BROWNING'S ITALY (16 page)

Molher. Chiara will love to see

That Jupiter an evening-star next June.

GLIMPSES OF POLITICAL LIFE 157

Luigi. True, mother. Well for those who live through June! Great noontides, thunder-storms, all glaring pomps That triumph at the heels of June the god Leading his revel through our leafy world. Yes, Chiara will be here.

Mother. In June: remember,

Yourself appointed that month for her Coming.

Luigi. Was that low noise the echo ?

Mother. The night-wind.

She must be grown — with her blue eyes upturned As if life were one long and sweet surprise: In June she comes.

Luigi. We were to see together

The Titian at Treviso. There, again! [From wühout is heard the voice of Pippa, einging —

A hing lived long ago,

In the morning of the world,

When earth was nigher heaven than now;

And the king's locht curled,

Disparting o 9 er a forehead füll

As the mük-white space 'twixt hörn and hörn

Of some saerificial bull —

Only calm as a habe new-born:

For he was göttoa sleepy mood,

So safe from all decrepitude,

Age with its baue, so eure gone by 9

(The gods so loved him while he dreamed)

That, having lived thus long, there seemed

No need the hing should ever die.

Luigi. No need that sort of king should ever die!

Among the rocks his city was: Before his palace, in the sun,

He sat to see his people pass,

And judge them every wie

Front iis threshold of smooth stone.

They haled him many a valley-thief

Caughi in the sheep-pens, robber-chief

Swarthy and shameless, beggar-cheat,

Spy-prowler, or rough pirate found

On the sea-sand left aground;

And sometimes düng about his fed,

Wiih bleeding lip and burning cheek,

A woman, biüerest wrong to speah

Of one wiih svüen thiclcset brows;

And sometimes from the prison-house

The angry priests a pale weich broughi,

Who through some chink had pushed and pressed

On knees and elbows, belly and breast,

WormAike into the temple, — caughi

He was by the very god,

Who ever in the darkness strode

Backward and forward, keeping watch

O'er his brazen bowls, such rogues to catch!

These, all and every one,

The hing judged, siäing in the sun.

Luigi. That king should still judge sitting in the sun!

His councülors, on left and right, Looked anxious up,~butno surprise Disturbed the king 9 s old smüing eyes Where the very blue had turned to white. 'Tis said, a Python scared one day The breathless ciiy, tili he came, Wiih forky tongue and eyes on flame, Where the old king sat to judge alway;

GLIMPSES OF POLITICAL LIFE 159

But when he saw the sweepy hair

Oirt wiih a crovm of berries rare

Which the god wiü hardly give to wear

To the maiden who singeth, dancing bare

In the aüar-smoke by the pine-torch lights,

At his wondrous forest rües, —

Seeing this, he did not dare

Approach that threshold in the sun>

AssavÜ the cid hing smüing there.

Stich grace had kinga when the world begun!

[Pippa passes. Luigi. And such grace have they, now that the world

ends! The Python at the city, on the throne, And brave men, God would crown for slaying him, Lurk in by-corners lest they fall his prey. Are crowns yet to be won in this late time, Which weakness makes me hesitate to reach ? Tis God's voice calls: how could I stay? Farewell!

Browning gives another picture of this period in his poem "The Italian in England." The Speaker evidently belonged to the Car-bonari in the early days, before the revolu-tion was successful, and has taken refuge in England to escape Austrian persecution. He gives an account of a typical experience that had befallen him. It reveals how the lukewarm attitude of the Italians themselves, and their backsliding into the pay of Austria kept back the progress of Italian independence; and how true patriots could feel, as expressed

in his hatred of the distinguished Austrian diplomatist, Metternich, and above all how they could act, the supreme illustration of this being shown in the help the beautiful Italian girl gave him. The poem teils its own story far better than any description of it can do, and completes in a brilliant manner the series of historical pictures that Browning has given us, touching almost every great problem in Italian History.

