LI E) RARY 
 OF THE 
 
 V.I
 
 THE 
 
 EAUTHQUAKE; 
 
 TALE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF '' THE AYRSHIRE LEGATEES, 
 
 iJ^- 
 
 ♦^^•<^' .^>^^^-^ J 
 
 A voice in the heavens— a sound in the earth — 
 And omens and prodigies herald the birth ; — 
 But the deeds that shall be to the sins that were done, 
 Are darker than shadows to forms in the sun. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 EDINBURGH; 
 
 PRINTED FOR WILLIAM BLACKWOOD : 
 AND T. CADELL AND W. DAYIES, STRAND, LONDON. 
 
 1820.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/earthquaketale01galt
 
 -y ( TO THE 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THE 
 
 EARL OF GUILFORD, 
 
 ^c. Si-c. ^^c. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 I HAVE presumed to inscribe these 
 sketches of scenes, and characters abroad, 
 to your Lordship, as a humble mark of 
 my respect, and because I know no tra- 
 veller who can better appreciate the au- 
 'Tothenticity of the materials which have 
 ^furnished the descriptions ; your Lordship 
 having visited the greater number of the 
 places where the transactions are supposed 
 *^to have happened. I have the honour to 
 -be. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Your Lordship's 
 Most obedient humble Sei-vant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 TO THE BINDER. 
 
 In Vol. II. the two last pages of Sig. E. folios 95 and 96, are 
 cancelled, and/awr pages are substituted in their place.
 
 THE 
 
 EARTHQUAKE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Lone, wild, and slrauge, be stood alike exempt 
 Trom all affection, and from all contempt. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 JlN the evening" of the day on which the 
 city of Messina v/as destroyed by an earth- 
 quake, the magistrates met in the cathe- 
 dral, one of the few edifices which had 
 withstood the convulsion, to adopt such 
 measures as circumstances so calamitous 
 rendered indispensible. They were seated 
 within the railing- of the high altar ; and 
 the convicts, of whom a vast number were 
 employed on the public works, and who 
 were at this time objects of the first atten- 
 tion and greatest dread, stood in rows in 
 Vol. I. B
 
 2 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 their fetters on the steps. A multitude of 
 women and children, who had lost their 
 husbands and parents beneath the ruins of 
 the houses, filled the body of the church. 
 The lamps in the side chapels were lighted, 
 but they only served to increase the solem- 
 nity of a scene where darkness and confu- 
 sion, guilt and grief were rhingled tumul- 
 tuously together. 
 
 As the records of the tribunals, with all 
 other archives of the city, lay buried be- 
 neath the ruins of the senate house, the 
 Baron Alcamo proposed that the convicts 
 who were known to have been longest under 
 punishment, should be set at liberty. We 
 shall not enter into any account of the 
 Baron's argument, for he was, in his own 
 opinion, a philosopher, and of course suffi- 
 ciently long-winded for the occasion ; nor 
 can we say whether he convinced his col- 
 leagues of the expediency of what he sug- 
 gested, or whether they were induced to 
 adopt it in order to get rid of his disserta- 
 tions on the distinctive qualities of vice and 
 ,erime ; certain, however it is, they did re-
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 3 
 
 solve that the irons of several of the crimi- 
 nals should be struck off, and it was done 
 on the spot. 
 
 Some of the convicts, on finding them- 
 selves again free, fell on their knees and 
 loudly expressed their thankfulness, others 
 sullenly retired, and a few bowed respect- 
 fully to the magistrates, and walked away 
 with the erectness of virtuous resolution 
 firmly expressed in their demeanour. But 
 one man particularly attracted the notice 
 of the philosophical Baron, not only by the 
 gentlemanly air of his look, but the ab- 
 straction with which he allowed his shackles 
 to be removed, and the disconsolate indif- 
 ferency with which he sank into the crowd. 
 
 " I have often," said Francisco, the 
 Baron's nephew, a young man, who was 
 sitting behind him, '^ observed that fellow 
 on the Marina. He is a strange compound 
 of opposite qualities. 1 have seen him at 
 times toiling with rage at his task, as if he 
 would break away from the horror of his 
 state, but more frequently under the influ- 
 ence of happier feelings. When the other 
 B 2
 
 4 THE EARTHaUAXE. 
 
 felons lay stretched at noon asleep in the 
 shadow of the buildings, he has sat in the 
 sunshine, and carolled with the gaiety of a 
 bird in freedom, merrily rattling his chains 
 as an accompaniment to his song. At other 
 times, I have discovered him weeping bit- 
 terly. None of the present police officers 
 know any thing of his history, for he was a 
 convict before the last pestilence, of which 
 all their predecessors died. But they call 
 him Don Birbone, and they all treat him 
 with marked respect. His language is 
 pure and elegant, and he speaks to those 
 about him with the condescension of a per- 
 son accustomed to good society. You 
 could not but observe the smallness and 
 neatness of his ears and hands, the physical 
 indications of a mind disposed to respect 
 the feelings of others, but the glossy smooth- 
 ness of his skin shows that he is a constitu- 
 tional voluptuary.'' 
 
 The Baron listened with unusual atten- 
 tion to Francisco. His curiosity was 
 roused by the personal remarks on Don 
 Birbone, and while he thought them some-
 
 THB EARTHaUAKE. 5 
 
 M'hat philosophical, he was the more sur- 
 prised, as he had never given his ne- 
 phev^^ credit either for talent or sagacity. 
 It was certainly not much to the Baron's 
 honour, as a magistrate, to pay any atten- 
 tion at that time to such observations. But 
 gentlemen of philosophical habits are apt to 
 forget the proprieties of time and place, 
 and the Baron was particularly liable to do 
 so. His imagination was awakened by the 
 observations of Francisco, and they acted 
 on him with the influence of a spell. He 
 became restless and uneasy ; and at length, 
 being incapable of taking any further inte- 
 rest in the proceedings of that memorable 
 evening, he rose and left the church, fol- 
 lowed by his nephew. 
 
 It was a beautiful night — not a flake 
 of cloud was on the skv, and the moon 
 shone with unusual splendour. There was 
 a sensible tranquillity in the heavens, the 
 more impressive as it was awfully con- 
 trasted with the murmurs of the desolated 
 city, and the occasional crash of some frac- 
 tured edifice which the earthquake rent to 
 B 3
 
 6 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 the foundations, but had not at the time 
 thrown down. 
 
 The Baron and Francisco, after making 
 their way through the crowd in the porch 
 of the church, looked at the masses of ruin 
 which lay in every direction around, and 
 then, without speaking, descended the steps; 
 but they had not advanced above twenty 
 paces till they saw Don Birbone sitting 
 alone, apparently absorbed in thought. On 
 going towards him, they overheard him utter 
 a few emphatic sentences, and different mo- 
 tives deterred them from interrupting his 
 soliloquy. The old gentleman was curious 
 to hear what he said, and his nephew to ob- 
 serve the changes of the convict's expres- 
 sive countenance as he gazed alternately on 
 the heavens, and looked at his hands and 
 naked feet. 
 
 " It is my destiny!" exclaimed Don Bir- 
 bone, unconscious of being overheard. " It 
 is my fate! something more is required of 
 me than I have yet done — than I have yet 
 suffered, and I shall not die of hunger, 
 although starving; no : although I have not 
 yet learnt to beg."
 
 THE EARTHaUAKB. 7 
 
 The Baron, in spite of philosophy, was a 
 humane, good natured old man, and could 
 not withstand the impatient exclamations of 
 the outcast. 
 
 " What can you do, poor fellow?" said he, 
 advancing towards him, with much kindli- 
 ness in his accent, 
 
 Don Birbone rose, and looked at the 
 Baron, " What can I do? mischief!" was 
 the stern reply. 
 
 '' But what are you fit for?" enquired 
 the benevolent philosopher. 
 
 '* Nothing, nothing," answered the out- 
 cast, and turned to go away. 
 
 The Baron*s heart was melted, and he 
 hung his head in sorrow. 
 
 " What are you?" said Franciscp^ ad- 
 dressing himself briskly to the convict. 
 
 Don Birbone hastily looked back, and, 
 with some degree of indignation, said, 
 '* Do you not see what I am ?" * 
 
 " But what have you been?" interrupted 
 the old gentleman, with all his curiosity 
 alert. " What have you been ?" 
 
 The outcast paused, and looking Fran- 
 cisco steadily in the face, said, with much 
 B 4
 
 8 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 emphasis, *^ I was a man whom nature iu^ 
 tended to make happy, but fortune has 
 made most wretched. M}^ heart and pas- 
 sions have been ever at war. My will and 
 inclinations have been constantly at variance, 
 and the latter has always prevailed. My 
 soul is the slave of m} sensuality. I am one 
 of those who are convinced, by the feel- 
 ings of their own bosoms, that they are 
 doomed to perdition." 
 
 The Baron listened to this rhapsody with 
 sao'e-like equanimity, for he had been uni- 
 formly of opinion that man is a compound 
 being, a pure intelligence in mind, a gross 
 animal in body, and it seemed to him that 
 Don Birbone had very just and beautiful 
 notions with respect to the difference be- 
 tween moral and physical life. 
 
 Francisco shrank from the piercing eye 
 of the outcast, and taking his uncle by the 
 arm, said, " Let us go home, it is late, and 
 my aunt and sister, after the terrors of this 
 terrible day, stand much in need of com- 
 pany and consolation." 
 
 The Baron tacitly assented, and giving
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 9 
 
 the outcast a dollar, requested him to call 
 at his house in the morning, when he would 
 see what could be done for him. 
 
 Don Birbone took the money, and, with- 
 out returning thanks, walked quickly on a 
 few paces, but in a moment recollecting 
 himself, he turned round, and silently bowed 
 to the Baron. 
 
 " What a noble spirit has been mortified 
 by the degradation of that man,'' exclaimed 
 the old gentleman, as he took hold of his 
 nephew's arm. *' He may yet become an 
 ornament to the world if we can reinstate 
 him in his own good opinion, which, with 
 the help of the blessed Virgin, I will endea- 
 vour to do." 
 
 ** I am afraid," replied Francisco, '^ that 
 your endeavour will be in vain. The man, 
 notwithstanding what he says, is a natural 
 criminal. He thinks only of himself^ he 
 feels but for himself; and he is so accustomed 
 to indulge himself, that he has contrived 
 reasons and motives for doing ill, by per- 
 suading himself that he is predestinated to 
 perdition."
 
 JO THE EARTHQUAKE* 
 
 " You are a fool, and not fit to be spoken 
 to!** cried the Baron peevishly, and he 
 swung- his nephew's arm angrily away : 
 ** You are a fool, and you know nothing of 
 human nature ; indeed, how should you — a 
 boy, an impertinent boy.'* 
 
 By this time they had reached the portal 
 of their residence, and the Baron in his 
 anger, bruised his thumb as he plied the 
 knocker for admission, an occurrence which 
 did not tend to restore the philosophical 
 amenity of his temper.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. U 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 They seem'd even then— that twain— unto the last 
 To half forget the present in the past ; 
 To share between themselves some separate fate. 
 Whose darkness none besides should penetrate. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 A^iONCt other noble mansions, in which 
 the possessors were buried beneath their 
 ruins, was the palace of Count Corneli. It 
 had been a stately and extensive pile, con- 
 structed with much architectural ornament, 
 and furnished with the costhest productions 
 of the arts and genuis of France and Italy. 
 The Count himself was considered the most 
 accomplished man in Messina, but a veil of 
 mystery hung over him, and while he was 
 universally admired for his attainments, 
 every one, admitted to his society, was struck
 
 12 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 with something" in his manner, which could 
 not be easily described. It was not that 
 kind of reserve which invests many men of 
 the greatest talents in general company, nor 
 that undefinable effect of superior minds, 
 which the weak or vulgar never under- 
 stand ; but an instability which can be 
 compared only to an unequal temper. In 
 the most cheerful and disengaged moments 
 of conversational ease, he would often sud- 
 denly fall silentj even in the middle of a 
 sentence, and his countenance become over- 
 cast ; at other times, when listening ap- 
 parently with perfect attention to any of 
 his visitors, he would abruptly begin another 
 topic,* which perhaps was only connected 
 with what he had been hearing by th^ 
 slight association of a single word. 
 
 He had married early in life a sister of the 
 Baron Alcamo, and lived with her at Pa- 
 lermo. In due time after their Ufurriage, 
 she presented him with a son, but she her- 
 self, it was commonly understood, had been 
 seized with madness at the birth, and after 
 all the skill of the capital had been tried in
 
 THE E.\.RTHatJAKE. 13 
 
 vain, she was sent to a convent, where she 
 soon after died. There were, at one time, 
 unpleasant reports respecting* an accident 
 that she had met with in being" conveyed to 
 the convent, in consequence of escaping", as 
 it was said, from the person who had charge 
 of her, but the particulars were never well 
 known ; for her relations, if they knev/ 
 more than the public, preserved a profound 
 silence on the subject. After her death, 
 the Count, although before that lamentable 
 event, one of the gayest men in the metro- 
 polis, withdrew from all society, and tra- 
 velled over the greatest part of Europe, 
 in quest of that happiness which he had 
 lost, or forfeited. If however he could 
 not find peace of mind, he acquired a rich 
 variety of knowledge, and when he chose 
 to exert himself, few men excelled him in 
 the justness of his political reflections, or 
 in the correctness of his taste in whatever 
 was interesting, with regard to the arts or 
 literature of the different countries which 
 he had visited. Such was the common re- 
 port regarding him.
 
 14 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 About a year before the earthquake b^ 
 came to reside at Messii.a, his native town, 
 where at first he entertained a great deal of 
 company and visited frankly, as if resolved 
 at last to overcome that melancholy, which 
 for more than eighteen years had oppressed 
 his faculties, and obscured the natural 
 splendour of his endowments. But one day, 
 as he w as walking on the Marina, he started 
 at the sight of some person whom he 
 observed in a knot of people round a 
 mountebank, and returned suddenly home. 
 From that hour he never stirred abroad, and 
 the vulgar report was, that he had been 
 blighted by the glimpse of an evil eye ; 
 a thousand vasfue and foolish stories were 
 indeed spread concerning this incident, and 
 which had the effect of rendering him an 
 object of great interest to the multitude, 
 so much so, that when it was known he was 
 alive beneath the broken arches and fallen 
 columns of his mansion, a vast assemblage of 
 persons collected from all parts of the city 
 round the spot, in the expectation of seeing 
 something very extraordinary take place.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 15 
 
 Father Anselmo, a Benedictine friar, 
 who justly merited the perpetual grati- 
 tude of the city, for the zeal with which 
 he assisted the inhabitants to superintend 
 a band of labourers appointed by the ma- 
 gistrates to dig out those who where disco- 
 vered to be alive in the ruins, on hearins: 
 that Count Corneli was in this situation, 
 hastened to his assistance. It happened 
 as he and his attendants passed along, 
 that Don Birbone was standing at a small 
 huxtry booth, greedily eating a morsel of 
 bread which the charity of Baron Alcamo had 
 enabled him to purchase ; the convict, struck 
 with the haste of the people, enquired of 
 the friar where they were going so fast, and 
 on being told to dig out Count Corneli, who 
 was alive under the ruins of his palace, the 
 bread dropped from the convict's hand, and 
 he exclaimed, in a tone of exultation almost 
 terrible, ** Corneli alive and in Messina !" 
 The crowd hurried on, and he joined them. 
 
