Rosalba; a story of the Apennines

Part I. Chap

PAGR I. THE MARQUIS OF LANZO AT PISA, ... 7 II. ROSALBA, . . . . . .15 III. THE BATHS OF LUCCA, ..... 24 IV. THE OLD MANSION, ..... 34 Y. THE VENETIAN, ...... 46 VI. GIUSEPPE, . . . . . .54 VII. A CONSPIRACY, ...... 61 VIII. TWO NEW GUESTS, ..... 68 IX. CONFIDENCES, ...... 91 X. AN UNINTENDED REVELATION, .... 99 XI. AN UNEXPECTED DECISION — A DISCOVERY, . . 117 XII. FATHER MASSIMO, ..... 132 XIII. THE IRON CROSS, ..... 150 XIV. A LULL IN THE STORM, . . ... 167 XV. A VISIT TO BARGA, . . . . .174 XVI. SUMMER'S END AND AUTUMN'S DECAY, . . 194 XVII. A LETTER FROM SWITZERLAND, . . . 203 XVIII. REALIZATION, . . . . . .217 XIX. FRUSTRATION — THE PRAYER, .... 225 XX. THE RIVER'S STONY BED, .... 236 XXI. CHANGE OF FORTUNE, ..... 260 XXII. TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES PART FOR EVER, . . Contents. PART n. CHAP. PACK I. FLORENCE AND ANGLO -FLORENTINE SOCIETY — OLD FRIENDS AND OLD SCENES, . . . 291 II.

FATHER MASSIMO IN THE PULPIT, . . . 318 III. LUGLIANO, ...... 327 IV. THE LITTLE GOLD CRUCIFIX, .... 355 Y. THE DOCTOR'S VISIT TO PISA, .... 371 VI. CAPRA, ....... 377 VII. THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL, .... 387 VIII. COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE, . 397 IX. ALONE IN HER MOUNTAIN GRAVE, . . . 410 X. CONCLUSION, ...... EOSALBA Part I 4

Chapter I. The Marquis Of Lanzo At Pisa

The old Marquis of Lanzo was puzzled. His mind was absolutely tossed upon the billows of doubt, and every movement, every gesture denoted the mental turmoil. He had just concluded his spare, yet not too frugal mid-day meal ; his valet, with almost filial care, had handed him his cigar, brought iu a plate, and had poured out into a liqueur glass his master's customary modicum of curacoa, with which succulent beverage the old nobleman was wont to conclude his dinner. Neither the fumes of the mild, delicate cigar that he was inhaling nor occasional sips of the sweet curacoa tended to calm the marquis's agitation ; for rising suddenly, yet with some difficulty, (for the old gentle man's youthful and active days were long past), he walked slowly and dignifiedly to the window and gazed upon the view without.

Eosalba. This view was stale enough to the marquis. How many times had he not beheld it in the course of his existence, which had already attained its sixty - fourth year ! It is to be doubted whether he had ever con templated the outer world with any feelings approaching enthusiasm. He had been born in the marble palace at Pisa, from the windows of which he was now vacantly staring. The coup d'ceil from his windows is familiar to many travellers. Enclosed within its stone banks glided the sluggish Arno. Almost in front was the disused church of Santa Maria della Spina. Some hundred yards beyond his own mansion, and just visible by reason of the curve here formed by the Lung' Arno, is the Palazzo Lanfranchi, the house once in habited by Byron. Two of the handsome bridges which here cross the Arno were also to be perceived from this point of vantage.

There was but little stirring at that moment, as indeed at any other; for wealth, movement, and fashion have long abandoned Pisa, which now bears the aspect of a dead and forsaken town. There is some slight animation at the railway station upon the arrival and departure of trains ; but upon the disappearance of the latter, all sinks again into its customary state of somno lence and quiescence. Pisa, in fact, has been abandoned in favour of her elder, gayer, and more important sister, Florence ; and many a delicate-chested being must regret the change, for the Pisan climate possesses a balmy mildness and softness unknown to the Florentine. Moreover, Pisa presents certain attractions, architectural we would say, superior to those presented by Florence. The very view upon which the old Italian The Marquis of Lanzo at Pisa. 9 nobleman was then gazing from his window, on the Lung' Arno, was superior to anything presented by the roadway of the same name at Florence.

