered, and he therefore resolved to 
 pass over to Switzerland. The difficulty of going without being 
 detected by the police, was quite as great as any that he had had 
 to surmount during his stay ; it was, however, successfully over- 
 come, and he reached Switzerland in safety. Here he organized L/^ 
 the expedition to Savoy, which took place in 1833, and which 
 failed, owing principally to the treachery of Generai Ramorino, 
 the same who was shot by order of a court-martial at the con- 
 clusion of the campaign of Charles Albert against the Austrians 
 in 1849, and who, whether that sentence was a just one, or whe. 
 ther he was then made an expiatory sacrifice to the mingled 
 imbecility and treachery of the king, had certainly, sixteen years 
 before, well merited the fate that was ultimately in store for 
 him. Mazzini again found himself in Switzerland ; and this epoch 
 is rendered memorable by the weakness of the Swiss Govern- 
 ment in submitting to be dictated to by the absolutist govern- 
 ments, and in consenting to expel from their republican land the 
 exiles of their common faith. 
 
 Before leaving Switzerland, Mazzini published in French a 
 small pamphlet which is not at all known in this country, but 
 which is one of the most perfect specimens of his genius. Both 
 in thought and in language it is full of a sublime and beautiful 
 power, that can only be compared to the grandest outbursts of 
 the old Hebrew prophets. 
 
 On the 31st of May, 1833, while Mazzini was living in con- 
 cealment, a quarrel occurred among the Italian exiles who were 
 
342 APPENDIX. 
 
 living at Aveyron, and two of them, named Emiliani and Seu- 
 riatt, were killed by a third, named Gavioli, who was arrested, 
 examined, and subsequently tried for murder. It was soon dis- 
 covered that the two men who had been murdered were spies of 
 the Duke of Modena, and upon these facts the " friends of order" 
 in Italy constructed a tale that the murder had been committed 
 in obedience to a decree of a secret tribunal said to be presided 
 over by Mazzini ; and in the French Moniteur of June 8th ap- 
 peared, without any comment, the pretended decree, signed 
 "Mazzini, President" — "Cecilia," another well-known Italian 
 exile, "Secretary." 
 
 Mazzini immediately wrote a letter in the Gazette des Tri- 
 bunaux, denouncing this document as a piece of calumnious 
 forgery. For all who read it, even this was superfluous, for it 
 was so full of grammatical blunders and French expressions, its 
 style and composition were so bad, as to make it palpable that 
 it had been written by some one who was as illiterate as malev- 
 olent. 
 
 Cecilia was at that time, and for years afterwards, living 
 openly at Paris, and actually upon the aid given to the exiles 
 by the French government. He was neither arrested nor 
 examined, nor was the aid withdrawn from him. 
 
 In the following November, Gavioli was tried for the murder, 
 and after a full investigation, the jury rendered a verdict of 
 " homicide without premeditation." 
 
 One would have thought that this monstrous and absurd false- 
 hood, after being so superabundantly exposed, would be carefully 
 consigned to oblivion, at any rate by his enemies, and that its 
 repetition could bring only shame, to them and sympathy to 
 him. But, no — calumny does not die so easily. If defeated in 
 its first attack, it retires for a season, again to show itself when 
 time may have made its refutation more difficult. 
 
APPKKDrX. 343 
 
 After seven years the lie was repeated by Gisquet, the ex- 
 prefect of police, in his memoirs, which were published both in 
 Paris and in London. Mazzini this time met it with an action 
 against Gisquet for slander, which was tried in Paris in April, 
 1841; and. the dishonest and quibbling defence that was set up, 
 while it unfortunately secured a verdict of acquittal for the de- 
 fendant, yet also completely admitted Mazzini's case. The 
 defence was, in eifect, that Mazzini could not identify himself 
 with the person accused of signing the decree, and that, indeed, 
 as he was universally known to be a man illustrious in the 
 ranks of literature, and of unblemished character, some other 
 Mazzini must have been referred to. 
 
 The lie slept again : but in 1844, — for we will anticipate the 
 course of our narrative in order to finish this subject, — when the 
 love of justice and honest dealing of all true Englishmen was 
 roused to indignation against the slavish, cowardly, and wicked 
 practices by which Lord Aberdeen and Sir James Graham de- 
 graded themselves into becoming spies of Russia and Austria, 
 and when it was important for the government, if possible, to 
 turn the sympathies of the country away from him who, from 
 being the victim of their secret arts, had become their public 
 accuser, it was revived and industriously circulated through our 
 press. Mazzini again came forward to repel it, and, thanks to 
 the honest and persevering boldness of Mr. Thomas Duncombe, 
 who undertook the management of the case in parliament. Sir 
 James Graham, after having recourse to the usual ministerial 
 shifts and delays, and having, in simulated kindness to Mazzini, 
 advised that his friends should not press the matter further, lest 
 he should be compelled to produce the overwhelming proofs he 
 had collected, when at last he was driven to his legs, astonished 
 both friends and foes by what the world calls a handsome and 
 ample apology, stating that he had inquired into the truth of the 
 story, and found that it was utterly 'wiiLout foundadoiL 
 
344 APPENDIX. 
 
 We must now resume our narrative from the time when 
 Mazzmi, findmg it impossible to remain in Switzerland, and still 
 continue his labors to collect, increase, and organize the elements 
 of a national Italian revolution, resolved on seeking a safer, 
 though more distant, asylum in England. He remained there 
 about eleven years ; during which he kept up an uninterrupted 
 communication with all parts of Italy, and never relaxed in his 
 labors to infuse into his countrymen his own firm faith in the 
 future of his country, and to prepare them to insure it by adding 
 to their faith a determined will. His was no easy mission — his 
 name had not the weight and authority which the world willingly 
 awards to a titled descent, to great wealth, or to striking personal 
 success ; for these he had to substitute the authority which is 
 more grudgingly yielded to personal genius, truth, and perse- 
 verance. He is poor, yet he had to conduct all his operations 
 not only at a distance, but under the additionally expensive dis- 
 advantages of secresy and frequent miscarriage, caused by the 
 powerful and watchful opposition of the despotic courts with 
 which he had to contend. To obtain funds he devoted a portion 
 of his time to literature ; and, in this way, he has left scattered 
 through our periodical press a number of articles of inestimable 
 value, which procured him the means not only of continuing his 
 political work, but of answering the ceaseless demands for pecu- 
 niary assistance by which he was assailed by the most needy and 
 least scrupulous of his own countrymen. Nor had he even that 
 devoted cooperation from all the self-styled patriots of Italy 
 which, had they been worthy to become his fellow-laborers, he 
 could not have missed ; his principle and his practice were of a 
 truth and purity that were too absolute and unvarying to be 
 appreciated by the worldly, the selfish, and the degraded, from, 
 v/hom no country and no cause can be altogether free. The old 
 organization of the Carbonari was not yet extinct, although it 
 was rapidly losing both its character and its power, and becoming 
 
APPE-nTDIX. 345 
 
 confined to the most worthless of the heterogeneous elements it 
 had gathered together. Mazzini's Association of Young Italy- 
 had given it its death-blow, and by those who still clung to it he 
 was never forgiven. Some little time after his arrival in Eng- 
 land, he was condemned by its remaining chiefs as a traitor to 
 its laws, and sentenced as such to death. The old forms were 
 kept up, the lot was cast, and the selected man was furnished 
 with the necessary funds, and despatched to England to execute 
 the sentence. 
 
 The choice had fallen upon one whose character accorded well 
 with his diabolical mission. When he had got as far as Paris, 
 he delayed a short time in order to take part in a robbery, in 
 which he was detected, and being tried and found guilty, he was 
 sent to the galleys for life. His employers, however, resolved 
 upon another attempt, and a second emissary was started off, 
 who reached London in safety, and at once proceeded to recon- 
 noitre his ground and lay his plan ; for which purpose he assumed 
 a false name, and pretending to be an unfortunate political exile, 
 called upon Mazzini, who was at that time living in lodgings at 
 Chelsea. It is a striking illustration of the extent and perfect 
 organization of the Association of Young Italy, that they were 
 able to send to their distant President notice of every particular 
 of this deep-laid plot as it was formed. On the eventful morn- 
 ing, Mazzini was out calling on a friend who lived not far from 
 his own lodgings, when he received a message that a country- 
 man, newly-arrived in England, was at his rooms, exceedingly 
 anxious to see him, and waiting his return for that purpose. He 
 at once returned home, and found in his sitting-room his intended 
 assassin. It was his dinner hour : his servant brought in his din- 
 ner, and he sat down and quietly ate it while his visitor told his 
 prepared tale. When it was ended, Mazzini turned to him, and 
 fixing upon him a look that at once unnerved him, told himi his 
 15* 
 
346 APPENDIX. 
 
 real name, detailed to him the stages of his journey, and then 
 repeated the instructions with which he had been furnished, and 
 which, of course, disclosed the real object of his journey. The 
 wretched man gave himself up for lost, and, ready to sink in 
 abject terror, besought Mazzini to give him a glass of water. 
 Mazzini handed one to him, and when he had drunk it, astonished 
 him by simply telling him to leave the house. He went, but re- 
 turned no more to Italy. He remained in England, gaining a 
 miserable subsistence as a spy in the pay of Austria. By those 
 who have ever seen Mazzini when the power of his eye has been 
 called forth, and who also know how absolutely impossible it is 
 for any wrong against himself to overcome, even for a moment, 
 his deep pity for the wicked and the degraded, this event in his 
 life will be recognized as eminently characteristic. 
 
