AN ITALIAN NOVEL.*

Daniels Cortis is a work which has attracted a good deal of attention in Italy, and one which should have a great interest also for English readers, not only from the intrinsic power and ability of the writing, but also from the picture it presents to us of a life and society which are not ours, and a political world with which we are not conversant. It is always interesting to get any insight into the inner workings of the political life of a foreign country, and this is for many reasons especially the case with Italy. In a nation so newly constituted, where there is no earlier system of government to form the groundwork of future legislation, the statesman finds himself suddenly confronted with great social and political problems requiring immediate solution, which in other nations have either been solved already, or, at any rate, examined and discussed. Of course, the simplest way of settling affairs is to clear away and destroy every- thing you can, and pass on the work of building up again to the next generation, as has been done to a great extent, and repeatedly, in France. He who attempts to stem the flood, if he is powerful enough, becomes a tyrant, and, if not so, is howled at as a reactionary and absolutist for his pains. Such a man is Daniele Cortis, the hero of the book before us, whom we venture to think anew as well as a striking and powerful picture of a patriotic Italian politician of modern days.

High-minded and disinterested in his patriotism, proudly con- scious of his own powers—(" I have not," he says, " the hypo- critical vanity of modesty "),—and contemptuous of adverse criticism, Daniele Cortis is the very type of the politician who enters public life, not as a profession nor with the idea of personal advancement, but convinced that it is his duty, that his abilities can be of service to his country, and that he has no right to withhold them. Such a man is in no way prepared to allow others to dictate to him the line of policy which he is to pursue. We find him at the beginning engrossed in his election, eager for success, but haughtily informing the political associa- tions who interview him that he will be glad of their support, but will not bate one jot or tittle of his views to gain it. In the midst of the election struggle a private letter of his is • Daniele Cortis: Bomanzo. By Antonio Fogazzaro. Torino : F. Casanova. 1885,

published containing statements too Conservative and too Catholic for the majority of the electors. In this letter he lays particular stress on his Catholicism and his belief in "progressive development of Christian civilisation in which the Count di Cavour believed." The union—or rather, the independent co existence and co-operation—of Free Church and Free State was, as is well known, the favourite project of that Cavour whom priests denounced as an atheist and reformers applauded as the destroyer of the Church; and to follow in the steps of the great Italian statesman—to cavoureggiare, as his countrymen, those inimitable coiners of words, would call it—is indeed the ideal of our politician. His committee, however, protest, not unnaturally, that "our electors are by no means so many Cavours. They do not understand. They see the words Catholic," Christian civilisation," and the candi- date is at once put down as a clericale. The speech of explanation in reply to these criticisms is so interesting in its display of contemporary Italian thought of the most elevated kind, that we cannot help giving some extracts from it; while some of its ideas may be worthy of consideration even in England, when we remember that Cortis is speaking, on the eve of a great extension of the franchise (that of 1882). It is mere madness, he says, to think that the country is going to ruin because a large body of new electors are coming in ; but, on the other hand,—

" It is madness not to acknowledge that there will be made, not a leap in the dark, but a long step forward in the clear and destined path of Democratic evolution, and that the multitudes of new electors will be disposed to procure themselves a direct advantage with the share they have in the Government, to promote a legislative activity of an exaggerated and imprudent type for their own exclusive benefit. I do not feel for this reason, gentlemen, a vain and puerile fear. I believe that in this Democratic ferment there is some leaven taken from Christianity. I see in my mind a bright and possible ideal of a Christian Democracy, far different from that despotism of egotistical majorities, greedy of enjoyment, which threatens modern liberties.

When people speak to me of a new party whose ideal would be simply to preserve political and social orders as they exist to-day, I say that this is not enough, that this ideal lacks grandeur and vitality. The country, gentlemen, cannot be preserved like an old fixed monument, by surrounding it with poles and props. The country is a living being, an organism which labours continually and develops itself continually ; which preserves itself by reasonable progress, by the judicious exercise of all its natural faculties."

The following words will probably be more startling to our readers, as boldly declaring the part which the Monarchy itself must take in this new ideal Democracy :—

" I am convinced that if we wish to prepare for the advent of a really Liberal Democracy, without any predominating class, we require a political power strong enough to govern the country according to a pre-established plan, above, and, if it should ever be necessary, opposed to the fluctuations of Parliamentary majorities ; we must have Ministers holding the conviction that the Monarchy is not an irresponsible nonentity far up among the clouds, that it is not a crowned coat of arms on the cover of the constitutional machine, but that it is a master-wheel, if I may say so, in that machine, and is responsible before God and before history, and that, by a common law, it soon becomes spoiled by remaining inactive. Then this strong power, sure of plentiful support throughout the country, can and must be fearlessly daring, and, giving free scope to all opinions, take in hand social questions, and conduct every possible reform with all caution, moderation, and firmness."