At Pisa, boih sides of the river are skirted by handsome stone embankments and fine buildings. At Florence, the view from the more populous side of the Arno to the other side is mean in the extreme. The eye is offended by the miserable time-stained, damp-afflicted backs of the wretched houses immediately bordering the famous river, the dull prospect being only relieved by four or five tall factory chimneys. But notwithstanding this artistic defect, Florence is the goal of many a winter sojourner in search of a mild climate ; and in spite of the superiority of Pisa in the latter respect, more especially in its freedom from the cold blasts which at certain periods of the winter season desolate Florence and render the lives of its inhabitants and visitors miserable, the former town is now deserted.

Travellers now merely pass through Pisa, staying there a night or two, or three at the most. Some merely leave their luggage at the station, jump into a fly, and content themselves with a hasty visit to the campanile pendente, the baptistry, cathedral, and campo santo, leaving Pisa the same evening for their ultimate destination. The first blow struck at the prosperity of Pisa was caused by the annexation of Corsica to France, many Corsicans having formerly pursued their studies at the Pisa University.1 Then followed the 1 On the annexation of Corsica to France, the youth of that island was constrained to pursue his academical studies at a French university in preference to an Italian one. Pisa had hitherto been the nearest seat of learning. Abandoned by the Corsican students, it stdl in importance, while the change reacted unfavourably upon the city.

Eosalba. 10 formidable rivalry created by the warm winter sojourns of the Riviera, until Pisa found herself almost entirely forsaken. Some such thoughts as these would seem to have passed through the mind of the old marquis, for he observed aloud and in a sad tone as he thoughtfully and caressingly stroked his white beard : ' 0 Pisa ! thy glories indeed are departed ! ' the sight of the old familiar view that he had beheld from childhood momentarily causing those cares temporarily afflicting him to disappear. Not that he regretted much, how ever, the absence of the travellers and winter residents, — the forestieri, — as he half contemptuously termed them. He had, like most of his class, but little sympathy with hotel-keepers, tradespeople, and the various sections of society that reap golden harvests from the influx of sight-seers.

He belonged to the proud ancient Italian aristocracy, and it, at times, annoyed him to behold the extent to which his poor country was dependent upon foreign visitors and enterprise ; the eagerness with which the more commercial - minded clutched at the opportunities presented to them for gain ; the sans-gine, not to use a stronger term, displayed by many of these visitors ; finally, he was absolutely distressed by the knowledge, that many of these invaders were better acquainted, at least geographically, with his own country than he was himself. It was a particular source of vexation to him to be compelled, at times, to listen to eloquent descriptions, gushing from the lips of enthusiastic strangers, of Italian cities that he had not even visited in the course of his natural existence. For The Marquis of Lanzo at Pisa. 11 the marquis was an Italian gentleman of the old school; he was untravelled.

Many a Cockney and Yankee could have told him more of Eome, Naples, Venice, Palermo, and Milan than he could ever have imagined. They had had special audiences of the Pope; they had supped at midnight in gondolas on the Gindecca upon the occasion of the festival of the Eedentore ; they had closely and minutely inspected Pompeii, and had made the ascent of Vesuvius by the funicular ; they knew every stone of the remnants of Tiberius' palace at Capri; they knew thoroughly in what respect Milan was the most advanced city in Italy. AVhat had they not seen ? AVhat did they not know ? They had seen all that abundant leisure and unlimited means could bestow, and knew everything that responded to the cravings of an inquiring mind. Of all this he was aware, and it vexed his proud spirit. At the same time, the marquis by no means hated the strangers.

