Book: Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. VI, June, 1862

V >> Various >> Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. VI, June, 1862




'There was one task,' said Roejean, 'that Hercules declined, and that
was eating that vile _mortadella_. He was a strong man; but that was
stronger. Wait a moment, till I fill a pipe with caporal, and have a
smoke; for if I meet another man with that delicacy, I shall have to
give up the Grotto--unless I have a pipe under my nose, as
counter-irritant.'

The three artists tramped along gayly, until they approached the town,
when they assumed the proud, disdainful mood, assuring spectators that
they who wear it are of gentle blood, and are tired of life and weary of
traveling around with pockets filled with gold. They only looked coldly
at the pens filled with cattle for sale; long-horned, mouse-colored oxen
were there; groups of patient donkeys, or the rough-maned,
shaggy-fetlocked, bright-eyed small horses of the Campagna; countless
pigs, many goats; while above all, the loud-singing jackasses were
performing at the top of their lungs. Here were knots of country-people,
buying provisions or clothing; there were groups of carriages from Rome,
which had rolled out the wealthy _forestieri_ or strangers, drawn up by
the way-side, in the midst of all sorts and kinds of hucksters. The road
leading to the church, shaded by trees, was crowded with country-people,
in picturesque costumes, busily engaged in buying and selling hams,
bacon, bacon and hams, and a few more hams. Here and there, a
cheese-stand languished, for pork flourished. Now a copper-smith exposed
his wares, chief among which were the graceful-shaped _conche_ or
water-vessels, the same you see so carefully poised on the heads of so
many black-eyed Italian girls, going to or coming from so many
picturesque fountains, in--paintings, and all wearing such brilliant
costumes, as you find at--Gigi's costume-class. Then came an ironmonger,
whose wares were all made by hand, even the smallest nails; for
machinery, as yet, is in its first infancy around Rome. At this stand,
Roejean stopped to purchase a pallet-knife; not one of the regular,
artist-made tools, but a thin, pliable piece of steel, without handle,
which experience taught him was well adapted to his work. As usual, the
iron-man asked twice as much as he intended to take, and after a sharp
bargain, Roejean conquered. Then they came to a stand where there were
piles of coarse crockery, and some of a better kind, of classical shape.

Caper particularly admired a beautiful white jug, intended for a
water-pitcher, and holding about two gallons. After asking its price, he
offered a quarter of the money for it; to Bagswell's horror, the
crockery-man took it, and Caper, passing his arm through the handle, was
proceeding up the road, when Bagswell energetically asked him what he
was going to do with it.

'Enter Rome with it, like Titus with the _spolia opima_,' replied Caper.

'Oh! I say, now,' said the former, who was an Englishman and an
historical painter; 'you aren't going to trot all over the fair with
that old crockery on your arm. Why, God bless me, they'll swear we are
drunk. There comes the Duchess of Brodneck; what the deuce will she
say?'

'Say?' said Caper, 'why, I'll go and ask her; this is not court-day.'

Without another word, with water-pitcher on arm, he walked toward the
Duchess. Saluting her with marked politeness, he said:

'A countryman of yours, madame, has objected to my carrying this _objet
de fantaisie_, assuring me that it would occasion remarks from the
Duchess of Brodneck. May I have the good fortune to know what she says
of it?'

'She says,' replied the lady, smiling and speaking slowly and quietly;
'that a young man who has independence enough to carry it, has
confidence enough to--fill it.' She bowed, and passed on, Caper politely
raising his hat, in acknowledgment of the well-rounded sentence. When he
returned to Bagswell, he found the historical painter with eyes the size
of grape-shot, at the sublime impudence of the man. He told him what
she had said.

'Upon my honor, you Americans have a face of brass; to address a duchess
you don't know, and ask her a question like that!'

'That's nothing,' said Caper, 'a little experience has taught me that
the higher you fly, in England, the nearer you approach true politeness
and courtesy. Believe me, I should never have asked that question of any
Englishwoman whose social position did not assure me she was
cosmopolitan.'

'Come,' said Bagswell, 'come, after such an adventure, if there is one
drop of any thing fit to drink in this town, we'll all go and get
lushy.'