 Father Anselmo, on reaching the spot, 
 having ascertained where the Count was,
 
 16 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 instructed the labourers to proceed cauti- 
 ously lest the fragments which hung loosely 
 together should fall and crush them; but 
 Don Birbone, heedless of his admonition, 
 seized a pickaxe, and began to dig and 
 plunge it into the mingled wreck of mar- 
 bles and furniture. In vain did Ansel mo 
 entreat him to desist, till the superincum- 
 bent mass, undermined by his exertions, 
 began to shake, and falling down with a 
 hideous crash and hurl, almost suffocated 
 him with dust; but he had given liberty to 
 the Count, and springing forward on obtain- 
 ing the first glimpse of his person, drew 
 him out into the air. 
 
 A glance of mutual recognition took 
 place instantly between them; the convict 
 appeared triumphant, but the Count seemed 
 abashed and terrified ; the people ascribed 
 the exultation of Don Birbone to his suc- 
 cess, and the pale and abject looks of the 
 nobleman to the dreadful imprisonment 
 from which he had been released. 
 
 In the course of a few minutes, however, 
 the Count recovered his wonted self pos-
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 17 
 
 session, and assuming the habitual dignity of 
 his deportment, cordially recommended Don 
 Birbone to the care of Father Anselmo, as- 
 suring him, at the same time, tliat he might 
 freely claim to participate in his fortune. 
 The crowd who heard this, and for whom it 
 was intended, applauded the just gene- 
 rosity of Corneli ; but the audacious felon 
 smiled at the expression, and gave the Count 
 a look so significant, that he was a second 
 time abashed and subdued to the most ab- 
 ject timidity. 
 
 The Friar, who had not attended to what 
 passed, informed Corneli that the house of 
 his friend the Baron Alcamo had withstood 
 the shock of the earthquake, advising him 
 to retire there for the night ; the Count, 
 without speaking, moved to go away, and 
 the convict indicated by his manner an inten- 
 tion to accompany him, but the former, in 
 evident alarm, abruptly requested him to 
 remain with the Friar, till he could make 
 some arrangement for suitably rewarding 
 his services. Don Birbone paused for a 
 moment and placed his finger on his lip, as if
 
 18 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 reflecting on what he ought to do, and 
 Cornell hesitated awaiting his decision. 
 The convict looked at him askance, and ob- 
 serving his uncertainty, bowed, apparently 
 with much humility, and thanking him for 
 his goodness in setting so high a value on his 
 service, respectfully wished him good night. 
 
 The Count bowed in return and walked 
 away in silence, with despondency so visibly 
 depicted in his countenance, that the crowd 
 were touched with a sentiment of awe for 
 which none of them could account. 
 
 When he reached the residence of the 
 Baron, he found the old gentleman and his 
 nephew in a pertinacious conversation re- 
 specting Don Birbone, and which they 
 scarcely suspended to give him welcome, 
 or to congratulate him on his deliverance. 
 
 The Baron was decidedly of opinion that 
 the convict was an unfortunate man of rank, 
 whom the malice of fortune, or the trea- 
 chery of friends, had driven into some rash 
 act of criminal indiscretion ; and Francisco 
 was no less persuaded, that he was only 
 one of those adventurers of low origin, who 
 are led by peculiar endowments of mind
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 19 
 
 and person, to acquire tastes and habits 
 above their condition, and seduced into a 
 life of expedients, sink step by step into a 
 course of crimes. " Such men," said Fran- 
 cisco, **even in the greatest depravity, retain 
 a keen sense of remorse, but the strength 
 of their passions, and the flexibility which 
 habits of deceit and artifice oive to their 
 principles, render them infinitively more 
 dangerous to society than delinquents of 
 less qualified wickedness." 
 
 It was at this point of their argument, 
 that the Count entered. Francisco was 
 much struck with his wan and troubled 
 countenance, and eyed him inquisitively, but 
 said nothing. The Baron, after hastily en- 
 quiring how he had escaped from the 
 fall of his house, without waiting for a re- 
 ply, told him with much self satisfaction, that 
 he had procured the emancipation of several 
 of the convicts, and described Don Birbone 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 Francisco, during the time that his uncle 
 was speaking, kept his eye steadily fixed on 
 the Count, and when he had finished, said, 
 " I think; my lord, that you have known this
 
 20 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 Don Birbone?" A gleam of alarm wavered 
 over the visage of Cornell, but in a moment 
 he was again master of himself, and answer- 
 ed negligently, '* I dare say it is the same 
 person to whom 1 am indebted for my de- 
 liverance from the ruins." 
 
 ** Why then do you dread him ?'' en- 
 quired Francisco ; but before the Count 
 had time to answer, the door was thrown 
 open, and Father Ansehno with Don Bir- 
 bone entered. 
 
 Corneli was startled ; but when the con- 
 vict approached him with an air of respect- 
 ful deference, he recovered himself, and 
 again thanked him for the service which he 
 had rendered him, with so much warmth, 
 that Francisco thought he was anxious to 
 remove some doubt of his sincerity, and 
 said, seemingly unconscious of the force of 
 his words, '' Do not be afraid of him, my 
 lord." 
 
 Don Birbone looked at the ingenuous 
 countenance of the young man with such 
 amazement in his features, that it might 
 have been mistaken for tenor, had it not
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 21 
 
 been instantly sicklied over with the pale 
 cast of thought. Francisco blushed as if 
 he had committed some gross impropriety, 
 and immediately retired to another part of 
 the room. A short general conversation 
 then took place between the rest of the 
 party, and when Don Birbone and the friar 
 moved to go away, the Baron, in total for- 
 getfulness of the character of the former, 
 invited them to supper that evening. The 
 Count was thunderstruck, and seemed at a 
 loss to divine the motives of the old gentle- 
 man. Francisco was also surprised, but 
 more indignant than surprised, at what he 
 conceived to be a philosophical folly in his 
 uncle; and after the two strangers had re- 
 tired he fell into a reverie, wondtrino^ wliv 
 they should have come at such a time of 
 night, and apparently without any definite 
 motive.
 
 22 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The old 
 And crazy earth has had her shaking fits. 
 
 COWPEE. 
 
 Dreadful as the convulsion ivvas whicli, 
 in the course of less than half a minute, 
 shook the splendid city of Messina into 
 fraofnients, and buried thousands of the 
 inhabitants beneath the ruins, the silent 
 horrors of the scene next morning were, 
 to the humane heart, still more appalling*. 
 During- tne earthquake the cries and dis- 
 traction of the people were overwhelmed 
 in the thunder of the faUing edifices, and 
 the roarinof of the sea that fled and re- 
 turned with a furious violence. The pre- 
 sence of the destroying angel was veiled 
 in the clouds of dust which filled the 
 mid-dav air with suffocating darkness. It 
 was only by looking at the print of his
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 23 
 
 steps when the clouds had rolled away, that 
 the terrors of his might and wrath could be 
 duly appreciated. 
 
 Francisco rose at day-break with the in- 
 tention of ascertaining- what had been the 
 fate of his different acquaintances, and par- 
 ticularly of a young man of the name of 
 Salvator Patrano, his most intimate compa- 
 nion, who lived in a distant quarter of the 
 town. But the streets were choked with 
 rubbish, and the face of every object so 
 changed that he lost his way, and, after 
 wandering about for some time, he burst 
 into tears at finding himself a bewildered 
 stranger in his native city. 
 
 He had passed churches which the peo- 
 ple dreaded to enter, for the vaulted roofs 
 were riven asunder, and the pillars that 
 supported them overhung their pedestals in 
 the very act of falling. In one he saw the 
 body of the officiating priest crushed be- 
 neath the statue of a saint that had been 
 cast down from its niche while he was ele- 
 vating the host at the altar. In others, 
 where the people crowded during the con-
 
 24 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 vulsion, and from which, while the walls 
 were splitting, they had as madly attempted 
 to escape, he witnessed the most frightful 
 spectacles of the dead and living, so locked 
 and grasped, and kneaded, as it were, into 
 masses together, that in many instances the 
 persons employed in separating them were 
 obliged, to cut the dead bodies to pieces, be- 
 fore they could get the survivors extricated. 
 But of all these terrible sights none affected 
 him more deeply than the scene around 
 tlie corpse of an old man, which his family 
 seemed to have been depositing in a cada- 
 very at the very moment when the city was 
 shaken asunder. The roof had fallen in 
 upon them as they were bringing the bier 
 into tlie middle of the charnel-house, and all 
 the mourners were killed on the spot, while 
 the body remained uninjured; and the dif- 
 ferent skeletons stood around unmoved and 
 entire, except one, which a little boy belong- 
 ing to the funeral had convulsively seized 
 by the leg and drawn across the heap of 
 ruins which had crushed himself to death. 
 In several places he passed knots of little
 
 THE EARTHUtJAKE. 25 
 
 children, sitting* with their heads together, 
 crying for their parents, and shivering with 
 hunger. In others, he saw helpless old 
 men who had lost their all and survived all 
 their friends. When he first found himself 
 at a loss to know his way, he enquired of a 
 lady who was sitting gaily dressed at a 
 window, and, as she did not answer, he 
 thought she had not heard : he spoke to her 
 again, and she looked at him. He address- 
 ed her a third time, but she only glared 
 wildly^and raising her hands, shook them 
 fearfully, and, turning her head away, made 
 no reply. 
 
 In many instances the sufferers were 
 struck with a permanent consternation still 
 more distressing, and he passed an old wo- 
 man who was dandling the mangled body 
 of her grand-child, and bestowing on it all 
 the epithets of endearment. He stopped, 
 fascinated by the perfection of her misery, 
 and she noticed him. In the same moment, 
 an afflicting ray of reason seemed to dart 
 across her mind, and, glancing a terrified 
 look at the corpse to which she was singing 
 
 Vol. 1. c
 
 26 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 SO fondly, she dashed it from her with 
 a scream of horror and disgust, hiding 
 her face in her hands against the refted 
 walls of her roofless house. Francisco 
 himself ran from the spot, but he was 
 soon stopped by a crowd round a crazed 
 paralytic friar, whom the police patrol were 
 dragging to prison. He had been dis- 
 covered in the act of robbing a church of 
 the relics of a martyr, celebrated for their 
 miraculous efficacy. They had been in- 
 closed in a golden casket, which the priests 
 belonging to the church accused him of at- 
 tempting to steal, as he had burst it open; 
 but it was only the sacred bones that he 
 wanted, and he held them still in his hand. 
 
 The emotion arising from so many suc- 
 cessive scenes of madness and affliction 
 became insupportable to Francisco, and he 
 sat down on the steps of a mansion, the 
 walls of which had fallen inwards, with a 
 weariness of heart as depressing as the 
 fatigue of a long journey, and soon after a 
 young man came to him and addressed him 
 by name ; he looked up, but did not know
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 27 
 
 the stranger, who, much affected, took him 
 by the hand, and said, " Good Heavens, my 
 dear Franciso, do you not know me ?" It 
 was his friend and daily associate Salvator 
 Patrano. Francisco instantly rose and em- 
 braced him, and enquired with tears what 
 he had suffered to occasion so g:reat a 
 change in his appearance. The other how- 
 ever told him, that his own looks were also 
 so altered from what they had been but the 
 day before, that had he not seen him from a 
 distance he should not have known him. — 
 These mournful changes were much ob- 
 served after the earthquake, and were 
 among some of its most striking effects, as 
 if the horror of the shock had deranged the 
 very physical frame of the inhabitants. 
 
 Francisco, in walking from the place 
 where he had been sitting, told Salvator 
 what had happened regarding Don Birbone, 
 and the indiscribable intelligence which 
 seemed to exist between him and Count 
 Corneli. At any other time Salvator would 
 have ridiculed his notions respecting this 
 mysterious sympathy, for he considered Fran- 
 c2
 
 28 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 Cisco liable to indulg-e a superstitious dis- 
 position ; but the terrible spectacles, every 
 where around, filled him with awe, and he 
 listened to him attentively, but did not 
 reply. 
 
 As they proceeded towards the Marina to 
 view the havoc there, they were stopped by a 
 crowd assembled round the ruins of a con vent, 
 in which many of the sisterhood had perished. 
 Among the persons most active in assisting 
 to extricate the survivors, Francisco saw 
 Don Birbone, and pointed him out to his 
 friend as he came from the portal, bearing 
 in^ his arms one of the nuns, who had been 
 severely bruised. In coming forward with 
 his burden, the convict stumbled on the 
 rubbish, and the nun being in consequence 
 painfully shaken, uttered a feeble ejacula- 
 tion to the Holy Virgin. Don Birbone, in 
 the same instant, paused and looked ear- 
 nestly into her pale and emaciated face, and 
 both Francisco and Salvator were struck 
 with the conflict of feelings which his own 
 countenance immediately manifested. He 
 however soon subdued his agitation, and
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 29 
 
 carrying the nun gently to a short distance 
 from the gate, laid her softly down, and re- 
 questing- Father Anselmo, who was standing 
 near the spot, to pay her some attention, 
 immediately disappeared among the spec- 
 tators. 
 
 There was something so remarkable in 
 this little scene, that the two friends felt 
 themselves involuntarily constrained to take 
 apart in it, and accordingly, as soon as the 
 convict left the nun, they went towards her. 
 Francisco tendered her his best assistance, 
 but instead of making him any answer she 
 turned her eyes languidly on him, and gazed 
 intently in his face, while he at the same 
 time experienced an indistinct reminiscence 
 of having seen her before. In this however 
 he was mistaken, for while he was bending 
 over her as she lay on the ground, one of 
 the menials of the convent came to speak 
 with the Friar ; and Salvator, addressing 
 himself to her, learnt that the unfortunate 
 sister had only the evening before the 
 earthquake come from the city of Sciacca, 
 
 where she had been many years in a convent. 
 c 3
 
 30 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 In consequence of this information, the 
 friends thought it would be impertinent to 
 obtrude themselves any longer on her at- 
 tention, and they accordingly walked away, 
 Father Anselmo and the servitor having 
 assured them that she should be speedily 
 carried to a place of safety and refuge.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Pish ! these moral mysteries are incredulous. 
 
 Webster and Rowley. 
 
 Francisco was in the twenty-second year 
 of his age, and different opinions were enter- 
 tained of him among his friends and acquaint- 
 ance. He had certainly made no great pro- 
 ficiency in his studies at school, for he was 
 tall and of quick growth, and it has been 
 remarked, that boys of that description are 
 seldom apt scholars. But he was early 
 distinguished for a singular acuteness of 
 tact, and comprehended what passed in the 
 minds of those with whom he conversed so 
 instantaneously, that his discernment often 
 excited the greatest surprise. In his dis- 
 position he was simple and ingenuous, but 
 tinctured with enthusiasm ; and having no 
 reservation in his reflections, notions and 
 expressions escaped him, often exceedingly 
 c4
 
 32 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 provoking' to those whom he addressed ; but 
 occasionally he made observations so philo- 
 sophical and profound, that even wiser men 
 than the Baron Alcamo, his uncle, were 
 astonished, and puzzled to reconcile these 
 shining intervals of genius with the incon- 
 siderate weaknesses which rendered his 
 general behaviour unsatisfactory. 
 