The speaker is, as is apparent, a fervent Monarchist, but is so in the highest sense of the word, and with the belief that an active Monarchy is a necessity to Italy. Nor have the Italian people any reason to regard their kings with feelings other than those of admiration and affection. Not only from the example of the brave and honourable gentleman who at present happily occupies the Italian throne, but from his two prede- cessors—the ill-starred Carlo Alberto, who almost alone among European Sovereigns gave his subjects a freedom that was not wrung from him by insurrection, but voluntarily conceded, in spite of frowns and threats from powerful neighbours ; and Victor Emanuel who, ascending the Throne amidst almost unparalleled difficulties, could keep steadily along the same constitutional path, with Radetzky pressing his forty thousand bayonets on him to make him absolute autocrat—the people may learn that a Monarchy which lacks the prestige of antiquity to raise it altogether above the sphere of politics, may be trusted to take a leading part in the defence and extension of their liberties. Another description of the duties of royalty, full of the same forcible imagery as the last, is put into the mouth of Cortis at another place. The Monarchy is not, we are told,—

" Only capable of giving dances and dinners, carrying love- letters for the Parliamentary majority, and adorning our prosaic figures with a little chivalrous sentiment I believe it capable of something better. I believe it capable of finishing the lesson in

Italian geography which King Victor Emanuel gave to Europe; I believe it capable, above all, of forming, together with the other ecclesiastical monarchy, a policy which will have common-sense and stability; a policy which, without in any degree subordinating the State to the Church, will give us strength to astound the world with our social reforms."

This view of the political life of Italy will probably be new to most of our readers, but the political side of the story forms by no means the principal part of the work. There is besides apathetic love-story, perhaps not of a very original design, but powerfully described. Elena, the heroine, has in early life accepted the first offer of marriage made to her in order to escape from an uncongenial home, and discovers too late that her cousin, Daniele Cortis, has been all along the real object of her affection. Her husband, the Baron di Santa Giulia, who at first appears to be no worse than a rough soldier, wanting in courtesy and refinement, but supposed to possess those virtues of honesty and sincerity which many people seem to think must necessarily be found in company with boorish manners, is gradually revealed to be a roue, a confirmed gambler, and is found to have embezzled money entrusted to him, to pay his play-debts. The growing disgust of Elena for her husband, and the gradual development of the unspoken love between her and Cortis, is powerfully and delicately drawn. Some readers may think that Cortis is even too disinterested and magnanimous in his con- duct. He himself agrees to pay the money which is required to prevent legal proceedings being taken against the Baron, and it is he, too, who persuades Elena that her duty is to cling to her husband, and follow him in the half voluntary, half compulsory exile which is the only possible way out of his difficulties. The deep religious feeling which animates Cortis comes out strongly in his last interview with Elena :-

"' I wish to say only one thing to you now,' continued Cortis ; and he added in a lower voice, There is One from whom yon should ask counsel before me.' His voice trembled a little. Elena shook her head in silence. He put his lips to her forehead, and said softly, Pray.' She covered her face with her hands.—' You know,' she murmured, that I have never been able to pray as you do?— ' Pray now,' answered Cortis."

The other characters are also well drawn, the old Count Lao—

the hypochondriac uncle, devoted to Daniele and Elena, and profoundly contemptuous of the human race in general, and his own sister in particular ; the frivolous Countess Tarquinia, even the somewhat repulsive figure of the Baron himself, are full of interest. There is a certain rugged grandeur about the latter, especially in his thoughts of suicide, a desperate defiance of everything, human and divine, which is powerfully depicted. He remembers that a suicide " would have no funeral, would not be buried in a church. So much the better. Neither God nor saint had ever helped him." In the midst of these desperate musings the following incident comes quaintly in :-

" He entered a small cafe in the Via dells Muratte, a few steps from his house, and knocked hard on the table, as the waiter was sleeping with his arms crossed on the bench. There was no one in the little room besides Di Santa Gialia except an old priest with face and hands of the colour of wax, who was in the habit of taking his chocolate there before midnight. Do you believe, Reverendo,' the Baron asked him abruptly, that there is a future life ?' The old priest looked him in the face and answered calmly, No, Signore.' Then he unfolded a dark-coloured handkerchief, examined it in every part, wiped his mouth with it, folded it up again with great care, and, laying it on his knees, said in his soft, quiet voice : I do not believe it, I know it.' No other sound was beard but the noise of the waters of Trevi. The Baron drank his glass of liqueur, and went out without a word."

There are many other points in this story which want of space prevents us from indicating. The quiet country life, the party at the country-house and their interest in the election, all are new to us, and all are vividly put before us. It has been said that Italian novels are but poor copies of French originals ; but such works as Daniels Collie show us that there exists in Italy a native school of literature which is worthy to rank with the best productions of other nations.