 | THE PAST AND PRESENT. Isabel, or, Sicily |  |
THE PAST AND PRESENT.
Contending with the Present; and, by turns,
Each has the mastery.”
Rogers.
Few evidences of decay are more striking than
those which mark the estates and arrangements of
an impoverished nobility. A ruin that speaks of a
bygone people, however it may awaken reflection,
calls for little exertion of sympathy. Those to whose
pride or comfort it originally ministered, have long
since departed. There is no lone member of the
race to sigh over the ashes of past magnificence.
The material fabric has survived its founder and, in
its ivy-buried ruins, serves but to remind us of antiquity.
It is otherwise with the memorials of less
ancient times. We cannot see the descendant of a
once wealthy nobility, lingering about the time-worn
and poverty-stricken home of his fathers, without a
cannot witness the vain struggles of a pennyless nobleman
to preserve the appearance of ancient splendor,
without realizing the changeful moods of fortune.
And when something of high and chivalrous
sentiment ennobles the unfortunate inheritor of a title
without the means of supporting its dignity, our compassion
is instinctively awakened. We feel something
of that pity which the tale of young Ravenswood's
bitter reveries in the deserted mansion of his
ancestors, excites in the breast. There is a strong
appeal to our feelings in the sight of one who, with
the ambition, has outlived the glory of his house.
Although the aggravation of elevated feelings may
not often increase the mortification of the poor nobility
of the island; yet many evidences of their
fallen lot are observable in Sicily. As the stranger
threads the crowded thoroughfares of Palermo, he
continually sees the high fronts of palaces blackened
by age. Iron-wrought balconies protrude from the
spacious windows, and tufts of weed or lines of mould
indicate the ravages of neglect. Some of these extensive
buildings are tenanted by a score of families
who occupy the different ranges of apartments,
while others are still inhabited by the descendants of
the original proprietors; but very few are able to
preserve a style of living corresponding with the
grandeur of their dwellings. More frequently upon
entering these palaces, the visitor will pass through
long suits of lofty rooms with richly painted walls
and brightly-tiled floors—cold, bare, and deserted. In
occupant seated in a massive old chair, a deer skin
beneath his feet, and his snuff-box in hand—pondering
upon the chances of some proposed game at
hazard, or the best manner of once more evading
some long deferred obligation. It would rouse the
very hearts of the old nobility to catch a glimpse of
some of their proud abodes, and see halls adorned
with the richest frescos and marbles, tenanted by
the most plebeian citizens, converted into magazines
for foreign merchants or consigned to the destructive
hand of abandonment and decay.
Not only within the city did these objects afford
occasion to Frazier for grave reflections on the
utility of republicanism, and incite Isabel's fancy to
picture the past. Bagaria, in the environs, was a favorite
resort of the wealthy Palermitans, in the season
when the country is most inviting. The road
thither lies along the sea, over a fertile plain thickly
studded with olive and cypress trees, amid which the
pleasant seats are finely located. Some of the rich
worthies who were wont to retire to this delightful
spot, must have been endowed with whimsical taste,
if we may judge by the ornaments of their estates.
One especially amused Isabel, and provoked the
anger of Frazier at what he was pleased to term the
ridiculous extravagance of the proprietor. Around
the roofs of the offices, and wherever an opportunity
occurs on the main building, are figures carved in
stone of every imaginable form,—monsters, deformed
beasts, and grotesque men. Within the palace is a
hues into various devices, while the ceiling is
composed of mirrors. Although much of this fantastic
work is dimmed and mutilated, the effect when
the apartment is illuminated must be curious and
brilliant. An adjoining and more spacious saloon,
walled and floored with the finest marble, is, however,
more worthy of admiration. The clear, fresh
hues of this princely material from which, at intervals,
start forth the statues and basso-relievos which
vary its surface, and the brightly polished floors
combine to convey an impression of strength, richness,
and splendor much more pleasing than the
gaudy and peculiar chamber adjacent. The furniture
of many of the rooms in these decayed palaces,
remain very much as the more prosperous occupant
left it; and, wearied with their wanderings through
the cold halls, the visitors were glad to rest in the
antiquely embroidered chairs.
“Look around upon these ancient portraits,” said
Vittorio. “How little thought the proud noble who
had his paternal walls thus decorated, that they
would, in a few short years, become the gaze of
strangers. This fine-looking old gentleman and that
lady in the dress of olden time, have doubtless often
breakfasted in this very apartment, perhaps at that
little tortoise-shell table. I delight to invoke the
Past, and the quiet and venerable air around us is
favorable to such a pastime. Let us imagine this
stately couple in the days of their pride. Hither they
came on the first summer after their bridal. Nature
beheld in the light of young love. Here, perhaps,
the cheerful morning smiled upon their sweet councils,
as the day's pic-nic or the evening's conversazione
was laughingly planned. From this window
they gazed in the deepening twilight, and silently
imbibed the spell of that hour in gladness of spirit.