 In his person he was, as I have already- 
 intimated, above the ordinary stature, and he 
 stooped in his gait, but it was with that pe- 
 culiar inflection of the body which indicates 
 thoughtfulness. For at times he would 
 erect himself with an air of surprising 
 dignity, which showed that his habitual in- 
 clination to look upon the ground was not 
 the effect of weakness or deformity. His 
 complexion was a pale olive ; his features 
 were prominent and strikingly expressive ; 
 his teeth bright and well set, and his eyes 
 were uncommonly small, and more remark- 
 able for a peering inquisitive cast, than 
 either for beauty or brilliancy. In a word, 
 it was impossible to see this young man in 
 the streets without being struck with his
 
 THE BARTHaUAKE. 33 
 
 appearance ; for there was a thoughtful 
 absent air about him, that might have been 
 mistaken for silliness, while there were 
 also a degree of character and intellect in 
 his sudden looks, that bespoke interest and 
 respect. 
 
 His education had not been well con- 
 ducted, and his talents consequently had 
 not been fairly developed. He was well 
 acquainted with many books and different 
 subjects, but his attention had not been 
 judiciously directed to any particular object 
 of study, and accordingly it happened that 
 while his logic was inconclusive, his apo- 
 thegms and arguments were pregnant with 
 undeniable truths. But the inherent defect 
 of his intellectual character was undoubtedly 
 that mysticism to which I have adverted, 
 and which often betrayed him into a belief 
 of those things, which all correct philosophy 
 at once denies and regrets the evidence. 
 
 Although born at Messina, he was brought 
 up from childhood at the beautiful vil- 
 lage of Pati, situated on the northern coast 
 of Sicily, opposite to the Lipari Islands and 
 c5
 
 S4 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 the ever-burning volcano of Strombolo. The 
 buildings of Pati, like those of other villages, 
 are mean and irregular; but the environs are 
 delightful, and the valley which it overlooks 
 abounds in rural and romantic objects. In a 
 fine autumnal evening, when the stream in 
 the valley runs clear, and the sea is calm, 
 and the smoke of Strombolo stands on the 
 mountain in the form of a majestic tree, it is 
 impossible to desire a sweeter retreat than 
 Pati ; and the scenery was engraven on the 
 memory of Francisco, in that state, touched 
 with the tenderest poetical associations. 
 On the surrounding hills he had spent many 
 days alone ; he was indeed in his boyhood a 
 strange and solitary creature, but not un- 
 social. He delighted to trace the recondite 
 resemblances of things, and to muse on the 
 coincidence of dissimilar circumstances, 
 until he had persuaded himself that the 
 whole frame of the world, with all the liv- 
 ing inhabitants of the earth, constitute but 
 one great machine, and that however va- 
 rious their motions and movements, a reci- 
 procal correspondence exists between all
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 35 
 
 the parts. This persuasion was the basis 
 of his reflections, and the fulcrum of his 
 actions. He was heedless alike of what he 
 said or did, but so correct were his feelings, 
 that he seldom committed any natural fault, 
 although constantly violating the artificial 
 proprieties of society. 
 
 His friend Salvator was in almost every 
 essential point of character the reverse. In 
 his person he was meagre, the effect of some 
 innate infirmity of constitution, and he had 
 been so early accustomed to take care of his 
 health, that the habit had grown into a sort 
 of physical decorum which regulated the 
 very method of his walk and deportment. 
 In judgment he was superior to most youno- 
 men of his age, and he had been educated 
 so judiciously that his natural abilities were 
 seen to so much advantage, that a general 
 expectation prevailed that he would one day 
 become a distinguished ornament to his 
 country. But if he actually did possess any 
 superiority of talent, it was blighted by his 
 bodily indisposition, for he never executed 
 any thing above respectable mediocrity. In
 
 36 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 his affections he was cold and systematic, 
 and while he judged with severity of the 
 indiscretions of his neighbours, he preserved 
 himself blameless by the retired sobriety 
 which his infirm health obliged him to 
 practice. The only individual in whose wel- 
 fare he ever took any interest was Francisco, 
 but it was doubtful to say whether their in- 
 timacy in what concerned him could be en- 
 titled to the name of friendship, for in the 
 subsequent trials and difficulties to which 
 the enthusiast was exposed, he seemed to 
 shrink from the responsibility which he had 
 incurred by having been so long his parti- 
 cular associate. A character of this kind is 
 the most unsatisfactory in all its relations — 
 the code of decorum is substituted for the 
 emotions of the heart, and the tribunal of 
 public opinion is oftener appealed to than 
 the eternal principles of affection. But it is 
 the sort of character which, in a certain scale 
 of private life, obtains the greatest share of 
 respect — it obtains the homage usually paid 
 to virtue by merely abstaining from doing as 
 little wrong, as it is negative in good. It
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. S7 
 
 cannot be trusted in the hour of adversity, 
 and it chills the satisfaction of prosperity, by 
 the prudential circumspection of its congra- 
 tulations. 
 
 The father of Francisco died while he was 
 an infant, and his mother having retired to a 
 convent about two years before the earth- 
 quake, he had come to reside with his uncle, 
 the Baron Alcamo, at Messina. The old 
 gentleman, as the reader has been already 
 informed, had considerable pretensions to 
 the character of a philosopher, and it is but 
 strict justice to say, that as far as a know- 
 ledge of books can constitute a claim to the 
 title, he had acquired as good a right to it 
 as some of the most presumptuous critics of 
 London, or Paris, or even of Edinburgh. 
 
 It was not, however, very easy to under- 
 stand in what the worthy Baron's philosophy 
 consisted ; but it undoubtedly had the effect 
 of rendering him testy and impatient of 
 contradiction, and of inspiring him with a 
 snappish contempt for the opinions of every 
 one who would not subscribe to his dogmas. 
 He was nevertheless a good kind of hu-
 
 38 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 mourist, and dressed himself with great care 
 and decorum ; wore spacious knee and shoe 
 buckles, a handsome sword, which by the 
 bye is not a philosophical instrument ; and 
 moreover, in addition to a well frizzled snowy 
 periwig", a cocked hat of the amplest dimen- 
 sions. 
 
 His family, besides Francisco, consisted 
 of Madam the Baroness, and Adelina his 
 niece, the sister of Francisco. The Baroness 
 was a lady more distinguished for the mag- 
 nitude of her body than the capacity of her 
 mind, but she was kindly and good hu- 
 moured, and cherished the utmost respect 
 for the learning and wisdom of her hus- 
 band — a felicity which few philosophers 
 enjoy in their domestic circle. 
 
 Adelina was just entering her twentietli 
 year, and was formed in the most voluptuous 
 mould of Italian beauty, but with so timid 
 and innocent an air, that those who admired 
 her the most, thought more of the interesting 
 sweetness of her beseeching eyes than the 
 full rounded luxuriousness of her person. In 
 her heart she was devoted to the cloister.
 
 THHE EARTHQUAKE. S9 
 
 but her aunt was so kind to her, her uncle 
 so happy with her, and her brother so dear 
 to her, that she stifled the reliHous wishes 
 of her own spirit, and was content to endure 
 the trials and vicissitudes of the world, with 
 the meekness of a martyr, for the sake of 
 these affectionate friends. 
 
 But it is time that we should resume the 
 thread of our narrative, especially as we have 
 much to tell respecting prior events.
 
 40 THE EAKTHQUAKE, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The devils whom Faustus serv'd have torn him thus ; 
 For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one methought 
 IJieard hira shriek and cry aloud for help; 
 At which self-time the house seem'd all on fire ; 
 With dreadful horror of these damned fiends. 
 
 Marlowe. 
 
 While the Baron's cook, Signor Scalde- 
 rava, after dressing an excellent supper, was 
 frying and stewing himself with impatience 
 for orders to send it np, the family sat un- 
 concerned in the saloon where the cloth was 
 laid, waiting the arrival of expected guests. 
 Count Corneli had taken up his abode with 
 them, and the Baron was discussing with 
 him the nature and causes of earthquakes in 
 a very philosophical manner, to which the 
 Baroness listened with delighted attention, 
 although in sober truth she did not under-
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 41 
 
 stand a sinof'le sentence of their conversation. 
 Adelina sat at the window enjoying* the 
 coohiess of the evening* air, and having but 
 little to think about, was looking, in a brown 
 study, at an old decrepid harridan in the 
 street selling melons, caviar, salted tunny 
 fish, and dried figs from a wheel-barrow. 
 Francisco lay stretched on a sofa, in an ob- 
 scure part of the room, asleep with indolence 
 as his aunt said, for his eyes were open, but 
 their sense was shut. He however heard 
 what was passing', and was actually engaged 
 in forming a theory of earthquakes, accord- 
 ing to his mechanico-moral system of the 
 universe. 
 
 The Count happened to observe to the 
 Baron that it was difficult to comprehend 
 the utility of many natural phenomena, and 
 especially such a destructive earthquake as 
 the city had just experienced. Francisco, 
 without altering his position, and keeping 
 his eye fixed on a spider that was seeking a 
 proper place to fasten his web to on the 
 carved cieling, said drily, " Perhaps they
 
 42 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 not only punish sins, but help to discover 
 secrets.*' 
 
 ** What secrets?'' exclaimed the Baron, 
 angry at his impertinence. 
 
 " I don't know," replied Francisco, " but 
 the Count may be able to give you some in- 
 formation on the subject." 
 
 " Fool !" cried the old gentleman, and 
 turned to address himself again to Corneli, 
 but the countenance of that elegant noble- 
 man was so changed, that instead of resum- 
 ing the conversation, he inquired if he was 
 ill. 
 
 Francisco looked up suddenl}^ but said 
 nothing. 
 
 Before the Count could reply, Adelina 
 observed that Father Anselmo and another 
 friar were at the gate, and the Baroness 
 called to the servants to make haste with 
 supper. 
 
 *' It must be the convict," said Francisco 
 to himself. " Don Birbone is here," cried 
 the Baron, and in the same moment he en- 
 tered with Father Anselmo.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 43 
 
 Francisco turned his eyes towards the 
 door, and saw the felon in the garb of a Ca- 
 puchin friar, but with gloves on his hands, 
 a circumstance which roused his curiosity. 
 
 Corneli dropped his eyelids, and appeared 
 confused and abashed in the presence of the 
 mysterious stranger. 
 
 Don Birbone sat down near the Baron, 
 and while he was thanking him for his kind- 
 ness, Francisco rose from the sofa, and going 
 up to them, tapped the convict on the shoul- 
 der, and pointing to the gloves, said, " How 
 long will it be, friend, before your hands 
 recover their natural hue and softness ?" 
 
 Don Birbone, with perfect self-possession 
 and a familiar gentlemanly smile, replied, 
 '^ About six weeks.'* 
 
 " Six weeks," repeated Francisco, and 
 immediately added abruptly. " How often 
 have you tried gloves in this way before ?" 
 
 Don Birbone darted a wild look at him, 
 and leaving his seat walked towards the 
 Count, whom he at first approached with a 
 resolute air, but checking himself suddenly,
 
 44- THE EARTIiaUAKE. 
 
 assumed the most profound humility and 
 respect. 
 
 Francisco noticed the ^vhole of his beha- 
 viour with a degree of curiosity so intense, 
 that it was almost as painful as anxiety. 
 Father Anselmo had in the mean time ad- 
 dressed himself to the Baroness, and point- 
 ing" to the convict, said, " He is an extraor- 
 dinary man, and 1 doubt not was originally 
 a g-entleman.'* 
 
 " I don't think so,'' interrupted Fran- 
 cisco, who had overheard the Friar's ob- 
 servation, and going briskly towards Don 
 Birbone, inquired how long he had been a 
 convict. 
 
 ** Sixteen years ! it has been my mis- 
 fortune" — was the emphatic answer. 
 
 These few words were uttered with so 
 many inflections of voice, and with such 
 suppressed emotion, that it produced a mo- 
 mentary awe on all except Francisco. 
 
 In the meantime, much to the satisfaction 
 of Signor Scalderava, the cook, supper was 
 placed on the table, and when the company
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 45 
 
 took their seats, Don Birbone sat down next 
 to Adelina. 
 
 During supper Cornell was sometimes 
 dejected and absent, at others cheerful and 
 talkative. The Baroness was ever and anon 
 chiding" Francisco for absence and inadver- 
 tency. Anselmo recounted to the Baron the 
 different measures that he had superintended 
 to extricate the inhabitants from the ruins, 
 and Don Birbone, the felon, with an easy 
 assurance endeavoured to engross the atten- 
 tion of the lovely and pious Adelina. The 
 vivacity of his countenance was in this si- 
 tuation so different from the morose scowl 
 which he commonly wore, that he seemed 
 to be quite another being. But in the opi- 
 nion of Francisco, who watched him nar- 
 rowly, the expression of his physiognomy 
 was more disagreeable than before. It was 
 bold and sensual, a strong animal earnest- 
 ness with which but little intellectual ex- 
 pression was blended ; amidst the darker 
 trouble of his visage, however, the glow of 
 purer thoughts were sometimes visible, like 
 transient vistas of the moonlighted sky seen
 
 46 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 through the openings of black and tempes- 
 tuous clouds. 
 
 Francisco shuddered, and wished his sis- 
 ter at Jerico rather than so near a manifest 
 libertine, a felon that had already been 
 several times subjected to public punish- 
 ment. But she was unconscious of any 
 danger, and listened to Don Birbone with 
 an innocent patience of look that shewed 
 the most perfect indifference to all he said. 
 The audacious reprobate, piqued by her 
 negligence, redoubled his endeavours to 
 attract her notice, till he happened to meet 
 the vigilant eye of her brother, from which 
 he shrunk within himself, as if he had been 
 detected in the perpetration of some guilty 
 purpose. 
 
 *< I see you can relish liberty," said Fran- 
 cisco, bitterly. 
 
 *' I mean to do so," was the menacing- 
 retort of the criminal, accompanied with a 
 look that he meant should command; but 
 the simple young man to whom it was ad- 
 dressed, began to feel the latent energy 
 of his own powers, and replied^ *' Be-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 47 
 
 ware!" with the frown and sternness of an 
 aveng*er. 
 
 Brief as this colloquy was, it attracted the 
 attention of the Count, who looked alter- 
 nately at Francisco and Don Birbone, un- 
 able to comprehend the meaning of what 
 passed, but fearful and anxious about its im- 
 port. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Baron was so engrossed 
 by Father Anselmo, that he had been en- 
 tirely prevented from holding any conver- 
 sation with the convict, and he wished the 
 Friar twenty times buried in the ruins from 
 which he had assisted to rescue so many 
 men, women, and children, that there 
 seemed to be no end to his narrative. The 
 whole evening passed away without afford- 
 ing him an opportunity to ask a single ques- 
 tion, so that when the guests rose to take 
 leave for the night, he stepped cordially 
 round the table to Don Birbone, and was 
 on the point of requesting to see him again, 
 when Francisco rose indignantly? and ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 ** Sir, if you respect yourself or your 
 family, let us see no more of that man»"
 
 4S THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 The countenance of Cornell brightened 
 at this sally; but, in the same instant, the 
 convict looked at him so significantly that 
 his lips became pallid, and he shook with 
 aoritation. The Friar bowed and hurried 
 away. The Baron gazed at his nephew 
 petrified with astonishment; the Baroness 
 clasped her hands together, believing him 
 stark mad; and Adelina, no less surprised 
 than either, stepped aside and serenely 
 awaited the result; for Don Birbone seemed 
 resolved to defy her brother. Francisco, 
 however, without heeding the front of his 
 audacity, turned to him with a calm and 
 dignified frown, and said, " Whatever may 
 have been the crimes and errors of your 
 past life, be assured that they have given 
 you no warrant to obtrude your infamy into 
 this house. If Count Corneli has at any 
 time been so far left to himself, as to com- 
 mit his honour and character to your discre- 
 tion, he alone must be responsible for the 
 consequences." 
 
