A Living Statue. A novel

Front matter

A LIVING STATUE u Quando il mar bianchpggia e freme, Quando il ciel lampeggia e tuona, II nocohier che s'abbandona Va sicnro a naufragar — Tutte l'onde son funeste A chi manca nrdire e speme ; E si vincon le tempeste Col saperle tollerar ! " — Metastasio. (When seas are white and storms rage, AVhen the heavens lighten and thunder, The pilot who abandons the helm Must look for shipwreck — All surges alike are dangerous To such as lose hope and courage ; Danger is often surmounted By those who nobly dare ! ) A LIVING STATUE a movei BT GIULIA MAJERONI LONDON SWAN SONNENSCHEIN AND CO. PATERNOSTER SQUARE PKEFACE To mt Readers — Following the advice of my doctor and friends, I came to Bathurst hoping to recover my health, and that voice, so precious to me, the loss of which has been the cause of my retirement from the stage for the last two years.

In the solitude of my residence on these breezy plains, heart-broken and desolate at the loss of my dearly-beloved husband, separated from all that is left to me in the world, — my boys, — life hangs heavily indeed ! To escape from my sad thoughts I read continually, but, alas ! I find even this a poor form of distraction. What would I not do to be able to arrest the current of my thoughts ? Oh, for some work ! Brain work, that would tire me out of my very recognition ! Dear as my profession is to me, I have little in clination to study new characters : I shall perhaps

Preface

VI never regain my voice, and besides, studying alone, without the helping hand of him whose fond love and sound advice I have lost for ever, would only the more aggravate my deep and undying sorrow. Life is indeed heavy, with such sad and agonizing thoughts as I have for companions ! I take up my book again — useless — I cannot read ! What if I were to write ? Write ! Wh}7, yes, write something, forget myself in a story which might be interesting — a novel ! How would that do ? Surely it would be a pleasant, thoughtful occupation. I meditate on the subject. I have always been fond of writing, having even kept a diary for many years. What if I were to re-write it in English and publish it (because there must be an aim to keep me to the work) ? But no, my diary is too dear to me to allow other eyes than mine to scan its pages — besides, would it do ?

Somehow I feel it would not. If I write, it must be a story. My thoughts wander to the hero of a favourite play which was a great success in Italy, but proved a little too sentimental for the average hard-workinc, matter-of-fact colonial audience — a most entrancing tale, and the idea of writing it in the form of a novel and presenting it to my friends, fascinates me. The drama is my property. The author died

PREFACE.

VII long ago. He w7as a very clever young countryman of mine, an only son, who lost his life by the same complaint that robbed me of my husband — con sumption. They were great friends in those happy days in the distant past. I am but honouring his talent by publishing in another form the romantic narrative to which his genius had given life on the stage. I intend it at the same time to be as homage to the memory of my poor husband, whose talented, noble, and melancholy interpretation rendered the character of the hero so popular ancl life-like as to secure a great success for the play itself, when he produced the piece in our beautiful country many years ago. Some of our Australian admirers must remember it still, and will, I am sure, recommend it as an interesting story, while uttering a word of sympathy for the broken thread of my lonely life.

Confident in their kindness, I present this book to my readers. Giulia Majeroni. Bathurst, March 1st, 1892. My Dearest Niece, Allow me to congratulate you upon the completion of your interesting novel, which I hope may achieve great success. You have done well to devote yourself to so intel lectual a pursuit as that of literature — the only one which may solace the spirit after cruel bereavements (how well I know them !) — bereavements such as the death of your dear husband. For Art, too, this was a veritable loss. Poor Majeroni, with whom I acted for years in many important pieces, was possessed of so much artistic intuition, that for me it was a most easy task to make him identify himself with the various characters that he represented when playing with me. Alas ! we must all resign ourselves to that Will which is Supreme ! Let me have news of you soon ; and believe me, Ever your affectionate aunt, Adelaide Ristoei. Rome, Sept. 1892.

Chapter I

" Paradise of land and sea, forever Stirred by great hopes and by volcanic fires, Called Italy." — Aleardo Aleardi. Count Paolo of Santa Rosa was the last living representative of a noble family. He was an only son, brought up and educated by loving parents, who spared neither care nor means to make their idolized offspring worthy of the old name .and the immense fortune which were to make of him a happy man. The palazzo in which he lived was one of those ancestral homes in which the resources of art had been taxed to their utmost to rival the beauties of nature. Within, every room betokened the wealth of its occupants, without offending the eye by the garish eccentricities of the nouveaux riches. The B Santa Rosas were too old a family to allow their inherent sense of good taste to betray them into those absurdities which characterize the men of yesterday.