They went. They found a door over which hung a green branch. Good wine
needs no bush, therefore Italian wine-shops hang it out; for the wine
there is not over good. But as luck was with our three artists, in the
shop over the door of which hung the green bough, they found that the
_padrone_ was an old acquaintance of Roejean; he had married and moved
to Grotto Ferrata. He had a barrel of Frascati wine, which was bright,
sparkling, sweet, and not watered. This the _padrone_ tapped in honor of
his guests, and at their urgent request, sat down and helped empty a
couple of bottles. Moreover, he told them that as the town was
overcrowded, they would find it difficult to get a good dinner, unless
they would come and dine with him, at his private table, and be his
guests; which invitation Roejean accepted, to the tavern-keeper's great
joy, promising to be back at the appointed time.

Our trio then sauntered forth to see the fair. Wandering among the
crowded booths, they came suddenly on a collection of _Zingare_, looking
like their Spanish cousins, the _Gitanas_. Wild black eyes, coarse black
locks of hair, brown as Indians, small hands, small feet--the Gipsies,
children of the storm--my Rommani pals, what are you doing here? Only
one woman among them was noticeable. Her face was startlingly handsome,
with an aquiline nose, thin nostrils, beautifully-arched eyebrows, and
eyes like an eagle. She was tall, straight, with exquisitely-rounded
figure, and the full drapery of white around her bosom fell from the
shoulders in large hanging sleeves; over her head was thrown a crimson
and green shawl, folded like the _pane_ of the _ciociare_, and setting
off her raven-black hair and rich red and swarthy complexion.

Roejean stood entranced, and Caper, noticing his rapt air, forbore
breaking silence; while the gipsy, who knew that she was the admiration
of the _forestieri_, stood immovable as a statue, looking steadily at
them, without changing a feature.

'_Piu bellisima che la madonna!_' said Roejean, loud enough for her to
hear. Then turning to Caper, 'Let's _andiammo_,' (travel,) said he,
'that woman's face will haunt me for a month. I've seen it before; yes,
seen her shut up in the Vatican, immortal on an old Etruscan vase.
Egypt, Etruria, the Saracen hordes who once overrun all this Southern
Italy, I find, every hour, among live people, some trace of you all; but
of the old Roman, nothing!'

'You find the old Roman cropping out in these church processions,
festivals, shrines, and superstitions, don't you?' asked Caper.

'No! something of those who made the seal, nothing of the impression on
the wax remains for me. Before Rome was, the great East was, and shall
be. The Germans are right to call the East the Morning-Land; thence came
light.... The longer you live along the wave-washed shore of the
Mediterranean, the more you will see what a deep hold the East once had
on the people of the coast. The Romans, after all, were only opulent
tradesmen, who could buy luxuries without having the education to
appreciate them. So utterly did they ignore the Etruscans, who made them
what they were, that you seek in vain to find in Roman history any thing
but the barest outline of the origin of a people so graceful and
refined that the Roman citizen was a boot-black in comparison to one of
them. The Saracens flashed light and life, in later days, once more into
the Roman leaven. What a dirty, filthy page the whole Gothic middle-age
is at best! It lies like a huge body struck with apoplexy, and only
restored to its sensual life by the sharp lancet, bringing blood, of
these same infidels, these stinging Saracens. Go into the mountains back
of us, hunt up the costumes that still remain, and see where they all
come from--the East. Look at the crescent earrings and graceful twisted
gold-work, from--the East. All the commonest household ware, the
agricultural implements, the manner of cooking their food, and all that
is picturesque in life and religion--all from the East.'

'Strikes me,' quoth Caper, 'that this question of food touches my
weakest point; therefore, let us go and dine, and continue the lecture
at a more un-hungry period. But where is Bagswell?'

'He is seeking adventures, of course.'

'Oh! yes, I sec him down there among the billy-goats; let's go and pick
him up, and then for mine host of the Green Bough.'

Having found Bagswell, our trio at once marched to the Green Bough,
which they saw was filled to overflowing with country-people, eating and
drinking, sitting on rough benches, and stowing away food and wine as if
in expectation of being very soon shipwrecked on a desert island, where
there would be nothing but hard-shell clams and lemons to eat. The
landlord at once took the trio up-stairs, where, at a large table, were
half-a-dozen of his friends, all of the cleanly order of country-people,
stout, and having a well-to-do look that deprecated any thing like
famine. A young lady of twenty and two hundred, as Caper summed up her
age and weight, was evidently the cynosure of all eyes; two other
good-natured women, of a few more years and a very little less weight,
and three men, made up the table. Any amount of compliments, as usual,
passed between the first six and the last three comers, prefacing every
thing with desires that they would act without ceremony; but Caper and
Roejean were on a high horse, and they fairly pumped the spring of
Italian compliments so dry, that Bagswell could only make a squeaking
noise when he tried the handle. This verbifuge of our three artists put
their host into an ecstasy of delight, and he circulated all round,
rubbing his hands and telling his six friends that his three friends
were _milordi_, in very audible whispers, _milordi_ of the most genial,
courtly, polite, complimentary, cosmopolitan, and exquisite description.

