CHAPTER III.
_Tutte le gran faciende si fanno di poca cosa_. What great events from trivial causes spring.
SIGNOR CAMILLO, the artist employed by Mr. Lee to copy some of theantique ornaments in Herculaneum, was a liberal minded man, perfectlyfree from that mean jealousy which would repress the efforts of risinggenius.
“Here is a lad scarcely fifteen, a poor gardener’s son, who, with merelythe instructions he could obtain from a common carpenter, has learned todraw these plans and elevations, which you see are tolerably neat. Whatan advantage your instruction would be to him,” said Mr. Lee, as heintroduced Francisco to Signor Camillo. “I am interested in this ladfrom what I have learned of his good conduct. I hear he is strictlyhonest, and one of the best of sons. Let us do something for him. Ifyou will give him some knowledge of your art, I will, as far as money canrecompense you for your loss of time, pay whatever you may thinkreasonable for his instruction.”
Signor Camillo made no difficulties; he was pleased with his pupil’sappearance, and every day he liked him better and better. In the roomwhere they worked together there were some large books of drawings andplates, which Francisco saw now and then opened by his master, and whichhe had a great desire to look over; but when he was left in the room byhimself he never touched them, because he had not permission. SignorCamillo, the first day he came into this room with his pupil, said tohim, “Here are many valuable books and drawings, young man. I trust,from the character I have heard of you, that they will be perfectly safehere.”
Some weeks after Francisco had been with the painter, they had occasionto look for the front of a temple in one of these large books. “What!don’t you know in which book to look for it, Francisco?” cried hismaster, with some impatience. “Is it possible that you have been here solong with these books, and that you cannot find the print I mean? Hadyou half the taste I gave you credit for, you would have singled it outfrom all the rest, and have it fixed in your memory.”
“But, signor, I never saw it,” said Francisco, respectfully, “or,perhaps, I should have preferred it.”
“That you never saw it, young man, is the very thing of which I complain.Is a taste for the arts to be learned, think you, by looking at the coverof a book like this? Is it possible that you never thought of openingit?”
“Often and often,” cried Francisco, “have I longed to open it; but Ithought it was forbidden me, and however great my curiosity in yourabsence, I have never touched them. I hoped indeed, that the time wouldcome when you would have the goodness to show them to me.”
“And so the time is come, excellent young man,” cried Camillo; “much as Ilove taste, I love integrity more. I am now sure of your having the one,and let me see whether you have, as I believe you have, the other. Sityou down here beside me; and we will look over these books together.”
The attention with which his young pupil examined everything, and thepleasure he unaffectedly expressed in seeing these excellent prints,sufficiently convinced his judicious master that it was not from the wantof curiosity or taste that he had never opened these tempting volumes.His confidence in Francisco was much increased by this circumstance,slight as it may appear.
One day, Signor Camillo came behind Francisco, as he was drawing withmuch intentness, and tapping him upon the shoulder, he said to him: “Putup your pencils and follow me, I can depend upon your integrity; I havepledged myself for it. Bring your note-book with you, and follow me; Iwill this day show you something that will entertain you at least as muchas my large book of prints. Follow me.”
Francisco followed, till they came to the pit near the entrance ofHerculaneum. “I have obtained leave for you to accompany me,” said hismaster, “and you know, I suppose, that this is not a permission grantedto everyone?” Paintings of great value, besides ornaments of gold andsilver, antique bracelets, rings, etc., are from time to time foundamongst these ruins, and therefore it is necessary that no person shouldbe admitted whose honesty cannot be depended upon. Thus, evenFrancisco’s talents could not have advanced him in the world, unless theyhad been united to integrity. He was much delighted and astonished bythe new scene that was now opened to his view; and as, day after day, heaccompanied his master to this subterraneous city, he had leisure forobservation. He was employed, as soon as he had gratified his curiosity,in drawing. There are niches in the walls in several places, from whichpictures have been dug, and these niches are often adorned with elegantmasques, figures and animals, which have been left by the ignorant orcareless workmen, and which are going fast to destruction. SignorCamillo, who was copying these for his English employer, had a mind totry his pupil’s skill, and, pointing to a niche bordered with grotesquefigures, he desired him to try if he could make any hand of it.Francisco made several trials, and at last finished such an excellentcopy, that his enthusiastic and generous master, with warm encomiums,carried it immediately to his patron, and he had the pleasure to receivefrom Mr. Lee a purse containing five guineas, as a reward andencouragement for his pupil.