The lofty walls of the stately hall, with its numerous portraits of ancient knights and ladies, showed that the Santa Rosas traced their descent in a direct line from one of those Italian princes wdio ruled his petty kingdom with the absolute sway of a despotic monarch. Without, rich terraces of pure marble stretched in endless succession to the deep blue waters of the magnificent Lago Maggiore. The golden yellow of the ripening oranges, peeping forth from the dark leaved foliage, united with masses of roses to lend colour to the lovely scene. The white sails of the barges and yachts, glistening in the sunlight, gave life and action to the picture, and the wide expanse of the lake, hemmed in by towering mountains, formed a background on which the eye could rest when tired with richer beauties near at hand.

In another direction the eye could wander over miles of undulating country, all owning the paternal sway of the Santa Rosas. Orange o-roves in rich profusion, rice fields with their wavinoseas of bright green shoots, relieved the more sombre colours. Here and there columns of thin blue smoke, gently curling up to the azure sky, marked the spots where in little villages the hardy husband man garnered his stores of fruit and grain for the possessors of the soil. In the distance could be seen the narrow country roads, winding through hill and valley, here and there a little cloud of dust showing the approach of the ox-carts as they wended their way to the large granaries belonging to the Count. In a little valley just below the palazzo, embowered in beautiful foliage and covered with creepers, was the old chapel, in which the Santa Rosas had been buried for centuries past, and the tinkling bell sounding at eventide marked the hour of Vespers.

Near at hand was the humble home of the old Padre Francesco, a good old man, who for years past had married and shrived the inhabitants of the surrounding villages. A man well versed in the old fathers, knowing little of the world outside his own domain, but a trusted friend of the Santa Rosas, the counsellor of both the past and present generations, a frequent and welcome visitor to the palazzo, and one who had taken almost a fatherly interest in the young Count. The youth's life, however, had been very monotonous, as he seldom mixed with any one, except his family, and preccttori. At eighteen years of age he was as simple and ignorant of the world as a young lady brought up in seclusion. But he was beginning to fret under the gentle yoke imposed by loving parents ; he yearned for freedom ; he longed to explore what there wa3 outside the chateau and its parklike surroundings and the little villages adjoining — when, in the course of three short days, he lost both father and mother, by an epidemic of cholera that visited Italy during the summer of 1865, sweeping away entire families, decimating others, and inflicting sorrow and misery on the hearts of thousands of people.

The Southern States, with their torrid atmosphere, were the more affected, and this is usual, owing to the crowded, unhealthy habitations in which the poorer classes were huddled together; but in Tuscany, Piedmont, and Lombardy, where the cold north wind sweeps from the mountains, no great fear was experienced as to the epidemic. However, on the hills skirting the Lago Maggiore, but a few miles from the city of Como, in the palatial mansion of the Santa Rosas, the dreadful visitor had mercilessly mowed down many of the inhabitants, among them being the proud owner and his pious and devoted wife. The terrible sorrow almost maddened their orphaned son. His prcccttori, or tutors, and the family lawyer, together with the capellano, Padre Francesco, were all that could be wished for under the circum stances.

But for several months the young Count seemed completely dazed by the sudden blow, and was incapable of realizing his loss, and that henceforth he was absolute master of himself. One day, Signor Antonio Davide, the faithful lawyer who had managed the immense wealth of the Santa Rosas for many years, came to visit the young Count, to obtain his signature to certain documents necessary to establish his succession to the estate. He came accompanied by his son Luciano, a youth of twenty, who had been hard at work with his legal studies, so that as speedily as possible he might join the paternal firm of advocates. Paolo took a great liking to the handsome, gay, and thoroughly good-natured youth, who did his very best to infuse a little of his exuberant spirits into the woeful and sad disposition of his young friend.

Signor Davide pere, seeing the great change that his son's company had made on the sorrow stricken boy, was induced to grant him a month's holiday, the news of which put young Davide, whose life had been one of study amidst the musty books of a lawyer's library, into a fever of joy. To give up for a time the study of these musty law books for a life in the palatial residence of the Santa Rosas, with all the luxury which wealth had accumulated for year.-, was indeed to obtain a glimpse of Paradise, and Luciano looked upon Paolo as some one to be worshipped, for opening its portals to him. The month passed all too soon, and when the time for separation came, Paolo had formed for the future advocate one of those lasting friendships which time only strengthens, and which are blessings in years to come.