Yonder hall, perhaps, witnessed the early triumphs
of the young bride in the circles of society. There
sped the dance and coursed the jest till early dawn.
Years rolled away, and the saloon which had beheld
the rich content of affection, echoed to the restless
tread of ambition. A new epoch of life had arrived.
The love of companionship and pleasure had become
merged in a thirst for power. He sought it in political
schemes; she in the petty rivalries of her
courtly acquaintance. Time passed on; and at
length, at the accustomed season, one only came
hither and in mourning weeds, and soon returned
no more. The paths of the once neatly kept garden
are grass-grown. The throng of liveried servants
have dwindled to a few ill-clad menials. The chorus
of the banquet song has long since died away. The
ornamental devices, upon which so much pains were
lavished, serve only to amuse the curious traveller;
and their proud originator is forgotten. Such is human
history.”
There is a summer house attached to one of the
villas at Bagraia, fitted up in imitation of a convent.
The figures, disposed in different cells, are not ill-executed
in wax. Age, however, has diminished
La Trappe, and the whole is intended to memorialize
the story of Adelaide and Commegio—the cloister
lovers. The fondness for amusement which dictated
at an earlier period these fantasies, still lives in the
hearts of the Palermitans, although the means for its
gratification have so much diminished; and, on the
evening of the day that our travellers had visited
this scene of former grandeur, they found themselves
in the midst of one of the festive diversions, still
occasionally indulged in by the restricted nobles.
In observance of the last day of Carnival one of the extensive
rooms of the Royal Theatre was illuminated,
and crowded with the gay attendants on a Festa di
Ballo. Minor apartments were arranged for conversation
and refreshments; and, after the opera, the
theatre itself was thrown open to the dancers, while
the boxes were appropriated to those who preferred
being spectators, and here entertainments were richly
served to select parties of friends. One can scarcely
fancy a more gay sight than the wide area of a
European theatre converted into a ball-room, while the
tiers of dress boxes present the lively appearance of so
many little banquet-rooms. The most novel feature
of the scene, however, to Isabel, was the fancy costumes.
To the sound of martial music, the personators
of various characters marched in procession,
from an adjoining chamber into the saloon. Then
as they divided and mingled with the crowd, the
rich colors of their foreign garbs were displayed in
dazzling relief, and as Isabel in her wanderings suddenly
dear to memory, she caught momentarily that romantic
impression which these amusements when succesfully
managed, are well calculated to convey. But
the illusion was too often dispelled by the ludicrous
grouping of the characters, or some remark of Vittorio,
whose eye pierced the velvet doublet and the
embroidered vest, and read much more of actual character
than was visible to the strangers.
“That tall and graceful figure in the splendid
attire of Queen Elizabeth's courtiers is intended for
the Earl of Leicester. But look at his boyish face
and eye, never lighted by any fire but that of earth-born
passion; and picture if you can such an expression
upon the lips and brow of the gallant Earl. And
who would suppose the mincing young lady hanging
upon his arm could have the assurance to represent
Amy Robsart?”
“There, however,” said Isabel, “is a face and
form in keeping with the costume. Those masses of
light hair so gracefully arranged, that pale and quiet
though lovely face, the sad gentleness of the expression,
the subdued movement, all betoken Parasina.”
They joined the spectators surrounding a large
party of waltzers. The combinations were not a
little amusing. Here the Sultan Seyd, with his wide
turban and dazzling arms, was whirling round a Swiss
peasant girl. There a fat Tartar with enormous
mustachios tripped away with the Bride of Abydos.
A young Greek girl was the partner of a Spanish
cavalier with black hat and ebon plume, and a Turk
twirled round the circle a smiling maiden in deep
mourning.
To minds utterly unlearned in the experience of
the deeper and more refined sentiments, there is a
strangeness altogether inexplicable in the impressions
of an idealist. They cannot comprehend any but
the most superficial suggestions of the natural or
human world. In the view of such, there is a degree
of singularity approaching to mental disease, in the
idea of a young person finding congenial pleasure in
observing such a scene as was now displayed to Isabel
in the mere light of fancy and reflection. Yet
thus did it present itself to her eye. She thought of
the various fortunes of the seemingly joyous multitude,
of the hidden passions, the concealed cares, the
petty emulation and the secret hopes lying beneath
the sparkling tide of festivity, which mortals so love
to gather over their individual conditions, and merge,
as it were, in one brilliant illusion, though but for a
single night, the corroding memories and present
troubles which darken their lot. There is rich material
for imagination to weave into golden tissues,
and philosophy to color with the light and shade of
her impressive pencil, in the variety, the loveliness,
the mannerism of a festival. What is the throb of
pleasure which fills the pulses of the most eager partaker
in the hilarity, to the calm delight of the musing
spectator of the pastime? Lightly glides the
fairy form through the mazes of the dance; brilliantly
sparkles the jewel in the waving hair; but more
brighter gleams his fancy's glance, as, excited by the
symbols of human joy, it roams amid the labyrinths
of destiny. O there are rare gleanings for the speculative
in a ball-room, barren as of all places it is
deemed by the stoic and the misanthrope! Poets
have spoken of a peculiar inspiration which breathes
from the Spring-awakened life of Nature, of an
intoxicating pleasure caught from the hum of newborn
insects and opening vegetation. So to him who
sympathizes fervently with his race, there is an excitement
in the sight of a gala, a social expression of
enjoyment beyond mere sympathy in the gaiety of
which it is the type, beyond and independent of it.