 We have already alluded to the disgraceful way in which the 
 English Government in 1844 made, use of their control over the 
 post-office to detain and open Mazzini's letters, and to commu- 
 nicate the information they thus obtained to the foreign oppress- 
 ors of Italy. As was well remarked at the time by a writer in 
 the Westminster Revieiv^ the perpetrators of that vile deed were 
 first guilty of, and then justified, the crimes of theft, lying, for- 
 gery, treachery, rogue-making, and tyrannous injustice. 
 
 Mazzini found that there were many men in England who 
 lamented the apathetic way in which the Foreign Secretary was V 
 allowed to wield his immense influence abroad, unchecked by 
 that public opinion which has such a beneficial and restraining 
 influence upon the home department of the English Government. 
 He saw that the time was coming when England would have a glo- 
 rious opportunity of expressing her sympathy for the struggling 
 nationalities which had been for years buried under the diploma- 
 tic arrangements of the treaty of Vienna ; and he was anxious 
 for her sake, as well as for that of his own Italy, that an effort 
 
APPENDIX. 347 
 
 should be made to prevent the approachmg opportunity being 
 utterly lost. He called his friends around him, and. together 
 they founded, in 1847, "The People's International League," 
 the objects of which were declared to be — 
 
 " To enlighten the British public as to the political condition 
 and relations of foreign countries. 
 
 "To disseminate the principles of national freedom and 
 progress. 
 
 " To embody and manifest an efficient public opinion in favor 
 of the right of every people to self-government and the mainte- 
 nance of their own nationality. 
 
 " To promote a good understanding between the peoples of 
 all countries." 
 
 The League issued a few printed addresses, and held one or 
 two public meetings ; but the stirring events of 1848 called most 
 of its foreign members, and especiaRy Mazzini, who was in point 
 of fact its soul, to more active operations in their respective 
 countries ; and it has since then been dormant. 
 
 Within twelve months from the publication of the address of 
 the International League, the volcano burst forth ; every capital 
 city from Berlin to Naples became a crater of insurrection, and 
 all the great powers of Europe, as 'they call themselves, were 
 shaken to their very centre. For two years the struggle con- 
 tinued, and at length the enormous advantages on the side of 
 despotism, under whose banner were enlisted the combined 
 wealth, strength and knowledge of all the aristocracies of Europe, 
 enabled the ruling powers to put a stop to the onward progress 
 of the revolution, which was supported only by the scattered, 
 isolated, and often ill-directed struggles of the poor, the oppress- 
 ed, and the uneducated people. From that time, the history of 
 Mazzini is the history of the Italian movement, and that, in its 
 connection with France and Austria, involves the history of 
 
348 APPENDIX. 
 
 Europe. We cannot here pretend to do more than glance at its 
 most prominent features, and to point out to our readers where 
 they may gain more detailed information, if they are desirous of 
 doing so. It is now well known that the accounts contained in 
 the English newspapers, from " Our Correspondent," are utterly 
 untrustworthy in form as well as in coloring. What we have 
 here stated, however, will do something to enable our readers to 
 judge for themselves what they may believe, and what they may 
 feel certain must be false with regard to Mazzini. We will, 
 therefore, content ourselves with a very short notice of the part 
 he took in those eventful proceedings. 
 
 As soon as the revolution at Milan had broken down the 
 barrier between him and his country, he started for the Conti- 
 nent to place himself at the disposal of his countrymen. On his 
 way through Paris, he attended a meeting of the Italians there, 
 at which a National Italian Association was founded. Until he 
 spoke, opinions were much divided upon the question, whether 
 their prograihme should be republican, according to their prin- 
 ciples, or whether they should not take what seemed to some to 
 be the more prudent course, and tender their support to Charles 
 Albert, King of Piedmont. Mazzini urged that the question be- 
 fore them was the regeneration of the Italian people — that with 
 that view it would be fatal to commence by falsifying their own 
 principles and convictions — that to succeed they must engage in 
 it as a holy work — that they must go to the people in such a 
 way as to command their complete devotion — that, therefore, for 
 reasons more cogent and more authoritative than any that could 
 be drawn from calculations of apparent expediency, they had but 
 one com^se to adopt — to proclaim the right of the Italian people 
 to freedom, independence, and unity; and when those were 
 secured, to determine for themselves the form of their future 
 government. He also pointed out, that even on grounds of ex- 
 
APPENDIX. 349 
 
 pediency, this was much the wisest course. That it was a pro- 
 gramme which all the inhabitants of the peninsula equally would 
 hail as simple, and yet complete ; raising and satisfying the en- 
 thusiasm of all, and yet avoiding the dangers of distrust and 
 jealousy which would be sure to arise under any other proposal ; 
 for there was no other to which all the different sections of the 
 Italian people would be willing to agree. To offer themselves 
 to Piedmont, would be at once to convert the question from a 
 national to a dynastic one ; and instead of securing the enthusi- 
 astic support of the people of all the other states, they would 
 insure the coldness and jealousy, if not the actual opposition, of 
 their brethren, thus made their rivals, of Tuscany, Rome, and 
 Naples. 
 
 These considerations, as urged by Mazzini, at once deter- 
 mined the question ; and he was appointed President of the new 
 Association. It is important to bear them in mind, as they ex- 
 plain the conduct of the republican party throughout the Lombard 
 war, which has hitherto, in this country, been almost uniformly 
 misunderstood and misrepresented. 
 
 From Paris Mazzini went to Milan, where he was received 
 with such enthusiasm by the people, that the Provisional Govern- 
 ment at once sent for him, perceiving the importance of securing 
 his cooperation. A very short time, however, showed Mazzini 
 that they were men with whom he could not identify himself; 
 that the majority of them were secretly bound to Charles Albert, 
 and that their government had neither the stability of faith, nor 
 even that of capacity. He remained in Milan, to do what he 
 could as a private individual ; and he started a daily paper, 
 called the " Italia del Popolo," " Italy of the People," in which, 
 from day* to day, he labored to inculcate his own simple and 
 noble views, and the leading articles of which form a series of 
 political essays and exhortations of unexampled value. 
 
350 APPENDIX. 
 
 Having failed in \^nnning him over to their side, although the 
 King sent an intimation to him that he desired a personal recon- 
 ciliation, to which Mazzini replied that he had no corresponding 
 desire, (and if the fortress of Savonna did not rise up before him, 
 the King's treachery in 1821, and his butcheries in 1838, may 
 well have done so, ) the friends of Charles Albert next tried to 
 diminish the influence of Mazzini, by proposing to him that the 
 question of the ultimate form of government should be entirely 
 left till the end of the war; that, in the meantime, all parties 
 should employ all their exertions in carrying to a successful 
 issue the war against the Austrians, not attempting to preach 
 either monarchy or republicanism. Mazzini at once accepted 
 tliis proposal, and it was faithfully adhered to, not only by him- 
 self, but also by all his friends, until they suddenly discovered 
 that it had been used by the Provisional Government merely as 
 a means of imposing silence on their opponents, while all the 
 time they were using all their own influence, not against the 
 Austrians, but to induce the Lombards to sell themselves to 
 Charles Albert for the assistance of his army. Mazzini imme- 
 diately denounced this gross breach of faith, and absolved his 
 party from any further observance of the original agreement. 
 
 A revolution in the Innds of such men was foredoomed. 
 Charles Albert was origin rlly unwilling to take any part in the 
 war; he was forced into it by the fear that a continued refusal 
 would lead to insurrection in his own kingdom, and he carried it 
 on without confidence in his power to beat the Austrians by 
 means of his army alone, and yet more fearful of calling forth 
 the power of the people. Hence every difficulty was thrown in 
 the way of the regiments of volunteers, whom it seemed the 
 great business of the Provisional Government to prevent being 
 formed, and when that was impossible, to destroy, by sending 
 them, without the means even of existence, to perform impossible 
 
APPENDIX. 351 
 
 duties up amid the passes of the Tyrolese Alps. The provisional 
 government, in fact, accepted the leadership of the people in the 
 day of their victory, not with the honest purpose of guiding 
 them to the realization of their own aspirations, but for the pur- 
 pose only of curbing their enthusiasm, and of bending the revo- 
 lution away from its natural result to one that they flattered 
 themselves would be ultimately more favorable to the special 
 interests of their own class. The natural result followed : the 
 people, not being called into action, became disheartened ; jea- 
 lousies arose, and speedily ripened into hostile divisions; the 
 war languished ; the Austrians recovered from the overwhelming 
 effects of the first outburst at Milan, and had time to receive 
 powerful reinforcements ; Charles Albert perceived that the 
 sceptre of the kingdom of Northern Italy was not within his 
 power, and calculated that by being defeated in Lombardy he 
 could retire into his own kingdom, stronger against the radical 
 portion of his subjects than when he had left it ; and so the in- 
 famous capitulation of Milan was agreed upon, and the King 
 entered the city with his army ; put forth his proclamation that 
 he was come with his sons to shed the last drop of his blood in 
 its defence, and handed it over to Radetzky without striking a 
 blow. 
 
 Mazzini determined to make one desperate attempt to rouse 
 the people to recommence for themselves the holy war of inde- 
 pendence. He joined the Lombard volunteers, who were led 
 by General Garibaldi, as a common soldier, and his company 
 was engaged in the last fighting that took place against the ad- 
 vancing Austrians. This little army established themselves at 
 Lugano, and there -endeavored to kindle once more a national 
 insurrection, and a rising in the Val d'Intelvi did actually take 
 place. It was, however, unsuccessful ; the people had become 
 
352 APPENDIX. 
 
 too m-uch disheartened, and Austria had had time given her to 
 become too well prepared. 
 