After all this, down sat our trio, and for the sake of future ages which
will live on steam-bread, electrical beef, and magnetic fish, let us
give them the bill of fare set before them:

ALL THE WINE THEY COULD DRINK.

Maccaroni (_fettucia_) a la Milanese--dish two feet in diameter, one
foot and a half high.

Mutton-chops, with tomato-sauce, (_pomo d'oro._)

Stewed celery, with Parmesan cheese.

Stewed chickens.

Mutton-chops, bird-fashion, (_Uccelli di Castrato._ They are made of
pieces of mutton rolled into a shape like a bird, and cooked, several at
a time, on a wooden spit. They are the _kibaubs_ of the East.)

Baked pie of cocks' combs and giblets.

Roasted pig, a twelve-pounder.

Roast squashes, stuffed with minced veal.

Apples, oranges, figs, and _finocchio_.

_Crostata di visciola_, or wild-cherry pie, served on an iron plate the
size of a Roman warrior's shield; the dish evidently having been one
formerly.

MORE WINE!

The stout young lady rejoicing in the name of Angelucia, or large angel,
was fascinated by Roejean's conversational powers and Caper's
attentions; the rest of the company, perfectly at ease on finding out
that the _milordi_ were not French--Roejean turning American to better
please them--and that they were moreover full of fun, talked and laughed
as if they were brother Italians. A jollier dinner Caper acknowledged he
had never known. One of the Italians was farmer-general for one of the
Roman princes; he was a man of broad views, and having traveled to Paris
and London, came home with ultra-liberal sentiments, and to Bagswell's
astonishment, spoke his mind so clearly on the Roman rulers, that our
Englishman's eyes were slightly opened at the by no means complimentary
expressions used toward the wire-workers of the Papal government. One
Italy, and Rome its capital, was the only platform our princely farmer
would take, and he was willing to stake his fortune, a cool one hundred
thousand scudi, on regenerated Italy.

Conversation then fell on the fair; and one of the Italians told several
stories which were broad enough to have shoved the generality of English
and American ladies out of the window of the room. But Angelucia and the
two wives of the stout gentlemen never winked; they had probably been to
confession that morning, had cleared out their old sins, and were now
ready to take in a new cargo. In a little while Roejean sent the waiter
out to a cafe, and he soon returned with coffee for the party, upon
which Caper, who had the day before bought some Havana cigars of the man
in the Twelve Apostles, in the piazza Dodici Apostoli, where there is a
government cigar-store for the sale of them, passed them around, and
they were thoroughly appreciated by the diners. The farmer-general gave
our three artists a hearty invitation to visit him, promising them all
the horses they could ride, all the wine they could drink, and all the
maccaroni they could eat. The last clause was inserted for Roejean's
benefit, who had played a noble game with the grand dish they had had
for dinner, and at which Angelucia had made great fun, assuring Roejean
he was Italian to the heart, _e piu basso_.

Then came good-by, and our artists were off--slowly, meditatively, and
extremely happy, but, so far, quite steady. They walked to the
castellated monastery of San Basilio, where in the chapel of Saint Nilus
they saw the celebrated frescoes of Domenichino, and gazed at them
tranquilly and not quite so appreciatingly as they would have done
before dinner. Then they came out from the gloom and the air heavy with
incense of the chapel to the bright light and lively scenes of the fair,
with renewed pleasure. They noticed that every one wore in the hat or in
the lappel of the coat, if men--in their hair or in their bosom, if
women, artificial roses; and presently coming to a stand where such
flowers were for sale, our trio bought half-a-dozen each, and then
turned to where the crowd was thickest and the noise greatest. Three or
four donkeys loaded with tin-ware were standing near the crowd, when one
of them, ambitious of distinction, began clambering over the tops of the
others in an insane attempt to get at some greens, temptingly displayed
before him. Rattle, bang! right and left went the tins, and in rushed
men and women with cudgels; but donkey was not to be stopped, and for
four or five minutes the whole fair seemed gathered around the scene,
cheering and laughing, with a spirit that set Caper wild with
excitement, and induced him to work his way through the crowd and
present one old woman who had finally conquered the donkey, with two
large roses, an action which was enthusiastically applauded by the
entire assembly.

'Bravo! bravo! well done, O Englishman!' went up the shout.