The months passed by, and now Christmas approached. It was usual with the young Count's precettori to take leave of absence for some time. Paolo handed them a very generous gratuity, at the same time informing them that he had decided to continue his studies in that greatest book of all — the World ! He would require their services no longer ; his ancestral home would be untenanted for a lengthened period, and so with all good wishes they departed, to see no more of him. How these two worthy gentlemen shook their heads and volunteered advice need not be told, but they wished for the sake of the young Count's future that he had a guardian of sterner will than the old lawyer, one who could restrain the poor youth's fevered desire to see the world, what it was worth, and what it had in store for him.

The news that the young Count intended to leave home and plunge into the gaieties of a world of which he knew nothing, really distressed the good old Padre Francesco. To the advice of the tutors he added his entreaties and prayers, but all to no purpose, for the young man's heart was set upon going forth, and none could stay him. But to the last the old man urged his wise counsels, and even when the day of parting came, it was almost with tears in his eyes that he begged him to reconsider his decision. At leDgth, when the moment for the last kindly addio arrived, and as like a father he shook him warmly by the hand, he gravely placed his left upon the boy's head, and in tones whose solemnity caused them to be graven upon the tablets of his memory, said : " Beware, lest despite all your money, your inexperience makes you the prey of unprincipled men and heartless women."

Paolo laughed, but these, the parting words of a man his parents had so much respected and esteemed, were deeply impressed on his heart, and lay there to guard him in his future contact with the world. The day of parting came, and a melancholy one it was for the orphaned youth. He visited his father's study, there imploring from the departed spirit a blessing on his wanderings ; he entered the little boudoir in which he had passed so many happy hours with the mother who had loved him so much, and a tear glistened in his eyes as he glanced around and saw on the table the half-finished piece of embroidery which spoke of her life, so cruelly broken, just like the silk flower traced by her hand on the velvet. He reverently kissed the threshold of this room, and turned to the hall to bid farewell to the faithful servants of his lost family.

The departure of the young Count was a source of sincere grief to his retainers, and the household. Most of them had known him from early boyhood ; the old gray-haired maggiorclomo had dandled him on his knee, and listened to his childish prattle. They all seared the unknown world into which their young master was about to plunge. Their lives had been spent within sight of the lake, and the lofty moun tains ; they had heard of the iniquities of the great cities, and the occasional visits to Milan paid by the maggiordomo and the stories of his experiences con firmed them in their opinions. So when the Count left home, like the good old Padre, though for different reasons, they feared the results. It was with these melancholy forebodings that the household ranged itself on each side of the entrance of the vast hall to give him a last addio, and wish him a safe return.

He affectionately saluted them all, shook hands warmly with the old maggiordomo, again recommend ing that the palazzo should be well cared for, and for the first time, just as the sun was setting, turned his back on the home of his ancestors. On the way to the railway station the rustics ofthe village surrounded the carriage, and with loud acclamations of " buona fortuna " saluted their departing master.

Chapter II

The Count Paolo of Santa Rosa arrived at Milan, the gay capital of Lombardy, with a very sad heart. Luciano Davide knew of his friend's intended arrival, and was at the station to meet him, smiling cheerfully as he caught sight of the sad face. Three short hours of railway travelling had plunged the Count into the midst of a world hitherto entirely unknown to him. Had it been wise to keep him so secluded ? Was it to the young man's advantage that the departed Count of Santa Rosa had kept his son in such complete ignorance of the daily struggles of so many thousands of his fellow-men ? Certainly he could never have thought that the Great Ruler of us all would take him away whilst yet in the prime of life ; and who can say what plans he had formed, and carefully thought over, for developing the talents of the son of whom he was already so proud 1 While driving to the house of his lawyer, where he had been invited to stay, the young Count felt positively bewildered.

The noisy streets, brilliantly illuminated, the never-ending turmoil of all that surrounded him, seemed like a vision. Could it be that all this had been going on for eighteen years of his life and he had never heard of it ? However, he did not wish to show his astonishment to his friend, who had been accustomed to live in the capital, and fearing lest his face betrayed his feelings, he turned from the window of the carriage to look at Luciano Davide. The bright smile that he received in return reassured him, and made him feel at that moment that what ever Luciano might do or say would certainly not offend him. " My friend," he said, " you will have to be bored with me for a while. It seems to me as if I should go to perdition were I left alone in this place." " Never fear," answered Luciano ; " you shall know as much of Milan as I do in less than a month."