Francisco had no sooner received this money, than he hurried to hisfather and mother’s cottage. His mother, some months before this time,had taken a small dairy farm; and her son had once heard her express awish that she was but rich enough to purchase a remarkably fine brindledcow, which belonged to a farmer in the neighbourhood.
“Here, my dear mother,” cried Francisco, pouring the guineas into herlap; “and here,” continued he, emptying a bag which contained about asmuch more, in small Italian coins, the profits of trade-money he hadfairly earned during the two years he sold fruit amongst the littleNeapolitan merchants; “this is all yours, dearest mother, and I hope itwill be enough to pay for the brindled cow. Nay, you must not refuseme—I have set my heart upon the cow being milked by you this veryevening; and I’ll produce my best bunches of grapes, and my father,perhaps, will give us a melon; for I’ve had no time for melons thisseason; and I’ll step to Naples and invite—may I, mother?—my goodfriends, dear Carlo and your favourite little Rosetta, and my old drawingmaster, and my friend Arthur, and we’ll sup with you at your dairy.”
The happy mother thanked her son, and the father assured him that neithermelon nor pine-apple should be spared, to make a supper worthy of hisfriends.
The brindled cow was bought, and Arthur and Carlo and Rosetta mostjoyfully accepted their invitation.
The carpenter had unluckily appointed to settle a long account that daywith one of his employers, and he could not accompany his children. Itwas a delicious evening; they left Naples just as the sea-breeze, afterthe heats of the day, was most refreshingly felt. The walk to Resina,the vineyard, the dairy, and most of all, the brindled cow, were praisedby Carlo and Rosetta, with all the Italian superlatives which signify,“Most beautiful! most delightful! most charming!” Whilst the EnglishArthur, with as warm a heart, was more temperate in his praise, declaringthat this was “the most like an English summer’s evening of any he hadever felt since he came to Italy: and that, moreover, the cream wasalmost as good as what he had been used to drink in Cheshire.” Thecompany, who were all pleased with each other, and with the gardener’sgood fruit, which he produced in great abundance, did not think ofseparating till late.
It was a bright moonlight night, and Carlo asked his friend if he wouldwalk with them part of the way to Naples. “Yes, all the way mostwillingly,” cried Francisco, “that I may have the pleasure of giving toyour father, with my own hands, this fine bunch of grapes, that I havereserved for him out of my own share.”
“Add this fine pine-apple for my share, then,” said his father, “and apleasant walk to you, my young friends.”
They proceeded gaily along, and when they reached Naples, as they passedthrough the square where the little merchants held their market,Francisco pointed to the spot where he found Carlo’s rule. He nevermissed an opportunity of showing his friends that he did not forget theirformer kindness to him. “That rule,” said he, “has been the c
ause of allmy present happiness, and I thank you for—”
“Oh, never mind thanking him now,” interrupted Rosetta, “but look yonder,and tell me what all those people are about.” She pointed to a group ofmen, women and children, who were assembled under a piazza, listening invarious attitudes of attention to a man, who was standing upon a flightof steps speaking in a loud voice, and with much action, to the peoplewho surrounded him. Francisco, Carlo and Rosetta joined his audience.The moon shone full upon his countenance, which was very expressive andwhich varied frequently according to the characters of the persons whosehistory he was telling, according to all the changes of their fortune.This man was one of those who are called Improvisatori—persons who, inItalian towns, go about reciting verses or telling stories, which theyare supposed to invent as they go on speaking. Some of these people speakwith great fluency, and collect crowds round them in the public streets.When an Improvisatore sees the attention of his audience fixed, and whenhe comes to some very interesting part of his narrative, he dexterouslydrops his hat upon the ground, and pauses till his auditors have paidtribute to his eloquence. When he thinks the hat sufficiently full, hetakes it up again, and proceeds with his story. The hat was dropped justas Francisco and his two friends came under the piazza. The orator hadfinished one story, and was going to commence another. He fixed his eyesupon Francisco, then glanced at Carlo and Rosetta, and after a moment’sconsideration he began a story which bore some resemblance to one thatour young English readers may, perhaps, know by the name of “Cornaro, orthe Grateful Turk.”
Francisco was deeply interested in this narrative, and when the hat wasdropped, he eagerly threw in his contribution. At the end of the story,when the speaker’s voice stopped, there was a momentary silence, whichwas broken by the orator himself, who exclaimed, as he took up the hatwhich lay at his feet, “My friends, here is some mistake! this is not myhat; it has been changed whilst I was taken up with my story. Pray,gentlemen, find my hat amongst you; it was a remarkably good one, apresent from a nobleman for an epigram I made. I would not lose my hatfor twice its value. It has my name written withinside of it, Dominicho,Improvisatore. Pray, gentlemen, examine your hats.”
