Auriol; or, The Elixir of Life
Page 26
CHAPTER I
SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE
The Pope was saying the high, high mass, All on Saint Peter's day; With the power to him given by the saints in heaven To wash men's sins away.
The Pope he was saying the blessed mass, And the people kneel'd around; And from each man's soul his sins did pass, As he kissed the holy ground.
--_The Grey Brother._
Chancing to be in Rome in the August of 1830, I visited the gorgeouschurch of Santa Maria Maggiore during the celebration of the anniversaryof the Holy Assumption.
It was a glorious sight to one unaccustomed to the imposing religiousceremonials of the Romish Church, to witness all the pomp and splendourdisplayed at this high solemnity--to gaze down that glittering pile, andmark the various ecclesiastical dignitaries, each in their peculiar andcharacteristic costume, employed in the ministration of their sacredfunctions, and surrounded by a wide semicircle of the papal guards, sostationed to keep back the crowd, and who, with their showy scarletattire and tall halberds, looked like the martial figures we see in thesketches of Callot. Nor was the brilliant effect of this picturediminished by the sumptuous framework in which it was set. Overheadflamed a roof resplendent with burnished gold; before me rose a canopysupported by pillars of porphyry, and shining with many-coloured stones;while on either hand were chapels devoted to some noble house, andboasting each the marble memorial of a pope. Melodious masses proper tothe service were ever and anon chanted by the papal choir, andoverpowering perfume was diffused around by a hundred censers.
Subdued by the odours, the music, and the spectacle, I sank into a stateof dreamy enthusiasm, during a continuance of which I almost fanciedmyself a convert to the faith of Rome, and surrendered myselfunreflectingly to an admiration of its errors. As I gazed among thesurrounding crowd, the sight of so many prostrate figures, all inattitudes of deepest devotion, satisfied me of the profound religiousimpression of the ceremonial. As elsewhere, this feeling was notuniversal; and, as elsewhere, likewise, more zeal was exhibited by thelower than the higher classes of society; and I occasionally notedamongst the latter the glitter of an eye or the flutter of a bosom, notaltogether agitated, I suspect, by holy aspirations. Yet methought, onthe whole, I had never seen such abandonment of soul, such prostrationof spirit, in my own colder clime, and during the exercise of my ownmore chastened creed, as that which in several instances I now beheld;and I almost envied the poor maiden near me, who, abject upon the earth,had washed away her sorrows, and perhaps her sins, in contrite tears.
As such thoughts swept through my mind, I felt a pleasure in singlingout particular figures and groups which interested me, from theirpeculiarity of costume, or from their devotional fervour. Amongstothers, a little to my left, I remarked a band of mountaineers fromCalabria, for such I judged them to be from their wild and picturesquegarb. Deeply was every individual of this little knot of peasantryimpressed by the ceremonial. Every eye was humbly cast down; every kneebent; every hand was either occupied in grasping the little crucifixsuspended from its owner's neck, in telling the beads of his rosary, orfervently crossed upon his bare and swarthy breast.
While gazing upon this group, I chanced upon an individual whom I hadnot hitherto noticed, and who now irresistibly attracted my attention.Though a little removed from the Calabrian mountaineers, and recliningagainst the marble walls of the church, he evidently belonged to thesame company; at least, so his attire seemed to indicate, though thenoble cast of his countenance was far superior to that of his comrades.He was an old man, with a face of the fine antique Roman stamp--a boldoutline of prominent nose, rugged and imperious brow, and proudly-cutchin. His head and chin, as well as his naked breast, were frosted overwith the snowy honours of many winters, and their hoar appearancecontrasted strikingly with the tawny hue of a skin almost as dark and aslustrous as polished oak. Peasant as he was, there was something ofgrandeur and majesty in this old man's demeanour and physiognomy. Hishead declined backwards, so as completely to expose his long andmuscular throat. His arms hung listlessly by his side; one hand droopedupon the pavement, the other was placed within his breast: his eyes wereclosed. The old man's garb was of the coarsest fabric; he wore littlebeyond a shirt, a loose vest, a sort of sheep-skin cloak, and canvasleggings bound around with leathern thongs. His appearance, however, wasabove his condition; he became his rags as proudly as a prince wouldhave become his ermined robe.