A little farther on they came to a large traveling van, one end of which
was arranged as a platform in the open air. Here a female dentist, in a
sea-green dress, with her sleeves rolled up and a gold bracelet on her
right arm, held in both hands a tooth-extractor, bound round with a
white handkerchief--to keep her steady, as Caper explained, while she
pulled a tooth from the head of a young man who was down in front of
her on his knees. Her assistant, a good-looking young man, in very white
teeth and livery, sold some patent toothache drops: _Solo cinque
baiocchi il fiasco, S'gnore_.

Caper having seen the tooth extracted, cried, '_Bravissima!_' as if he
had been at the opera, and threw some roses at the _prima donna
dentista_, who acknowledged the applause with a bow, and requested the
Signore to step up and let her draw him out. This he declined, pleading
the fact that he had sound teeth. The _dentista_ congratulated him, in
spite of his teeth.

'But come!' said Bagswell; 'look at that group of men and women in
Albano costume; there is a chance to make a deuced good sketch.'

Two men and three women were seated in a circle; they were laughing and
talking, and cutting and eating large slices of raw ham and bread, while
they passed from one to another a three-gallon keg of wine, and drank
out of the bung. As one of the hearty, laughing, jolly, brown-eyed girls
lifted up the keg, Caper pulled out sketch-book and pencil to catch an
outline sketch--of her head thrown back, her fine full throat and breast
heaving as the red wine ran out of the barrel, and the half-closed,
dreamy eyes, and pleasure in the face as the wine slowly trickled down
her throat. One of the men noted the artist making a _ritratto_, and
laughing heartily, cried out: 'Oh! but you'll have to pay us well for
taking our portraits!' And the girl, slowly finishing her long
draught, looked merrily round, shook her finger at the artist, laughed,
and--the sketch was finished. Then Caper taking Roejean's roses, went
laughingly up to the girl with brown eyes and fine throat, in Albano
costume, and begged that she would take the poor flowers, and putting
them next her heart, keep them where it is forever warm--'as the young
man on your left knows very well!' he concluded. This speech was
received amid loud applause and cheers, and thanks for the roses and an
invitation to take a pull at the barrel. Caper waved them _Adio_, and as
our trio turned Rome-ward from the fair, the last things he saw as he
turned his head to take a farewell look, were the roses that the Italian
girl had placed next her heart.


THE TOMBOLA.

The exceedingly interesting amusement known as the Tombola is nothing
more than the game of Loto, or _Lotto_, 'Brobdignagified,' and played in
the open air of the Papal States, in Rome on Sundays, and in the
Campagna on certain saints' days, come they when they may.

The English have made holiday from holy day, and call the Lord's day
Sunday; while the Italians call Sunday Lord's day, or _Domenica_. Their
way of keeping it holy, however, with tombolas, horse-races, and
fire-works, strikes a heretic, to say the least, oddly.

The Roman tombola should be seen in the Piazza Navona democratically; in
the Villa Borghese, if not aristocratically at least middle
classically, or bourgeois-istically.

In the month of November, when the English drown themselves, and the
Italians sit in the sun and smile, our friend Caper, one Sunday morning,
putting his watch and purse where pick-pockets could not reach them,
walked with two or three friends down to the Piazza Navona, stopping, as
he went along, at the entrance of a small street leading into it, to
purchase a tombola-ticket. The ticket-seller, seated behind a small
table, a blank-book, and piles of blank tickets, charged eleven
_baiocchi_ (cents) for a ticket, including one _baioccho_ for
registering it. We give below a copy of Caper's ticket:

No. 17 D'ORDINE, LETTERA C.

CARTELLA DA RITENERSI DAL GIUOCATORE.

8 12 32 87 60
20 4 76 30 11
45 3 90 55 63


The numbers on this ticket the registrar filled up, after which it was
his duty to copy them in his book, and thus verify the ticket should it
draw a prize.

The total amount to be played for that day, the tombola being for the
benefit of the Cholera Orphans, was one thousand scudi, and was divided
as follows:


Terno,.................... $50
Quaterno,................. 100
Cinquina,................. 200
Tombola,.................. 650
-------
$1000

How many tickets were issued, Caper was never able to find out; but he
was told that for a one thousand dollar tombola the number was limited
to ninety thousand.