 The Count attempted, in great confu- 
 sion, to interrupt Francisco, but the indig- 
 nant young man exclaimed,
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 49 
 
 " Silence, ray lord, silence! you have for- 
 feited your own respect, and cannot obtain 
 mine. I seek not to know what secret 
 compact of mutual guilt has connected you 
 with that felon. But convinced that you 
 are in his power, and that he is bad, I re- 
 quire no angel to tell me, that by your 
 means, he may bring grief and infamy into 
 this family; I therefore command you both 
 instantly to quit the house.*' 
 
 The Baron lifted his hand, and would 
 have rebuked Francisco for presuming thus 
 to dictate to his guests, but the other calmly, 
 prevented him, by saying, 
 
 " There is no one present that ought to 
 be offended at what I do. The two crimi- 
 nals there understand me, and you who do 
 not, must be satisfied that a person who has 
 been so long under public punishment, can 
 never be a fit guest in the house of any 
 honourable man. The Count, it is true, has 
 hitherto borne an unspotted name, but that 
 has only been during the short time he has 
 resided in Messina : what he may have done 
 
 Vol. I. D
 
 50 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 elsewhere, his own conscience and this con- 
 vict best can tell." 
 
 Francisco would have proceeded, but 
 Don Birbone, with an agitated countenance 
 and a faltering' voice, interrupted him, and 
 said to Corneli, 
 
 ** My Lord, your line is run out. This 
 earthquake has shaken more things than 
 the city of Messina, and your house and 
 character have fallen together. Expose 
 yourself no farther by remaining here, but 
 come with me : you knov*- that the young 
 man speaks truth, and there are other wit- 
 nesses besides his suspicions and your own 
 conscience. The earthquake has not only 
 buried the living, but it has forced the 
 graves to cast up the dead. Come with 
 me, — come away, — your lease has expired, 
 — you must now pay the price of your in- 
 dulgence. Come, wretched man, come.'* 
 And he dragged him from the room with 
 the energy of a demon. The Count made 
 no resistance. His teeth chattered, his 
 face became of a gangrene yellow hue.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 51 
 
 his eye-balls distended and glassy, and his 
 arms and limbs lost all faculty of power and 
 action. His appearance was, indeed, so 
 livid and hideous, and the image of it re- 
 mained so clammy in the recollection of the 
 spectators, that it was some time before they 
 were sensible he had actually been with- 
 drawn from their sight. 
 
 B 2 
 
 -"-iur"°"
 
 52 THE EARTHOUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Sweet husband, dwell not upon circumstance, 
 When weeping sorrow, like an advocate, 
 Ipiportuues you for aid ; look in mine eye. 
 There you shall see dim grief swimming in tears. 
 
 Marlowe. 
 
 Although the Count Cornell was a na- 
 tive of Messina, he had left it at so early 
 an ag-e, that, when he returned to reside in 
 his paternal mansion, he was considered 
 as a stranger. None of his numerous 
 relations could recognize in him the fea- 
 tures of that blithe and blooming boy, 
 whose frank hilarity in childhood promised 
 so many noble qualities in the development 
 of riper years. And he evinced himself 
 siich a decided aversion to speak of the 
 circumstances of his past life, that he
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 53 
 
 sometimes rebuffed even his visitors when 
 they enquired about events which took 
 place during the time he resided in Palermo, 
 and with the particulars of which he could 
 hardly have been unacquainted. 
 
 That he was a man of great opulence 
 could not be questioned in Messina, and of 
 uncommon attainments, was evident when- 
 ever he chose to unbend. He spoke several 
 languages with grace and fluency, and his 
 knowledge was various and extensive, but it 
 was not of that circumstantial kind which 
 is obtained by literary research. He was, 
 in fact, one of those men who, with an apt 
 and observant genius, turn favourable situ- 
 ations for studying mankind to immediate 
 and practical advantage, and who neither 
 feel the delight of investigating science for 
 the sake of truth, nor know the pleasure of 
 cultivating art as the means of augment- 
 ing enjoyment. 
 
 At the early age of six years, he was sent to 
 
 Naples to be educated under the direction of 
 
 his maternal uncle, the celebrated Prince Bu- 
 
 mero, who was not more distinguished for 
 
 D 3
 
 64 THE BARTHaUAKE. 
 
 his taste and accomplishments than the 
 number of his patriotic schemes to promote 
 the improvement of his native country. In 
 the progress of his education Corneli distin- 
 guished himself by the avidity with which 
 he seized the instruction of his masters, but 
 he was no less remarkable for the libertine 
 gaiety of his disposition; and, as he grew 
 up to manhood, his habits became more and 
 more dissipated. 
 
 In consequence of some flagrant indiscre- 
 tion in an affair of gallantry, he was obliged 
 to quit Naples, and he went to Palermo, 
 where, soon after his arrival, he happened 
 to meet the sister of the Baron Alcamo, a 
 young lady in the bloom of youth and beauty, 
 and who was even more fascinating by 
 the touching simplicity of her manners, than 
 by the matchless luxuriance of her personal 
 charms. She was then in the eighteenth 
 year of her age, and Corneli had but just 
 turned one-and-twenty. He fell passion- 
 ately in love with her at first sight, wooed 
 her with irresistible assiduity, and finally ob- 
 tained her in marriage. But his passion
 
 THE BARTHaUAKE. 55 
 
 was of that base kind which, unmixed with 
 any association of intellectual esteem, ex- 
 pires with the first indulgence. 
 
 In the course, however, of his suit to this 
 lovely and innocent girl, he had inspired 
 her with sentiments such as his general 
 profligacy might have been supposed little 
 calculated to produce ; for he possessed 
 from nature, the fatal gift of recommend- 
 ing himself bv a thousand indiscribable 
 little offices of urbanity to those against 
 whom he meditated the worst designs, and 
 he never employed them with so much 
 effect as in this instance. 
 
 The honey-moon was scarcely over when 
 bis indifference towards his beautiful wife 
 was notorious to all the fashionable circles 
 of Palermo, and exposed her to their most 
 dangerous temptations. Happily for her- 
 self, however, the affection which she che- 
 rished for her unworthy husband, was ex- 
 alted by her own pure thoughts into a duty 
 so high and holy, that his neglect and injus- 
 tice furnished additional motives for the 
 preservation of her conjugal virtue. She 
 D 4
 
 56 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 submitted, with the resignation of a martyr, 
 to the most obvious indications of his dis- 
 taste, consoled by the pleasing, though sim- 
 ple hope, that in the end her patient love 
 would be rewarded by some kind return. 
 
 Corneli had felt for her all the ardour of 
 passion that his heart could feel — a gross 
 and animal desire, which, having gratified at 
 the expence of his liberty, made him re- 
 gard her with an antipathy scarcely more re- 
 fined than the enmity with which a convict 
 contemplates his fetters, that no polish or de- 
 coration can alter from the nature of chains. 
 
 Soon after her unfortunate marriage, the 
 Countess Corneli found herself destined to 
 be a mother, and the hope of regaining the 
 affections of her lord was strengthened by 
 the tender reflections which this endearing 
 circumstance naturally awakened. But 
 day after day his visits to her apartment, 
 where she was obliged to confine herself by 
 the advice of her medical attendants, be- 
 came seldomer, and ultimately, for more 
 than a week together, he did not even en- 
 quire of the servants respecting her health.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 67 
 
 Such cruel conduct, in almost any other 
 man, might have been ascribed to studied 
 malice or meditated malignity, but in this 
 ill-fated nobleman it was the native conse- 
 quence of an uncontrouled indulgence of 
 his own humours. He was perhaps origin- 
 ally not without an estimable share of ge- 
 nerosity, and with all his faults he seemed 
 still to possess a frank and friendly hearty 
 but the remorse which he occasionally ex- 
 perienced at his own misconduct, acted as a 
 corrosive to his better qualities, and instead 
 of tending to stop his guilty career, only 
 galled and goaded him on to deeper and 
 deeper wickedness. 
 
 His pale and uncomplaining lady, ne- 
 vertheless, still nourished the languishing 
 hope of her affection with the religious so- 
 licitude of a vestal attending the sacred fire, 
 and when the fulness of her time, with its 
 pains and dangers were past, she thought 
 with less delight that she was the mother of 
 a son, than of the prospect that it seemed 
 to afford of interesting the heart of his 
 father. 
 
 D 5
 
 68 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 Still she was disappointed. It is true, 
 that Corneli rejoiced with a degree of pa- 
 ternal energy at the birth of an heir, but he 
 was at the time engaged in a criminal in- 
 trigue with the lady of the viceroy, and the 
 pleasure which he experienced in looking 
 at his child, was only as a glimpse of the 
 clear blue sky, seen through the rolling dark- 
 ness and gloomy fires which accompany the 
 eruptions of Mount Etna, 
 
 It is one of the many felicities of the Si- 
 cilian climate, that women suffer less in 
 childbed there than in almost any other 
 part of the world. The Countess had been 
 weak and infirm during the greatest part of 
 her pregnancy, but her recovery was rapid 
 and complete. 
 
 One evening, when she had herself hushed 
 her infant to sleep, as she was sitting at the 
 window of the chamber looking towards the 
 disappearing sun, and melted into more than 
 usual sadness by the tender cares and fears 
 with which the sight of her sleeping child 
 filled her bosom, she was roused from her 
 reverie by the sound of hasty steps approach-
 
 THi: EAPvTHQUAKE. 59 
 
 ing the door — she started up to chide the 
 intruder, apprehensive that the noise would 
 disturb her baby, but the fervour of the 
 moment instantly changed, when she beheld 
 his father, and before she had power to speak 
 found herself in his arms. 
 
 It was not however the embrace of affec- 
 tion. He lifted her hastily, and without 
 uttering a word, carried her down into the 
 court-yard, and seated her in a close chariot, 
 ordering the coachman to drive at full speed 
 to Termini. 
 
 The suddenness of this adventure, and 
 the satisfaction which she experienced in 
 beinor so near the man to whom her affec- 
 
 o 
 
 tions were rivetted, so divided her mind 
 that she remained for some time silent, nor, 
 indeed, till admonished by the fullness of the 
 maternal bosom that her infant would soon 
 require assistance, did she express any sur- 
 prise at what had taken place. 
 
 As the carriage ascended the hill, on the 
 eastern slope of which the town of Termini 
 is situated, she laid her hand on the Count's,
 
 60 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 and with a diffident softness of manner, 
 said — 
 
 ^' I do not ask you, my Lord, to explain 
 to me the cause of this sudden excursion, for 
 I am too happy in being with you not to re- 
 gard it ahuost as a favour. But I am 
 anxious to know your intentions, for our 
 little boy will soon need his mother/' 
 
 ^< Don't trouble yourself, he will follow 
 u»,'* was the abrupt answer; and on turn- 
 ing to descend the declivity of the street, the 
 Countess heard the cries of her infant from 
 a carriage which followed them. 
 
 Her husband and child with her, this 
 amiable and gentle creature had no other 
 anxiety — her heart was bound up in these 
 two objects, and to her all the world was 
 where they were. 
 
 Her surprise, however, was renewed by 
 observing that instead of stopping in the 
 town, they proceeded with unabated speed 
 on the road along the shore towards Ce- 
 falu. 
 
 \yhen they had driven about a mile be-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 61 
 
 yond Termini, the confidential servant of 
 the Count came to the door of the carriage 
 on horseback, and (he coachman pulled up-— 
 
 " All is ready," said the man, and Cor- 
 neli, without reply, sprang out and bade the 
 Countess alight. Impatient to embrace her 
 infant, she readily obeyed, and ran to the 
 coach behind where he was with his nurse ; 
 but before she had time to take him in her 
 arms, the Count called to her impatiently to 
 make haste. In the same moment the dash- 
 ing of approaching oars was heard, and a 
 scampavia, which had been concealed by 
 the rocks, came to the beach where they 
 were standing. 
 
 The Countess pressed her child to her 
 bosom ; and Cornell, assisting her into the 
 boat, also lifted in the female domestic^, 
 and ordered the men to push off.
 
 62 THE EARTHftUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 How beautiful is night ! 
 A dewy freshness fills the silent air. 
 No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, 
 Breaks the serene of Heaven. 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 It was a glorious Sicilian evening when the 
 fugitives embarked. The sun had set about 
 an hour before, but the saffron-coloured 
 twilight still glowed over all the western 
 heavens. The bay of Palermo, covered with 
 numerous fishing boats, and the torches 
 with which the fishermen attract their 
 prey, presented a brilliant and lively 
 scene. The inhabitants of Termini had 
 also lighted their lamps, and the appear- 
 rance of the town, sloping down from tfae 
 top of a steep hill, emulated the splen- 
 dour of the constellations that were every
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 63 
 
 moment kindling thicker and brighter over 
 the whole expanse of a serene and cloudless 
 sky. As the mariners dipped their oars in 
 the water, it might be said that they bruised 
 the crystal ine tranquillity of the sea into 
 silvery dust, so pure and beautiful was the 
 effect of that phosphoric lustre so often ob- 
 served beneath the prow and oar in the calm 
 summer nights of the Mediterranean. It 
 was indeed an evening when light, in all 
 its softest and tenderest modifications, ap- 
 peared at once diffused and sprinkled over 
 the whole face of nature— in such evenings 
 the enthusiasm of the innocent mind is ex- 
 alted to piety, and the sorrows of the unfor- 
 tunate appeased to repose. 
 
 The Countess had no upbraiding thoughts, 
 and as she fondled her infant, she experi- 
 enced a degree of delight to which she had 
 long been a stranger. Content to be with 
 her husband, and hopeful that whatever 
 might have been his indiscretion, it would 
 lead to some renewal of those attentions 
 with which he had first won her love, she 
 refrained from disturbing his taciturnity by
 
 64 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 any questions. She was not ignorant of his 
 libertinism, and she lamented it with a 
 sentiment of remorse analogous to the sense 
 of conscious weakness in herself, instead of 
 regarding it with that moral antipathy which 
 it was calculated to awaken in so pure a 
 mind. She did not require to be told that 
 he had committed some offence which 
 obliged him to fly from Palermo, but his 
 disgrace or his misfortunes were her own, 
 free however from the shame of the one, and 
 without the sadness which renders the other 
 painful ; for she was animated with the de- 
 sire of sweetening his misery from wiiatever 
 cause arising. 
 
 When they had been about an hour at sea, 
 and her child asleep on her lap, she took an 
 opportunity, on hearing Corneli order the 
 boatmen to turn to the westward, instead of 
 continuing easterly as they had done after 
 quitting the shore, to enquire whither he in- 
 tended to go. 
 
 *' I have not yet made up my mind," said 
 he, with some degree of emotion. 
 
 At sea, in an open boat at night, not dur-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 65 
 
 in^ to touch the only shore in view, and not 
 knowing to what other to steer ! The Coun- 
 tess sighed deeply, but naourned to think of 
 the anxiety he must suffer. 
 
 At this juncture a light breeze from the 
 east came rippling the surface of the water, 
 and the Count bade the men spread the sails 
 and keep along the coast before the wind. 
 
 About midnight the Countess, exhausted 
 by her anxieties and the fatigue of nursing, 
 inquired if there was any wine on board, for 
 she felt herself faint, and was in need of some 
 refreshment. 
 