 Mazzini, therefore, again retired to Switzerland, and applied 
 himsalf to collect into the organization of the National Italian 
 Association as many as possible of those who had all through 
 agreed in his doctrines, as well as those who, having been wor- 
 shippers of opportunity and calculators of expediency, had now 
 drawai from bitter experience a conviction of the truth of his 
 views. While thus engaged, the revolution broke out in Tuscany 
 and at Rome ; and a National Constituent Assembly was called 
 in the Eternal City, to which Mazzini was elected a delegate by 
 Leghorn. He im.mediately proceeded to that city, where he was 
 received in triumph by the Provisional Government of Tuscany, 
 and thence he passed on to Rome, where he was immediately 
 also elected a Roman citizen, and a representative of Rome itself 
 in the Roman National Assembly. It was only in the latter 
 character that he was able to act, as, in consequence of the failure 
 of the Tuscan revolution and the inability of the other Italian 
 states to send deputies, the Italian Constituent Assenably never 
 met. 
 
 When Mazzini first entered the Roman Assembly to take his 
 seat, the whole body rose to receive him ; he was requested to 
 take his place at the right hand of the President, after having 
 been publicly welcomed by the President in the name of the 
 Assembly which interrupted the business before it for that pur- 
 pose. He was shortly afterwards appointed, with Armellini and 
 Saffi, under the title of triumvirs, to discharge the executive func- 
 tions of the government, and during his short and brilliant rule, 
 the ancient glories of the Queen of the World seemed again re- 
 vived ; and the third Rome, which had been so often invoked by 
 Mazzini, the Rome of the people, seemed realized, and vindicated 
 
APPENDIX. S5S 
 
 her right to live by the courage of her soldiers and the wisdom 
 of her legislators, the dignity and the power of the diplomatic 
 correspondence of her executive, and, above all, by the unanimity 
 and the virtue of her citizens. 
 
 We cannot here either give a history of the late Roman 
 republic, nor reply in any detail to the various calumnies which 
 have been forged by the French to cover their own dastardly, 
 treacherous, and unprincipled attack upon the city ; and which 
 have found ready propagators in almost all the English daily 
 papers, and' especially in the Times. We will, however, enable 
 our readers to judge of the rest, by giving them the real state of 
 the ease with regard to the principal charge, — that Mazzini, with 
 the aid of foreign soldiers, forced the republic upon the Roman 
 people, and afterwards invited the attack of the French ai^my. 
 
 The Republic was proclaimed by the Constituent Assembly of 
 the Roman states, which had been elected by universal suffrage. 
 
 It was proclaimed on the 9th of February, 1849, some weeks 
 before Mazzini reached the Roman states. 
 
 It was proclaimed in a house of one hundred and forty-four 
 members, of whom only one^ General Ferrari, was not a Roman. 
 
 It was welcomed by all the municipalities throughout the 
 Roman states, who renewed their voluntary adhesion after the 
 French had commenced the siege. 
 
 The total armed force of the Republic amounted to rather less 
 than fourteen thousand ; all except about fourteen hundred were 
 Romans, and all except about three hundred, Italians. The 
 French army amounted to upwards of thirty thousand. 
 
 The population of Rome is about one hundred and sixty 
 thousand. 
 
 During the Republic, there was not a single condemnation to 
 death or exile for any political offence ; there was not a single 
 newspaper suppressed, or even suspended. 
 
354 APPENDIX. 
 
 On the IGth of May, when the army marched to Velletri 
 against the King of Naples, from five o'clock a. m. till midnight, 
 the city remained without a single soldier, and intrusted solely 
 to the people, the French troops being only a short distance 
 from the walls. 
 
 Well indeed may Mazzini say, as he does in his letter to the 
 French Ministers, De Tocqueville and Falloux, ''Yours is a pre- 
 meditated lie,^'' 
 
 Treacherous lies, murder, and robbery, however, when resorted 
 to by a great nation, seem to the world not even to require a 
 protest ; and so England preserved her friendship for the brigand 
 government of France, and Rome fell. 
 
 And if the Roman question yet remains unsolved, so does the 
 Italian National question, of which, indeed, Rome is only the 
 central hearth. The Italian National party was never so nume- 
 rous, so united, and so well organized, as it is at the present 
 time. On the 4'th of July, 1849, while the French were actually 
 in the city, at the final sitting of the Roman Assembly, a decree 
 was passed to " constitute provisionally, and until the people 
 shall be enabled freely to manifest its wishes^ an Italian National 
 Committee, composed of the following citizens : Joseph Mazzini 
 Aurelio Saffi, and Mattia Montecchi ; empowering them to add to 
 their number, if necessary, two or more of the Italian citizens ; 
 and appealing to all true Italians to assist them by every possible 
 means in the execution of their labor, and to conform themselves 
 as much as possible to any regulations they may issue in the in- 
 terest of the nation at large." This decree was signed by sixty 
 members of the Roman Assembly, and has since been signed by 
 one hundred other well-known Italians, who had either formed 
 part of other National Assemblies, or who had distinguished 
 themselves in the national armies. Two other gentlemen have 
 been added to the committee, a Neapolitan and a Sicilian ; and 
 
APPENDIX. 355 
 
 under the guidance of Mazzini, it is actively and hopefully pre- 
 paring to renew the struggle for the independence of their coun- 
 try, worthily continuing that brave race of patriots who, for so 
 many years, have been devoting themselves to the work of en- 
 franchisement, and proving that in the South, as in the North—- 
 
 ** Freedom's battle once begun, 
 Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, 
 Though baflled oft, is ever won !'' 
 
 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF GAVAZZI. 
 
 Alexander Gavazzi, the hero-priest, as he has been aptly 
 designated, was descended from illustrious ancestors. His pater- 
 nal grandfather was born of Italian parents in Portugal, and at an 
 early age was nominated Vice-Chancellor of his adopted country. 
 This honor, however, was of brief duration, for his name was 
 among the list of those proscribed by the Marquis of Pombal. 
 He abandoned his property and titles, and repaired to Bologna, 
 where his merits were speedily recognized. The Senate conferred 
 upon him the title of Pro-consul, and thus raised him to the 
 highest dignity within its gift. His maternal grandfather, Pa- 
 tuzzi, was President of the Court of Appeals in the same city, 
 and was a man of singular simplicity and integrity of character. 
 The title of ."The Just Man" was inscribed upon his tomb. The 
 father of Gavazzi filled successively the offices of judge in his 
 native town, peace magistrate at Forli, Professor of Law in the 
 
356 APPENDIX. 
 
 University of Bologna, and that of Advocate for the Papal 
 States. He was a man of liberal views, and a decided enemy of 
 the Jesuits. 
 
 Gavazzi was born in the early part of the present century, and 
 was the second of twenty children. He was distinguished for 
 his activity and talent. Under the direction of his father, he made 
 rapid attainments in knowledge. 
 
 At the age of sixteen, under some latent and sudden impulse, 
 he joined the Barnabite Order of Monks, who are somewhat 
 liberal in their views, being less superstitious and ascetic than 
 many of their monkish brethren. He was attentive to the 
 performance of his duties, and spent much time in the study of 
 the Fathers and other sacred writings. Of the Bible he knew 
 nothing, at that age, as that is one of the neglected books in 
 monkish cloisters. The vigorous intellect of the young Barnabite, 
 however, made rapid strides in the acquisition of knowledge, of 
 dialectical and rhetorical skill. He longed to be useful, and gave 
 much attention to literature and oratory. Hence he was selected 
 to fill the professorship of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in the 
 public College of the Caravaggio, at Naples. Though not superior 
 in age to most of his pupils, who regarded him with love and 
 admiration, he discharged the duties of his office with entire 
 success. The office was congenial to his genius and temper, and 
 furnished scope to his fertile and vivacious mind. 
 
 Not long after, it was necessary for him to repair to Arpino 
 for ordination. He left behind him in Naples a host of friends, 
 who regretted his departure. 
 
 At the command of his superiors, the youthful priest went forth 
 to preach in Terra di Livoro and Calabria, amid the passionate 
 Bons of the sunny south. He was everywhere received with 
 enthusiasm. His natural, imaginative and impassioned eloquence 
 
APPENDK. 357 
 
 found a ready response from every heart. He was followed by 
 admiring crowds, and at the end of a year he returned with the 
 reputation of an eloquent orator. After his ordination he went 
 to Livorno, (Leghorn,) where he was appointed teacher of Belles 
 Lettres. But his stay in that city was short. His method and 
 style, and especially the freedom of some of his remarks, stirred 
 up the envy of rival professors, and drew upon him the suspicion 
 of the authorities. Thus he was forced to leave Leghorn; and 
 feeling how difficult and delicate was the office of a public teacher 
 under despotic governments, he abandoned teaching, and devoted 
 his entire energies to preaching. 
 