He was an extremely polished old gentleman, sociable, and quite willing to take advantage of a temporary increase to the local society. He was of an old stock — a very old stock. He num bered among his ancestors some of the proudest and greatest of Pisa, before the times when the sea receded from his native and ancestral city. His family, how ever, had long fallen into decay, while he, in his early youth, had given the finishing stroke to the tottering fabric. He possessed now but his old palace at Pisa, with its rotten old furniture, a few old paintings of little or no price, some rusty old chains hanging up on the walls of the dungeons situated beneath the mansion, Eosalba. 12 and, finally, his late wife's jewels. AATith respect to the chains, these dismal emblems, if they added to his patriarchal and ancestral dignity, by no means inspired in the female breast notions of conjugal felicity.

One lady, in former years, had been induced to reject a pro posal of marriage on the part of the marquis, a friend of hers having once harmlessly observed : ' I should not like to marry him ; those dungeons with the chains hanging on the walls are situated too conveniently beneath the building.' As for the family jewels, the curious must not imagine that the gems in question would have excited the covetousness of a Kimberley diamond buyer. They were alluded to in wonder by the simple natives as being actually worth 5000 francs, or £200 in English money ! The marquis made a slight increase to the remnants of his shattered income by his attention to the cultiva tion of the soil. He owned a small property in the interior of Tuscany, where he, at certain seasons, delivered himself up to the pursuit of agriculture.

It is in connection with the latter calling that prominence was given to one of the best traits in his diversified character. He was a good and kind landlord, and a fair administrator. He was the sindaco or mayor of the rural district in question. His care and kindness alleviated much distress, which, but for his well-directed efforts, might have developed into misery. Through the hard, cruel Tuscan winter, when the very utmost had been extracted from the poor soil, it was generally owned that the poor could hardly have existed without him. This is by no means small praise when we consider the little abnegation but too often exhibited by Italians, The Marquis of Lanzo at Pisa. 13 the utter contempt for poverty that is now made mani fest in Italy, and the birth of new ideas sprung from the Unity.

In fact, it would be difficult to describe the withering contempt displayed by the Italians for poverty. It can only be compared to their servile respect for riches, however attained. To a certain extent, such ideas may be universal; but we know of no other country but Italy where the mouths of people are seen actually to water and the eye to gleam at the aspect of gold or notes. A plea of poverty made to an Italian would merely call forth such an answer as the following, for instance : 'Oh ! is that all that is the matter with you ? Humph (with a shrug of the shoulders) ! that is an old story.' In more than one other respect the marquis did out ward honour to his ancestry In manner, bearing, and gesture he was decidedly a polished gentleman. Nothing could surpass the exquisite refinement of his mode of address ; his courtesy was infinite ; his temper, even under provocation, ever unruffled in society.

Although it is not the custom in English upper spheres for high breeding to be demonstrative, yet men of the stamp of the marquis are, in this respect at least, decided acquisi tions to society, and so far it is to be wished that there were more of them. Other traits there were in the old gentleman's character which perhaps would not admit of so liberal an interpretation, but these traits we will leave to the following pages to develop. Suffice it for the moment to say, that he was a consummate man of the world. Eosalba. well ; ' but,' resumed he in tones of surprise, ' I thought, Eosalba, that you were still in Zurich. I was only just now thinking of you. AAThy did you not inform me of your intended arrival ? ' he continued. ' My good relations were becoming tiresome,' answered the lady addressed by the name of Eosalba, in peculiarly girlish tones, ' so I packed up suddenly and abruptly left them.

I have only just this moment left my things at the hotel. It is odd,' she concluded rather pettishly, as if alluding to some rule of conduct that had lately guided her, ' that I cannot adopt a somewhat unusual course without exciting the antagonistic comment of my own family and acquaintances.' A slight shade of annoyance momentarily traversed the old gentleman's brow at the latter part of this little speech, but it immediately disappeared. The change did not escape, however, the lady's observation, who, as if aware that she had uttered an indiscretion, coloured slightly. 'AVell, you know wdiat people are,' she added, half confusedly, half laughingly. ' Yes, I indeed know what they are,' gravely answered the marquis, stroking his white beard, which seemed to be a favourite gesture with him, accompanying as it did his reflective moments, and partly intended to impress his auditors, whoever they might be, with an idea of his profound experience.