 The Count directed his servant, who was 
 seated beside the nurse at some distance from 
 them, to bring the flask. 
 
 There was something so remarkable in 
 the manner with which he gave this order, 
 that the Countess, before tasting what was 
 poured out for herself, said, 
 
 ** My Lord, you seem to require it as much 
 as I do, pray take a little," and she offered 
 him the cup. He took it from her, carried 
 it to his lips, but without tasting, returned it 
 to her hand.
 
 66 TBE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 In the course of a few minutes after drink- 
 ing the wine, she became exceedingly drowsv, 
 and giving her child to the woman, laid her- 
 self at the feet of her husband on a carpet, 
 which his servant in the mean time had 
 spread, as if he anticipated the immediate 
 effects of the draught. 
 
 On the same evening in which Count 
 Corneli and his family so abruptly fled from 
 Palermo, the lady of the viceroy was secretly 
 conveyed away from the city. It was un- 
 derstood that she was placed in a convent, 
 and the following night a lady was brought to 
 the gate of a small nunnery in Maritimo, 
 one of the ^gadean islands, and lodged 
 there as a boarder. Such was the general 
 rumour concerning her. 
 
 The particular convent here alluded to is 
 not entirely devoted to the service of reli- 
 gion ; it is perhaps more entitled to be con- 
 sidered as an hospital for female lunatics 
 than as a sanctuary ; for many of the un- 
 happy women who have pined away within 
 its walls, were as such abandoned by their 
 relations.
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 67 
 
 The situation of the building is singularly 
 lonely and retired. It stands in a hollow 
 of the hills, and from the windows only the 
 rugged forehead of an uncultivated moun- 
 tain is visible. A few olive trees w^ave their 
 dusky foliage near the gate, and the garden 
 which extends along the steep ascent be- 
 hind, consists chiefly of vines that overarch 
 the walks and alleys whose bowery lux- 
 uriance has even an air of mystery and con- 
 finement. 
 
 When the Countess fell asleep, the 
 Count ordered the boatmen to make for the 
 shore, but a smart breeze springing up, 
 they were unable to effect a landing. As 
 the day dawned, the city of Trapani ap- 
 peared in sight, but Corneli not choosing 
 to go there, it was necessary to proceed to 
 the^gadean islands, which lie off that coast, 
 and the boat accordingly passed under the 
 walls of the town. 
 
 The Countess still continued in profound 
 sleep, although the wakeful cries of her in- 
 fant might have pierced the slumbers of a 
 less tender and anxious mother.
 
 68 THE EARTHUUAKE. 
 
 About an hour after mid-day, the boat 
 reached the island of Maritirao, and the men 
 being worn out with fatigue, the Count per- 
 mitted them to row into a little cove where 
 the overshadowing cliffs afforded protection 
 from the heat of the sun. The Countess 
 still remained asleep. 
 
 While the mariners were taking some 
 refreshment, one of the boats employed in 
 the coral fishery also came in ; and Corneli 
 entering into conversation with an old man, 
 who acted as the superintendant of the 
 fishers, learnt among other particulars re- 
 snectinof this seldom-visited island, that 
 it contained a small village, near to which 
 the solitary and sequestered convent is si- 
 tuated. 
 
 On receiving this information, the Count 
 suddenly dropped the conversation, and fell 
 into a sullen and abstracted state of thought- 
 fulness, during which his eye was observed 
 to wander occasionally from the Countess 
 to the child. 
 
 When the men had finished their meal, 
 and were ready to proceed again to sea, he
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 69 
 
 ordered them to row for the village. The 
 day being now far advanced, and the breeze 
 having slackened, it was late in the after- 
 noon before they reached the landing- 
 place. 
 
 The Countess had slept upwards of six- 
 teen hours, and her infant had also been 
 lulled by a portion of the same opiate which 
 weighed so heavily on his mother's senses. 
 As the boat approached the landing-place, 
 the child awoke, and crying bitterly, it be- 
 came necessary to rouse the Countess also, 
 which was with some difficulty accom- 
 plished. Her mind, however, remained 
 affected by the fumes of the drugged wine, 
 and wandered in vague efforts to discri- 
 minate the facts of memory from the phan- 
 toms of the imagination. 
 
 In this dubious state she was landed on 
 the beach, and conducted by Corneli, fol- 
 lowed by the servants, to a little shop in the 
 village. Here the Count left her, while she 
 nursed her child, and when he returned, she 
 partook of a little wine, and a bit of black 
 bread, which hunger rendered palatable.
 
 70 THE EARTHaUARE. 
 
 In his absence he had f3een at the Con- 
 vent, to which he proposed she should walk, 
 and endeavour to obtain lodgings for the 
 night, and after lulling her babe, she went 
 with him. On their way thither he spoke 
 for the first time of his flight, and appeared 
 unusually kind and flattering in his atten- 
 tions. He told her in general terms that it 
 was necessary he should remain concealed 
 for some time, and that he expected from 
 her affectionate conduct as a wife, and 
 which he confessed was far beyond what 
 he deserved, that she would submit to the 
 hardship of their fortunes with patience. 
 
 Happy to have it in her power to show 
 him how entirely she was devoted to his 
 wishes, she readily promised to perform all 
 in her power to oblige him, and assured him 
 that if her ability were equal to her will, 
 there was no hardship or difficulty that she 
 would not cheerfully encounter for his sake. 
 
 In this frame they reached the gate, and 
 she was delivered to the custody of the Ab- 
 bess, with whom the Count had previously 
 arranjred the terms of her entertainment.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 71 
 
 As she had no conception that he intended 
 to deprive her of her child, she saw him re- 
 turn to the village with some degree of 
 pleasure, believing* that he was gone to 
 brino* the infant and nurse. But the mo- 
 ment that he reg-ained the town, he hurried 
 all on board, carrying with them a milch 
 goat, which his servant had provided during 
 the time he was with the Countess at the 
 Convent. The goat was for the infant ; and 
 they again sailed without having settled any 
 determinate course.
 
 72 XHE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I have ne'er a friend, 
 No country, father, brother, kinsman left 
 To weep my fate or sigh my funeral : 
 I roll but up and down, and fill a seat 
 In the dark cave of dusky misery. 
 
 Marston. 
 
 The abbess of St. Caterina had a large 
 grey wart on the left side of her nose, to 
 which we give due precedence, as it was 
 unquestionably the most remarkable feature 
 of her face ; her nose being in other respects 
 not different in any essential particular from 
 what is usually worn by very ordinary 
 woman, of three score and upwards. In 
 stature she exceeded the middle size, and 
 she was proportionably stout in her general 
 configuration; her voice was loud and 
 penetrating, and possessed more of the 
 masculine tenour, than of the shrill feminine
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 78 
 
 treble ; her eyes were sharp, but unsettled, 
 which gave an indiscribable something to 
 the expression of her countenance, so far 
 from being calculated to conciliate the good 
 will of strangers, that it was apt to make 
 them suspect she meant to do them an 
 injury. It was a forbidding face, but not 
 a very faithful index to the mind of the 
 possessor, for the Abbess was at bottom 
 a personage of no mean understanding. 
 Indeed it very seldom happens that the 
 superiors of the religious houses, whether 
 male or female, are at all deficient in the 
 necessary requisites of good common sense, 
 however wanting they may be occasionally 
 in devotional enthusiasm. 
 
 When the Abbess had conducted the 
 Countess to the refectory, she eyed her from 
 head to foot suspiciously, keeping aloof, as if 
 in apprehension of some burst of passion ; 
 for Corneli, without informinof her of his 
 name and rank, had told her that his wife, 
 having suddenly lost a child, was so affected 
 by the event, that her wits were impaired, 
 and she was subject to violent paroxysms 
 
 Vol. I. E
 
 74 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 of insane grief. It was for this reason he 
 pretended that he was desirous of placing 
 her for some time in the convent. 
 
 The old lady was too well acquainted 
 with stories of this kind, to give full credit 
 to what he said, but she was also prudent 
 enough not to question the truth of his 
 statements. He had deposited with her a 
 considerable sum of money, promising* more 
 in due time, and it was the interest of the 
 holy mother to be civil to customers, 
 especially to those who were so liberal. 
 But when she saw the exhausted appear- 
 ance of the Countess, and contemplated her 
 disordered dress^ and flushed and wander- 
 ing* look, the consequence of being* prema- 
 turely awakened from tlie effects of the opi- 
 ate, she was persuaded that there was little 
 reason to doubt the account which she had 
 received of her patient, and she was the 
 more confirmed in this opinion, as the un- 
 happy Countess frequently sighed deeply, 
 and endeavoured to suppress a sorrow, that 
 frequently flooded her eyes with tears. 
 
 The Abbess retired for a few minutes,
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 75 
 
 and returned accompanied by one of the 
 nuns, a tall, lean, yellow, elderly damsel of 
 forty-five, with small eyes, and a red nose, 
 the complexion of w^iich did not harmonize 
 very beautifully with the dingy hue of her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "She is a kind hearted excellent crea- 
 ture,'* said the Abbess, '' there is not one 
 of the sisterhood half so much so, and she 
 will give you every assistance in herpower." 
 
 The old lady spoke to her prisoner, as if 
 she entertained no doubt whatever of her 
 being of a sound mind, but her manner 
 showed t{iat she was distrustful. 
 
 The Countess thanked her for being so 
 attentive, but added, *' I shall have little 
 occasion to trouble her, for my own wo- 
 man, who will be here presently with my 
 little boy, is quite sufficient for all the at- 
 tendance I shall require. I nurse him my- 
 self; poor helpless thing, he has been many 
 a day my only consolation, and he must be 
 now my companion." 
 
 The Abbess and sister Marguiretta ex- 
 changed glances, and the latter stepping for- 
 E 2
 
 76 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 "Ward, raising" lier hands, which were so 
 broad; that contrasted with her lean scanty 
 arms, could only be compared to shovels, 
 said in a wheedling- manner, but not with- 
 out an accent of genuine kindness, *^Ah, 
 my dear madam, you must not indulge your 
 grief in this way, but endeavour to endure 
 the loss of your little boy with resignation !'* 
 
 " The loss!" exclaimed the Countess — 
 *^ O, is it so ? — what will become of me— 
 my poor baby gone — myself here forsaken — 
 abandoned ! Where am I ? Into what 
 strange region have I been transported, or 
 do 1 but dream ? — I lulled my little boy to 
 sleep — I placed him softly on his couch — I 
 sat at the window of my chamber, looking 
 at the glorious setting sun — surely, surely, I 
 fell at that time asleep, and all this is but a 
 dream — an incoherent dream !" 
 
 These impassioned exclamations were 
 uttered with so much sorrow, and so wildly 
 and rapidly, that the two witnesses were 
 perfectly convinced of her delirium. 
 
 When some time had elapsed, more than 
 sufficient for the Count to have returned
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 77 
 
 from the viliag-e, the disconsolate mother's 
 anxieties became extreme, and she walked 
 hurriedly across the room, wringing her 
 hands, and weeping bitterly. On a sudden 
 she darted towards the door, with the design 
 of running herself to the house, where she 
 had left her child, in order to ascertain the 
 true extent of her misfortune ; but, sister 
 Marguiretta seized her firmly by the wrist, 
 while the Abbess rung a bell, which sum- 
 moned two other of the sisterhood, who 
 forced the unfortunate lady into an elbow 
 chair, to which they fastened her hands. 
 This treatment, with the anguish of her 
 mind, and the milk flowing into her bosom 
 without being relieved, brought on a fever. 
 In the course of a few hours, she was so 
 delirious, that it required the three nuns to 
 hold her down, after they had removed her 
 to bed; and in this state she continued 
 several days, raving continually of herinfant 
 and describing him as perishing of hunger 
 before her. 
 
 Her constitution, which was naturally good, 
 triumphed over the malady, and one after- 
 E 8
 
 78 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 noon she fell into a calm and profound sleep, 
 from which she awoke free from fever ; her 
 thoughts tranquil, and her mind collected, 
 but sorrowful. 
 
 Whether the soul, during the temporar}^ 
 suspension of the senses in sleep, arrives by 
 some unconscious process at rational conclu- 
 sions or forms volitions, which afterwards 
 become the springs of actions, is a question 
 that has often been discussed without beings 
 satisfactorily answered. In the present in- 
 stance, however, it soon appeared that the 
 affections on the Countess had undergone a 
 radical change, and that the love which she 
 had so fondly cherished for her libertine 
 husband, existed no longer. But she suf- 
 fered much from despondency, and often 
 wept from a weariness of life. 
 
 As she gained strength, this depression 
 became lighter, and the nuns felicitated 
 themselves on the progress of a surprising 
 cure, which they attributed, not without as 
 much reason as more celebrated prac- 
 titioners have done in similar cases, to the 
 effect of their skill and prescriptions.
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 79 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 But see — stand here and cast thine eyes below 
 O'er the broad ocean to the distant sky. 
 See what confusion fills the raving deep. 
 What mountain billows rise ! 'Tis terrible 
 
 And suiting to the horrors of my fate. 
 
 A. Hill. 
 
 Although the Countess was perfectly 
 convinced in her own micid of the treachery 
 of her husband, a sense of self-respect de- 
 terred her from communicating- to any of 
 the sisterhood the extent of her wrongs, her 
 own rank, and the names of her connections. 
 She w^aited patiently in the hope that the 
 Count, according to his promise, would send 
 the Abbess an additional sum of money, 
 expecting to hear at the same time of her 
 child, but she waited in vain } week after 
 week passed away, and the summer was 
 nearly over, and the hospitality of the nuns 
 abated in civility. Her health however con- 
 E 4
 
 80 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 tinued to improve, and her mind acquired 
 new vigour at once from her recovery and 
 the impression of her injuries. 
 
 When the hope of hearing* from her 
 husband had entirely vanished, she resolved 
 to act for herself, and without informing any 
 of her friends, she determined to acquiesce 
 as it were in the destiny to which she seemed 
 to be consigned. Considering that she 
 owed all the peculiar griefs of her present 
 helpless condition to her husband, she made 
 up her mind to leave him to account to 
 the world and her relations, for what had 
 become of her, while she should pursue, in 
 her own sequestered course, the path which 
 duty and virtue alike required her to follow. 
 
 During the weaker stages of her con- 
 valesence, her thoughts naturally enough 
 often contemplated the peacefulness and 
 security of the cloister, and in these mo- 
 ments she was inclined to take the veil. 
 She had an aunt who presided over a nunnery 
 at Sciacca, where young ladies of rank 
 were educated, and the professed sisterhood 
 of which were celebrated equally for their
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 81 
 
 accomplishments and piety. To this rela- 
 tion she at one time resolved to confide the 
 extent of her misfortunes, and under her 
 roof to devote the remainder of her days 
 to the service of religion. But as her 
 strength increased, her mind took a more 
 active bias, and while she decided on makino- 
 her aunt to a certain degree acquainted with 
 the necessities of her situation, her resolution 
 w^as to extricate her son from the contami- 
 nating protection of his profligate father. 
 
 Accordingly, when she had been about 
 three months in the Convent of St. Cathe- 
 riua, she wrote to her aunt a short letter, in 
 which she adverted to the flight of the Count 
 from Palermo as a circumstance with which 
 she supposed her already acquainted ; and 
 mentioned that in the hurry and alarm 
 of their departure, they had been but slefn- 
 deily provided with money, in consequence 
 of which her husband had been obliged to 
 leave her in the convent, where she then 
 was, but from which she was desirous of 
 removing, until she heard some tidings of 
 what had happened to him since. 
 E 6
 
 82 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 Havinor sent off this letter, she waited 
 anxiously for an answer, and at the end of 
 ten days, a Capuchin friar, belonging to a 
 monastery of that order in Sciacca, came 
 from Trapani, with a verbal message from 
 her aunt that she should place herself for 
 the journey under his protection. 
 
