Genevra; or, the history of a portrait / by an American lady. A resident of Washington City.

by G. G. Fairfield

I reached the Corso, and sought diligently for Augustus, amid the dense crowd there; but nothing could I see of him in that multitude, moving to and fro like the gigantic waves of the ocean. I tried several times to pass over to the other side of the street, but was pushed back at every movement I made; I gave up the attempt at last, in despair, and was about fixing my temporary abode upon a large sign post, commanding an extensive view of the street and the course where the horses were to race, when I felt myself gently plucked by the sleeve, and turning, saw a young peasant, who quietly requested me to follow him; he had spoken to me in broken English, supposing, I presume, that I did not understand Italian, but I boldly demanded in his native tongue, what he wanted of me. Some recollections flashed through my mind of stories I had heard, about strangers in Rome being entrapped at carnival time by brigands in masquerade; but a single glance at the face of this unsophisticated child of nature reassured me, and I felt that my suspicions in this instance were absurd. He uttered a joyful exclamation at hearing me speak Italian, and said that my friend, seeing me in the crowd, had sent him to find me, and requested me to come to him on the balcony of one of the old Palazzo’s fronting the Corso.

My peasant elbowed his way through the multitude to the steps of the Palazzo; he then conducted me up stairs, through a splendid suite of rooms, and out upon a balcony, where I was received by Augustus, who anxiously inquired about the good old artist; and hearing that he was too sick to accompany me, we mutually turned our attention upon the gay scene at our feet. The Corso was already filled with coaches, and persons on foot of every nation under the sun; but I saw but few masks. A ceremony of some kind or other took place, I heard, at the Capitol, which we did not see; in which a deputation of Jews formally petition the governor of the city for permission to remain in it another year, which he grants them upon condition of their paying the expenses of the races. The military swept through the streets in their showy uniform; and presently came the governor and senator (Rome’s fallen grandeur boasts but one now) in a grand procession of gilded coaches, while behind them came a great number of men, showily dressed, on horseback, bearing in their hands beautiful banners, some of them elegantly embroidered and presented by the ladies of Rome; after these had passed, the fun and merriment began.

A general pelting commenced from the windows of showers of sugar nuts, which were exchanged by those in coaches as they passed. The whole street presented a scene of childish gayety and confusion, perfectly indescribable, and, absurd as it appeared to me at first, I became much interested in the sport, and filling my pockets with “corfette,” began pelting as manfully as the silliest among them.

The windows and balconies were hung with rich silks and velvets, which, waving in a gentle breeze beneath that glorious sunny sky, mingled with the rich dresses, and often lovely faces beaming with smiles, as they surveyed the animated multitude from the windows and balconies of their homes. The loud laughter and sprightly movements of the crowd, all combined to present a brilliant scene.

The amusements of the day concluded with the horse race; a trumpet was sounded, and fifteen or sixteen ponies made their appearance, led by grooms very gayly dressed; who, after some difficulty, arranged the fiery little steeds behind a rope stretched across the street. At a given signal the rope was dropped, and away they flew down the Corso, as if the evil one was at their heels; at their sides were suspended leaden balls, filled with needles, which lashed them as they spurred forward, and the wild shouts of the crowd as they closed in behind them, sent them on with the fleetness of the wind; they ran furiously for about a mile, to the end of the street, where they were stopped by a large canvass, suspended across the way; not more than half reached the goal, and three or four, I noticed, who seemed to dislike these kinds of operations, ran off, knocking down everything and everybody who obstructed their progress. The races are repeated every evening near sunset, during the carnival.

The day’s sport being over, gradually this odd medly of human beings left the Corso. I watched the different faces and forms as they slowly disappeared; the women looking tired and languid, like drooping water lilies; the robust peasant, and languid nobleman in his carriage; the horse jockeys, and confused assortment of all sorts of vehicles, in the course of a few moments had vacated the square.

Augustus and I also left our position on the balcony, he, rather reluctantly, for he seemed to have been quite enchanted by a young beauty, stationed upon the balcony of a large house next door to the Palazzo, who had been making love to him with her lovely dark eyes during the morning; he said he should like to know who she was sighed, and seemed to feel the premonitory symptoms of one of those attacks of sentiment he had so often deprecated in me.

A grand masquerade ball was to be given in the evening at one of the theatres, for this purpose the pit was covered over, and the whole establishment thrown open. One could wear costume or not, as they chose; we preferred the civilian dress, and notwithstanding our preconceived notions of its absurdity, and determined to be mere lookers on, we had not been long there, before we became involved in the giddy whirl of fun and nonsense, and talked and laughed as foolishly as any there; almost all wore costume, but there were but few masks, many of the costumes were tasteful and costly, others were wretched, and would have disgraced the wardrobe of one of our strolling circus companys. I saw his satanic majesty sipping ices with a Polish lady, while close behind them stood a beautiful Aspasia, in another part of the room Achilles was savagely flourishing his sword, and Venus sat at the feet of her Mars. Brother Jonathan knocked against me, trying to make a first rate bargain; and Paul Pry was there, attending to everybody’s business but his own. I was deserted by Morton, who dashed after a blue domino, whom he took to be his beauty of the balcony; he was disappointed, however, for although the lady’s face was beautiful, it was not she. I saw many long-bearded Turks, fops of a hundred years ago, and exquisites of the present day, mad poets, quack doctors; and lastly, I saw what recalled to mind many early associations—two handsome young persons, evidently lovers, in the costume of Petrarch and his Laura; the girl’s face was fair and sweet in its expression, she was a fine impersonation of that interesting character, the records of whose life have been so blended with romance, that we can with difficulty distinguish the real from the fictitious; certain it is, however, that such a being as Laura once existed, and that Petrarch, enamored of her real or fancied beauty, addressed to her those eloquent sonnets, which are an ornament to the literature of his time. I remembered to have read them when a boy, by a favorite sister’s side, beneath the linden trees in the park of my father’s country seat; now that sister slept the dreamless sleep of death, under the shade of those very trees where in childhood she had played. The costume of these lovers, and the recollection of the sonnets, and my companion in their perusal, revived many a forgotten reminiscence of by-gone years.

Aurora had already begun to display her golden banner in the East, when, fagged out, and nearly stupified by our potations of champagne, we left the ball-room; daylight had begun to force its way into the salon de dance, displaying to no very fine effect, the tinsel finery, glazed muslins and pasteboards, of which the generality of the costumes were composed.