 This furnished scope to his fervid genius and liberal views, but 
 exposed him to fresh dangers and persecutions. The Jesuits 
 showed themselves his implacable foes. He was altogether too 
 great, too energetic and free, to escape their censure and active 
 hostility. But owing to the latitude allowed to favorite preachers, 
 even in Catholic countries, Gavazzi was more at home in his 
 chosen field. Of commanding presence, and great oratorical ' 
 power, he secured the favor and sympathy of the people. He 
 made his appeal to their nobler instincts, their generosity and 
 love of country. As by a presentiment of his future fate, he 
 perpetually glided into those great ideas of freedom, virtue, and 
 patriotism, which have animated his subsequent career. His 
 religion was but the basis of a new and nobler life, of a higher 
 and grander destiny to his native land. Instead of amusing them 
 with commonplaces on the forms of religion and morals, he 
 constantly launched forth into those lofty and startling view^s of 
 *' life and salvation" which embrace the worlds of matter and of 
 mind, and bring reason and faith into harmonious unity. For ten 
 years Piedmont was the chosen field of his labors. The seed 
 sown there soon bore abundant fruit. He was twenty-five years 
 
358 APPENDIX. 
 
 of age, and at the zenith of his reputation as a sacred orator, 
 when he comnaenced preaching during Lent, in Piacentia, and he 
 continued these sermons annually, in the various towns of Italy, 
 during the remainder of his stay in his native land. 
 
 Both friends and foes increased. To the more bigoted and 
 superstitious of his fellow-priests, and especially to the Jesuits, 
 Gavazzi became a marked man, who must be checked or put 
 down. But he was ready to do battle for the truth. Too much 
 however had been said, and said too emphatically, to be passed 
 over by the weak and jealous government. The too popular 
 orator therefore was expelled. Parma was the next place to 
 which he repaired, and here fresh labors and trials awaited him. 
 He frequently spoke ten times a day, so profound was his 
 enthusiasm, so great were the demands of the people. At Bologna 
 he attracted marked attention by his bold appeals on the subject 
 of patriotism, and was shut up in prison among felons and 
 murderers. But he became the voluntary, unpaid chaplain of 
 the prison, and was engaged night and day in labors of love among 
 his eight or nine hundred fellow-prisoners. His noble bearing 
 and generous words touched their hard hearts, and they listened 
 to him with love and veneration. He endeavored to alleviate 
 their burdens and supply their wants. He taught some of them 
 to read and write, and procured food and clothing for others. 
 
 He thus justified the purity and sincerity of his character, and 
 being released, he resumed his preaching among the Italians. 
 
 He went to Perugia and preached with his ordinary success. 
 In Ancona he delivered one of those fiery appeals, in which all 
 restraint is thrown off, and the true longings of the heart are re- 
 vealed before all. This brought down upon him the vengeance 
 of the Pope and Cardinals, and he was confined in a sort of impri- 
 sonment, under severe discipline, in the Convent of the Novitiate 
 of St. Severino. 
 
APPENDIX. 359 
 
 About this time Pope Gregory died, and a new pope, Pius 
 Ninth, was inaugurated. Gavazzi had been on terms of intimacy 
 with the family of the Mastai, and he shared in the general 
 rejoicings. A new era seemed to dawn upon the Popedom, upon 
 Italy and the world. Italy was now to be united and free. At 
 last a liberal Pope was seated upon the throne ! Gavazzi gave 
 utterance to his hopes. On one occasion he preached three 
 sermons, in which he laid bare the enormities of the reign of 
 Gregory Sixteenth, comparing them with what he trusted would be 
 the free and generous spirit of Pius Ninth. This gave displeasure 
 to the timid and at heart selfish and superstitious " Head of the 
 Church," and Gavazzi, who had hailed the cause of freedom, was 
 the first to feel the avenging hand of the apostate. He bore the 
 displeasure and the rebuke of the PontifiT with meekness and 
 patience, for he yet believed in the generous intentions of Pius. 
 But he was doomed to terrible disappointment. Alarmed at the 
 results of his own half -liberal course, trembling for his life, and 
 appalled at the apparent injury he had done the Papal Church, 
 this weak and misguided man withdrew all his concessions, and 
 began to lay upon his subjects burdens too heavy to be borne. 
 Gavazzi, especially, was doomed to sufier from the unexpected 
 reaction. Approved by the Pope himself, he had gone as chaplain 
 with the Roman army, to resist the encroachments of Austria. 
 The day of revolutions had come. Louis Philippe was driven 
 from his throne. Northern Italy was in arms. The butcheries 
 of the Teuton in Bologna and elsewhere had excited a feeling of 
 horror and revenge in all Italian hearts. And although Gavazzi had 
 been a second time imprisoned for his too vehement and generous 
 assertion of the rights of freedom, he had been liberated, and re- 
 ceived the Pope's own sanction to undertake the crusade of liberty 
 against the barbarians of the North. His energy and eloquence 
 
360 APPENDIX 
 
 were unbounded. He moved like a Second Peter the Hermit 
 at the head of the army. But all know how signally this 
 movement was defeated ; and notwithstanding the superhuman 
 efforts of Gavazzi, and the generous enthusiasm of his compatriots, 
 he was compelled to yield to his fate, and abandon for the time 
 his most cherished hopes. What agony he suffered it would be 
 difficult to describe. 
 
 Our readers are familiar with the events which preceded the 
 flight of the Pope, — the revolution at Rome, and the proclama- 
 tion of the Republic. They are familiar also with the shameful 
 interference of France, the fall of the republic, and the restoration 
 of the Pope. With Garibaldi and others, Gavazzi bore a noble 
 part in the defence of Rome. He everywhere exposed himself 
 to danger, now cheering and directing the combatants, now 
 ministering to the wants of the wounded and the dying. He was 
 often seen bearing on his broad shoulders some wounded or dying 
 soldier to a place of safety, or hovering over him, like an angel 
 of mercy, administering the last consolations of religion. His 
 patience, disinterestedness, and heroism were alike conspicuous. 
 
 But Rome fell before the invader, and Gavazzi was compelled 
 to leave his native land. He reached England a poor and 
 almost heart-broken exile. He had not where to lay his head. 
 It is said that, for a time, he not unfrequently endured the pangs 
 of hunger. At length he found friends and supporters. His 
 voice was heard in vindication of Italian freedom, and in opposi- 
 tion to Papal usurpation and wrong. He resolved to preach the 
 crusade of freedom and righteousness; and as the Pope and 
 Popery had barred the way to its realization in his native land, 
 he renounced all allegiance, temporal and spiritual, to " the great 
 Apostasy and Tyranny of modern times," and resolved to devote 
 his life to its destruction. Invited to the United States, he was 
 
APPENDIX. SGI 
 
 received with the greatest enthusiasm. His noble countenance, 
 flashing eyes, commanding stature, dramatic style, and fervid 
 eloquence, won admiration from all the lovers of freedom. 
 Abused, of course, by the minions of the Pope, he has nobly 
 vindicated himself and the cause of freedom, in the presence of 
 assembled multitudes. Imperfect in many things, impulsive, and 
 perhaps extravagant, as some would say, yet noble, fervid, and 
 generous, he is well entitled to our confidence* and sympathy. 
 He is not indeed a Protestant ; so he says himself; neither is he 
 a Catholic in the ordinary sense of the term : he claims to be a 
 Christian, a Catholic in the broader and better sense of the word. 
 He announces himself a member of the true Catholic Church of 
 Rome, founded by the Apostle Paul, and fellowshipped by all true 
 Christians. Perhaps he thinks too much of the sword, in 
 comparison with the Cross ; after, all we trust he glories only in 
 the Cross, 
 
 *' Towering o'er the wrecks of time.'' 
 
 Gavazzi well represents the feeling of most of the Italian 
 exiles and reformers in reference to the Papacy. They have 
 renounced it for ever, and long for righteousness and freedom, 
 as the true basis of all national virtue. Mazzini, Garibaldi, 
 Mariotti, Forresti, De Casali, and 'others, noble Italian exiles, 
 fully sympathize with him, and only bide their time to aid in the 
 regeneration of Italy. Whether this will be done according to 
 their views and expectations, we know not ; but one thing we 
 are sure of, that if ever men deserved success, they deserve it. 
 They may be denounced as visionaries ; but they are noble pa- 
 triots, who have done, and dared, and suffered much for God 
 and their native land. 
 
 31 
 
362 APPENDIX. 
 
 GARIBALDI. 
 
 This distinguished Italian patriot, whose unaffected simplicity 
 of character, disinterestedness and bravery have won the admi- 
 ration, not only of his countrymen, but of all who can appreciate 
 virtue^ is about forty-five years of age. He belongs to a family 
 of maritime Nice, and in early life imbibed the love of freedom. 
 He joined the society of "Young Italy," formed under the aus- 
 pices of Mazzini, whom, in many respects. Garibaldi much resem- 
 bles. They cherish for each other a sincere and profound regard, 
 and are about the same age. Garibaldi, though quiet and distant 
 among strangers, is exceedingly vivacious and agreeable in the 
 society of his friends. He has a noble and pleasing expression 
 of countenance. It indicates intelligence, benevolence, and reso- 
 lution. His eyes are lustrous and penetrating, his forehead 
 ample and clear. In dress and manners, he is simple and unos- 
 tentatious. A strong element of good sense seems to animate 
 and control all his movements. Garibaldi is well educated, and 
 is familiar with literature and science. He is especially at home 
 in mathematics. His bravery was displayed to great advantage 
 during the siege of Rome ; but his remarkable retreat with his 
 followers, after the fall of that city, yet more fully evinced his 
 heroic -endurance, energy and decision. 
 
 His father was a mariner, and young Garibaldi was educated 
 for the sea. His mother was a woman of the highest qualities. 
 He is wont to speak of her with affectionate veneration. " To 
 her domestic virtue, kind care and sympathy for the unfortunate," 
 he declares himself indebted " for the little service he has been 
 able to render to his country," and which his countrymen, to 
 quote his own language, '''have so much overrated." His 
 
APPENDIX. SC3 
 
 early reading of the history of Rome, under the instructions 
 of an elder brother, had much influence in firing his mind with 
 the love of liberty. He saw what his country had once been, 
 and into what depths of degradation and misery she had fallen. 
 He longed to see her emancipated. 
 
