Part 22 (1/2)

Then the emissary is instructed to make himself center of the party of extremes, and in different companies to pity the country, to laugh at moderate progress as a sham, and to say that the concessions of the local governments are merely _ruses_ to pacify and delude the people,--as in great part they were, though Giusti and his party did not believe so. The instructions to the emissary conclude with the charge to

Scatter republican ideas, and say That all the rich and all the well-to-do Use common people hardly better, nay, Worse, than their dogs; and add some hard words, too: Declare that _bread_'s the question of the day, And that the communists alone are true; And that the foes of the agrarian cause Waste more than half of all by wicked laws.

Then, he tells him, when the storm begins to blow, and the pockets of the people feel its effect, and the mob grows hungry, to contrive that there shall be some sort of outbreak, with a bit of pillage,--

So that the kings down there, pushed to the wall, For congresses and bayonets shall call.

If you should have occasion to spend, spend, The money won't be wasted; there must be Policemen in retirement, spies without end, Shameless and penniless; buy, you are free.

If destiny should be so much your friend That you could shake a throne or two for me, Pour me out treasures. I shall be content; My gains will be at least seven cent, per cent.

Or, in the event the inconstant G.o.ddess frown, Let me know instantly when you are caught; A thunderbolt shall burst upon your crown, And you become a martyr on the spot.

As minister I turn all upside down, Our government disowns you as it ought.

And so the cake is turned upon the fire, And we can use you next as we desire.

In order not to awaken any fear In the post-office, 't is my plan that you Shall always correspond with liberals here; Don't doubt but I shall hear of all you do.

...'s a Republican known far and near; I haven't another spy that's _half_ as true!

You understand, and I need say no more; Lucky for you if you get me up a war!

We get the flavor of this, at least the literary flavor, the satire, and the irony, but it inevitably falls somewhat cold upon us, because it had its origin in a condition of things which, though historical, are so opposed to all our own experience that they are hard to be imagined. Yet we can fancy the effect such a poem must have had, at the time when it was written, upon a people who felt in the midst of their aspirations some disturbing element from without, and believed this to be espionage and Austrian interference. If the poem had also to be pa.s.sed about secretly from one hand to another, its enjoyment must have been still keener; but strip it of all these costly and melancholy advantages, and it is still a piece of subtle and polished satire.

Most of Giusti's poems, however, are written in moods and manners very different from this; there is sparkle and dash in the movement, as well as the thought, which I cannot reproduce, and in giving another poem I can only hope to show something of his varying manner.

Some foreigner, Lamartine, I think, called Italy the Land of the Dead,--whereupon Giusti responded with a poem of that t.i.tle, addressed to his friend Gino Capponi:

THE LAND OF THE DEAD.

'Mongst us phantoms of Italians,-- Mummies even from our birth,-- The very babies' nurses Help to put them under earth.

'T is a waste of holy water When we're taken to the font: They that make us pay for burial Swindle us to that amount.

In appearance we're constructed Much like Adam's other sons,-- Seem of flesh and blood, but really We are nothing but dry bones.

O deluded apparitions, What do _you_ do among men?

Be resigned to fate, and vanish Back into the past again!

Ah! of a perished people What boots now the brilliant story?

Why should skeletons be bothering About liberty and glory?

Why deck this funeral service With such pomp of torch and flower?

Let us, without more palaver, Growl this requiem, of ours.

And so the poet recounts the Italian names distinguished in modern literature, and describes the intellectual activity that prevails in this Land of the Dead. Then he turns to the innumerable visitors of Italy:

O you people hailed down on us From the living, overhead, With what face can you confront us, Seeking health among us dead?

Soon or late this pestilential Clime shall work you harm--beware!

Even you shall likewise find it Foul and poisonous grave-yard air.