The more I scrutinised the rigid lines of this old man's countenance,the more I became satisfied that many singular, and perhaps not whollyguiltless, events were connected with his history. The rosary was in hishand--the cross upon his breast--the beads were untold--the crucifixunclasped--no breath of prayer passed his lips. His face was turnedheavenward, but his eyes were closed,--he dared not open them. Why didhe come thither, if he did not venture to pray? Why did he assume apenitential attitude, if he felt no penitence?
So absorbed was I in the perusal of the workings of this old man'scountenance, as to be scarcely conscious that the service of high masswas concluded, and the crowd within the holy pile fast dispersing. Themusic was hushed, the robed prelates and their train had disappeared,joyous dames were hastening along the marble aisles to their equipages;all, save a few kneeling figures near the chapels, were departing; andthe old man, aware, from the stir and hum prevailing around, that theceremonial was at an end, arose, stretched out his arm to one of hiscomrades, a youth who had joined him, and prepared to follow theconcourse.
Was he really blind? Assuredly not. Besides, he did not walk like as onehabituated to the direst calamity that can befall our nature. Hestaggered in his gait, and reeled to and fro. Yet wherefore did he notventure to unclose his eyes within the temple of the Most High? Whatwould I not have given to be made acquainted with his history! For Ifelt that it must be a singular one.
I might satisfy my curiosity at once. He was moving slowly forward,guided by his comrade. In a few seconds it would be too late--he wouldhave vanished from my sight. With hasty footsteps I followed him downthe church, and laid my hand, with some violence, upon his shoulder.
The old man started at the touch, and turned. Now, indeed, his eyes wereopened wide, and flashing full upon me,--and such eyes! Heretofore I hadonly dreamed of such. Age had not quenched their lightning, and Iquailed beneath the fierce glances which he threw upon me. But if I was,at first, surprised at the display of anger which I had called forth inhim, how much more was I astonished to behold the whole expression ofhis countenance suddenly change. His eyes continued fixed upon mine asif I had been a basilisk. Apparently he could not avert them; while hiswhole frame shivered with emotion. I advanced towards him; he shrankbackwards, and, but for the timely aid of his companion, would havefallen upon the pavement.
At a loss to conceive in what way I could have occasioned him so muchalarm, I rushed forward to the assistance of the old man, when hisson--for such it subsequently appeared he was--rudely repelled me, andthrust his hand into his girdle, as if to seek for means to preventfurther interference.
Meanwhile the group had been increased by the arrival of a third party,attracted by the cry the old man had uttered in falling. The new-comerwas an Italian gentleman, somewhat stricken in years; of stern andstately deportment, and with something sinister and forbidding in hisaspect. He was hastening towards the old man, but he suddenly stopped,and was about to retire when he encountered my gaze. As our eyes met hestarted; and a terror, as sudden and lively as that exhibited by the oldman, was at once depicted in his features.
My surprise was now beyond all bounds, and I continued for some momentsspeechless with astonishment. Not a little of the inexplicable awe whichaffected the old man and the stranger was communicated to myself.Altogether, we formed a mysterious and terrible triangle, of which eachside bore some strange and unintelligible relation to the other.
The new-comer first recovered his composure, though not without aneffort. Coldly turning his heel upon me, he walked towards
the old man,and shook him forcibly. The latter shrank from his grasp, andendeavoured to avoid him; but it was impossible. The stranger whispereda few words in his ear, of which, from his gestures being directedtowards myself, I could guess the import. The old man replied. Hisaction in doing so was that of supplication and despair. The strangerretorted in a wild and vehement manner, and even stamped upon theground; but the old man still continued to cling to the knees of hissuperior.
