‘Ah, Sybert, you’re just the man I wanted to see!’ Melville came up the walk of the palazzo occupied by the American ambassador as Sybert, emerging from the door, paused on the top step to draw on his gloves.
‘In that case,’ the latter returned, ‘it’s well you didn’t come five minutes later, or I should have been lost to the world for the afternoon. What’s up?’
‘Nothing serious. Can you spare me a few moments’ talk? I won’t take up your time if you are in a hurry.’
‘Not in the least. I’m at your disposal. Nothing on for the afternoon, and I was preparing to loaf.’
The two turned back into the house and crossed the hall to the ambassador’s private library. Melville closed the door and regarded his companion a trifle quizzically. Sybert dropped into a chair, indicated another, and pushed a box of cigars and some matches across the table; then he looked up and caught Melville’s expression.
‘Well, what’s up?’ he asked again.
The consul-general selected a cigar with some deliberation, bit off the end, and regarded it critically, while his smile broadened. ‘I have just returned from the mass meeting of the foreign residents,’ he remarked.
‘That should have been entertaining.’
‘It was,’ he admitted. ‘There was some spirited discussion as to the best way of suppressing the riots.’
‘And how did they decide to do it?’
‘They have appointed a committee.’
‘Of course a committee!’ Sybert laughed. ‘And what is the committee to do? Wait on the ministers and invite 68 them to reconstruct their morals? Ask the King to spend a little less money on the soldiers’ uniforms and a little more on their ?’
‘The Committee,’ said Melville, ‘is to raise money for food, and to assist the government as far as possible in quieting the people and suppressing the .’
‘Ah!’ breathed Sybert.
‘And,’ he added, with his eye on the young man, ‘I have the honour of informing you that you were made chairman.’
‘Oh, the devil!’
‘This is not an official notification,’ he pursued ; ‘but I thought you’d like to hear the news.’
‘Who’s at the bottom of this? Why, in heaven’s name, didn’t you stop them?’
‘I couldn’t very well; I was chairman of the meeting.’
Sybert’s usual easy had vanished. He rose to his feet and took one or two turns about the room.
‘I don’t see why I should be shoved into it—I wish some of these officious fools would go back home, where they belong. I won’t serve on any such committee; I’ll be hanged if I will! I’ll resign.’
‘Nonsense, Sybert; you can’t do that. It would be too marked. People would think you had some reason for not wanting to serve. It was very natural that your name should have occurred for the position; you have lived in Rome longer than most of us, and are supposed to understand the conditions and to be interested in good government.’
‘It puts me in a queer position.’
‘I don’t see why.’ The elder man’s tone had grown cool. ‘They naturally took it for granted that you, as well as the rest of us, would want to have the riots suppressed and choke off any latent tendencies toward revolution in this precious populace.’
‘It was the work of a lot of damned busybodies who wanted to see what I would do.’
Melville suppressed a smile. ‘However,’ he remarked, ‘I see no reason why you should be so reluctant about serving in a good cause—I don’t suppose you wish to see a revolution any more than the rest of us.’
‘Heavens, no! It wouldn’t do any good; the government’s got the army to back it; the revolutionists would 69 only be sent to the for their trouble, and the police oppression would be worse than ever.’
He swung up and down the room a couple of times, and then pausing with his hands in his pockets, stared out of the window. Melville smoked and watched him, a shade of uneasiness in his glance. Just what position Laurence Sybert occupied in Rome—what unofficial position, that is—was a mystery to the most of his friends. Melville understood him as well as any one, with the exception of Howard Copley; but even he was at times quite unprepared for the intimate knowledge Sybert displayed in affairs which, on the surface, did not concern him. Sybert was distinctly not a babbler, and this tendency toward being close-mouthed had given rise to a vast amount of interest in his movements. He carried the reputation, among the foreign residents, of knowing more about Italian politics than the himself; and he further carried the reputation—whether deserved or not—of mixing rather more deeply than was wise in the dark undercurrent of the government.
