Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

THE DISCLAIMER.

A TALE OF ROME.

"Know that the human being's thoughts and deeds
Are not like ocean billows lightly moved;

The inner world his microcosmus is

The deep shaft out of which they spring eternally."

I KNOW of few situations more favorable to the indulgence of a habit - doubtless of questionable utility in these utilitarian days, although sanctioned by the example of no less a personage than Geoffrey Crayon the habit of day-dreaming, than that of a traveller when cosily ensconced within the narrow limits of an Italian vettura. If the coach is old, the steeds superannuated, and the vetturino utterly devoid of Jehu ambition, as is ordinarily the case-if the road abound in long, winding declivities if the passengers be taciturn, and the quiet, sunny atmosphere of early autumn prevail, such a combination of circumstances will produce upon his mental mood somewhat the effect of lateral sunbeams shining through richly-colored windows, upon the marble floor

of a cathedral. The images of Memory and Hope will appear magnified, and lit up into soothing beauty, as revealed by the mellow light of musing. At least, such was my experience during the afternoon of a long day, the evening of which we designed to pass under the shelter of the Seven Hills, whence the thunders of ancient eloquence and war were so lavishly fulminated. Aroused by the exclamation of a Tuscan friar, my next neighbor, who had mistaken a semicircular cloud floating in the far horizon, for the dome of St. Peter's, I began to note the state of things around. Our humble locomotive was creeping up a hill, formidable only from its length, and the customary murmur of paupers at the windows was blending with the rumbling of the carriage and the monotonous cheerings of the vetturino. Suddenly a face peered in at the window, so singular and startling in its features and expression, as to convey an impression never to be forgotten. The beggar throng seemed to have been awed into a retreat by the stranger's appearance; so that the idea, that he was of their fraternity, was banished as soon as suggested. Grasping the knob of the coach door, and leaning over till his long dark beard rested on the window sill, he gazed with stern mournfulness upon us, and muttered, in a subdued, quiet tone, alternately in German and Italian,—“I did n't do it," till our vehicle reached the summit of the mountain, when, at the renewed speed of the horses, he stopped, waved his hand, looked after us a moment, and was lost to view.

[ocr errors]

While we were tarrying at the gate, to obtain the requisite signatures to our passports, a fine-looking old gentleman, one of the occupants of the cabriolet, perceiving my thoughts were still upon the remarkable intrusion we had recently experienced, seemed disposed to converse on the subject.

"Was not that a head for Salvator's pencil?" he asked.

Ay

think he could not unfold a tale meet

ye

for Dante's Inferno?" inquired the friar.

The old man seemed somewhat offended, and turned away without replying.

"Can you tell me aught of this man?" I asked. "Signor,” he replied, "perhaps I can. We shall doubtless meet ere many days, at the caffe or on the Pincian "

He was interrupted by the officer who returned us our passports, and in a moment after we were rattling by the fountain in the Piazza del Popolo, most of us absorbed in the thousand varying emotions with which the stranger for the first time enters the Eternal city.

Whoever would effectually banish the disagreeable impression which the first view of the Forum, when seen by the garish light of day, almost invariably induces, should early avail himself of a moonlight evening, to renew his visit. The wood merchants, lounging among their cattle and diminutive carts— the score of ant-like excavators, and the groups of improvidents, are then no longer visible, and the

[ocr errors]

scene exhibits something of the dignity which we spontaneously associate with Roman ruins. At such a season I had perambulated, more than once, the space between the Arch of Titus and the Temple of Peace, and began to wonder that no other sojourner had been tempted by the auspicious light to roam thither for the moon was nearly full, and the atmosphere remarkably clear-when, happening to glance toward the Coliseum, I saw a stately figure emerge from the pile, as if to answer my conjecture. There are circumstances under which the sight of a human being simply as such-is an event of profound interest. Thus it was on this occasion; and I stepped from the shadow of the ruin near which I was standing, that the stranger might be aware of my presence. Immediately his steps were directed toward me, and, while yet at some distance, the voice in which his salutation was uttered, convinced me that my aged compagnon de voyage was approaching. In a few moments we were seated upon a bench which some laborers had left among the weeds, muffled in our cloaks; and thus the old man spoke in answer to my entreaties for his promised tale.

"It is a curious study, signor, to trace the inklings of superstition, where the general vein of character is vivacious or its elements intense. And it is, perhaps, impossible for an unimaginative mind to understand the deep interest which urges some men daringly to touch the sensitive and latent chords of the human

heart, in order to call forth their mystic music. Yet with Carl Werner, the love of thus experimenting was a passion. Not that he lacked susceptibility; on the contrary, the very refinement of his feelings led him to speculate upon the deeper and more intricate characteristics of his race. Deeply imbued with the transcendental spirit which distinguishes the intellectual men of his country, his curiosity was essentially ideal. Several years ago he arrived in Rome, and was soon domesticated in the family of Christofero Verdi, whose suit of apartments were directly above a range of studios in one of the most extensive buildings in the Via Condotta. His rooms, as you must be aware, if you have many acquaintances among the German residents here, were, at this time, a great resort for northern artists. Berenice Verdi, his only child, was one of those beings who seem destined to pass through life without being justly apprehended even by their intimates. There was a peculiar want of correspondence between her ordinary manner and real disposition. She was playful rather than serious, and yet beneath a winning sportiveness of demeanor, deep and strange elements of feeling and fancy were glowing. Between Carl and Berenice there grew up a strong sympathy; and yet the sentiment could not be called love. Indeed, her habitual treatment of her father's young friend was what the world would have called coquettish. She was ever rallying him on his peculiarities, and he was ever acting the phi

« AnteriorContinuar »