Everybody present examined their hats, and showed them to Dominicho, buthis was not amongst them. No one had left the company; the piazza wascleared, and searched in vain. “The hat has vanished by magic,” saidDominicho.
“Yes, and by the same magic a statue moves,” cried Carlo, pointing to afigure standing in a niche, which had hitherto escaped observation. Theface was so much in the shade, that Carlo did not at first perceive thatthe statue was Piedro. Piedro, when he saw himself discovered, burstinto a loud laugh, and throwing down Dominicho’s hat, which he held inhis hand behind him, cried, “A pretty set of novices! Most excellentplayers at hide-and-seek you would make.”
Whether Piedro really meant to have carried off the poor man’s hat, orwhether he was, as he said, merely in jest, we leave it to those who knowhis general character to decide.
Carlo shook his head. “Still at your old tricks, Piedro,” said he.“Remember the old proverb: No fox so cunning but he comes to thefurrier’s at last.” {332}
“I defy the furrier and you, too,” replied Piedro, taking up his ownragged hat. “I have no need to steal hats; I can afford to buy betterthan you’ll have upon your head. Francisco, a word with you, if you havedone crying at the pitiful story you have been listening to soattentively.”
“And what would you say to me?” said Francisco, following him a fewsteps. “Do not detain me long, because my friends will wait for me.”
“If they are friends, they can wait,” said Piedro. “You need not beashamed of being seen in my company now, I can tell you; for I am, as Ialways told you I should be, the richest man of the two.”
“Rich! you rich?” cried Francisco. “Well, then, it was impossible youcould mean to trick that poor man out of his good hat.”
“Impossible!” said Piedro. Francisco did not consider that those whohave habits of pilfering continue to practise them often, when thepoverty which first tempted them to dishonesty ceases. “Impossible! Youstare when I tell you I am rich; but the thing is so. Moreover, I amwell with my father at home. I have friends in Naples, and I call myselfPiedro the Lucky. Look you here,” said he, producing an old gold coin.“This does not smell of fish, does it? My father is no longer afisherman, nor I either. Neither do I sell sugar-plums to children: nordo I slave myself in a vineyard, like some folks; but fortune, when Ileast expected it, has stood my friend. I have many pieces of gold likethis. Digging in my father’s garden, it was my luck to come to an oldRoman vessel full of gold. I have this day agreed for a house in Naplesfor my father. We shall live, whilst we can afford it, like great folks,you will see; and I shall enjoy the envy that will be felt by some of myold friends, the little Neapolitan merchants, who will change their notewhen they see my change of fortune. What say you to all this, Franciscothe Honest?”
“That I wish you joy of your prosperity, and hope you may enjoy it longand well.”
“Well, no doubt of that. Everyone who has it enjoys it _well_. Healways dances well to whom fortune pipes.” {333a}
“Yes, no longer pipe, no longer dance,” replied Francisco; and here theyparted; for Piedro walked away abruptly, much mortified to perceive thathis prosperity did not excite much envy, or command any additionalrespect from Francisco.
“I would rather,” said Francisco, when he returned to Carlo and Rosetta,who waited for him under the portico, where he left them—“I would ratherhave such good friends as you, Carlo and Arthur, and some more I couldname, and, besides that, have a clear conscience, and work honestly formy bread, than be as lucky as Piedro. Do you know he has found atreasure, he says, in his father’s garden—a vase full of gold? He showedme one of the gold pieces.”
“Much good may they do him. I hope he came honestly by them,” saidCarlo; “but ever since the affair of the double measure, I suspectdouble-dealing always from him. It is not our affair, however. Let himmake himself happy his way, and we ours.
“He that would live in peace and rest, Must hear, and see, and say the best.” {333b}
All Piedro’s neighbours did not follow this peaceable maxim; for when heand his father began to circulate the story of the treasure found in thegarden, the village of Resina did not give them implicit faith. Peoplenodded and whispered, and shrugged their shoulders; then crossedthemselves, and declared that they would not, for all the riches ofNaples, change places with either Piedro or his father. Regardless, orpretending to be regardless, of these suspicions, Piedro and his fatherpersisted in their assertions. The fishing-nets were sold, andeverything in their cottage was disposed of; they left Resina, went tolive at Naples, and, after a few weeks, the matter began to be almostforgotten in the village.