 His life on the wave well prepared him for his future destiny. 
 There he acquired that bold, daring, generous character, which he 
 has since so frequently displayed. The deed of his early life on 
 which he dwells with the greatest satisfaction, was the rescue, 
 at the risk of his own life, of several pei^sons from death. His 
 early voyages with his father and other captains, to several of 
 the ports of Italy, the Levant and the Black Sea, made him ac- 
 quainted with men and things, and occasionally brought him into 
 contact with cases of shipwreck, for whose sufferers his sympathy 
 was excited. 
 
 Among his earliest voyages was one to Rome, in a small 
 vessel of his father's. The grandeur and decay of the noble 
 city deeply impressed his mind. He saw what Rome might have 
 been under the influence of good government, and he longed to 
 see the citizens delivered from their poverty and sufferings. 
 Often, in the wilds of South America, where he subsequently 
 spent a portion of his years, he thought of the condition of his 
 countrymen, and prayed God to give him the means and oppor- 
 tunity of doing something for Rome. When the secret union of 
 patriots for the deliverance of Italy was first communicated to 
 him, his heart leaped within him for joy. " Certainly," said he, 
 " Columbus could not have been so happy at the discovery of 
 America !'' 
 
 Garibaldi, too, was implicated in the unsuccessful movement of 
 1834, and was condemned to death. After narrowly escaping 
 from execution by leaving Genoa for France, in disguise, and cruis- 
 
364 APPENDIX. 
 
 ing about the Mediterranean for some time, he made his way to 
 Brazil, where during fourteen years he distinguished himself by 
 his heroic deeds in " the patriot service of the Plata and the 
 coast." He was naval commander in the service of the Republic 
 of the Rio Grande. There he married a young lady of rare 
 character for her noble and generous qualities of head and heart, 
 to whom he was devotedly attached. She was, till the day of 
 her premature and mournful death, his constant companion in all 
 scenes of peril by land and by water. The Italian Revolution 
 of 1848 called him to his native land. She followed him thither 
 with her two little sons,* and after standing by his side, during 
 the entire siege of Rome, like an angel of succor and cheer, she 
 fell a victim to fatigue and privation, and was buried on a lonely 
 mountain side, far from her native country, on the eastern coast 
 of Italy. 
 
 Our readers are familiar with the siege of Rome by an over- 
 whelming French force, under General Oudinot, and its heroic 
 defence by General Garibaldi, General Avezzana, arid others.* 
 The decision, promptitude and energy of Garibaldi were every- 
 where conspicuous. Indeed, he did*, under disadvantageous circum- 
 stances, and with an inferior force, all that was possible for man 
 to do. His whole conduct was distinguished by good sense, 
 patience, fortitude and perseverance ; but he was compelled to 
 yield to superior numbers. The French entered Rome, and re- 
 stored the despotism of the Pope. 
 
 * Roselli had the chief command. Inferior in every respect to Garibaldi 
 and Avezzana, he perhaps did the best he could in the circumstances. The 
 fact that a few thousand men held out so long against a force treble its 
 number, and that no disorders worth naming occurred in the city, under 
 the administration of the Republic and its brave defenders, are sufiScient 
 proof of their heroism and good faith. 
 
APPENDIX. 365 
 
 The bombardment of the city, poorly fitted for defence, pre- 
 sented a melancholy spectacle. " The 30th of June," writes an 
 eye-witness, "was a terrible day for Rome, for then the city 
 yielded to foreign force. The bombardment, which continued 
 three hours, was so incessant and destructive, that it seemed 
 about to bury the whole city in ruins. The inhabitants were all 
 in the streets. Here was seen a tender mother with her little 
 ones in her arms, running about in search of a safe retreat ; and 
 there another, making her own breast a shield for her children ; 
 while boys were often met with, trying to carry on their shoul- 
 ders the corpses of their beloved fathers. A general murmuring 
 sound was everywhere heard of women lamenting, not for them- 
 selves, but for the loss of those more dear. A few aged and 
 grayheaded persons kneeling on the steps of the churches, pray- 
 ing to the Lord to give the degraded Pontiff another mind, while 
 those of a more spirited character ran to where the danger was 
 greatest, among the falling bomb-shells. Shepherds drove away 
 their flocks to find some more secure place ; and as if the animals 
 themselves shared the feelings of men, the air was filled with 
 their mournful cries. 
 
 " In one spot in the Piazza di Venezia, a shell burst and killed 
 three persons. A woman was crossing the bridge of Sixtus, when a 
 large cannon-shot took off her head. While standing within a 
 few steps of the Colonna Square, I saw in a short time two 
 convoys pass, carrying a great number of wounded persons to 
 the hospital of San Giacomo ; and immediately afterwards 
 several others arrived with biers and litters on the same melan- 
 choly errand. Wherever I went within, I heard long and pain- 
 ful lamentations from unfortunate sufferers, whose limbs had 
 been cut or torn by the swords or balls of the enemy. But 
 amidst all I heard not a single exclamation against the new go- 
 31* 
 
3G6 APPENDIX 
 
 vernment, (the government of the Republic, under the triumvirate 
 of Mazzini, Saffi, and Amellani,) though a thousand against the 
 unbridled vengeance of the Pontiff, who had condemned his child- 
 ren to such cruel torments. 
 
 " In different parts of the city fires broke out, and the cour- 
 ageous Roman firemen ran instantly to extinguish them. ' Hasten,' 
 said I to an old man of the common people, who seemed re- 
 solved to remain in the Piazza Navona ; ' hasten, I pray you, in 
 the name of God.' ' Let me stay,' he replied ; 'what is there for 
 me to do in this world ? Yesterday the French hung my son, 
 who was in the battalion of the University ; and this night my 
 daughter, the only creature left to me, went to get water to 
 quench my thirst, when she was struck to the ground by a shot.' 
 And so saying, his sobs interrupted him ; and after a moment he 
 was silent and motionless. He breathed, but in a few moments 
 he breathed his last." 
 
 " What the old man told me, proved too true ; and the young 
 student was found in a villa outside of the city walls, hung to a 
 beam. A few days before, the French had thrown out of the 
 windows of a house occupied by them, several other young men 
 of the University who had fallen into their hands." 
 
 The government of the Republic had been just and orderly. 
 Never was Rome in better condition; never were the people 
 more fully satisfied with the rule. It was their own choice, and 
 not that of foreigners, as has been represented. It promised 
 tliem what they had long desired, order and freedom. But the 
 knife of the assassin of liberty was at their throat, and they 
 were compelled to yield to the relentless despotism of the sol- 
 dier and the priest. Mournfully the officers of the Republic and 
 the lovers of Italian freedom protested against the outrage. 
 Oudinot was relentless. Rome must submit. The citizens were 
 commanded to lay down their arms at'the conqueror's feet. Some 
 
APPENDIX. 36Y 
 
 did so ; others were too brave to yield. Garibaldi addressed 
 them in these words : " Soldiers ! In reward for the love which 
 you bear to the country, I offer you hunger, thirst, cold, war and 
 death. But whoever loves the country, come, follow me." 
 
 They followed him, but his own words were too literally 
 verified. He hoped to make his way to Venice, then besieged 
 by the Austrians. But it was too late. Venice, too, must fall 
 under the attack of foreigners. 
 
 Garibaldi, with a few of his followers and his noble wife, who 
 at all hazard would share the fate of her husband, and whom no 
 entreaties or tears could induce to remain in a place of safety, 
 fled towards the north, and, after incredible exploits, escaped all 
 the vigilance of his enemies, and made his way to the coast of 
 the Adriatic, and thence by sea to Genoa. But he lost several 
 of his brave companions. Some were shot or taken prisoners, 
 and others were sunk in their boats in the open sea. His beloved 
 wife, after heroically enduring the greatest privations, died of sheer 
 exhaustion. Garibaldi on reaching Genoa was arrested by the 
 Royalist Ministry, and sent to Tunis, where by French influence 
 he was denied a landing. After seeking a retreat in Sardinia and 
 Tangier, Gariba;ldi made his way to New York in June, 1850, in 
 feeble health. The citizens proposed to give him a public recep- 
 tion, but he respectfully and modestly declined it. His health 
 has since been restored. Lately he has been acting as commander 
 of a trading-vessel, owned by himself, and manned by men of his 
 own selection ; brave compatriots, we presume. Should the way 
 open, his heart and hand will be at the service of his country."* 
 
 *For an authentic account of the Roman Republic of 1849, and further 
 details of Garibaldi, especially in connection with the defence of Rome, 
 we refer our readers to the brief but well-written narrative of Theodore 
 Dwight, Esq. 
 
868 APPENDIX. 
 
 POSTCRIPT. 
 