The tickets, as will be seen above, are divided into three lines, with
five divisions in each line, and you can fill up the fifteen divisions
with any numbers running from one to ninety, that you may see fit.
Ninety tickets, with numbers from one to ninety, are put in a revolving
glass barrel, and after being well shaken up, some one draws out one
number at random, (the slips of paper being rolled up in such manner
that the numbers on them can not be seen.) It is passed to the judges,
and is then read aloud, and exposed to view, in conspicuous figures, on
a stand or stands; and so on until the tombola is won or the numbers all
drawn.

Whoever has three consecutive figures on a line, beginning from left
hand to right, wins the _Terno_; if four consecutive figures, the
_Quaterno_; if five figures, or a full line, the _Cinquina_; and whoever
has all fifteen figures, wins the Tombola. It often happens that several
persons win the _Terno_, etc., at the same time, in which case the
amount of the _Terno_, etc., is equally divided among them. These public
tombolas are like too many thimble-rig tables, ostensibly started for
charitable objects, and it is popularly whispered that the Roman
nobility and heads of the Church purchase vast numbers of these tickets,
and never fill them up; but then again, they are not large enough for
shaving, and are too small for curl-papers; besides, six hundred and
fifty _scudi_! Whew!

The Piazza Navona, bearing on its face, on week-days, the most terrible
eruptions of piles of old iron, rags, paintings, books, boots,
vegetables, crockery, jackdaws, contadini, and occasional dead cats,
wore on the Sunday of the tombola--it was Advent Sunday--a clean,
bright, and even joyful look. From many windows hung gay cloths and
banners; the three fountains were making Roman pearls and diamonds of
the first water; the entire length (seven hundred and fifty feet) and
breadth of the square was filled with the Roman people; three bands of
military music played uncensurable airs, since the public censor
permitted them; and several companies of soldiers, with loaded guns,
stood all ready to slaughter the _plebe_. It was a sublime spectacle.

But the curtain rose; that is to say, the tombola commenced. At a raised
platform, a small boy, dressed in black, popularly supposed to be a
cholera orphan, rolled back his shirt-cuffs--he had a shirt--plunged his
hand into the glass barrel, and produced a slip of paper; an assistant
carried it to the judges--one resembled Mr. Pecksniff--and then the
crier announced the number, and, presto! on a large blackboard the
number appeared, so that every one could see it.

Caper found the number on his ticket, and was marking it off, when a
countryman at his side asked him if he would see if the number was on
his ticket, as he could not read figures. Caper accordingly looked it
over, and finding that it was there, marked it off for him.

'_Padrone mio_, thank you,' said the man, evidently determined, since he
had found out a scholar, to keep close by him.

'Seventeen!' called out the tombola-crier.

'C----o!' said the contadino, with joy in his face; 'seventeen is always
my lucky number. My wife was seventeen years old when I married her. My
donkey was killed by the railroad cars the other day, and he gave just
seventeen groans before he died. I shall have luck to-day.'

We refrain from writing the exclamation the contadino prefaced his
remarks with, for fear the reader might have a good Italian
dictionary--an article, by the way, the writer has never yet seen.
Suffice it to say, that the exclamations made use of by the Romans, men
and women, not only of the lower but even the middling class, are of a
nature exceedingly natural, and plainly point to Bacchic and Phallic
sources. The _bestemmia_ of the Romans is viler than the blasphemy of
English or Americans.

It happened that the countryman had a seventeen on his ticket, and Caper
marked it off, at the same time asking him how much he would take for
his pantaloons. These pantaloons were made of a goat's skin; the long
white wool, inches in length, left on and hanging down below the knees
of the man, gave him a Pan-like look, and with the word tombola,
suggested the lines of that good old song--save the maledictory part of
it:

'Tombolin had no breeches to wear,
So he bought him a goat's skin, to make him a pair.'

These breeches were not for sale; they were evidently the joy and the
pride of the countryman, who had no heart for trade, having by this time
two numbers in one line marked off, only wanting an adjoining one to win
the _terno_.

'If you were to win the _terno_, what would you do with it?' Caper asked
him.

'_Accidente!_ I'd buy a barrel of wine, and a hog, and a--'

'Thirty-two!' shouted the crier.

'It's on your paper,' said Caper to him, marking it off; 'and you've won
the _terno_!'

The eyes of the man gleamed wildly; he crossed himself, grasped the
paper, and the next thing Caper saw was the crowd dividing right and
left, as the excited owner of the goat-skin breeches made his way to the
platform. When he had climbed up, and stepping forward, stood ready to
receive the _terno_, the crowd jeered and cheered the _villano_, making
fine fun of his goat-skin, and not a little jealous that a _contadino_
should take the money out of the city.

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