THE ITALIAN IN ENGLAND

That second time they hunted me

From hill to piain, from shore to sea,

And Austria, hounding far and wide

Her blood-hounds through the country-side,

Breathed hot and instant on my trace, —

I made six days a hiding-place

Of that dry green old aqueduct

Where I and Charles, when boys, have plucked

The fire-flies from the roof above,

Bright creeping through the moss they love:

— How long it seems since Charles was lost!

Six days the soldiers crossed and crossed

The country in my very sight:

And when that peril eeased at night,

The sky broke out in red dismay

With signal fires; well, there I lay

Close covered o'er in my recess,

Up to the neck in ferns and cress,

Thinking on Metternich our friend,

And Charles's miserable end,

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And much beside, two days; the third, Hunger o'ercame me when I heard The peasants from the village go To work among the maize; you know, With us in Lombardy, they bring Provisions packed on mules, a string With little bells that cheer their task, And casks, and boughs on every cask To keep the sun's heat from the wine; These I let pass in jingling line, And, close on them, dear noisy crew, The peasants from the village, too; For at the very rear would troop Their wives and sisters in a group To help, I know. When these had passed, I threw my glove to strike the last, Taking the chance: she did not start, Much less cry out, but stooped apart, One instant rapidly glanced round, And saw me beckon from the ground. A wild bush grows and hides my crypt; She picked my glove up while she stripped A brauch off, then rejoined the rest With that; my glove lay in her breast. Then I drew breath: they disappeared: It was for Italy I feared.

An hour, and she returned alone Exactly where my glove was thrown. Meanwhile came many thoughts; on me Rested the hopes of Italy. I had devised a certain tale Which, when 'twas told her, could not fail Persuade a peasant of its truth;

I meant to call a freak of youth

This hiding, and give hopes of pay,

And no temptation to betray.

But when I saw that woman's face,

Its calm simplicity of grace,

Out Italy's own attitude

In which she walked thus far, and stood,

Planung each naked foot so firm,

To crush the snake and spare the worm —

At first sight of her eyes, I said,

"I am that man upon whose head

They fix the price, because I hate

The Austrians over us: the State

Will give you gold — oh, gold so much! —

If you betray me to their clutch,

And be your death, for aught I know,

K once they find you saved their foe.

Now, you must bring me food and drink,

And also paper, pen and ink,

And carry safe what I shall write

To Padua, which you 11 reach at night

Before the duomo shuts; go in,

And wait tili Tenebrac begin;

Walk to the third confessional,

Between the pillar and the wall,

And kneeling whisper, Whence comes peace f

Say it a second time, then cease;

And if the voice inside returns,

Front Christ and Freedom; what concerns

The cause of Peace ? — for answer, slip

My letter where you placed your lip;

Then come back happy we have done

Our mother service — I, the son,

As you the daughter of our land!"

GLIMPSES OF POUTICAL LIFE 163

Three mornings more, she took her stand In the same place, with the same eyes: I was no surer of sunrise Than of her Coming. We conferred Of her own prospects, and I heard She had a lover — stout and tall, She said — then let her eyelids fall, "He could do much" — as if some doubt Entered her heart, — then, passing out, "She could not speak for others, who Had other thoughts; herseif she knew:" And so she brought me drink and food. After four days, the scouts pursüed Another path; at last arrived The help my Paduan friends contrived To furnish me: she brought the news. For the first time I could not choose But kiss her hand, and lay my own Upon her head — "This faith was shown To Italy, our mother; she Uses my hand and blesses thee." She followed down to the sea-shore; I left and never saw her more.

How very long since I have thought Concerning — much less wished for — aught Beside the good of Italy, For which I live and mean to die! I never was in love; and since Charles proved false, what shall now convince My inmost heart I have a friend ? However, if I pleased to spend Real wishes on myself — say, three — I know at least what one should be.

