Page images
PDF
EPUB

convinced of the integrity of Josua's patriotism, to abdicate in favour of this distinguished successor. Miriam alone, we regret to say, behaves neither like a prophetess nor a lady on this occasion; and, refusing to accept such degradation on her husband's behalf, speaks and acts just as any ill-bred woman nowadays might do who sees herself suddenly deposed from the position of Mrs Commander-in-Chief. Josua gives her a piece of his mind, which indeed she well deserves; and even the gentle Hur, her husband, turns his back on her in disgust, bewailing the day when he had been fool enough to wed a prophetess. Smarting under the displeasure of the two men dearest to her, Miriam comes to her senses; and during another battle (against the Amalekites this time), when Josua delivers her from the grasp of a barbarian chieftain, she asks and obtains the forgiveness of her for mer lover. We are given to understand that from this time forth she renounces prophecy as a profession, and retires into private domestic life, to the evident relief of her much-tried spouse.

The bare outline of the story, as here related, has occupied so much time as to leave small leisure for comment or quotation. What chiefly strikes us here, besides the many improbable situations (of which we have merely indicated a few), and the utter incongruity of Miriam's character, are the many effective and dramatic points which the author has missed.

Why, for instance, does he not show us Moses face to face with Pharaoh, when he summons the king to let his people go? Why does he dismiss the plagues, of which so much picturesque capital might have been made, with a mere allusion? And why, to

crown his omissions, does he not avail himself of the most selfevident climax suggested by history to the tale of Josua-that of the sun standing still at his command during the battle?

It had been our intention, had space permitted, to give some quotations from Gautier's work, by way of showing how the same subject has been treated before with far greater dramatic effect. Let one example suffice,-the page in which the Frenchman describes the passage of the Hebrews over the Red Sea :—

"Moses extended his staff over the

water, after having called upon the Eternal One, and then there took place a wonder which no Egyptian hierophant could have accomplished. From the east there rose up a wind waters of the Sea of Algues like a of exceeding power, which delved the gigantic ploughshare, throwing back to the right and left briny hillocks crowned with foam. Parted by the impetuosity of this irresistible breath, which might have swept away the pyramids like grains of dust, the leaving free betwixt them a broad waters reared up in liquid walls, passage where the multitude could pass dry-footed. Through their transparency, as behind a thick sheet of glass, one could behold the marine monsters writhing in terror at being surprised by the daylight let into their mysterious haunts.

"The tribes precipitated themselves towards this miraculous issue. Like a legion of ants dotting the floor of the gulf with two million black dots, the human torrent flowed between two liquid banks of green water, leaving their footprints on soil hitherto untouched save by the breast of the leviathan; and overhead the terrible wind sweeping above the Hebrew host, which it could have bowed down like ears of grain, by its pressure restraining the accumuIt was the lated and roaring waves. breath of the Eternal One, cutting

the ocean in two!"

Now see how Ebers describes

the identical scene, as witnessed by Ephraim, who has escaped from the Egyptians, and comes hither in the very nick of time to rejoin his people, just as they are about to cross the sea.

"After sunset Moses advanced with upraised staff, and with Aaron praying and chanting by his side, on to the shore of the bay. The storm still raging with unabated fury had swept the sands clear of water, and now

blew the flames and smoke of the torches, carried before each tribe, in a south-west direction.

"The foremost chiefs, on whom all eyes were fixed in confident expectation, followed old Nun with the Ephraïtes. The ocean floor on which they stepped was moist firm sand, forming a smooth inclined plane towards the sea, on which even the The herds could tread securely. youth felt rejoiced by the storm, and the pungent odour of sea-weed and fish left here by the retreating waves pleased him better than the sweet nard perfumes in Kasana's tent."

We cannot follow the Hebrews farther in their passage across the Red Sea, which, under conduct of Herr Ebers, occupies eighteen pages, and it would be scarcely fair to conclude this notice without some mention of the undoubted merits which must always distinguish each work of the author.

[ocr errors][merged small]

ship from the hand which wrote 'Homo Sum,' 'Der Kaiser,' and 'Die Nilbraut.'