For the marquis was by no means an old fop, and sought no artificial means to conceal his age. ' I find them all alike,' he resumed, 'perfect slaves to the most contemptible curiosity and ever more mindful of other people's affairs than of their own. The curiosity of mankind Eosalba. 15 is a mystery to me. I have nothing of the kind in me.' ' No, you have not,' answered the lady, with a look of fondness and admiration ; ' but how different you are to the whole world ! ' As the reader may be somewhat curious to learn what peculiar relationship existed between these two persons to whom he has been introduced, we now propose to enlighten him. Although the above conversation had been carried on in Italian, a language that Eosalba spoke fluently, she was neither by birth nor parentage of that nationality, the more frigid climate of Switzerland having seen her first days.

At the moment at which she is introduced to the reader she has barely attained her twenty-third year. She was the younger of the four children of an opulent Swiss merchant, who, upon his demise, which had happened some two or three years previously, had divided his fortune equally between his four children. Not the slightest distinction had been made in this partition, the two sons and two daughters sharing alike. Eosalba was consequently rich for her class, and if she would hardly have been entitled to the rank of an heiress in wealthy and aristocratic England, in poorer Italy her possessions by no means contributed a little to her importance. At the age of twenty, thus finding herself inde pendent and able to gratify most caprices, she suddenly grew tired of her home on tbe banks of the Lake of Zurich, and sought solace in foreign travel.

This B Eosalba. 16 well ; ' but,' resumed he in tones of surprise, ' I thought, Eosalba, that you were still in Zurich. I was only just now thinking of you. AAThy did you not inform me of your intended arrival ? ' he continued. ' My good relations were becoming tiresome,' answered the lady addressed by the name of Eosalba, in peculiarly girlish tones, ' so I packed up suddenly and abruptly left them. I have only just this moment left my things at the hotel. It is odd,' she concluded rather pettishly, as if alluding to some rule of conduct that had lately guided her, ' that I cannot adopt a somewhat unusual course without exciting the antagonistic comment of my own family and acquaintances.' A slight shade of annoyance momentarily traversed the old gentleman's brow at the latter part of this little speech, but it immediately disappeared.

The change did not escape, however, the lady's observation, who, as if aware that she had uttered an indiscretion, coloured slightly. ' Well, you know what people are,' she added, half confusedly, half laughingly. ' Yes, I indeed know what they are,' gravely answered the marquis, stroking his white beard, which seemed to be a favourite gesture with him, accompanying as it did his reflective moments, and partly intended to impress his auditors, whoever they might be, with an idea of his profound experience. For the marquis was by no means an old fop, and sought no artificial means to conceal his age. ' I find them all alike,' he resumed, 'perfect slaves to the most contemptible curiosity and ever more mindful of other people's affairs than of their own. The curiosity of mankind Eosalba. 17 is a mystery to me.

I have nothing of the kind in me! ' No, you have not,' answered the lady, with a look of fondness and admiration ; ' but how different you are to the whole world ! ' As the reader may be somewhat curious to learn what peculiar relationship existed between these two persons to whom he has been introduced, we now propose to enlighten him. Although the above conversation had been carried on in Italian, a language that Eosalba spoke fluently, she was neither by birth nor parentage of that nationality, the more frigid climate of Switzerland having seen her first days. At the moment at which she is introduced to the reader she has barely attained her twenty-third year. She was the younger of the four children of an opulent Swiss merchant, who, upon his demise, which had happened some two or three years previously, had divided his fortune equally between his four children.

Not the slightest distinction had been made in this partition, the two sons and two daughters sharing alike. Eosalba was consequently rich for her class, and if she would hardly have been entitled to the rank of an heiress in wealthy and aristocratic England, in poorer Italy her possessions by no means contributed a little to her importance. At the age of twenty, thus finding herself inde pendent and able to gratify most caprices, she suddenly grew tired of her home on the banks of the Lake of Zurich, and sought solace in foreign travel. This E Eosalba. course she adopted in direct opposition to the wishes of her relations, who were strict Calvinists and austere rio-orists, and whose ideas, moreover, of decorum were shocked at the notion of a young lady of twenty travelling alone in foreign countries, without even the ægis of respectability afforded by a maid — for Eosalba would never consent to be burdened with such an encumbrance.