Although the young lawyer's twenty-first birthday was soon to be celebrated, whilst his companion, the Count of Santa Rosa, was scarcely eighteen, yet to look at the two friends a stranger would have said they were of the same age. Paolo's face was almost as fair as a woman's, with its dark blue eyes, well-formed mouth, and sad, tender expression ; but he was six feet tall, and notwithstanding his delicate appearance no one would have believed that he was the younger of the two. Antonio Davide, the_ old lawyer, had arranged all the family papers for the Count to his entire satisfac tion ; but much against the young man's wish insisted on going at once into details, informing him that he had an income of six hundred and thirty thousand lire. If the Count wished it, he would continue to administer his business in the future as he had done in the past.

Many months before he had written to the Count's only relative, a step-brother on his mother's side, who some years back had gone to South America, and whom he hoped would approve of his conduct. The Count coldly informed him that he recognized no guardian ; his poor parents were dead ; he was left alone ; and he felt he was old enough to take care of himself. He would finish his education travelling, and begged of Signor Davide to allow his son Luciano, who was already twenty one, to be his companion. During his travels he would have to make several calls on him for money, but he saw the advisability of not spending more than half of his income, and would almost promise not to exceed that amount. Objections were raised by the younger Davide, who while enraptured of the idea of travelling with comfort and luxury, felt he could not be wholly indebted for it all to his friend.

" Do you not see," exclaimed Paolo, " that if you refuse I shall have to go with a companion, and are you so selfish as to think only of yourself? Come with me as my adviser." Luciano laughed heartily, and remained silent. " Become my tutor, make a lawyer of me, teach me anything you like, but come you must," added Paolo. " Your father shall pay you the salary of my two tutors, and we will travel accompanied by my old valet, who will watch over us both." It would have been cruel to resist, and hence it was agreed that the two young travellers should start on their expedition as soon as the mild spring weather set in. Luciano, meanwhile, lost no time in taking his friend to all the amusements and pleasures with which Milan is replete during the Carnival season. Paolo took part in all the wild excesses of the festivity, caused a huge car resembling a ship to be built and manned by some of the leading spiriti follctti of the day, joined in the wild processions, hurling flowers and bonbons at the fair occupants of balconies over the streets through which they passed.

The Count of Santa Rosa soon became a great favourite everywhere. He plunged into all varieties of dissipation, and in consequence of the quiet life he had hitherto led he found greater delight in his present amusements. How delightful was this new life, how perfectly intoxicating to think he was his own master, free to do as he pleased, to satisfy his every wish either for good or for evil ! To another in his position such unbridled freedom might have been fatal, but fortunately Paolo did not forget the parting words of the old Padre, and many years of loving care bestowed on him by doting parents had sown good seed in the straightforwaid, open nature of the young Count. Even though it were true what many say, that education gives not to man another heart, nor another temperament, that it touches nothing in reality but the outward lining, yet education and love saved Paolo from becoming a total wreck.

Chapter III

The young men set out on their travels in the spring of 1866, wdien unexpected events brought them back to their country in three short months after their departure. They had briefly rushed through Paris in order to spend the month of June in London, when their patriotic feelings were roused to a fever of excitement by the events then taking place in Italy. The newspapers were full of the reports from Lissa and Custoza, and of the battles fought there. In their 37outhful enthusiasm they agreed to return at once to Milan to enlist and fight in the ranks. On their arrival they found that all their friends had departed for the scene of action. Every man that could hold a musket had joined the army, or the volunteers under Garibaldi's victorious banner. " How dear is one's country to all noble hearts ! ' However, their ardour was subdued in finding that they must be separated.

Paolo was not of age, and he could not enter the regular army which, headed by the " Be Galantuomo Vittorio Emanuele," was fast proceeding through the Venetian territory, on his march to Venice. Volunteers were leaving every day for the Tyrol to join the well-organized regiments of Garibaldi, who with his sons was there to lead them as ever to victory. Our friends determined to join them. They helped in the great work of that year, which resulted in the defeat of the Austrians and the freedom of Venice. Peace, however, cut short their military career. They discarded the red shirt after little more than a month of camp life, just when they had endured the long marches on the mountains, and they hoped to see the fire of those guns whose roaring echoes they had heard. On the entrance of the Italian troops into Venice, and the triumphant reception of King Vittorio Emanuele, there were grand fetes.

