Letters of an Italian Exile (translation) [pp. 741-748]

Letters of anz Italian Exile.
have used it to express all I feel for that tenderest
of beings-for her, whom I continually behold in
imagination, weeping and desolate. If the voice of
pity and friendship are powerful in your heart, I
pray you, Eugenio, leave her not unconsoled.
Thou must be as another child to her, and ever remember that she is the mother of thy friend.
Foscolos; and the n ew s choo l which promise d so
much by its historical romances, has thus far accomplished little enough, if we except one or two
sermons on passive obedience. Botta remains, but
he is alon e; and the soul of Tacitus, which should
be de voted to so exalted a work, is wantin g to him.
Moreover, his thoughts, although grand and sacred,
are rather understood readily by those who think,
than felt deeply by the ma ss, wit h that profound
s e n s e of desperation, from w h ich al one a real
change and consta nc y of opinion is t o be hoped fo r
among the Italians.
To tell you the truth, I bel ieve we are so sus -
ceptible of illusions, that the intellectual energy of
no writer whatever, can avail anything in eradicatintg from th e heart s of o ur countrymen, the
weaknesses, which are as o ld a s our servitude, and
which are strongly man tintaine d by the consciousn e s s of ge neral debasement and actual incapacity,
a s well a s b y the sm all deg ree of virtu e and the
total absence of ambition on th e part of our princes.
I des ire d to allude to the se ci rcumstances in reply
to that part of your lette r, wherein you recom mend
me n o t t o forget Italy and our studies. But as ye t
you seem unaware, that in this land I have conceived a lover of cou ntry, not only more powerful
than ever, but instinect with a desperate earnestness
which consumes my heart. Wherever I turn, the
aspect of all the civil and social bene fits enjoyed
by this fortunate people, fills me, at the same time,
with wonder, ad mir ation, and imm ense grief. Not
that I envv the Americans their good fortune,
which, on the c ontrary, I ardently rejoice in, and
desire, a s muc h as any one of themselves, may be
forever conti nued to the land. But ththi nk of Italy,
and know not how to persuade myself, why her
condition should be so different and s o sad. I do
not allude to the genera l policy of the country; but
I speak of what I see every day while wa lking the
streets:-a quiet population incessantly intent upon
industry and commerce, wit hout bein g reta rded by
civil res trictions o r tyra nnical e xtortions, by the
subterfuges of offic ia l harpies, or by the machinery
of so many hun g ry and shameless financi ers, nor
yet con tinuall y irr itated by the insufferable and
cowardly insolence of the ministers of the law,
who, either in the military garb, or as civil officers,
or in the form of police, are the vilest instruments of
European tyranny-the pests of the State, consum ing its substance and resou rces, and corrupting
the manners and mor als of the people. Here, I
have not yet seen in thle streets, a single soldier,
nor one patrole of police, nor in fact any guard of
the public safety; and having occasion to go to the
Custom-House, I was quite astonished to see the
simplicity of the forms —the expedition with which
affairs were conducted, and the small nurmber of
officers employed. Indeed, this people seem like
a large and united family, if not bound together
by affiection and reciprocal love, at least allied by
15th May.
This morning, I rose full of anxiety. The moment I awoke, my first thought was of you, of my
family, and of the delay of your letters; and the
so und of the breakfast-bell first a roused me from
my painful reverie. I descended, swallowed a
single cup of coffee, and, quick as thought, hastened
to the office. I did not expect to find letters, but
hlaving given my name, and perceiving that the
postman did not return the customary nod of refilsal, my heart began to palpitate strongly. I did
not deceive myself. I have my mother's letter to
which you have made so large an addition, and I
have been till this moment shut up in my room,
reading it over and over again, and bathing every
line with my tears. God reward you for all your
care and your love for me! I trust that ere this,
you have received my first letters, and thus been
relieved of all anxiety on my account. I thank
you for all the news you give me, and especially
for what you tell me respecting our young companions, who, I rejoice to know, are now quite free
from the ill-founded suspicions of government.
The condition of Italy, however, seems to grow
more sad every day; and you write me that many
are rejoicing at the rumor of imminent war, and
in the hope that our old liberators will again re-appear among us. For my part, however, I cannot
but tremble with you, since noW there is less certainty than ever, that aught will remain to us but
injuries and derision. The present and past misfortunes of our country should have taught us that
if there is any thing to hope, it is from ourselves
alone; and it is certain, that if the new subjects of
the new citizen-king descend again from the inountains, there is reason to believe that the disgraces
of by-gone times will be renewed in Italy, and it
will be our lot to transmit another record of shame
and cowardly execrations.
From your literary news, I learn that the Anthology of Florence has been abolished, and as
usual, by command of Austria. I had made no little search for the last number. Be it so. The
suppression of that work is only one other insult
to our condition, but not a serious loss to the na
1842.]
747
tion, since the writers, who perhaps set out with
the idea of undeceiving the Italians, are,ibemselves
the very ones who propagate their UDfortUDate illusions; and in that journal., which was doubtless the
best we bad, they also said too much, and without
profit. In these times, there exist no Alfieris or