But Eosalba, besides being wilful and headstrong, was a young woman of a decidedly peculiar temperament. Her education, too, had been rather imperfect. Her humanities had not been neglected, and she was also a good linguist ; but her manners, at times, were those of a milkmaid. AA7ithout being actually deficient in intellect or intelligence, her notions on many subjects were strange. This strangeness may possibly have been strengthened, if it had not been positively caused by a fall, when a child, from a tree, from wdiich accident had resulted a slight injury to her head. ' The doctors have told me more than once that it is astonishing that my head is as clear as it is,' she was more than once heard to observe. A still greater defect she possessed ; but this latter was visible, being physical, and was also incurable, dating from the moment when she saw the light This was a lameness, which, besides impeding all celerity of motion, griev ously affected her gait.

It was by no means destructive to endurance or strength, for she had been known to take long mountain walks. Notwithstanding her peculiarity of temperament (which by some might have been considered a fascination), and her physical defect, Eosalba was by no means an inelegant young woman. She was tall and Eosalba. 19 well-formed. The countenance, if not strictly beautiful, was decidedly pleasing, and when animated by certain expressions, even charming. She was most feminine. Her complexion was delicate, her hands white, fragile, and diminutive. The tones of her childish voice were particularly pleasing and musical, and if she rarely enunciated any deep thought, her infantine simplicity lent to her observations an additional charm. It must not be thought, however, that Eosalba was devoid of brains.

The Swiss mountain air, in which she had passed her early years, had instilled in her a fair amount of shrewdness, which, in the end, might have been of no small use to her had it been allowed fair play ; but during the last year or two, her whole mind, her whole being had been enveloped in one absorbing idea. This idea we now propose to divulge. It is very generally acknowledged, that rarely was there so much veneration paid to titles of nobility as in this mercantile and democratic age of ours. The very people whom we would imagine to be free from such vanity and weakness often turn out to be the most susceptible. It is especially in countries which either never knew or which have cast aside monarchical or aristocratic institutions that hereditary nobility is held in the greatest worship and reverence.

How can we account for such a phenomenon ? The solution of such a problem would hardly find place in a work of this nature. Suffice it to say, that few have the force of mind to despise these bawbles. The love of American ladies for hereditary titles needs no confirmation. By degrees they are re-endowing with wealth the principal families of the European aristocracy. But let us not Eosalba. 20 take exception to the Americans, such idolatry appearing to be universal. The father of Eosalba had amassed a large fortune ; but as his wealth gradually and surely accumulated, no increase oifaste or magnificence was perceptible in his household or mode of life. The Swiss are a toiling and thrifty race, and hate and despise extravagance. Eosalba's father had formed no exception to this rule. Even in his latter days, when no reason for economy existed, and when the sum necessary for the portioning off of all his children had been more than realized, not the slightest change had been manifested in his minage, which was ever conducted on a scale of thoughtful and rigid thrift.

Upon the death of her sole and surviving parent (her mother had died in the girl's childhood), Eosalba, at least in her own eyes and in those of her immediate neighbours, found herself what may be termed well off. Swiss and Italians would have called her rich. New possessions create new desires. But for the accident to her head in her infancy, she might possibly have been free (as were her brothers and sister) from the desire of casting aside the garment of her plebeian origin (her father having been a self-made man, risen from the lowest stages of society), and of elevating herself in the social scale. It may even be averred, that her longing to obtain those honours which it was in the power of him upon whom she had placed what we may, in lack of a better term, call her affections, to bestow, might never have been called into existence, had she not met with such a person in whose possession it was to confer what she most appeared to covet.