The old gardener, Francisco’s father, was one of those who endeavoured to_think the best_; and all that he said upon the subject was, that hewould not exchange Francisco the Honest for Piedro the Lucky; that onecan’t judge of the day till one sees the evening as well as the morning.{334}
Not to leave our readers longer in suspense, we must inform them that thepeasants of Resina were right in their suspicions. Piedro had neverfound any treasure in his father’s garden, but he came by his gold in thefollowing manner:—
After he was banished from the little wood-market for stealing Rosetta’sbasketful of wood, after he had cheated the poor woman, who let glassesout to hire, out of the value of the glasses which he broke, and, inshort, after he had entirely lost his credit with all who knew him, heroamed about the streets of Naples, reckless of what became of him.
He found the truth of the proverb, “that credit lost is like a Veniceglass broken—it can’t be mended again.” The few shillings which he hadin his pocket supplied him with food for a few days. At last he was gladto be employed by one of the peasants who came to Naples to load theirasses with manure out of t
he streets. They often follow very early inthe morning, or during the night-time, the trace of carriages that aregone, or that are returning from the opera; and Piedro was one night atthis work, when the horses of a nobleman’s carriage took fright at thesudden blaze of some fireworks. The carriage was overturned near him; alady was taken out of it, and was hurried by her attendants into a shop,where she stayed till her carriage was set to rights. She was too muchalarmed for the first ten minutes after her accident to think ofanything; but after some time, she perceived that she had lost a valuablediamond cross, which she had worn that night at the opera. She wasuncertain where she had dropped it; the shop, the carriage, the street,were searched for it in vain.
Piedro saw it fall as the lady was lifted out of the carriage, seizedupon it, and carried it off. Ignorant as he was of the full value ofwhat he had stolen, he knew not how to satisfy himself as to this point,without trusting someone with the secret.
After some hesitation, he determined to apply to a Jew, who, as it waswhispered, was ready to buy everything that was offered to him for sale,without making any _troublesome_ inquiries. It was late; he waited tillthe streets were cleared, and then knocked softly at the back door of theJew’s house. The person who opened the door for Piedro was his ownfather. Piedro started back; but his father had fast hold of him.
“What brings you here?” said the father, in a low voice, a voice whichexpressed fear and rage mixed.
“Only to ask my way—my shortest way,” stammered Piedro.
“No equivocations! Tell me what brings you here at this time of thenight? I _will_ know.”
Piedro, who felt himself in his father’s grasp, and who knew that hisfather would certainly search him, to find out what he had brought tosell, thought it most prudent to produce the diamond cross. His fathercould but just see its lustre by the light of a dim lamp, which hung overtheir heads in the gloomy passage in which they stood.
“You would have been duped, if you had gone to sell this to the Jew. Itis well it has fallen into my hands. How came you by it?” Piedroanswered that he had found it in the street. “Go your ways home, then,”said his father; “it is safe with me. Concern yourself no more aboutit.”
Piedro was not inclined thus to relinquish his booty, and he now thoughtproper to vary in his account of the manner in which he found the cross.He now confessed that it had dropped from the dress of a lady, whosecarriage was overturned as she was coming home from the opera, and heconcluded by saying that, if his father took his prize from him withoutgiving him his share of the profits, he would go directly to the shopwhere the lady stopped whilst her servants were raising the carriage, andthat he would give notice of his having found the cross.
Piedro’s father saw that his _smart_ son, though scarcely sixteen yearsof age, was a match for him in villainy. He promised him that he shouldhave half of whatever the Jew would give for the diamonds, and Piedroinsisted upon being present at the transaction.
We do not wish to lay open to our young readers scenes of iniquity. Itis sufficient to say that the Jew, who was a man old in all the arts ofvillainy, contrived to cheat both his associates, and obtained thediamond cross for less than half its value. The matter was managed sothat the transaction remained undiscovered. The lady who lost the cross,after making fruitless inquiries, gave up the search, and Piedro and hisfather rejoiced in the success of their manœuvres.
It is said, that “Ill gotten wealth is quickly spent”; {336} and so itproved in this instance. Both father and son lived a riotous life aslong as their money lasted, and it did not last many months. What hisbad education began, bad company finished, and Piedro’s mind wascompletely ruined by the associates with whom he became connected duringwhat he called his _prosperity_. When his money was at an end, theseunprincipled friends began to look cold upon him, and at last plainlytold him—“If you mean to _live with us_, you must _live as we do_.” Theylived by robbery.
Piedro, though familiarized to the idea of fraud, was shocked at thethought of becoming a robber by profession. How difficult it is to stopin the career of vice! Whether Piedro had power to stop, or whether hewas hurried on by his associates, we shall, for the present, leave indoubt.