All Italy was there ; and the youthful campaigners joined in the universal rejoicing, after which they left once more to resume their interrupted tour. Three years have gone by, three years of wide travel ! The two friends visited together everything i> worth seeing in the Old and New Worlds. The young Count had drunk the cup of pleasure and of know ledge in every civilized centre to which chance brought him. He had hunted the wild buffalo in the wild West, faced the African lion in his home, pierced the Indian jungle, and had slain that king of beasts, the tiger. He had led the german in New York, waltzed in Vienna, and gossipped with the moon-eyed maidens of the far East. But be it said to the young friend's credit, amusement had not been their only aim. At Heidelberg, Berlin, and Vienna several months were employed in study, and as Luciano Davide had not entirely abandoned his Latin and his law books, he found a certain delight in following up those studies which seemed so irksome when forced upon him.

The two friends often visited the law courts, and followed with interest many celebrated cases. Paolo, having no studies and being fond of dissipation, would often remonstrate at this waste of time, but Luciano would at once silence him with these words — " I have no fortune of my own, and mine must be earned by hard work and study. Besides, I may be called upon at any moment to take my father's place as head of the firm, and it is my duty above all to look after your fortune, which in your hands alone would soon vanish. A simple, good-hearted, credulous young man like you would soon be a prey to the hawks which infest the capitals of Europe. You would first lose your heart and then your fortune to any of the painted Aspasias who crowd the assemblies by night, were I not with you to exercise some restraint.

A little serious thought is a good antidote to the fascinations of frivolity." At this friendly sermon Paolo smiled, and as usual humoured his friend. But why should these words be repeated to him ? Was he so easily deceived ? It is true he had been engaged in several adventures. Signor Antonio Davide, though not unacquainted with the extravagances of the gilded youth of Milan, had been more than once astonished at the large drafts made upon the Count's fortune. And many a time a bright face and smiling lips had concealed mercenary intentions, and Paolo had learned to recognize them rather late. However, either warned by intuition or by his friend, he had never utterly succumbed to the entangle ments of his amourettes, and by this time had learned pretty well, that though nature and fortune had blessed him with a handsome physique, a rare intelligence, and great wealth, this last was really the blessing most appreciated, and the most suecessful in procuring for him either the friendship of man or the love of woman.

As he became aware of this he grew diffident of his own power to please, and often asked himself if money alone would, in time to come, secure the happiness of his life. " Quanti cercar saggezza e saldo onore Che trovar fama tetra e falsitate E lor fu vano il trapassar di Tore ! " x " Here we are at last," exclaimed Paolo, as with his friend Luciano Davide he entered the grand avenue which led to the home of his youth. What sw7eet emotions were roused by the sight of the old home ! How his heart swelled to think that he was the owner of this sumptuous palace ! With what hopes he looked forward to his life as its master ! As he neared the palace, fond i-ecollections of home filled his breast. His journey was a quick succession of home memories. At one turn of the road a rustic cottage, inhabited by Ambrogio the boatman, recalled a boyish adventure ; at another he recognized the face of an old servant ; at each step 1 (How many sought wisdom and solid honour, who only found notoriety and deceit, and to whom proved worthless the fast-dying hours !) the impressions of his early life became more vivid, till at last, when he reached the palace, he felt himself a boy again, and almost looked for his parents to welcome him.

In vain ! He had gloried in the independence which, however unwillingly, had been thrust on him ; he had in his travels almost forgotten those to whom he owed his existence. Now, within sight of his home, he realized once more what he had lost, and made fresh resolutions for the future. He had seen all that was worth the pains ; he had returned home; he would take his father's place, live the retired life of a country gentleman, and find occupation and even pleasure in improving his propei ty, giving employment to the people, and restoring to the palazzo that lustre which in his absence had become dim. It is needless to enumer ate the many good resolutions he made, but like those of most j oung men, they were only so many idle fantasies of the imagination, more likely to be broken, as events proved, than to be carried out.

His arrival was not unexpected. Signor Antonio Davide had anticipated all the wishes of the young Count, and awaited his return himself. The members of the household, the peasants from the neighbouring villages, were as pleased to meet their young master as they had been sorry to see him depart, and as the postilions reined in their horses at the grand entrance, the rustics forgot the decorum due to one of the Count's position, and thronged round the carriage, eager to be first to welcome him back. How much he had improved in appearance, said one. He is quite a man now, added another — indeed, if Paolo could have heard all the kind things that were said of him, his ears would have tingled. Greeting here oue, and there another, the Count, still under the influence of the good resolutions he had formed on the journey, entered his palace.