And this particular spring the undercurrent was unusually dark and dangerously swift. Young Italy had been sowing wild oats, and the crop was fast. It was a period of anxiety and disappointment for those who had watched the country’s brave struggle for and independence thirty years before. Victor Emmanuel, Cavour, and Garibaldi had passed away; the had and the politicians had come in. A long period of over-speculation, of dishonesty and , of wild building schemes and crushing taxes, had brought the country’s credit to the lowest possible . A series of disgraceful bank scandals, involving men highest in the government, had shaken the confidence of the people. The failure of the Italian colony in Africa, and the heart-rending campaign against King Menelik and his dervishes, with thousands of wounded conscripts sent back to their homes, had carried the discontent to every corner of the kingdom. And fast on the heels of this disaster had come a failure in the wheat crop, with all its attendant horrors; while the corner in the American market was forcing up the price of foreign wheat to twice its normal value.
It was a time when priests were recalling to the peasants the wrongs the church had suffered; a time when the presses were turning out pamphlets containing plain truths plainly stated; a time when refused to invest in government bonds, and even Italian statesmen were beginning to look grave.
To the casual eyes of tourists the country was still as , gay as ever. There were perhaps more beggars on the church steps, and their appeal for bread was a trifle more ; but for people interested only in Italy’s galleries and ruins and shops the changes were not marked. But those who did understand, who cared for the future of the nation, who saw the below the surface, were passing through a phase of disillusionment and doubt. And Laurence Sybert was one who both understood and cared. He saw the direction in which the country was drifting even better perhaps than the Italians themselves. He looked on in a detached, more remote fashion, not so swept by the current as those who were in the stream. But if he were detached in fact—by accident of his American parentage and citizenship—in feelings he was with the Italians heart and soul.
The consul-general remained some minutes silently studying the younger man’s back—irritation, , something stronger, appeared in every line of his squared shoulders—then he rose and walked across to the window.
‘See here, Sybert,’ he said bluntly, ‘I’m your friend, and I don’t want to see you doing anything foolish. I know where your sympathies are; and if the rest of us looked into the matter with our eyes open, it’s possible ours would be on the same side. But that’s neither here nor there; we couldn’t do any good, and you can’t, either. You must think of your own position—you are secretary of the American Embassy and nephew of the ambassador. In common it won’t do to exhibit too much sympathy with the enemies of the Italian government. You say yourself that you don’t want to see a revolution. Then it’s your duty, in the interests of law and order, to do all you can to suppress it.’
‘Oh, I’m willing to do all I can toward relieving the suffering and quieting the people; but when it comes to 71 playing the police spy and getting these poor devils jailed for twenty years because they’ve shouted, “Down with Savoy!” I refuse.’
Melville . ‘That part of the business can be left to the secret police; they’re capable of handling it.’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ Sybert .
‘Your business is merely to aid in the people and to raise for buying food. You are in with the wealthy foreigners, and can get money out of them easier than most.’
‘I suppose that means I am to bleed Copley?’
‘I dare say he’ll be willing enough to give; it’s in his line. Of course he’s a friend, and I don’t like to say anything. I know he had nothing to do with getting up the wheat deal; but it’s all in the family, and he won’t lose by it. The corner is playing the deuce with Italy, and it’s his place to help a bit.’
‘What is playing the deuce with Italy is an government and crushing taxes and dead industries. The wheat famine is bad enough; but that isn’t the main trouble, and you know it as well as I do.’
‘The main trouble,’ his companion broke in sharply, ‘is the fact that the priests and the and the and every other sort of keep things so stirred up that the government is forced into the stand it takes.’
Sybert whirled around from the window and faced him with black brows and a sudden of passion in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and then controlled himself and went on in a quiet, half-sneering tone—
‘I suppose the socialists and priests and the rest of your malcontents forced our late premier into office and kept him there. I suppose they Italy with the Triple Alliance and drove the soldiers into Abyssinia to be butchered like . I suppose they were at the bottom of the bank scandals, and put the charity money into official pockets, and let fifteen thousand peasants go mad with hunger last year—fifteen thousand!——’ His voice suddenly broke, and he half-turned away. ‘Good Lord, Melville, the poverty in Italy is something !’