 Garibaldi has been charged with intruding himself unbidden 
 into Rome at the head of a set of foreigners, who had no per- 
 sonal interest in the city or its fate, and while there, indulging in 
 certain atrocities unworthy of a true patriot. His own country- 
 men have replied to these charges as follows : 
 
 " We Romans love him almost to veneration, for we were eye- 
 witnesses of his conduct amongst us. When, after the armistice 
 of Milan by Charles Albert, he entered the Roman States with 
 fifteen or twenty Americans and a few young Lombards, several 
 Bolognese and Romans joined him ; and when, after the flight 
 of the Pope, he was called* to Rome, Rome received him with 
 an enthusiasm which offended his modesty. During the siege 
 of Rome, he had a very well-organized, armed and equipped legion 
 of 1,500 men, the bravest and best disciplined to be found ; 
 amongst them were several young Lombards, Tuscans, Pied- 
 montese and Neapolitans : but the countries of those patriots 
 are all comprised between the Alps and the sea^ constituting what 
 is called in geography Italy, and are as familiar to Rome as New 
 Jersey and Connecticut are to New York. As to Poles, some 
 250 came to Rome when the siege was almost ended, and they 
 formed a special body ; of Germans there was but one officer. 
 The above facts are derived from authentic documents of the 
 Roman army, published by Torre. The description of the terror 
 of us Romans, the defence of Rome having been intrusted to 
 Garibaldi, is truly interesting, since the occurrence never took 
 place ; for it was a certain Pietro Roselli, a Roman, who was 
 named commander-in-chief, and Garibaldi was subjected to his 
 orders. No one was less connected than Garibaldi with the 
 exaggerated murder of priests at San Callisto in Trastevere: 
 Garibaldi was at St. Pancrazio with his men, and at Trastevere 
 
APPENDIX. 369 
 
 was a certain Zambianchi, with 250 ex-soldiers of the Pope 
 called custom-house officers. Zambianchi having perceived that 
 several priests and friars, the greater part of them Spaniards, 
 were continually mixing with the lower classes in order to create 
 disturbances, and seeing that the triumvirs, from a spirit of ex- 
 cessive moderation, took no notice of their conduct, had five of 
 them arrested, and secretly shot. The official newspaper of the 
 Pope afterwards published all the particulars of this occurrence, 
 as also the names of the five individuals who were killed. 
 
 " The story regarding the nuns of St. Silvestro is false, and 
 no more to be charged on Garibaldi than the former. These 
 nuns had three convents at Rome, and there being only nine in 
 the convent of St. Silvestro, which is large enough to contain 
 two regiments, they were ordered to quit it, and retire to some 
 other convent. Not having obeyed the order in the time pre- 
 scribed, the chief of police went to the spot, and, with all due 
 politeness and gentleness, placed them in a carriage, and con- 
 veyed them to one of their convents. Garibaldi and his men, 
 wearied by a long forced march, arrived soon after, and thought 
 of nothing but lying down on the straw prepared for them. But, 
 the day after, a few curious fellows, going to rummage through 
 the subterraneous passages, found a quantity of skulls and bones 
 of children, of perhaps a more recent date than the slaughter of 
 the Innocents by Herod. Hence arose the enormous dislike 
 with which the invasion of the convent of St. Silvestro is re- 
 garded." 
 
370 APPENDIX. 
 
 BASSI AND BEDINL 
 
 We associate these names together, not because of any affi- 
 nity between them, but because they furnish a striking illustration 
 of the two conflicting influences which agitate Italian society, 
 the one being the type of freedom and revolution, the other of 
 despotism and reaction. Ugo Bassi was a consecrated priest, 
 but devoted to liberal opinions, and the regeneration of his 
 native land. He was a citizen of Bologna, and distinguished for 
 his rare .genius, virtue and enthusiasm. He joined the defenders 
 of the Roman Republic, and was appointed chaplain of the army, 
 in which capacity he devoted himself to the religious consolation 
 especially of the wounded and dying, during the siege of the 
 city. He was the friend of all, and inspired the soldiers with 
 the highest veneration and love. We are not aware that he 
 ever bore arms himself, or discharged any functions but those of 
 a minister of peace. At the fall of the city he fled with Gari^ 
 baldi, but being detached with one or two others from the body 
 of his companions, he was seized by the Austrians and taken to 
 Bologna, then under the control of Bedini. This sealed his fate. 
 He was condemned to death ; but before his execution, Bedini 
 insisted on his being desecrated, by having the skin torn from 
 his forehead, his nose, and so forth. 
 
 Bedini, the Papal Nuncio, has been commended to the United 
 States by the Sovereign Pontiff* himself, as a man of distinguished 
 piety, charity and fidelity. He may be regarded then as the true 
 representative of the system which condemned poor Bassi to dese- 
 
APPENDIX. 371 
 
 cration and death. Our readers will form their own opinion, 
 after perusing the following sketch of his life and character, which 
 all Concurrent testimony proves, in the main, to be authentic. 
 
 Gaetano Bedini was born of a poor family in Sinigaglia, a 
 small town in the Eoman States. The family of the present 
 Pope resides in the same city. We do not blame him for his 
 humble origin, but for his excessive ambition, and his having 
 preferred intrigue, rather than virtue, as a means of raising him- 
 self Accordingly, having been sent to school with his brother, 
 who afterwards became an apothecary, he at once showed very 
 little adaptation, and no wish whatever for study ; and was there- 
 fore obliged to become a priest. This is the general expedient, 
 in the Roman States, for youth who are idle, or who, being 
 deficient in intelligence, are not capable of succeeding in a scien- 
 tific career. 
 
 But Cardinal Testaferrata, then Bishop of Sinigaglia, looked on 
 Bedini with so small favor, on account of the slander which his 
 licentious habits created, that the latter thought of abandoning 
 Sinigaglia and seeking a living at Rome, where such things are 
 less noticed. Being a young man of prepossessing appearance and 
 good manners, he was lucky enough to be admitted into the ser- 
 vice of Prince Aliteri, who destined him to act as. antechamber 
 servant to his son, the prelate. Bedini remained in this humble 
 situation until the prelate went as Nuncio to Vienna, when the 
 latter took him with him as a rohe-Ufter^ a customary office for 
 the discharge of a certain ceremonial of respect observed among 
 Catholic priests. 
 
 At Vienna, Bedini most completely obtahied the esteem of his 
 young master, by rendering him services which the cruel satire of 
 Pasquino then revealed, but which it is not prudent to describe 
 here. Withal, he was promoted to the rank of Private Secre- 
 tary to Nuncio Aliteri. When the Nuncio, having fulfilled his 
 
372 APPENDIX. 
 
 mission, returned to Rome and was made a cardinal, he did not, 
 how.ever, forget his servant. It being then necessary to send a 
 Nuncio to Brazil, and many prelates having refused the office, as 
 ^ fears were entertained about the yellow fever, Cardinal Aliteri 
 succeeded in having Bedini sent there as Internuncio, or Vice- 
 Nuncio, as he was not a bishop, and had not gone through the 
 career necessary to qualify him for being a Nuncio. Although 
 Bedini had studied the Latin language for several years in the 
 Seminary at Rimini, he knew very little of it ; and still less of 
 the jus canonictim^ which he never had studied before. He there- 
 fore took with him a young lawyer, a certain Mr. Tintori, who 
 had completed his studies. He also took with him a waiter, a 
 servant and a cook. They all embarked at Genoa, King Charles 
 Albert having given them a free passage on board a national 
 man-of-war which was bound for Montevideo. 
 
 The Brazilian prelates, who, like their brethren the Spaniards, 
 study the Latin language and the jus canonicum to some extent, 
 soon began to be scandalized by an Internuncio who was so de- 
 ficient that he could not explain the serious affairs for which he 
 had been sent. But what most injured Bedini was his licentious 
 behavior, in which he forgot not only his own duties, but even 
 exceeded prudence. This occasioned a good deal of talk in Rio 
 Janeiro, and many complaints were sent to Rome, in order that 
 the Internunci-0 Bedini should be recalled. 
 
 Meanwhile it happened that his Secretary, Don Tintori, as also 
 the waiter, servant, and cook, whom he treated despotically, 
 being ashamed of living with such a man, all left him at the 
 same time. This circumstance, perhaps the only one of its kind, 
 caused a good deal of embarrassment to Bedini ; which, how- 
 ever, did not last long, as he was soon recalled, and his ex-Secre- 
 tary Tintori was appointed to replace him until another Inter- 
 nuncio should be sent. On his return to Rome, Bedini was 
 
APPENDIX. 373 
 
 named chief of a division at the Secretary's office of State; a 
 very trifling employment, and which afforded him but a scanty liv- 
 ing. He remained in that punishment-office until the time of 
 Gregory XVI. When Pius IX. appeared with his views of re- 
 form, Bedini seconded the reforms ; and, pretending to be libe- 
 ral-minded, continued his feigned adhesion ; not so successfully, 
 however, as to procure him any very important office. 
 
 When the Pope, wishing to withdraw the Constitution and 
 every other reform granted, retired to Gaeta, Bedini was the 
 first to go there, offering his services, which were accepted, and 
 employed in a mission worthy of him. He went in disguise to 
 Bologna, where there was a garrison of about 8,000 Swiss troops, 
 who had formerly been in the service of the Pope, but had 
 passed over to that of the Republic. Having gained admission 
 to the house of General Latour, who commanded them, he sig- 
 nified to him the wish and invitation of the Pope, that he should 
 proceed with his troops to Gaeta, making his way th^re by 
 force of arms, and extorting all the money he could from the 
 countries through which he would pass. This mode of proceeding, 
 together with the inroads of the Austrian General Lichten stein, 
 at Ferrara, succeeded in raising in two hours' time the enor- 
 mous sum of two hundred thousand dollars, which was sent to 
 the Pope at Gaeta ; who, being weary of the delays of the four 
 powers united by him against the Roman Republic, wished ea- 
 gerly to begin war, by joining those Swiss troops to the brigands 
 commanded by Canon Villiani, of Ascoli, and others, whom 
 the sect of the Holy Catholic Faith promised to instigate. 
 