And if a stranger be thus surrounded by a festive
multitude, his thoughts thrown back upon himself, do
but engender a more sad, but perhaps a deeper reverie.
He recals the spontaneous delight of childhood.
He pictures the contrast between present appearances
and actual realities. He reads in the glowing faces
around, in the interchange of looks, in the language
of manner, many a tale of love, hope, and disappointment.
And in this there is poetry, not always fanciful
and bright, yet still poetry; and Isabel felt it.
“Comer from the new world!” said the Count to
Frazier (playfully yet with earnestness), “where the
enervating civilization of Europe has not yet triumphed,
stand with me in the embrasure of this window,
and I will read you a ball-room homily. Fifty
years since, the female portion of the nobility of which
these are scions, were almost entirely uneducated in
could neither read nor write. Now in some respects
there is an improvement; in others a decline.
Scarcely one of these lovely hypocrites pretends
to respect her marriage vows. That queenly
form in white is the Duchess of A—; the young
man vivaciously performing a lover's part beside
her is the Marquis —, who a twelvemonth since
married that pale dark-eyed lady who is coquetting
with the Duke of A—. The two are not estranged,
for they never had a feeling in common, except the
desire to combine their incomes by marriage, that
they might more freely follow their respective pleasures.
Saw you ever such a magnificent set of
diamonds as those in the hair of the Countess of
—? They are taken out of pawn for the occasion
at an enormous expense. There is not a more gorgeous
costume in the room than that Prince — is
now displaying. Its purchase will cost him a year's
support, and swell the long list of his debts. I see
your eye wanders to that thoughtful-looking youth
standing near the grave officer. They are father
and son. The father derives his support solely from
his commission. The latter at the university of
Pisa, where he was educated, contracted a strong
friendship with some young Brazilians overflowing
with the love of liberty. Their views were enthusiastically
adopted by their Sicilian friend. He returned
an ardent republican, and his poor father is
in continual dread lest by some unguarded expression
he should incur the displeasure of government,
their only resource. His son himself fears it, and
petitions to go to England where he may enjoy his
liberal principles in peace. But, glance over the
whole room. Of all these young men, some of
whom wear so spirited a bearing, scarcely one
knows any higher ambition than the temporary distinctions
which an occasion like this can gratify.
Among the whole circle of these women you can
with difficulty find one deserving of the office or
capable of the duties of a mother. And what better
can you expect in a country where the legitimate
objects of reverence—parents and priests set an undisguised
example of libertinism? Is not the unavoidable
consequence among the higher ranks—
practical atheism? Comer from the new world!
Look through the finery around you; pierce the artificial
gloss; read the evidences of exhausted resources,
unprincipled lives, and frivolous pursuits which make
up the true history of society here, and thank heaven
your lot was cast in a young republic.”
There was a bitterness in the Count's tones which
mellowed into sadness as he concluded, that touched
the heart of Frazier. If there is any spectacle at
once noble and affecting, it is that of a young man
whose moral sensibility is wounded by his country's
decline, who stands aloof from the general corruption
of manners, and mourns over it as he would at a
brother's dereliction; and whose love of truth and
allegiance to virtue is more earnest than his national
vanity. Frazier felt a new and sincere respect for
then stood lost in a reverie which the conversation
had awakened. When he roused himself and turned
to seek his friend, he was no longer beside him. A
few moments passed in threading the dense crowd,
brought him again in view. He was sitting on an
ottoman in the adjoining apartment, every expression
of painful thought banished from his fine countenance,
eagerly listening to the words of Isabel. What a
consoler is woman! No charm but her presence
can so win man from his sorrow, make placid the
knit brow and wreathe the stern lip into a smile.
The soldier becomes a lightsome boy at her feet; the
anxious statesman smiles himself back to free-hearted
youth beside her; and the still and shaded countenance
of care brightens beneath her influence as the
closed flower blooms in the sunshine.
| THE PAST AND PRESENT. Isabel, or, Sicily | |