‘Yes, I dare say it is—but, just the same, that’s only one side of the question. The country is new, and you 72 can’t expect it to develop along every line at once. The government has committed some very natural blunders, but at the same time it has a vast amount of good. It has united a lot of states, with different traditions and different aims, into one organic whole; it has built up a modern nation, with all the of modern civilization, in an incalculably short time. Of course the people have had to pay for it with a good many deprivations—in every great political change there are those who suffer; it’s . But the suffering is only temporary, and the good is permanent. You’ve been keeping your eyes so closely on passing events that you’re in danger of losing your perspective.’
Sybert shrugged his shoulders, with a quick resumption of his usual .
‘We’ve had twenty-five years of United Italy, and what has it accomplished?’ he demanded. ‘It’s built up one of the finest armies in Europe, if you like; a lot of railroads it didn’t need; some aqueducts and water-works, and a and telegraph system. It has any number of gigantic public buildings, of theatres and and statues of Victor Emmanuel II; but what has it done for the poor people beyond taxing them to pay for these things? What has it done for Sicily and Sardinia, for the pellagra victims of the north, for the half-starved peasants of the Agra Romana? Why does Sicily hold the primacy of crime in Europe; why has emigration reached two hundred thousand a year? Parliament votes five million lire for a palace of justice, and lets a man be murdered in prison by his keepers without the show of a trial. The government supports plenty of universities for the sons of the rich, but where are the elementary schools for the peasants? Certainly Italy’s a Great Power—if that’s all you want—and her people can take their choice between emigrating and starving.’
‘Yes, it’s bad, I know; but that it’s quite as bad as you would have us believe, I doubt. You’re a by conviction, Sybert. You won’t look at the silver .’
‘The silver linings are pretty thin,’ he retorted. ‘Italian politics have changed since the days of Victor Emmanuel and Cavour.’
‘That’s only natural. You could scarcely expect any nation to keep up such a high pitch of as went to the making of United Italy—the country’s settled down a bit, but the elements of strength are still there.’
‘The country’s settled down a good bit,’ he agreed. ‘Oh, yes, I believe myself—at least I hope—that it’s only a passing phase. The Italian people have too much inherent strength to allow themselves to be mastered long by politicians. But that the country is in pretty low water now, and that the breakers are not far ahead, no one with his eyes open can doubt. The parliament is and senseless and dishonest, the taxes are crushing, the public debt is enormous, the currency is debased. If such a government can’t take care of itself, I don’t see that it’s the business of foreigners to help it.’
‘That is just the point, Sybert. The government can take care of itself and it will. The foreigners, out of common humanity, ought to help the people as much as they can.’
Sybert appeared to study Melville’s face for a few moments; then he dropped his eyes and examined the floor.
‘This is a time for those in power to choose their way very carefully. There are a good many discontented people, and the government is going to have more of a pull than you think to hold its own—there’s revolution in the air.’
Melville faced him squarely.
‘For goodness’ sake, Sybert, I don’t know how much influence you have, or anything about it, but do what you can to keep things quiet. Of course the government has made mistakes—as what government has not? But until there’s something better to be substituted there’s no use kicking. Plainly, the people are too ignorant to govern themselves, and the House of Savoy is the only means of .’
Sybert waved his hand impatiently.
‘I haven’t been trying to undermine the government, I assure you. I know well enough that for a good many years to come Italy won’t have anything better to offer, and all my influence with the Italians—which naturally isn’t much—has been advice of the same nature. I know very well that if any change were attempted, only would result; so I counsel these poor starving beggars “patience” like a coward.’
‘Very well; I don’t see then why you have any objection 74 to keeping on with your counsel, and at the same time give them something to eat.’
‘It’s the looks of the thing—standing up openly on the side of the authorities when I’m not with them in sympathy.’
‘It’s a long sight better for a person in your position than standing up openly against the authorities.’
‘Oh, as for that, I’m thinking of resigning from the legation, and then I’ll be free to do as I please.’
Melville laid his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
‘Sybert, you may resign from the legation, but you’re still your uncle’s nephew. You can’t resign from that. Whatever you did would cast on him. He’s an old man, and he’s fond of you. Don’t be a fool. An American has no business mixing u............