Richard Voss, though a German author of considerable repute, and who has successfully dramatised several of his works, had never been a favourite of ours until the other day we chanced to read 'Die Sabienerin '—one of his latest productions in which, with singular ability, he has hit off the keynote of Italian peasant life. gives us a painting, as vivid as it is picturesque, of that dreary landscape between Civita Vecchia and the mouth of the Tiber-a desolate

He

stretch of sand and marsh, overshadowed by the pestilential breath of the Roman fever.

Here, in one of the numerous old ruined watch-towers that dot the coast at intervals, has taken refuge a solitary man known in the country as Baldassare Leste, but whose real name is Salvatore Barozzi. Nature had not intended him for a hermit. The son of affluent Roman citizens, his youth had been gay, and he had tasted of every pleasure offered by the capital. Cards and women had been his ruin. The lover of an insignificant and scarcely pretty actress who had betrayed him, he had killed his rival in a moment of passion, and had been forced to flee the country. After several years spent in America, the desire to look again upon his native country had grown irresistible, and he returns to Rome, where a trusty friend to whom he discloses his identity conceives the bold idea of concealing the person of the fugitive murderer under an official uniform. It is hard to find some one willing to accept the lonely and unwholesome post

1 Die Sabienerin, von Richard Voss. Stuttgart: Engelhorn.

of watchman on the Torre San Michele, so the matter is easily arranged, every one being miles from guessing Baldassare Leste, whose duty it is to keep a lookout on deserters and smugglers, to be no other than the absconded criminal Salvatore Barozzi, on whose head a price is fixed.

Salvatore has outlived-or believes himself to have outlivedthe follies of his youth. He has broken with the world, and acquired the habits of a savage and a hermit.

His present life, which to most would seem a living death, is not uncongenial to him; and there is even a certain charm in his perilous position, so near to the Eternal City that on clear summer nights he can see the fireworks and rockets sent up from the capitol, and yet as virtually isolated as though dwelling on a desert island. From his lofty watch-tower he can overlook the sea as far as the Ponza islands, the shore from Civita Vecchia to Cape Circe; while on the other side, across the marshes, his eye can reach the Albano and Sabine mountains.

Nor is he without pleasures in his self-chosen wilderness: he can fish to his heart's content, shoot foxes among the ruins of old Ostia or wild boar in the thickets of Laurentum; and in May, when the shore is thronged with northward returning quail, he can net by dozens those guileless and exhausted birds. The watch-tower itself furnishes plenty of sportowls, bats, hawks, to say nothing of scorpions, lizards, and serpents. Salvatore is his own cook, and when there is nothing to be boiled or roasted he must fall back upon oil-soup or ricotta. Milk, bread, and cheese he can procure from the shepherds, so long as they dwell in his neighbourhood; but

[blocks in formation]

With the advent of summer, however, begins for him a period of intense loneliness: heaven and earth are swallowed up in a fiery glare; the very mountains seem to flee and hide themselves behind a thick golden mist. Whoever is free flies from this region of disease and death. The inhabitants of Ostia, as of other neighbouring villages, desert their homes to wander eastward; even the shepherds retire farther inland to escape the murderous breath of the malaria. Then for many months Salvatore scarcely hears another sound but the roar of the waves, the scream of the falcon, the sea-gull's hoarse cry, and the distant bellow of ox or buffalo.

Of herculean build and unimpaired strength, he can afford to brave the fever with impunity,a provision of quinine being, moreover, included in the perquisites of his office.

This life has gone on for several years when Salvatore makes the acquaintance of Marcantonia, and of her brother Francesco Latini, natives of the Sabine mountains, come to Ostia in hope of improving their lot. When the other inhabitants of Ostia had wandered forth to escape the malaria, these two alone had remained behind to earn a few scudi by selling oil and ricotta to stray customers like Salvatore.

When Salvatore first beheld Marcantonia she was standing with her distaff near an ancient stone sarcophagus, shrilly singing the refrain of a monotonous ritornello. The women of Ostia were harsh-featured and weather-beaten, but this young creature, half-child, half - maiden, has brown classical features, pomegranate-red lips, flashing black eyes, and the wild grace of a young fawn-the first winsome female apparition he had set eyes on since he came here. The brother looked sickly and fretful, and must soon fall victim to the fever, thought Salvatore on his homeward way, and then what will become of the girl, alone in this wilderness? Perhaps she would go back to her mountainhome, or else the monks of Crocetta would take her under their protection, or else. . . He suddenly began to wonder how she would look transported to his lonely watch-tower-so young, so fresh, with such red lips and flashing eyes. How would her shrill voice sound echoing through the old ruins?