Eosalba. 21 Be this as it may, in the course of her Italian travels she had casually met at an hotel the Marquis of Lanzo. The marquis, even at the age of sixty-two, still retained many of those powers of fascination which, in former years, had made him an idol among women. The feelings of Eosalba when she first beheld him, and as her acquaintance with him prolonged itself, would be difficult to analyze. To her confidants she affirmed that she loved the marquis as if he had been her own father. At the same time, the query may be asked whether she would have placed her affections upon him had he not been a nobleman. Eosalba herself may have been unable to answer this question. The young lady's evil wishers maintained that she had sought out the old man merely on account of his age, and with the hope, holding out her fortune as a bait, that she would be the legitimate sharer of his title before he died, and the sole bearer of that half of it accruing to his widow — eventually.

Eosalba's real sentiments were probably only known to herself. As for the marquis, he had never found himself in so peculiar and puzzling a situation in his life. He could not but be touched by the adoration of this young crea ture, who was at least forty years younger than himself. Her finances, too, would serve to repair his own dilapi dated fortune. At the same time, he was not insensible to the ludicrous side of the question. Here was he, an old man of the world of sixty-four, being followed about the country by a young lame Swiss woman of three and twenty — a girl who, though possessing many charms, was obviously to the most ordinary beholder not of his own sphere of life ; who could only, in the opinion of Eosalba. 22 some, by a stretch of imagination be termed a lady, and upon whose countenance there lurked (in his own opinion) a shade of her plebeian origin.

He knew not how to decide. AVithout absolutely discouraging her, he furnished her with no opportunities for bringing him to book ; he had adopted tortuous middle courses. Had he been left to follow his own inclinations, he might possibly have gratified the girl's caprice and have made her his marchesa ; but to such a consummation his own patrician relatives offered a most decided opposition. The mere notion of such a mesalliance excited their gall, and the marquis was not sufficiently independent or unshackled to resist their influence. In tlie meantime, poor Eosalba suffered greatly. At length, she succeeded in extracting a promise of marriage from the marquis ; but immediately after the promise had been given, the old man regretted the surrender. He was not insensible to the pain and anxiety to which his youthful would-be spouse was a prey, and who, had the age permitted such tyranny, would have dragged him by force to the altar, and would have wedded him in spite of himself.

And so matters had proceeded for nearly two years previous to the period when this story opens, Eosalba pressing her suit and reminding the marquis of his promise — which the latter as nervously evaded. During the whole of this period, she had left his vicinity but for short periodical visits to her relations in Switzerland, who gradually began to look more and more coldly upon her. She followed him constantly from Pisa to the Baths of Lucca, from the latter place to ATiareggio, and then again to Pisa, tramping continually her weary Eosalba. 23 pilgrimage and never approaching the goal. At length the marquis, fairly driven to bay by the persistency of his innamorata, by the opposition of his family, and by his own complex feelings, gave it out to Eosalba as his ultimatum, that he was prepared to conclude a kind of morganatic marriage with her ; that is to say, that he would consent to marry her in a church, but would not complete the bargain by the corresponding ceremony before the sindaco or mayor.

Such marriages occasion ally take place in Italy ; but the bride possesses no legal connubial rights. Poor, simple Eosalba knew not what to reply. The dishonourable nature of the pro posal was evident to every one but herself. She, how ever, merely considered the offer in the light of the very utmost condescension to which her noble lover could be prevailed upon to stoop. Her filial wish to be a sort of legal protector to the old idol on which she had placed her veneration struggled with her knowledge of the illegality of the union. If a marchioness at all, she would have preferred to have, at least, been a recognised one. Onlookers compared the twain to David and Abishag the Shunammite. Therefore, she hesitated, and what was more, the marquis, although flattered by the attentions of a person of the opposite sex, so much his junior, exhibited no great desire to ratify his share of the engagement.

Finally, when Eosalba suddenly and unexpectedly entered the old Italian nobleman's room at Pisa on that hot July afternoon, when the brilliant sun was beating down upon the palazzo, she was as distant from the attainment of her wishes as she had been two long years before.