MANZONI.
ALESSANDRO MANZONI, the most popular writer of the first half of the
Nineteenth Century, was born at Milan on the seventh of March, 1785.
His mother was the daughter of Beccaria, whose philanthropic endeavours
to abolish the worst abuses of criminal procedure have received
recognition in a previous chapter. He received his education from the
Fathers of the Somaschi Order, and in 1805 he accompanied his mother to
Paris. There he had the advantage of mixing with the most brilliant and
intellectual Society that France could produce. At that epoch he seems
first to have attempted composition, and a poem he wrote on the death
of a friend obtained sufficient encomiums to encourage him in further
efforts.
In 1808 he returned to Italy and married Mademoiselle Blondel, daughter
of a banker of Geneva.
She was a Protestant, but soon joined the Church of Rome, and ere long
filled her husband, who had hitherto been indifferent to religion,
with the fervour that animated her soul. As in Paris, so in Milan,
he enjoyed the society of those most eminent for their intellectual
powers, and he was a frequent visitor in Monti's house. Silvio Pellico
and Tommaso Grossi were among his friends, and Luigi Tosi, afterwards
Bishop of Pavia, did much to confirm him in the ardent piety instilled
by his wife. Winter and Spring he passed in Milan, Summer and Autumn at
a beautiful villa of his at Brusiglio, four miles out of the town.
In 1812 he began writing his Sacred Hymns, and if they do not rise
above a spirited, though somewhat conventional, piety, they are
nevertheless an enormous advance on the mythological platitudes that
formed so long the staple of Italian poetry.
In 1819, he finished his tragedy, _Il Conte di Carmagnola,_ which had
occupied him for more than three years. Manzoni entirely abandoned the
trammels of the unities of time and place to which Alfieri rigidly
adhered; his play has consequently much of the picturesqueness and
variety of Shakespeare and the Elizabethans; and it is distinguished by
that thoroughness of historical study which marked everything he wrote;
but on the other hand, it must be admitted that he is not inspired by
the genuine spirit of tragedy in nearly so high a degree as Alfieri,
nor has he his predecessor's remarkable gift of writing sonorous and
impressive blank verse. His verse is clear and flowing, but rather
wanting in colour. His characters say what they ought to say, but they
do not say it in a striking manner. Even more than for its merits as a
play, it deserves to be read for the accurate picture it presents of
the Venice of the Fifteenth Century.
In 1820 he wrote the most spirited verses he ever produced, _Il Quinto
Maggio,_ a poem on the death of Napoleon, full of fire and originality.
In 1822 he published his tragedy _Adelchi._ As _Carmagnola_ gave a
picture of the Oligarchy of Venice, so does _Adelchi_ give us a picture
of the rule of the Lombard Kings. It is written with as much care as
its predecessor, and with more fire ind energy. But even here he is far
indeed from displaying Alfieri's mastery over blank verse. Appended to
this tragedy we find a long and valuable essay on the Lombards in Italy.
Manzoni contemplated a third tragedy. It was to have been on the
subject of Spartacus, but not more was written than an introductory
Chorus.
These works procured a high reputation for the poet, a reputation
which became even European when he published in 1826 his celebrated
historical romance, _I Promessi Sposi--The Betrothed._ No prose work
in the Italian language has been received with greater enthusiasm in
foreign countries than this. Translations appeared in every European
language; edition after edition was called for, both of the original
and of the renderings. The daily papers teemed with laudatory notices;
the author was overwhelmed with tokens of esteem and admiration, and
his countrymen hailed in him with rapture an Italian Scott.
His reputation reached its zenith in 1830. But if his admirers expected
that he would display the fertility of his Caledonian prototype, they
were doomed to disappointment. He was renowned as the writer of two
able tragedies, of one of the most brilliant lyrics in any language,
and of the most successful novel that Italy had ever produced. He
was rich and comfortable, two strong incentives to indolence. He had
acquired fame so great that it would be impossible to add to it; what
need was there for him to labour and toil in producing works that
could not by any possibility approach the marvellous success of their
predecessors? Accordingly, we find that Manzoni wrote but little after
the appearance of the _Promessi Sposi,_ and that little is not of great
importance. In his _Storia della Colonna Infame,_ he protests, like a
true descendant of Beccaria, against the horrors of the rack; in his
_Morale Cottolica,_ he displays considerable powers of observation and
of argument.
He had numerous children, but many of them predeceased him. His eldest
daughter married Massimo d'Azeglio.
After the Italian victories of 1859, he was elected a member of the
Senate assembled at Turin, but he only attended its debates on two
occasions, probably owing to advancing age. He was offered high
dignities and the medals of many Orders; but he refused them all, and
lived in simple retirement, sufficiently distinguished by his renown,
and by the esteem accorded to his amiable and benevolent character. He
died on the 22nd of May, 1873, and Milan accompanied her poet to the
grave with magnificent obsequies.
Turning from the man to his works, we find both his prose and his
poetry characterized by a noble spirit of repose. There is nothing
stormy or angry in his writings, for there was nothing to disturb or
to embitter his mind. He resemble Goethe in the cloudless serenity of
his intellect, though he may not equal him in the rarer attributes
of genius. It was probably this very repose that militated against
his success as a dramatist, for if they did not present so faithful a
picture of an historical epoch, his two tragedies would hardly deserve
the attention they received.
This happy peace of mind enabled him to reproduce very clearly what he
observed and imagined. It is, therefore, no cause for wonder that when
he devoted the powers of his mind to the production of an historical
novel, he should have given a masterpiece to the world. The story is
interesting. We follow the vicissitudes of the lovers with breathless
attention. The subject is well fitted to the author's powers. He
writes of localities among which he lived, and of times, the history
of which he had profoundly studied. The descriptions never fail to be
vivid and accurate, and the skill with which he masses together great
events cannot be too highly extolled. Nothing could be finer than the
description of the plague of Milan, and of the popular disturbances.
Nor is he less admirable in the delineation of character. The portrait
of the Friar would be alone sufficient to show his mastery in that
line. The style has its beauties, but even in this most successful
work of the Nineteenth Century we notice the same peculiarities as in
his dramas; the characters say what they ought to say, but they do not
always say it in a striking manner. Little as he resembled Leopardi,
he was like him in a certain indifference to ornament which sometimes
degenerates into poverty.
In reading Manzoni's works we become aware how much the romantic
movement benefited literature. A new life is infused into prose and
poetry; fresh thoughts arise in the writer's mind, and the wretched
conventionalities of phraseology are done away with for ever.
Above praise though the _Promessi Sposi_ may be, it is not possible
to extol Manzoni very highly as a poet. With the exception of the
magnificent _Cinque Maggio,_ his lyrics do not glow with vivid
fire, nor do they haunt the reader with their melody. The extremely
comfortable circumstances of the poet's life prevented him from being
torn with passion and harrowed by despair. His genius had nothing wild
or impetuous about it to spur him on to a passionate outpour of song.
Nor had he the gaiety of convivial, or the acrimony of satirical,
verse. Therefore, it is not strange that he has left us nothing quite
worthy of his renown in the lyric line, always excepting the poem on
the death of Napoleon.
His powers of versification are not very remarkable. He is deficient
in the delicate cadences of a truly great poet. His blank verse has
a tendency to become flat. His rhymes are stronger, but the metre,
though effective, is not modulated and varied with the consummate
skill that can alone satisfy a cultivated ear. But all his poems are
the emanation of a truly noble mind, and if we search the pages of
Manzoni, whether in his prose or in his verse, for lofty thoughts and
elevating influence, we can truly say that we never search in vain.