Salvatore's presentiment regarding Marcantonia's brother is fulfilled. He falls ill of the fever, and the offer of quinine to stay its violence is refused by the ignorant girl. "Keep it for yourself," she tells him. "I have made a great vow to the Madonna, and promised her a large wax-candle. Of a certainty she will help my brother."

[blocks in formation]

go,-she sobbing and wailing all the way, and he strangely troubled to feel her slender form pressed against his loudly beating heart.

By the time they regain Ostia with the monk, Francesco is a corpse. Marcantonia is nearly crazy with grief at the thought that her brother has gone without religious consolation; and yet stronger than grief for his death is her stupefaction on realising that the Madonna, to whom she had vowed two large wax-candles for his life, had not even granted her this smaller favour of the last sacraments. She feels herself to have been cheated by heaven, and henceforth her faith is dead. When the monk suggests the expediency of having masses said for the defunct, she sullenly refuses, even though they are offered at a very moderate price. Masses are of no use, she sacrilegiously declares, to the horror of the holy man, who departs after having advised her at least to put in the lottery the numbers representing the date and hour of her brother's death.

This seemed to Marcantonia a somewhat more reasonable suggestion. Yes, she would mark the numbers, and put them in the lottery next time she went to town.

[blocks in formation]

with her. No one had ever loved her yet, and even the idea that some one might love her had never yet occurred to her; and then she was so youngnot yet sixteen ! If Sor Baldassare loved her, then it meant that he wanted to marry her, because that was the only reason why a man fell in love with a girl. Then he came every evening to the house of his sweetheart and spoke to the parents, and then he either got the girl or else he did not get her. If the parents were dead, then the suitor spoke to the brother; but if the brother too was dead-then-then . . . MarcanMarcantonia had never yet heard of such an unprecedented case. What on earth was the suitor to do if the girl's brother were likewise dead?

"Of matrimony Marcantonia only knew this much that the couple

went to church, and were there made man and wife, after which they lived together in a hovel; the wife cooked for her husband, washed his linen, carried his burdens, submitted to his blows, and bore him children. This was all that Marcantonia knew."

But Salvatore was not think ing of matrimony when, soon after, he suggested that Marcantonia should come and share his solitude in the ruined tower.

[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small]

"We are both alone, and surely know that I love you.' "She now stopped chewing, and presently said, in an expressionless voice

"My parents are dead, and my brother is dead. I do not know with whom you could speak?'

[ocr errors][merged small]

old

But when he tries to seize her passionately in his arms, she repulses him; and one night when he attempts to enter her lonely hovel, she takes down her brother's gun and discharges it into the darkness. Salvatore, wounded in the shoulder, sinks down fainting on the threshold, whereupon Marcantonia composedly strikes a light and helps him to stagger into the room. Then she goes to Crocetta and fetches a monk to withdraw

the bullet, to whom Salvatore, on recovering consciousness, says, "When I am well again I shall come to Crocetta with Marcantonia to be married."

So they are married, without festivities or witnesses, in the little church of the monastery—a crumbling damp edifice, where birds of prey fly in and out undisturbed, and a large poisonous serpent lying coiled on the altarsteps can scarcely be induced to move aside to make way for the bridal couple. The few remaining monks-all prematurely doomed to the fever death-are the only guests: one solitary candle is hurriedly lighted, and the ceremony accomplished with slovenly haste.

"With whom I should speak? The priest may have been of opinAbout what?'

"About marrying me.'

"The Sabine girl said this in all simplicity, with intense gravity, without a change of expression, staring fixedly at her lover with great black eyes.

"For a moment Salvatore felt baffled by her simplicity, but recovering his presence of mind, burst into a loud laugh.

66 6 Marry you! You thought I wanted to marry you, and did not know with whom to discuss the matter?'

ion that here in the wilderness "Yes" and "Amen" were sufficient liturgy for the occasion. It was at any rate most praiseworthy in the couple to have taken the trouble to come to church at all, and have their hands joined by a minister of God. Likewise the omission of rings, certificate, and register made no difference as to the sanctity of the act.

With this young fresh companion to enliven his solitude,

« PreviousContinue »