 Father Leonardo was a thick plump squat 
 figure, with a short curly black beard, 
 small twinkling eyes, a very little nose, 
 and smooth round chubby cheeks. His 
 complexion indicated a feminine softness of 
 character, but there was in his njanner a 
 good humoured simplicity which gained the 
 affection of all his acquaintance, unmixed 
 with any portion of respect. He was a 
 great favourite with the children wherever 
 he was known, and nobody spoke to him in 
 passing without a joke or smile, so that he 
 was commonly considered as one of the 
 happiest creatures in all Sicily. 
 
 When he had conversed with the Count- 
 ess about half an hour, he mentioned that 
 the boat in which he had come from Tra- 
 pani was going to Sciacca, and that if she
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 83 
 
 could be ready in time, it was a blessed 
 opportunity, for the boatmen were as clever 
 as English sailors and as brave as ele- 
 phants. 
 
 Father Leonardo, in ordinary cases, would 
 have compared them to lions, but while he 
 was in Trapani, where the fine arts have 
 been long cultivated, he had seen an ala- 
 baster elephant with a castle on his back to 
 hold a w^atch, and the size, strength, and 
 sagacity of the animal being explained to 
 him with many anecdotes, he thought it a 
 much nobler beast than a lion. " In short, 
 my lady," continued Father Leonardo, " be 
 ruled by me, and come in the boat. The 
 mal aria, that devilish wind, infects at this 
 season the fenny lands between Trapani 
 and Marsala, and the country beyond is 
 frightfully infested with banditti. I have 
 heard such things of their doings, that 
 I would not for the papacy go by land, 
 but if you insist, of course I must submit; 
 otherwise, the worthy Abbess, your aunt, — 
 mercy on us ! how she would lecture, were
 
 84 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 I not to cherish and protect you as the apple 
 of my eye." 
 
 The Countess, however, did not require 
 much persuasion. She was eager to quit the 
 sullen sisterhood with whom she had re- 
 sided so long-, and although the dangers had 
 been greater and more manifold than what 
 the Friar represented them to be, she would 
 have made no scruple of going imme- 
 diately by land ; at the same time, she was 
 glad to hear of an easier, and as she was led 
 to believe, a safer mode of reaching Sciacca, 
 and she instantly got herself in readiness 
 for the voyage. 
 
 In the delightful climate of the Mediter- 
 ranean, the risk of sailing an hundred miles 
 or two in an open boat is not counted any 
 very extraordinary enterprize. But at the 
 period of which we are treating, the West- 
 ern shores of Sicily were often visited by 
 the Barbary corsairs, and sometimes the 
 equinoxial gales descend on that coast with 
 great violence. Father Leonardo knew this 
 very well, but he dreaded the invisible
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 85 
 
 demon of the mal aria^ more than the equi- 
 noxial storms and rain, and he deemed the 
 hazard of falling* into the hands of the ban- 
 ditti of the woods much greater than the 
 
 risks of Aloerine slav 
 
 o 
 
 rery. 
 
 When the Countess had seated herself 
 beside the Friar in the boat, she observed 
 one of the sailors eyeing* her particularly, 
 and she soon recognized in him one of the 
 men belonging to the scampavia which 
 had brought her from Termini. She com- 
 municated this to Father Leonardo, and 
 requested him to enquire of the man, where 
 her husband had gone on leaving her at the 
 convent. She would have made the en- 
 quiry herself, full as she was at the moment 
 of the yearning anxieties of a mother, out 
 she could not submit to allow any one to 
 think her a deserted wife; and in conse- 
 quence, after speaking on the subject to the 
 Friar, she closed her eyes, and affected to 
 be asleep. 
 
 The man, however, had nothing particu- 
 lar to tell, further than that the Count, on 
 quitting the island, met with a vessel coming
 
 86 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 out of Trapani with a carg-o of salt for Leg- 
 horn, on board of which he embarked with 
 the child and servants. But this informa- 
 tion, trifling as it was, afforded a glimpse of 
 pleasure to the Countess. It furnished her 
 with a clue to further enquiry, and she ru- 
 minated on the plan which she had formed 
 for, what she considered, the redemption of 
 her child. 
 
 She proposed to herself that she should 
 acquaint her aunt with as much of her 
 story as would interest her in the success of 
 the undertaking, and also to obtain, by her 
 means, a sufficient sum of money to enable 
 her to travel, in a style befitting her rank 
 and birth, in quest of her husband. 
 
 While these reflections were passing in 
 her mind, the sun was on the point of set- 
 ting, and one of the men remarked that 
 his face was crossed by streaks of black 
 clouds, like a criminal looking out of a prison 
 window an omen, which the others declared 
 portended a violent and sudden storm. It 
 was therefore deemed prudent that they 
 should keep close in with the land, to
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 87* 
 
 be near the shore in the event of the wind 
 rising-. 
 
 This resolution was scarcely adopted, 
 when the gentle breeze that had swelled their 
 canvas, as they sailed among the ^gadean 
 islands, became gusty and veering. The face 
 of the waters was darkened, and the clouds 
 which had so lately appeared but like the bars 
 of grating over the disk of the sun, spread 
 into vast masses of blackness, here and there 
 edsfed with red and fierce torches of fire. 
 
 The boatmen were alarmed, and ' the 
 Friar endeavoured to comfort the Countess, 
 but she stood less in need of it than himself. 
 Her mind, nerved by what she had endured, 
 saw nothing in the apprehensions of ship- 
 wreck, so dismal as the realities of her ac- 
 tual condition. 
 
 The sweep of the winds continued to 
 deepen and strengthen, the clouds overcast 
 the whole expanse of the sky, and a few 
 drops of rain began to fall. The swell of 
 the waves was augmented, and now and 
 then one or two of them burst. By this 
 time the boat was off Marsala, which port
 
 88 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 the boataien were anxious to reach, but the 
 rising- tempest rendered their efforts una- 
 vailing-. 
 
 After tugging at the oar for some time, 
 they found themselves again obliged to hoist 
 one of their sails which they had lowered, 
 and to go on before the wind. 
 
 Father Leonardo was quite overcome by 
 the tilting motion of the boat, and so far 
 from being able to continue his gostly ex- 
 hortations, he verily believed himself in the 
 agonies of ejecting his own ghost. 
 
 The Countess, absorbed in the contem- 
 plation of her unhappy fate, sat wrapped in 
 a cloak, and from the lurid magnificence of 
 the heavens, and ihe driving along on the 
 darkened bosom of the roaring sea, expe- 
 rienced an indescribable feeling that had 
 more of pleasure in it than of dread. 
 
 The twilight, which had now almost en- 
 tirely faded from the west, was soon extin- 
 guished by the deepening of the clouds, 
 from which the rain began to descend in 
 torrents. Father Leonardo lay stretched 
 in the bottom of the boat, unable to attend
 
 THi: EARTHQUAKE. 89 
 
 to any thing but the sense of his own sick- 
 ness. The boatmen were terrified, but the 
 lady retained her self-possession, and having 
 drawn over her head a part of a sail, looked 
 forth on the darkness and the deluge with the 
 equanimity of Caesar. Something seemed 
 to whisper to her spirit that she was re- 
 served for greater perils, and she beheld the 
 dangers around her with a solemnity un- 
 mixed w^ith any fear. 
 
 The rain continued to pour, the night was 
 far advanced, and the boatmen calculated that 
 they should see the lights of Mazzara ; but it 
 was a hopeless expectation, for they had no 
 compass on board, and the boat for some time 
 had been going out to sea. The first mention 
 of their apprehension of this being the case, 
 raised a howl from all but the Friar and 
 the Countess. Father Leonardo, completely 
 exhausted by the fatigues of his sickness, 
 had fallen asleep in the bottom of the boat, 
 and his companion was rather surprised 
 than alarmed at the dastardly despair of the 
 boatmen. She chided their pusillanimity, 
 and exhorted them to redouble their vigi*
 
 90 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 lance, since they knew not where they 
 were. 
 
 The storm increased, and occasional 
 flashes of lightening- followed at long* inter- 
 vals with deep and distant peals of thunder, 
 added to the horrors of the night. The 
 boatmen gave themselves up to clamour- 
 ous despair, and the Countess, daunted by 
 the brighter and broader sheets of lightening 
 and the nearing and louder claps of thunder, 
 shrank in beneath the sail, and commended 
 herself to heaven. Father Leonardo snored 
 in the security of sleep. 
 
 The day began to dawn, and the wind 
 having shifted, the boat had altered her 
 course and was now drifting towards the 
 lea shore : she had passed Mazzara, and was 
 close in with the promontory in which the 
 antient city of Selinus once stood, against 
 which the billows were dashing with tre- 
 mendous fury. 
 
 The Countess first observed the land, and 
 seeing the appearance of a considerable 
 town, with churches and steeples, she 
 thought it JMazzara, being unacquainted
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 91 
 
 with the coast, and roused the men, who 
 were all lying* in the bottom of the boat, 
 abandoned to their cowardice. But no 
 sooner had they lifted their heads and seen 
 where they were, than, like frightened chil- 
 dren or foolish ostriches, they hid their faces 
 and howled more loudly and madly than 
 before, for they knew the danger of the 
 shore towards which they were driving", and 
 gave themselves up as inevitably lost. 
 
 In this trying moment the Countess 
 felt the courage which had hitherto sus- 
 tained her giving way, and with an ur- 
 gency that partook of the alarm with which 
 she was seized, she shook Father Leonardo 
 from his slumber, and bade him prepare for 
 death. The Friar, startled by her vehe- 
 mence, looked up quite recovered, and 
 seeing the boat within gunshot of the break- 
 ers, seized the neglected helm with a cou- 
 rage preternatural to his character, and a 
 presence of mind altogether instinctive, and 
 calling on the men to attend the sail, cried 
 he knew the coast, and if they could wea-
 
 92 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 ther the cape before them, he would steer 
 them safe into smooth water. 
 
 There was inspiration in the hope which 
 Father Leonardo so miraculously awakened, 
 and the sailors were, in an instant, roused 
 and active. In the course of a few minutes 
 they got the boat to the south of the head- 
 land, and in less than a quarter of an hour 
 they were in smooth water.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 93 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Cypress and ivy, weed and wall-flower grown 
 Matted and mass'd together, hillocks heap'd 
 On what were chambers, arch crush'd, column strown 
 In fragments, chok'd up vaults, and frescos steep'd 
 In subterranean damps, where the owl peep'd, 
 Deeming it midnight : — Temples, baths, or halls ? 
 Pronounce who can ; for all that learning reap'd 
 From her research hath been, that these are walls. 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 Being now in safety, the Countess was im- 
 patient to land, and at her request the men 
 rowed close in to the rocks, where leaping 
 on shore, she scrambled, with what haste 
 she could, up the side of the promontory, 
 without noticing that the stones which ob- 
 structed her were fracrments of ancient 
 baildin2"s. 
 
 The wind wa3 still tempestuous, and the
 
 94 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 pouring deluge which, notwithstanding the 
 sail, had drenched her to the skin, although 
 abated, was showery, and blew in her face 
 as she climbed among the ruins. Father 
 Leonardo, surprised at the haste of her 
 movements, called to her and inquired whi- 
 ther she was going. 
 
 " To the town, yonder,'* was her brief 
 answer. 
 
 " Stop, stop," exclaimed the Friar, *' what 
 you see is no town, but only ruins." 
 
 The Countess had by this time reached 
 the height, and looking round, at his excla- 
 mation, beheld with an acute feeling of dis- 
 may, that the objects which she had taken 
 for the churches and towers of Mazzara, 
 w^ere but the broken capitals and columns 
 of the once-stupendous edifices of Selinus, 
 the history of which is so little known, as in 
 the moments of reverie to make us doubt the 
 truth of that of all the antients. What can 
 we credit of the tales of Egypt, of Babylon, 
 or of Rome, when contemplating the relics 
 of a city whose buildings appear to surpass 
 in magnitude even the ornaments of Loudon
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE . 05 
 
 and Paris, and respecting* which, little more 
 is known than that it has a name and was 
 destroyed ; but when reared or how, and by 
 whom the overthrow was effected, there 
 exists no authentic memorial ! 
 
 The Countess, dripping wet as she was, 
 felt a sensation approximating' to dread, 
 as she looked at the collossal remains of the 
 principal temple, over the sole erect column 
 of which the shower was drifting, like the 
 spray of the waves against the eddystone 
 light-house in a storm. 
 
 The Sicilian ladies are but slenderly ac- 
 quainted with the local history of their 
 interesting island, and the Countess knew 
 as little about Selinus as an ordinary Lon- 
 don lady of quality knows of Stonehenge« 
 But it does not require a knowledge of 
 history, to awaken those solemn feelings 
 which the sight of such vast monuments of 
 human effort and skill, naturally affect. 
 They belong to a class of sentiments of far 
 deeper interest, than those derived from the 
 recollection of historical facts. The imasfi- 
 nation of the Countess, as she viewed that
 
 96 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 assemblage of stupendous ruins, was filled 
 with trains of vague but terrific associations, 
 in which the images of a world that had 
 been broken up, and a gigantic race anni- 
 hilated for their crimes, were mingled with 
 the darkness of unknown antiquity, and the 
 phantoms of traditionary superstition. 
 
 Father Leonardo, who had in the mean 
 time left the boat, followed by one of the 
 men, carrying a basket, which contained 
 their stock of provisions, came toward the 
 Countess. 
 
 Under the ledge of one of the vast capitals 
 of the pillars, sheltered by the projection of 
 the corner, the Friar, while the sailor kindled 
 a fire, spread a napkin on the ground, and 
 placing out the provisions, advised the 
 Countess to eat something, setting her at 
 the same time an excellent example hini- 
 
 ^If. 
 
 When she had finished a spare meal, 
 and dried herself at the fire, she found 
 her eyes oppressedwith sleep, and the Friar 
 assisted her to form a tent, by hanging the 
 sail round two sides of the slanting capital.
 
 THE EARTHatJAKE. 07 
 
 Within this sorry tabernacle she spread her 
 cloke, and was soon respited for a time 
 from the sense of her sufferings. 
 
 Father Leonardo, who had been so re- 
 freshed by his nap in the boat, left her, and 
 walking further up the hill, seated himself 
 behind a pillar, where he sat for some time, 
 contemplating the desolate scene around 
 him, not free from apprehension. The rain 
 having passed off, and the day beginning to 
 clear, he was afraid that some of the banditti 
 who infested that part of the country, would 
 make their appearance. 
 
 While he was thus sitting as a sentinel, 
 intently looking towards the shaggy skirts 
 of a wood, he heard a rustling noise near 
 him, and starting up, saw a large gaunt em- 
 browned naked hand and arm thrown into 
 view from behind one of the fragments. 
 Justly alarmed at this apparition, he hast- 
 ened back to the shore, where for a mo- 
 ment, he halted, irresolute till he saw the 
 boatmen, who had scattered themselves 
 along the beach, coming apparently in great 
 Iterror, at full speed towards him. Catching 
 
 Vol. I. F
 
 98 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 their fears he forgot the Countess and hurried 
 with them on board the boat, and instantly 
 pushed off. In the same instant they heard 
 her shriek, and looking towards the place 
 where she had been left asleep, saw two men, 
 armed with muskets, dragging her away.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 99 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 If thou hast a heart cau beat 
 
 Evenly in danger ; if thy bowels yearn not 
 With human fears, at scenes where undisgrac'd 
 The soldier, tried in battle, might look back 
 And tremble, follow me ! — for I am bound 
 Into that cave of horrors. 
 
