INTRODUCTION
Galileo was persecuted, Campanella was tortured by the Spaniards, and Giordano Bruno was burnt alive—ut quam clementissime et citra sanguinis effusione puniretur—after seven years' imprisonment in the dungeons of the Holy Office.
The Arcadia was founded in 1690 as a protest against bad taste in general and the Marinesque absurdities in particular; unfortunately, its founders, with the exception of Gravina, were persons of mediocre intelligence, and the hand of the Jesuits was heavy on the new society from the moment of its birth. The bombastic fustian of Marini and his tribe, whose one burning aim was to astonish their unfortunate admirers, gave place to the emasculated prettiness of Maggi, of Frugoni, of Zappi—the sentimental Zappi who yearned so ardently to be the lap-dog of his mistress—to all the celebratissima letteraria fanciullaggine that Baretti loathed so heartily. To reproach the poor Arcadians, however, for their lack of all poetical qualities would be as foolish as to fly into a passion over the morals of the later Caesars; they were the result, and not the cause, of the general corruption of taste in Italy; they did no good, but very little harm, and when their countrymen awoke once more to reality they retired gracefully into oblivion.
Three names only are eminent above the dead level of the epoch, but they belong to writers who were masters of rhetoric rather than lyric poets. Chiabrera imitated Pindar, the most dangerous of literary divinities, but his pompous odes to successful athletes and other heroes have no real dignity; they are fluent, but quite frigid and colourless. Testi, who was praised so highly by Leopardi, contrives occasionally—the ruscelletto orgoglioso is the best