 But while Bedini was doing his utmost to persuade the Swiss to 
 
 commit that base action, (without, however, obtaining any great 
 
 advantage, they being almost all Protestants, who cared very 
 
 little for previous absolution and promises of iudulgence,) it 
 
 32 
 
374 APPENDIX. 
 
 happened that the Commander of Bologna, Colonel Berti'Pichat, 
 discovered the plot and the presence of Bedini at Bologna. He 
 could undoubtedly have had him hung as a spy and a traitor ; 
 but yielding to the warm entreaties of General Latour, whose 
 guest Bedini was, he let him go off unpunished. This clement 
 manner of acting was the usual consequence of the excessive 
 generosity of Italian revolutionaries. Shortly after, Bedini re- 
 turned to Bologna, as Commissary to the Pope, at the head 
 of an Austrian army, intimating to the people that they should 
 subject themselves to the Vicar of Christ. Bologna had been 
 stripped of arms and soldiers to supply Rome. The bravest 
 Bolognese youth were at the Eternal City, in Garibaldi's Legion, 
 in the Bolognese Legion, and in the Riflemen of the Po. Never- 
 theless, so terrible was the idea of falling anew under that horri- 
 ble tyranny, that a desperate resistance was made, and the 
 Bolognese fought for eight days and eight nights, sustaining the 
 severest bombardment. The following is the proclamation of 
 Bedini, when at the head of the Austrian army, 14,000 men 
 strong, bombarding the city of Bologna : 
 
 "Bolognese, and People of the Pontifical Legations, — 
 
 " Being destined by the Pontiff* to renew amongst you his 
 sovereign authority, I address you in his sacred name, demanding 
 from, you implicit submission. Being people of generous and 
 elevated sentiments, you cannot forget the benefits and consola- 
 tions which he lavished on you, as a loving father always full 
 of affection and forgiveness for his children ! You already gave 
 a proof of it, when, worn out by the excesses of ingratitude on 
 the same spot of its triumphs, you could not control your indig- 
 nation, but more than ever sought to show yourselves worthy 
 sons of such a father. O happy he, who could have then ex- 
 
APPENDIX. 215 
 
 perienced the consolations of that holy and respectful affection ! 
 Providence, by rendering the caprice of will so difficult, reserved 
 us all for more painful trials. . . . But let the groans of 
 the oppressed and the audaciousness of the oppressors end once 
 for all. May the sacrilegious usurpation not only of the most 
 sacred rights, but also of every name, even the holiest, cease. It 
 were vain to conceal that it seduced and led to deplorable ends ; 
 
 the destruction of society, religion, 
 
 and even personal existence, are the fruits of that nefarious abuse. 
 The secrets of the heart and the sight of your streets foretell it ; 
 the sadness which there prevails shows the melancholy truth. 
 
 "All possible exertions were necessary to check this supreme 
 wrong ; and arms simply protective concur with me in the un- 
 dertaking ; which, not the delirium of passions, but every one's 
 conscience, will consider as holy. May I in my mission find 
 ample cooperation of piety and gratitude from you, who from 
 this moment are so dear to me, whereof I am most impatient to 
 give you undoubted proofs, being inspired by him who will never 
 cease to be more your father than your prince. 
 
 " Castello Franco, 8 May, 1849. 
 
 " The Pontifical Commissary Extraordinary for the Legations, 
 
 "MONSIGNOR GaETANO BeDINI." 
 
 Bedini. satiated with blood and revenge, entered the city 
 amidst ruins, corpses, and flames, and displayed his full authority 
 as Commissary of the Pope. 
 
 Cowardly revenge, rapacious extortions, shameful licentiousness, 
 refined cruelties, marked his despotic sway over that unfortunate 
 population, and the neighboring Roman provinces. But what 
 most affected the people, and what is best known, was the mur- 
 der of Ugo Bassi, a Bolognese, a man of extraordinary genius and 
 
376 APPENDIX. 
 
 rare virtues. Bassi had gladly welcomed the political and re- 
 ligious liberty for which the Italians fought ; and had always fol- 
 lowed the army, not as a soldier, but as a monk, curing the 
 wounded and comforting the dying. Failing in an attempt to 
 reach Venice, and thrown on the Eoman coast, Bassi and an offi- 
 cer of Garibaldi, without arms, sought safety in flight, but were 
 made prisoners of war by an Austrian body of men under Prince 
 Ernest Ranieri. Had the Austrians killed Bassi after having 
 captured him, not supposing him to be a monk, but a soldier, 
 they would, undoubtedly, have commited an infamous violation 
 of those international laws which insist upon the respect due to 
 prisoners. But he whom soldiers spared on the tield of battle 
 in the anger of combat, fell a victim to a Prelate-Commissary, 
 in whom the Pope placed full confidence, in a place perfectly 
 safe, in a town where the government, called of Order ^ had been 
 reestablished for several months, and where everybody knew 
 that the victim was but a simple chaplain of the army. In this 
 manner Bedini had Bassi shot, without even allowing him a trial. 
 Bedini now adduces a protest, but it is an infamous imposture. 
 He asserts that it was General Gorgowsky who had Bassi shot. 
 No — for Bassi was not in the power of the General. This might 
 have been the case had Bassi been shot on the field of battle, 
 and had the above-named general given orders to the soldiers 
 who captured him. But at Bologna the supreme authority was 
 vested in the person of the Commissary-Extraordinary, Bedini ; 
 and Bassi's fate depended so much the more on Bedini, because 
 Bassi, being a priest, enjoyed the privilege of the Ecclesiastical 
 Tribunal. General Gorgowsky had no right whatsoever, and 
 never would attempt, to subject Bassi to the jurisdiction of war, 
 he being a priest and a chaplain, not a soldier ; nor do Austrians 
 themselves shoot chaplains who go on the field of battle to assist 
 the dying. 
 
APPENDIX. 377 
 
 This story about the Austrian general is a mere exoneration 
 of the fact. Influential persons used their utmost eflbrts with 
 Bedini to induce him to spare Bassi's life. Amongst them may- 
 be numbered Cardinal Archbishop Oppizzoni, of Bologna, who 
 warmly interceded for Bassi. But to all entreaties Bedini an- 
 swered that he could do nothing for him, having received precise 
 previous orders from the Pope to put Bassi to death, as also seve- 
 ral others, should they fa?ll into his hands. 
 
 The following important statement, which fully corroborates 
 our assertions accusing Bedini of having murdered Ugo Bassi, is 
 taken from the Parlamento of Turin, August 31st, 1853, a news- 
 paper which, although constitutional, may be considered totally 
 anti-republican, it being the semi-official paper of the Sardinian 
 Ministry : 
 
 " When Ugo Bassi and his unfortunate fellow-prisoners were 
 brought before the Austrian council of war in Bologna, Monsig- 
 nor Bedini governed that province as Commissary-Extraordinary, 
 and chose the victims whom anger and military vengeance were 
 to strike. The first he chose was Father Bassi, as worths/ of im- 
 mediate death / The council of war decreed it. It is now shame- 
 fully false that he should deny his responsibility for that shocking 
 murder ; for the Cardinal Archbishop having interceded in 
 order to save Bassi, at least from being shot, and the Austrians 
 feigning to listen for a moment to the entreaties of the Arch- 
 bishop, Bedini entered the council-room furiously^ and insisted and 
 said so much, that the judges at last pronounced the terrible sentence, 
 and the Governor had it executed. ^^ 
 
 32* 
 
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Books for Yoimg People, 
 
 GRIMM'S HOUSEHOLD STORIES. 
 
 The celebrated Stories of the Brothers Grimm. Complete edition. 
 
 Embellished with 200 small and 36 fiiU-page Illustrations. 2 vols* 
 
 crown 8vo, clotli, extra gilt. $3. 
 The same, 3 vols., with the large plates colored. Cloth, gilt extra. 
 
 $4 50. 
 
 i 
 \"^^ Each volume complete in itself, and can be sold separately. > 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A BEAR, AND A GREAT BEAR, TOO; 
 
 By Alfked Elwes. Nine Illustrations by Harrison Weir, colored 
 Plates. Small 4to, cloth, $1.50, 
 
 Bound uniform with the " Adyentures of a Dog," and together with that popular hook, 
 has GDJoyed an immense sale. 
 
 THE BOY'S OWN BOOK; 
 
 A complete Encyclopasdia of all the Diversions, Athletic, Scientific, 
 and Eecreative, of Boyhood and Youth. With several hundred 
 Wood Cuts. ISTew edition, greatly enlarged and improved, hand- 
 somely bound. $2.50. 
 
 This hook will he read with the deepest interest as long as boys lore sport and parents 
 desire to afford them innocent amusement 
 
 ROUND GAJttES FOR ALL PARTIES ; 
 
 A Collection of the greatest variety of Family Amusements, for Fire- 
 side or Pic WiQ ; for the use of Old and Young, and adapted to the 
 understandings of Children from the ages of seven to seventy. 
 Square 12mo, cloth. $1.50. 
 
 No family in which children reside, or where they are to he entertained, should he with- 
 out this complete book of innocent and amusing games. 
 
 ACTING CHARADES; 
 
 Or Deeds not Words. A Christmas Game, to make a long evening 
 short. By the Brothers MayTieio. Illustrated by H. G. Hine. 
 Small 4to, cloth, gilt eddies. $1.50. 
 
Published by James S. ^ickerson. 
 
 THE BEST AND CHEAPEST JUVENILE MAGAZINE IN 
 THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 Edited by 
 
 MR. W. C. EICHAEB3 AND "COUSIN ALICE." 
 