"Weak, superstitious fool!" at length exclaimed the stranger, "I willwaste no more words upon thee. Do, or say, what thou wilt; but beware!"And spurning him haughtily back with his foot, he strode away.
The old man's reverend head struck against the marble floor. His templewas cut open by the fall, and blood gushed in torrents from the wound.Recovering himself, he started to his feet--a knife was instantly in hishand, and he would have pursued and doubtless slain his aggressor, if hehad not been forcibly withheld by his son, and by a priest who hadjoined them.
"_Maledizione!_" exclaimed the old man--"a blow from _him_--from _that_hand! I will stab him, though he were at the altar's foot; though he hada thousand lives, each should pay for it. Release me, Paolo! release me!for, by Heaven, he dies!"
"Peace, father!" cried the son, still struggling with him.
"Thou art not _my_ son, to hinder my revenge!" shouted the enragedfather. "Dost not see this blood--_my_ blood--thy father's blood?--andthou holdest me back! Thou shouldst have struck him to the earth for thedeed--but he was a noble, and thou daredst not lift thy hand againsthim!"
"Wouldst thou have had me slay him in this holy place?" exclaimed Paolo,reddening with anger and suppressed emotion.
"No, no," returned the old man, in an altered voice; "not here, not_here_, though 'twere but just retribution. But I will find other meansof vengeance. I will denounce him--I will betray all, though it cost memy own life! He shall die by the hands of the common executioner;--thereis one shall testify for me!" And he pointed to me.
Again I advanced towards him.
"If thou hast aught to disclose pertaining to the Holy Church, I amready to listen to thee, my son," said the priest; "but reflect well erethou bringest any charge thou mayest not be able to substantiate againstone who stands so high in her esteem as him thou wouldst accuse."
The son gave his father a meaning look, and whispered somewhat in hisear. The old man became suddenly still.
"Right, right," said he; "I have bethought me. 'Twas but a blow. He iswealthy, I am poor; there is no justice for the poor in Rome."
"My purse is at your service," said I, interfering; "you shall have myaid."
"Your aid!" echoed the old man, staring at me; "will _you_ assist me,signor?"
"I will."
"Enough. I may claim fulfilment of your promise."
"Stop, old man," I said; "answer me one question ere you depart. Whencearose your recent terrors?"
"You shall know hereafter, signor," he said; "I must now begone. Weshall meet again. Follow me not," he continued, seeing I was bent uponobtaining further explanation of the mystery. "You will learn nothingnow, and only endanger my safety. _Addio, signor._" And with hasty stepshe quitted the church, accompanied by his son.
"Who is that old man?" I demanded of the priest.
"I am as ignorant as yourself," he replied, "but he must be looked to;he talks threateningly." And he beckoned to an attendant.
"Who was he who struck him?" was my next inquiry.
"One of our wealthiest nobles," he replied, "and an assured friend ofthe Church. We could ill spare him. Do not lose sight of them," he addedto the attendant, "and let the _sbirri_ track them to their haunts. Theymust not be suffered to go forth to-night. A few hours' restraint willcool their hot Calabrian blood."
"But the name of the noble, father?" I said, renewing my inquiries.
"I must decline further questioning," returned the priest coldly. "Ihave other occupation; and meanwhile it will be well to have thesestains effaced, which may else bring scandal on these holy walls. Youwill excuse me, my son." So saying, he bowed and retired.
I made fruitless inquiries for the old man at the door of the church. Hewas gone; none of the bystanders who had seen him go forth knew whither.
Stung by curiosity, I wandered amid the most unfrequented quarters ofRome throughout the day, in the hope of meeting with the old Calabrian,but in vain. As, however, I entered the courtyard of my hotel, I fanciedI discovered, amongst the lounging assemblage gathered round the door,the dark eyes of the younger mountaineer. In this I might have beenmistaken. No one answering to his description had been seen near thehouse.