I would grasp Metternich until

I feit his red wet throat distil

In blood through these two hands. And next,

— Nor much f or that am I perplexed — Charles, perjured traitor, for his part, Should die slow of a broken heart Under his new employers. Last

— Ah, there, what should I wish ? For fast Do I grow old and out of strength.

If I resolved to seek at length My father's house again, how scared They all would look, and unprepared! My brothers live in Austria's pay

— Disowned me long ago, men say; And all my early mates who used To praise me so — perhaps induced More than one early step of mine — Are turning wise: while some opine

Freedome grows license," some suspect Haste breeds delay," and recollect They always said, such premature Beginnings never could endure! So, with a sullen "AlTs for best," The land seems settling to its rest. I think then, I should wish to stand This evening in that dear, lost land, Over the sea the thousand miles, And know if yet that woman smiles With the calm smile; some little farm She lives in there, no doubt: what härm If I sat on the door-side bench, And, while her spindle made a trench Fantastically in the dust, Inquired of all her f ortunes — just

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GLIMPSES OF POMTICAL LIFE 165

Her children's ages and their names, And what may be the husband's aims For each of them. Fd talk this out, And sit there, for an hour about, Then kiss her hand once more, and lay Mine on her head, and go my way.

So much for idle wishing — how It steals the time! To business now.

m

THE ITALIAN SCHOLAR

"So let us say — not 'Since we know, we love,* But rather 'Since we love, we know enough.'

»9

— A Pülar at Sebzevar.

ALTHOUGH there are but two of Browning's poems that touch directly the purely scholarly aspects of Italian culture in the Renaissance, these two open up for our inspection two or three of the most inter-esting tendencies that manifested themselves during the period, namely, the influence of scientific knowledge and the influence of the Revival of ancient Greek learning, with all that it brought in its train of philosophical studies and language studies.

In "Pietro of Abano," science and the philosophical side of Greek learning figure, and in "The Grammarian's Funeral" the enthusiasm for language study — particu-larly that of Greek is shown.

Science, especially medical science, was

THE ITALIAN SCHOLAR 167

making great strides in the hands of the Arabians, who had the beginnings of their learning from the Jews and Nestorians, when Constantine the Great, influenced by the Church, declared the Church the enemy of worldly learning. The antagonism thns set up between the church and science produced some very curious results. The church took upon itself to see to the physical as well as the spiritual well-being of the people, and in consequence hospitals and benevolent organi-zations were founded and endowed with land and money, but instead of the care of the sick being in the hands of regulär physicians with such education as they had at the time, it was in those of unskilled ecclesiastics. The outcome was a resort to miracle eures, and for sueeeeding ages there was a gradually in-creasing credulity and exercise of imposture until at length there was almost universal reliance on the quackeries of miracle eure, shrine eure, relic eure. Crowds repaired to the shrines of saints to be cured.

But the most curious aspect of this division of religion and science was the fact that at the same time that religion was developing credulity in miracles, science was going in the direction of sorcery. This pseudo science was "the glimmering lamp," as Draper says,

"which sustained knowledge when it was all but ready to die out." He goes on, "By the Arabians it was handed down to us. The grotesque forms of some of those who took charge of it are not without interest. They exhibit a stränge mixture of the Neoplatonist, the Pantheist, the Mohammedan, the Christian. In such untoward times it was per-haps needful that the strengest passions of men should be excited and science stimu-lated by inquiries for methods of turning lead into gold, or of prolonging life indefi-nitely. We have now to deal with the philos-opher's stone, the elixir vitce 9 the powder of projection, magical mirrors, perpetual lamps, the transmutation of metals. In smoky caverns under ground where the great work is stealthily carried on, the alchemist and his familiär are busy with their alembics, cucur-bites, and pelicans, maintaining their fires for so many years that Salamanders are asserted to be born in them. Experimental science was thus restored."

There were various Channels by which this Arabian knowledge reached Italy. The Crusaders brought back the knowledge of the East, but more important was the estab-lishment of the Saracens in Spain. Science was cultivated assiduously among them, and