POETS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
The most conspicuous, though not in reality the most eminent, of the Italian poets in the early part of the Nineteenth Century, was Vincenzo Monti. The inexhaustible fluency of his verses attracted universal attention, and even Leopardi worshipped at his shrine. But he was only an idol, not a divinity. The feet of clay soon became apparent. He veered round with shameless apostacy from one political party to another. Beginning his career by flattering Pius VI, he continued it by extolling the French invaders, and concluded it by grovelling before the Austrian tyrants. He wrote odes without enthusiasm, and tragedies without dignity, and he translated Homer without knowing sufficient Greek to read the original. An epigram was suggested for his portrait:
"Questo è Monti, poeta e cavaliero,
Gran traduttor dei traduttor d'Omero."
But it would be unjust to deny that he had great flexibility of style and full command over all the resources of the language. He is always elegant and flowing, and his works, such as they are, never sin against the canons of good taste. Perhaps the most pleasing of his shorter poems is a very beautiful sonnet on the portrait of his daughter.
A far more masterful and daring spirit was UGO FOSCOLO. His poem I Sepolcri attracted universal attention, but it can hardly be said that the promise of this poem was fulfilled by later works. He had brilliant gifts, but he was inclined to fritter them away on learned trifles. As a prose writer he exercised a wider influence. His Lettere di Jacopo Ortis, were to Italy much what Goethe's Werther was to Germany. He was an admirable critic, and his essays on Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio are valuable even at the present day. He took refuge in England, and some of his best articles were written in English, being subsequently translated into his mother-tongue. He died at Turnham Green, near London, in 1827.
Melchiorre Cesarotti translated Macpherson's Ossian, and was a powerful promoter of the romantic movement.
Ippolito Pindemonte wrote many poems distinguished by a gentle pensiveness, and he translated the Odyssey with considerable success.
Giovanni Berchet of Milan, contributed largely by his verses to kindle the fire of patriotism, but vigorous and stirring though they be, they have hardly sufficient finish and delicacy to rank as works of art.
Giuseppe Giusti was a satirist of amazing raciness and originality. He attacked the tyrannical Governments of his day, and he knew neither fear nor discretion. Those who can form an idea of what Mr. Gilbert's inexhaustible powers of grotesque versification would produce if directed towards political satire, may conceive what Giusti's poems are. He died of consumption in 1850.
Felice Bellotti, of Milan, rendered noble services to the literature of his country by his magnificent translation of the Lusiad of Camoens, the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius, and the tragedies of Æschylus, Sophocles and Euripides.
Giambattista Nicolini was the author of numerous tragedies, but his tendencies were as much political as poetical, and his poetry suffers in consequence.
Jacopo Vittorelli was musical and flowing in his verse, and some of his best lines are worthy of the pen of Metastasio.
The poems of Giuseppe Puzzone have a tender sentimentality that is both moving and pleasing,
Giuseppe Borghi translated Pindar, and wrote poems of his own with considerable fire and originality.
Luigi Carrer, a Venetian, had the merit of opening up new sources of ideas in his poems, and he has much pathos and command of language.
Gabriele Rossetti, the father of a celebrated family, was inspired by patriotism in almost everything he wrote. Some of his patriotic hymns have inimitable fire and energy. He took refuge in England, where he died in 1854.
The poems of Aleardo Aleardi are remarkable for strength of imagination, but his powers of execution are not considerable.
Giosue Carducci ranks very high among the poets of the Nineteenth Century, but his endeavours to revive the mythology of which the world had become utterly weary were not very judicious, although in his case they were redeemed by great learning and much force of imagination. He tried to introduce the metres of Horace into Italian, but the result is not very musical.
Enrico Panzacchi is a true poet, and his imagery is always graceful and in good taste.
The same cannot be said of Olindo Guerrini who, under the pseudonym of Lorenzo Stechetti, published poems remarkable for freshness and melody of style, but also, unhappily, for coarseness and indecency. He is very successful in the art of making the verses sing; they really come from the heart of the poet and go straight to the heart of the reader.
The Sicilian Rapisardi produced some fine works, among others a long poem on the afflictions of Job. It is full of imagination, but it would be difficult to conceive a more unnecessary work; the book of Job is so sublime in itself that any reproduction, not a literal translation, is either a dilution or a "gilding of refinéd gold."
Giovanni Prati had great powers of thought and genuine inspiration. His Armando is a very noble work, but it is somewhat wanting in skilful construction, and in everything he wrote his beauties are rather heaped together than skilfully displayed.
Pietro Cossa produced some tragedies very unlike those of Alfieri, full of crude colours and startling contrasts, by which he obtained an immense vogue, but it is doubtful whether they will stand the test of time.
Ada Negri, of Milan, has published some lyrics full of the most extraordinary fire and brilliancy, and if she continues as she has begun, she cannot fail to produce something great.
The Abbe Zanella has published poems which have been much admired. He is reported to be the favourite poet of Leo XIII.
Madame Rachele Botti Binda has written numerous poems, characterised by strength and originality of thought; indeed, it is delightful to find in almost all the poets enumerated in this chapter that the old sameness and conventionality have utterly disappeared and that freshness and versatility are everywhere apparent. This circumstance cannot fail to be of good augury for the future and to infuse new life into a literature which was sadly in need of freshness of thought and unconventionality of style. If some writers have been indelicate and others inartistic, these are faults that are immediately seen and easily avoided, and in view of the greater interest and appreciation bestowed by the public of late years on poetry, there is every reason to hope that the next century will witness the appearance of poets in no respect unworthy of the Country of Dante and Ariosto.