 South EY. 
 
 The Countess, on being first seized by the 
 banditti, endeavoured to resist, and strug- 
 gled, and implored. But one of them Casta- 
 gnello, who had hold of her by the arm, and 
 who by his manner and appearance seemed 
 to be the leader, said that it was useless for 
 her to contend — " You must come with us ; 
 we will treat you with the best we have." 
 
 The look, deportment, and person of this 
 young man was calculated to make a deep 
 impression on strangers. He might be 
 about five and twenty, but a weather beaten 
 complexion gave him an older look. He 
 r 2
 
 100 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 was singularly stoutly formed, handsome 
 and well proportioned, and although he had 
 not worn a faded uniform, his demeanour 
 would have shewn that he had been a sol- 
 dier. 
 
 He at first addressed himself to the Coun- 
 tess with an audacious familiarity, but her 
 air checked his insolence, and he treated 
 her politely, bidding Alphonso, his com- 
 panion, to set her free, while he dropped 
 her arm from his own grasp. 
 
 **I think, madam," said he, " that your 
 protectors have not shewn the courage re- 
 quisite to defend so precious a trust. They 
 will not return again believe me, and you 
 have no choice, but to make yourself com- 
 fortable with us. Give your trinkets and 
 money to Alphonso there, and he will take 
 care of them." 
 
 Remonstrance was useless, and the Coun- 
 tess with a degree of composure, that asto- 
 nished the robbers, took out her ear-rings, 
 unlocked her necklace, and pulhng off her 
 rings, gave them all to Alphonso. 
 
 " Your purse too,*' said Alphonso sternly.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 101 
 
 *« It contains little,*' replied the lady, " and 
 you mig'ht spare it/' 
 
 " Deliver all," cried the fellow abrupt- 
 ly, and the Countess, putting it into his 
 hands burst into tears. 
 
 There was something in the way in which 
 she gave him the purse, and so touchingly 
 helpless in her grief, that it moved the com- 
 passion of Castagnello, and he attempted to 
 console her, but she interrupted him, ex- 
 claiming, '' I am surely one of the most un- 
 fortunate of women ; T freely give you all, 
 but tell me which is the road to Sciacca." 
 
 " The road is long," said Castagnello, 
 •* and rendered almost impassable by the 
 rain, but our habitation is not far distant, 
 come with us." 
 
 These few words, civil enough in their 
 import, were dreadfully alarming to the 
 Countess, not only by the peculiar accent 
 with which they were expressed, but by the 
 terrific familiarity of the look which, at the 
 same moment, Alphonso cast towards her. 
 
 She clasped her hands together, and drop- 
 ping on her knees, instead of beseeching 
 
 F 3
 
 102 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 any compassion from the robbers, commit- 
 ted herself to the care of Heaven, and the 
 special protection of the chaste and blessed 
 Virgin. 
 
 When she had finished her prayer, she 
 rose and said to Castagnello, with a serene 
 countenance, but in a manner so emphatic, 
 that it struck him with awe: ** I am in your 
 power, but you cannot harm me more than it 
 pleases Heaven to permit: go, 1 will attend 
 you to your dwelling: 1 am your prisoner, and 
 if your evil profession has not extinguished 
 tbe principles of honour, which you were pro- 
 bably once taught, my submission will ensure 
 your protection.'* But she was ignorant of 
 the history of this dissolute young man. 
 
 Castagnello made no reply, but directing 
 Alphonso to step on before, offered his arm 
 to the Countess to assist her along the path, 
 which, winding among the ruins, led towards 
 their retreat. At first she declined this 
 courtesy, but her knees faltered as she went 
 on, and the path being rugged, and on the 
 one side dangerous, she had not advanced 
 many paces till she felt herself so much
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 103 
 
 ill need of support, that she at last took hold 
 of his arm. 
 
 When they had walked about two hun- 
 dred yards, they came to another heap of 
 g'igantic ruins, less colossal indeed than those 
 which crown the promontory, but of more ele- 
 gant workmanship, and still of very extraordi- 
 nary dimensions ; there the path which they 
 had followed terminated, and Alphonso who 
 had walked on before, suddenly disappeared 
 between two fragments of a fluted column. 
 
 " This is our residence," said Castagnello, 
 as they approached the same place ; and the 
 Countess, on looking forward, saw an open- 
 ing in the ground, and a flight of rude steps 
 descending into what appeared to be a vault, 
 in the substructure of the edifice to which 
 the fragments had belonged. Her heart 
 beat almost audibly at the sight, and she 
 turned a wistful eye to the sun, which was 
 now high in his journey, and free from all 
 the clouds that had obscured his glory in 
 the morn in o'. 
 
 Castagnello stopped till she descended 
 into the vault, and then briskly leaping down 
 F 4
 
 104 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 took her by the hand, and said, ^* Don't 
 tremble, come with me." 
 
 The light admitted at the aperture by 
 which they entered, did not penetrate far 
 into the vault, but it was sufficient to shew 
 the entrance into another still more obscure, 
 into which they passed, and, turning to the 
 right, entered a gallery. 
 
 " These are the catacombs of the ancient 
 city," said Castagnello, breaking silence, 
 " and they are of great extent." The Coun- 
 tess was too much agitated to reply. 
 
 When they had gone about twenty paces, 
 a faint light broke in from a hole in the roof, 
 by which the Countess saw that they had 
 reached a circular chamber, where three 
 other galleries met, besides the one by which 
 they had entered. 
 
 Castagnello led her into one of these, and 
 being again in darkness, slackened his pace. 
 " In the name of Heaven,'* cried the terri- 
 fied lady, " to what perdition are you lead- 
 mg me . 
 
 " You have nothing to fear in this place," 
 said her conductor, grasping her hand more
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 105 
 
 firmly as she attempted to withdraw it from 
 his hold, and dragging*, rather than leading 
 her, into another central chamber, similar to 
 the former. Thus from gallery to chamber 
 they travelled the mazes of the labyrinth, 
 until the mind of the Countess was com- 
 pletely perplexed by its intricacies. 
 
 " You are now safe," said Castagnello as 
 she approached one of the chambers, which 
 was better lighted than any of the others; 
 and on going forward, the Countess found 
 herself in an apartment, which, but for the 
 horror of her fears and the circumstances 
 with which she was surrounded, would have 
 appeared comparatively comfortable. It 
 was the last of a series, no other passage 
 leading into it, but the one by which they 
 entered. It had probably been a family 
 mausoleum, as it contained two tier of 
 niches round the wall. On the one side 
 stood a rude table, and several benches, 
 and on the other lay a mass of luggage, 
 the spoil of travellers. From some of 
 the upper niches, three or four old muskets 
 f5
 
 106 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 projected, from the muzzles of which 
 several rapiers and swords, much cor- 
 roded with rust, hung dangling" within 
 reach. 
 
 Castao:nello handed the Countess to one 
 of the benches at the table, and she sat 
 down, overcome with agitation. 
 
 The robber observing her pale and trem- 
 bling, took a flask of wine from one of the 
 niches, and pouring out a glass, requested 
 her to taste. Agitated as she then was, she 
 yet retained sufficient presence of mind to 
 accept his offer, the better to enable her to 
 bear up against the fears she justly enter- 
 tained. 
 
 Castagnello several times addressed her 
 familiarly, but the rebuke of her chaste and 
 lofty indignation, as often repressed his te- 
 merity. For upwards of an hour, she thus 
 preserved her superiority, and she expe- 
 rienced some abatement of her apprehensions 
 when she saw Alphonso enter, such is the 
 deterring influence of witnesses, and the en- 
 couraging presence of society. But her re- 
 lief was only for a moment; a few short
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 107 
 
 sentences between the robbers, raised her 
 alarm a thousand fold ; in this crisis how- 
 ever Fiirbo, a third of the g^ang", entered, and 
 reproaching" the others for their negligence, 
 told them the travellers were passing ; 
 meaning a party of wdiom they had received 
 notice from one of their confederates. 
 
 Castagnello, with the alacrity of a mind 
 habituated to enterprise, and constitution- 
 ally bold, seized his musket/which lay across 
 the table, and desiring the others to walk on 
 before, followed them. 
 
 Scarcely had the robbers left the apart- 
 ment, when the Countess rose and went 
 softly after them. She had previously 
 glanced her eye to the aperture which ad- 
 mitted the light, and saw that it was not 
 only far beyond her reach, by any aid the 
 furniture could afford, but too small to allow 
 her to ascend through it. The idea therefore 
 of foUowino^ the robbers, had in it somethino- 
 of the character of instinct, for the action 
 preceded the consciousness of the resolution. 
 It was one of those providential inspirations
 
 108 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 which are sometimes experienced in dan- 
 gerous situations, and often successful in 
 contempt of probability. 
 
 She allowed the robbers to be in advance 
 about ten paces before her, and when they 
 reached any of the central chambers where 
 lig-ht was admitted, and from which the pas- 
 sages diverged, she halted in the darkness of 
 one gallery, until they had turned into ano- 
 ther. In this way she reached the long 
 corridore which led to the entrance, and here 
 she stopped some time, that they might be at 
 a distance before she ventured out. She 
 then stepped cautiously forward, and creep- 
 ing quietly up the steps, which ascended 
 from the vault to the open air, listened be- 
 fore she looked out, and hearing no sound of 
 any person near, was on the point of rushing 
 forth, when she discovered Alphonso coming 
 quickly towards the spot, but fortunately at 
 that moment looking warily behind him. 
 
 The siofht of this ruffian smote her like an 
 arrow, and she staggered back into the 
 vault almost fainting. In an instant how-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 109 
 
 ever she recovered energy and resolution, 
 and hastening" back into the gallery, paused 
 to consider what was next to be done. 
 
 She recollected that the robbers as they 
 came in, after leaving the gallery in the first 
 central chamber, turned to the right hand, 
 and she resolved to conceal herself in one of 
 the other passages, until they came back. 
 This indeed was the only alternative which 
 presented itself, and she was not suffered to 
 hesitate, for scarcely had the idea crossed 
 her mind when she heard the footsteps of Al- 
 phonso in the adjacent vault; running for- 
 ward, she was immediately in the chamber, 
 and safe as she deemed herself, in a gallery 
 different from the one she expected he would 
 take. But it had not occured to her that 
 Castao^nello in conducting* her into their re- 
 treat, had taken many circuitious ways, pur- 
 posely to perplex her. Her terror was there- 
 fore raised again to an extreme pitch, when 
 she saw Alphonso, instead of turning to the 
 right, come into the gallery where she had 
 concealed herself. 
 
 Castagnello had the outlines of gentleman-
 
 110 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 ]y manners in his deportment, but Alphonso 
 was a coarse low bred ruffian. He was not 
 much older than his superior, but his habi- 
 tual vices were all of a grosser kind, and 
 the risk which the Countess ran, from his 
 licentiousness, was in consequence much 
 greater. He was alike incapable of being 
 awed by her diguiity, or touched with com- 
 passion for her helplessness ; and he had 
 withdrawn from his companions, and return- 
 ed to the catacombs with the foulest intentions. 
 Fortunately however the darkness concealed 
 her from his view, and the echo of his own 
 footsteps prevented him from noticing hers, 
 as she ran softly before him. 
 
 The gallery in which they were, was much 
 longer than any of those which the Countess 
 had formerly passed, and it winded to the 
 right and left, so that when it terminated in 
 one of the central chambers where light was 
 admitted, the intervention of the turnings 
 prevented her from being seen by Alphonso. 
 
 On reaching this chamber she hesitated 
 for a moment, but her ignorance of the 
 secrets of the place left her no alternative;
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. Ill 
 
 and on hearing the approach of the robbers, 
 she rushed into the nearest opening, and hur- 
 ried on again in the dark. She had not 
 however advanced many paces, when she 
 stumbled and fell against a flight of steps 
 which ascended into a hio-her ranofe of these 
 wonderful excavations. The discovery that 
 the catacooibs were not all on the same level, 
 alarmed her greatly, and she went forward 
 groppingly, fearful of falling into some 
 hollow, or down other stairs. 
 
 When she had 2"one forward a few vards> 
 she perceived a faint reflected light on the 
 wall, and on advancing, found it was ad- 
 mitted by a window opening into one of the 
 central apartments, and on a level with the 
 second tier of niches. From this window 
 she saw Alphonso pass below, and she re- 
 solved to wait the return of his companions 
 there, persuaded that they would follow the 
 same track. 
 
 The terror which had acted with the 
 energy of a spring on her spirits, and given 
 decision to her mind, and strength to her 
 limbs, began to slacken in the comparative
 
 112 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 safety which she had now attained, and she 
 found herself so worn out and exhausted, as 
 to be scarcely able to stand. She sat down 
 on the floor near the window, and bent her 
 head against the wall, ruminating on the ca- 
 lamities which had befallen her, and shud- 
 dering with disgust as she reflected on the 
 infamy which the robbers evidently medi- 
 tated. But distressing as these thoughts 
 were, a profound heaviness weighed down 
 her eyelids, and she frequently started, con- 
 scious of having actually fallen asleep. 
 
 In one of those momentary snatches of 
 oblivion, she thought that she had looked 
 down into the chamber through which AU 
 phonso passed, and seen Castagnello enter 
 with his sword drawn and bloody, leading 
 a prisoner, in whose pallid visage, spotted 
 with gore, she recognised the features of her 
 husband. This spectacle affected her so 
 much that she attempted to cry out but could 
 not, and, for some time after, there was a 
 blank in her recollection, so that it is pro- 
 bable she had fainted. 
 
 When she came to herself she listened
 
 THE i^ARTHQUAKE. llS 
 
 and thought she heard the breathing of some 
 one near her, and presently she felt what 
 she conceived to he the toes of a naked 
 foot touch her hand. It was however bat 
 a lizard. The attachment of this inno- 
 cent reptile to the human species, particular- 
 ly when it finds them asleep, has procured it 
 in some countries the honorable name of the 
 man-keeper. The antient sculptors, when 
 they personified sleep, represented it as a 
 sleeping infant, attended by a lizard. Along 
 all the shores of the Mediteranean, this harm- 
 less creature is held in much respect by the 
 peasents and shepherds, whom as they often 
 lie slumbering in the fields it awakens, by 
 running over their faces, on the approach of 
 serpents, or other dangers. 
 
 When the Countess had quite recovered 
 from her alarm, she was in great doubt 
 whether the sight she had seen was the 
 apparition of a dream^ or a reality, and un- 
 der the influence of this new source of anx- 
 iety, she could not decide whether she ought 
 to quit the catacombs, or endeavour to ascer- 
 tain the fact.
 
 114 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I cliar2:e tiiee to return and change thy sliape : 
 Go, and return an old Franciscan friar, 
 That holy shape becomes a devil best. 
 
 Marlowe. 
 