 This work has been in existence for five years, during wliich time it 
 has acquired a degree of popularity unrivalled in the history of juvenile 
 works, and frequently been pronounced by the press, both North and 
 South, '^ the best and cheapest Juvenile Magazine in the United States." 
 
 The Schoolfellow is devoted ta the instruction and gratification of the 
 young of both sexes, and aims at the cultivation of the heart as well as 
 of the mind. It is an original iiiagazine, and its articles are prepared 
 for its pages by many of the best writers for the young in the country. 
 Heretofore edited by Mr. Bichards, it will continue under his general 
 ATperintendence, with the constant aid of '^ Cousin Alice," (Mrs. Alice 
 B. Neal,) the popular author of the " Home Books," whose name alone 
 is a talisman to command the love and favor of children, supported by a 
 large number of favorite writers. 
 
 The Pictorial Illustrations of the work are engraved from choice and 
 original designs, by skillful artists, and are unequalled in variety and 
 beauty by those of any other Juvenile Magazine. 
 
 Great improvements have been made without regard to expense, and 
 consist of a larger number of pages, new and handsomer type, more 
 Illustrations and better executed. Postmasters arc requested to act as 
 agents for the work, and may retain the usual commission for 7iew sub- 
 soribers. Specimen copies sent gratis on application, fost-jja-id, to the 
 J^ublishers. The volume commences Avith the January Number, and 
 
Books for Y(ncng Peojjle. 
 
 back numbers of the volume will always be forwarded. To any who 
 wish them, we can supply bound volumes of the Schoolfellow from 
 the first, at $1 25 per volume. 
 Temoa; Onf. Dollar a year, in AnvANOE. 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSOIsr, Publisher, 
 
 687 Broadway, New-Yorfe. 
 
 0?INI0K3 OF THE PRESS. 
 
 From almost ^n innumerable number of notices kindly and voluntarily 
 
 given the Schooli^elloWj vv^e select the followlBg : 
 
 " We can recommend it liS oiie well caleulttted to interest and enlighten the rising genera- 
 tion." — Jefferso7iian Republican. 
 
 *' A beautiful little magaziao. Its contents are Tery nicely adapted to the age and capa- 
 city of youth, and are of a pleasing and elevating character." — Syracuse Journal. 
 
 " It is a peifect gem in the way of print and illustrations. If all parents paid proper 
 attention to the reading of their little ones, and awakened in them a lore of books by fur* 
 nishing them with tales and sprightly miscellanies such as this, we should hare few such 
 precocious men and women as some of our young friends wo know of' — Godey'^s Lady'& 
 Book. 
 
 "Wo call the attention of those who need to pni-vey mental aliment for the young to thia 
 magazine. The names of the editors will be a guarantee of the skillful adaptation of the^ 
 Avork to those for whom it is designed, and also of its sound moral tendency.'" — N. Y. Recorder^ 
 
 " The work is cheap, and a dollar thus Invested will pay a better interest than twenty 
 times that amount otherwise paid for the amusement of the young." — Temperance Advo-- 
 cate, {S. C.) 
 
 " It Is an original magazine, and its articles are prepared by many of the best \yTiters foir 
 the young in this country."— yermo?ii Statesman. 
 
 " Keplete with matter which is at once pleasant and Insti'uctive, A delightful peiiodieal, 
 ^.•r youth." — Saratoga Whig. 
 
 " E^ery youth from fiye to fifteen should be in possession of iV^Mich. Citizen. 
 
 " The reading matter is of the right sovV—'North- Carolina News. 
 
 " No family, where childi'en are, should be without iV'*-Mas$. Telegraph. 
 
 " It is well calculated to encourage the young to aspii'e to excellence and fame. It Is botK 
 entertaining and insti'uctiye, and is unsurpassed by any magazine of its kind.— iV. F. Cottu 
 Adveriiscr. 
 
 "A liyely miscellany of decided merit, fi'om tJie pens of some of our best writers for 
 children. It is pervaded by a ^vholly moral tone, and deserves aa tn'^rease of its already; 
 extensive circulation." — Evangelical Catholic^ 
 
HOME LIFE. 
 
 Being Twelve Lectures by Rev. WM. HAGUE, D. 0. 
 
 Vrice, $1. Gilt, $1.25. 
 
 Qi^^HMlSOo' 
 
 The following is the Table of Conteniis, and will indicate the character and 
 scope of the book : 
 
 Lecture I. — The Marriage Institution. 
 
 Lecture IL — Dutica of the Husband. 
 
 Lecture III, — Duties of the ^Vife. 
 
 Lecture IF.— Duties of Parents to Chil 
 dren. 
 
 Lecture V. — Duties of Children to Fa- 
 rents. 
 
 Lecture VI. — Duties of Brothers and 
 Sisters. 
 
 Lectv/te F7/.— Mutual Duties of House 
 
 holders and Servants. 
 Lecture iT///.— -Duties of Principals ia^ 
 
 Clerks and Apprentices. 
 Lecture /X.~- Duties of Young Men to 
 
 their Employers. 
 Lecture X'-The Use and Abuse of 
 
 Amusements. 
 Lecture X/.--The Family Library. 
 Lecture X//.— The Self-Governed Man, 
 
 The classical elegance and simplicity of the style, and the warmth and 
 naturalness of the elocjuence of these lectures, justify the great favor with which 
 they were delivered, and mark the present volume as a valuable and popular 
 contribution to our literature. 
 
 "These lectures, by Dr. Hague, are on the various domestic relations and duties. The subject 
 is a most important one, and by the distinguished author is treated in an eminently phliosophicai 
 and scriptural manner. The times demand just such a work as is here produced, for the family, 
 shedding a hallowed light on home, promoting disciplme, inspiring affection, fostering the social 
 virtues, and preparing for a steady, strong, and salutary mfluence in all the varied walks of 
 society. We think of no man better qualified for the great and responsible task than Dr. Hague. 
 Ills well-trained mind, his noble heart, his purity of life, and his wide reputation as a Christian 
 sninister, all go to fit him to write out and publish such a book as is needed. Could it be introduced 
 into every family, carefuliy and candidly read, and the lessons it inculcates diligently heeded, it 
 would be worth mere than any inheritance of silver and gold. Parents will do well to obtain 
 this book, and place it on the parlor table for their own use, and that of their children. Mr, 
 Dickerson, the young and enterprising publisher, has given it to us in a neat, substantial, and 
 attractive style', every way worthy of the author and the subject."— C/tnisti(X7i ChronicU. 
 
 "To many of our citizens, the Twev. William Hague is too well known to require, at our 
 hands, any recommendation of whatever issues from his pen. But we cannot forbear calJing the 
 attention of those less acquainted with his peculiar merits as a writer, to an admirable book 
 called "Home Life," which bears his name as author, recently published in New-York, by 
 Evans & Dickerson, and for sale here by Gould & Lincoln. It is a complete manual of practical 
 duty in all the spheres and relations of life ; and difibrs from similar works in the clear directions 
 given, and the exigencies met by the waiter. Only a clergyman of remarkable parochial talent 
 and faithfulne.ss, conM have written such a book. It is the result of years of duty and observation. 
 All young men, families, wives, husbands, daughters, sons, clerks, and servaut^i, will find in it 
 invaluable suggestions afibclionately enforced."— ^o^^on Transa'iiiU 
 
"A CAPITAL BOOK FOE THE HOME-CIRCLE.'' 
 
 HARRY'S VACATION; 
 
 OR, 
 
 PHILOSOPHY AT HOME. 
 
 BY W. C. RIOPIAKOS, A.M. 
 
 niusfxated with Six Elegant Engravings, from Designs by Thwaites. 
 
 ONE VOLUME, 1610, CLOTH, EXTRA. 
 
 This book is designed to instruct as well as to delight the young reader. It 
 seeks to teach the most beautiful and important truths and principles of natural 
 science in the fascinating guise of story. The incidents which occur in the 
 experience of a happy family group, during the Christmas holidays of the young 
 people, are all made to minister to their knowledge of philosophy. The acci- 
 dental fall of a dish from the fingers of a careless servant forms the text of a dis- 
 cussion on gravitation. The frost-work upon the window-panes, a soap-bubble 
 rolling upon the carpet, a school-boy's sport with "a sucker" — these and a hun- 
 dred other apparent trifles are pegs upon which are hung the most valuable les- 
 sons of practical wisdom. Almost all the branches of physical science are illustrated 
 in the development of the story ; and the intelligent child may gather more dis- 
 tinct and accurate ideas about them, almost unconsciously, while following the 
 sports and pastimes of Harry and his companions, than he could possiby derive 
 from text-books on science in a quarter's hard study. The author's familiarity 
 with the sciences has enabled him to interweave their leading facts into the 
 thread of the story, with due regard to philosophical accuracy, while it ia 
 never burdened with the technicalities of science, or made dull by diy and 
 tedious explanations. The days of '^ Harry's Vacation" flew not more rapidly by 
 to the delighted inmates of Beech wood, than will the hours to those young peo- 
 ple who«e good fortune it may be to read th'^ charming story of their experiences 
 and pastimes. Probably no book for the young has ever been published in 
 which amusement and instruction are so happily and successfully blended, and 
 which deserves to obtain a larger degree of popularity than this beautiful vol- 
 ume. Nor will the young alone find interest ia its pages, but *' children of a 
 larger growth" may derive both knowledge and gratification in itti pleaa^n^ 
 " Philosophy at Home." 
 
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