 In the meantime Father Leonardo, and the 
 gallant mariners had hastened with what 
 speed they could, aided by a favourable 
 breeze, and goaded by terror, which re- 
 doubled their vigour at the oar, towards a 
 watch tower which stands about a mile from 
 the place where they had left the Countess. 
 Here they expected to lind refuge for them- 
 selves, and to incite the guard, who had 
 charge of the tower, to go to the lady's assist- 
 ance. < But the guard consisted only of one 
 solitary invalid, and he had set off at break 
 of day for Castel Vetrano, with the inten- 
 tion of resigning his office, the tower having
 
 THE EARTH aUAKE. 115 
 
 been rendered uninhabitable by the storm 
 and rain of the preceding night. 
 
 On arriving at the tower and finding it 
 deserted, Father Leonardo was thrown into 
 great perplexity. Bat, like many other 
 great men in difficult situations, he deenaed 
 it expedient to hold a council of war, desi- 
 rous that the result should be a resolution 
 on the part of all the boatmen to proceed 
 forthwith to Sciacca. Accordingly, with 
 that curious loquacity, peculiar to the Sici- 
 lians, after disposing his features into all the 
 solemnity of which they weie susceptible, 
 he addressed his companions to the following 
 effect : 
 
 " How unfortunate we all are : there 
 never were any men so unfortunate ; but the 
 Countess and myself are in the worse state 
 of all. After resolving to come by sea, and 
 agreeing to pay you ten dollars for our pas- 
 sage to Sciacca, on being safely landed 
 there, (and which, unless we are safely 
 landed at Sciacca, you can never expect to 
 receive,) to be overtaken by such a storm. 
 Lord, deliver us! for I never thought to set
 
 116 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 my foot on dry land ag-ain. Then, scarcely 
 out of the mouths of the fishes, than we fall 
 into the clutches of those incarnated devils, 
 the banditti; for, I may well say we, the 
 Countess being seized by them, and not she 
 only, but all the money that was provided 
 for the voyag-e. Were we, however, safe 
 and speedily at Sciacca, there would be no 
 lack of g-ood money, for her aunt, the Ab- 
 bess of the Cistertians, a most excellent 
 pious creature as any in the whole world, 
 and withal of so charitable a mind that she 
 will think no more of giving you ten dol- 
 lars for bringing me than I do of that 
 spittle, as she will undoubtedly offer a 
 great reward for the redemption of her 
 neice from those horrid Philistines. Hea- 
 vens! what a stir that excellent woman 
 will make when she hears what has hap- 
 pened. Magistrates and military — all will 
 be roused, running here, talking there ; we 
 shall see if we arrive in time with the news, 
 all the people of Sciacca, men and women, 
 young and old, in commotion. And then, 
 the Countess herself is so rich; what will
 
 THE EARTHatAKE. 117 
 
 she not give to her deliverers! but every 
 honest man who would share her favour, 
 must make haste to go to Sciacca, for 
 where are arms to be had but there? You 
 could never think of 2:oing' to Castel Ye- 
 trano, although it is said to be several miles 
 nearer, for no rich Abbess of the Cister- 
 tians, aunt to the Countess, is there. You 
 might go it is true, but what end would it 
 serve? Are you sure, in the first place, of 
 any assistance there ? or, in the second, who 
 in Castel Yetrano will offer any reward for 
 the rescue of the Countess? Then, think 
 were we to go there first, and be afterwards 
 obliged to o^o to Sciacca, what an agre of 
 time would be lost. Besides, not a rood of 
 the road to Castel Yetrano do I know, and 
 I am sure you are all equally ignorant, at 
 least, who among you do you think 1 would 
 trust? Mercy on me! were we to go astray. 
 Look around you, and see what a wild 
 country we are in ; was there ever another 
 so fit for the haunts of a banditti? See 
 what rocks to hide them, and what bushes 
 to conceal them. Out upon these frightful
 
 118 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 Palmetos, I shall never see a shrub of that 
 sort without thinkni^ that I would give ten 
 dollars, aye, a hundred dollars if I had 
 them, to be safe in Sciacca.*' 
 
 The Friar would have continued speak- 
 ing in this manner, until he had wearied 
 the boatmen into a compliance with his 
 wishes, but they really did not require many 
 arguments, so that interrupting him they 
 declared unanimously that they would set 
 off immediately for Sciacca ; but on return- 
 ing from the tower to the spot where they had 
 left the boat, they beheld, with infinite conster- 
 nation, that having in their haste neglected 
 to make her fast, she had drifted away. 
 
 Father Leonardo was in a dreadful panic 
 at this new misfortune, and scolded with 
 might and main, and the master of tlie boat 
 wept and tore his hair. Fortunately, how- 
 ever, for him, one of the sailors could swim, 
 and who, while the Friar was talking inces- 
 santlv, stripped himself, and plunging into 
 the sea, soon regained possession of the 
 boat. But as he was alone, he could make 
 but slow progress towards the shore, and
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 119 
 
 the Friar lost all patience. The delay irri- 
 tated him the more, because it could not be 
 helped, and it enhanced the risk of the rob- 
 bers overtaking them. Nor was this fear 
 groundless, for Castagnello and Furbo after 
 Alphonso had deserted them, were dis- 
 discovered advancing cautiously from the 
 ruins. Father Leonardo, not being aware 
 of the approach of other travellers, was 
 convinced that they were coming towards 
 him. In vain did he therefore imprecate 
 the man in the boat to make haste, and in 
 vain did the poor fellow exert himself to the 
 utmost. Nothing availed. It was clear 
 that long before the boat could reach the 
 shore the robbers might be with them, and 
 there seemed to be no salvation for the mise- 
 rable Father Leonardo. He actually danced 
 with despair, as he savv Castagnello and his 
 compeer pass behind a rising ground which 
 intercepted them from his view. One mo- 
 ment he flew hastily towards the door of the 
 watch tower, in the next he came flying 
 back. The mariners stood in a state of 
 dumb stupidity, looking at the boat.
 
 120 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 In tliis critical moment two shots were 
 heard. Father Leonardo, screaming as if 
 he had been wounded, and cowering", as if 
 pursued by a robber with a drawn sword, 
 rushed to the tower, and flying up the lad- 
 der which served as a stair to the entrance, 
 pulled it up into the inside after him, and 
 with the energy of a maniac, shut the door, 
 and piled every thing against it on which he 
 could lay hands. 
 
 This was one of the most unlucky inci- 
 dents in the train of misfortunes which had 
 yet befallen the ill-fated Friar; for in the 
 meantime the boat reached the shore, but 
 when the men called to him to join them, 
 his fears interpreted the sound into dying 
 cries and supplications to the robbers, 
 and only served to incite his frenzy into 
 greater activity. The men were not more 
 courageous than himself; having waited as 
 long as their fears would allow, they pushed 
 ofi'to sea, and actually sailed for Sciacca. 
 
 When some time had elapsed, and all was 
 still without, Father Leonardo ventured to 
 ascend the stairs which led to the roof of
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 121 
 
 the tower to reconnoiter. His first peep was 
 towards the direction in which he had seen 
 Castagnello[and Fur bo, and seeing* no suspi- 
 cious object in that quarter, he turned his 
 eyes towards tiie sea, where, O, direful 
 sight! he beheld the boat and her faithless 
 crew far beyond all hail, sailing in the sun- 
 shine before the wind to Sciacca. 
 
 The heart of the disconsolate Friar sank 
 within him. He gave himself up for lost, 
 and, returning- down stairs, threw himself 
 on the floor, and roared and sobbed as 
 loudly as he was able. 
 
 After indulging his grief in this manner 
 for some time, he suddenly started up, and 
 wiping his eyes, began to remove the arti- 
 cles which he had piled against the door^ 
 with nearly as much haste as he had placed 
 them there. While he was thus busy, a 
 hoarse voice from below, more terrible to 
 the ears of Father Leonardo than thunder, 
 demanded admittance. He was sensible 
 that it was useless to affect concealment by 
 not answering, for he was conscious that the 
 noise he had made must have been heard, 
 
 Vol. 1. G
 
 r22 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 and therefore, at the second summons, he 
 prepared to surrender himself at discretion, 
 and, with a trembling hand, opened the 
 door, but did not venture to look out. 
 
 " Let down the ladder!" cried the terri- 
 ble visitor 3 and Father Leonardo shook so 
 much, that down fell the ladder from his 
 palsied hold. 
 
 <' God*s curse!*' cried the stranger; 
 " you have murdered the mule :" and, in a 
 flood of maledictions which followed, the 
 Friar recognized the voice of Father Paolo, 
 the sturdiest member of his own convent, 
 who had been out some time on a begging 
 excursion, and was returning to Sciacca 
 with a cargo of miscellaneous benefactions. 
 Father Leonardo took heart in heanng the 
 well-known voice of Paolo, and looking 
 down on his exasperated brother as he was 
 assisting the mule to rise, which the ladder 
 had struck and overturned, said, with much 
 simplicity, 
 
 " Ah ! dear Paolo is that thee ?" 
 
 *' Dear devil !" exclaimed Paolo. " Don't 
 you see, accursed, that you have almost
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 123 
 
 killed poor Signora Polastro*s mule, broken 
 a jar of wine, and spoiled every thing in 
 my baskets." 
 
 " O, Paolo! Paolo !" replied Leonardo, 
 liis thoughts reverting to the robbers. Paolo 
 turned up the corner of his eye, and seeing 
 who was standing at the head of the ladder, 
 lifted his hands in devout astonishment at 
 a meeting so unexpected, and cried, *' Leo- 
 nardo, Leonardo ! is it the devil or Leo- 
 nardo? Where hast thou been? — how 
 earnest thou there?" But Leonardo, in* 
 stead of answering, hurried down the steps, 
 and seizing the mule by the bridle, exclaimed, 
 " Let us fly ! Let us fly I'* at the same time 
 attempting to mount. 
 
 Paolo, well aware how careful Leonardo 
 was at all times of himself, stepped forward 
 and snatching the bridle out of his hand, 
 rated him lustily. The other interrupted 
 him with a brief and rapid sketch of past 
 mishaps and present dangers, and Paolo 
 aflected to be vastly alarmed at being so 
 near the banditti; but being loth to leave 
 behind the gatherings of his fortnight's 
 G 2
 
 124 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 ramble in the neighbourhood, urged Leo- 
 nardo to assist him to collect them again 
 into the baskets. This, however, Leonardo 
 was little inclined to do, yet he could not 
 well refuse as he had been the cause of the 
 disaster; so when Paolo stooped to bring 
 the scattered articles again together, he pre- 
 tended to discover that the main mischief 
 of the accident was owing to the girth being 
 too slack to which the baskets were fas- 
 tened. He therefore took the bridle in his 
 teeth and began to tighten the girth; in 
 doing this his impatience and fear over did 
 what he intended, and the mule became 
 restive. *' Deuce take the beast," mut- 
 tered Leonardo through his teeth, grinding 
 them with vexation, as he endeavoured to 
 fasten the girth properly : ** Wilt thou not 
 stand still :" and he gave the mule a hearty 
 good-willed blow with his fist. The poor 
 son of an ass, astonished at this injury, 
 jirked up his head so suddenly that he tug- 
 ged out one of the Friar's teeth. Aban- 
 doning the mule, cargo, and companion, all 
 to the devil, Father Leonardo ran from the
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 125 
 
 spot covering his mouth with both his hands, 
 the blood flowing through his fingers, and 
 before he knew where he was, came fall 
 tilt against Furbo. The Friar paused in 
 a state of mind that made him forget his 
 pain, while the robber, staggering under the 
 shock he had received, withered him with 
 maledictions. Paolo, however, in a moment 
 came to his assistance, and giving Furbo a 
 significant look, begged him to show two 
 honest Capuchins the way to Castel Ve- 
 trano. Furbo expressed the greatest rea- 
 diness to do so, and Leonardo was surprised 
 at the reverence with which he treated 
 them. 
 
 As they walked along, Furbo and Paolo 
 frequently dropped behind whispering, a 
 kind of confabulation that Leonardo was 
 somewhat surprised to observe; but he had 
 great doubts if the robber w^as actually of 
 the profession, when, on taking leave, after 
 conducting them to the high way, he knelt 
 down, and entreated Leonardo to give him 
 bis blessing. ^ 
 
 G 3
 
 126 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 " Ob, what black sin 
 Hath been committed by our antient house. 
 Whose scalding vengeance lights upon our heads. 
 That thus the world and fortune cast us out, 
 As loathed objects, Ruin's branded slaves." 
 
 Marston, 
 
 The pressure of extreme circumstamces 
 does not only concentrate the powers of re- 
 flection in the mind, but sharpens the mental 
 sense of observation. Although the whole 
 time that the unfortunate Countess had been 
 with Castagnello did not exceed an hour, 
 she had, in that short space, formed a pretty 
 accurate conception of his character. 8he 
 Saw that he was a young man of dissolute 
 habits, but that he had not lost all his origi- 
 nal brightness, as the superiority which he 
 preserved over his comp^anions, notwith-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 127 
 
 standing the state of familiar equality in 
 which they lived, evidently shov^ed. Fallen, 
 as he was, from the promise of his youth, he 
 seemed still to retain some of the feelings, if 
 he had forfeited all the principles of the cha- 
 racter of an officer and a gentleman. Con- 
 sidering the peculiarities of her situation, 
 the Countess therefore determined to throw 
 herself upon his generosity. But when she 
 thought that the apparition of her husband 
 also as his prisoner, was perhaps not a dream, 
 her anxiety became excessive, and she sat at 
 the window in the gallery, as if fascinated 
 to the spot. In this crisis she heard Castag- 
 nello coming from the passage which AI- 
 phonso had taken, and seemingly in great 
 anger. As he drew near she heard that 
 Alphonso was with him, defending him- 
 self from some accusation with which 
 he had been taxed, and she soon disco- 
 vered that the subject of contention was 
 herself. 
 
 ** It is false, villain !*' cried Castagnello, 
 boiling with rage, ** she could not escape 
 G 4
 
 128 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 from the catacombs without a conductor. 
 I know what you have done, and that you 
 have killed her : but shew me the body ; 
 dead or alive, I will see her.*' 
 
 " Then you must seek her yourself,'* re- 
 plied Alphonso, sulkily, *^ for I know no- 
 thinjx about her." 
 
 "Why did you return, traitor?" ex- 
 claimed the other; *' you must have left us 
 as we quitted the catacombs." 
 
 Alphonso made no reply to this, but 
 glanced a look at Castagnello, which so 
 fully explained the motive of his return, 
 that it exasperated him still more, and 
 made the Countess quake with abhor- 
 rence. 
 
 " Audacious slave," cried Castagnello, 
 hoarse with rage, and laid his hand on his 
 sword; the other, in the same moment, pre- 
 sented his musket, and, with the most con- 
 temptuous coolness, said, 
 
 ** If you offer to strike me, I will riddle 
 your entrails." 
 
 Castagnello turned on his heel, and in a 
 moment after looking^ round, exclaimed.
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 129 
 
 " This quarrel is foolish : tell me what you 
 have done with the woman, and let us end 
 it." 
 
 ** I know nothing of hei," was the dog- 
 ged reply of Alpbonso; and he added, 
 somewhat less gruffly, " It is the truth I 
 tell you — she was not in your chamber 
 when I returned ; she must have hidden 
 herself in some of the cells, althousrh E 
 have not been able to find her/' '^ 
 
 At this instant, Castagnello happened to 
 throw his eye towards the opening, within 
 which the Countess was standing, and she 
 perceived by his emotion, that he had dis- 
 covered her. Alphonso did not observe his 
 surprise, and the other, from motives which 
 he best knew himself, suddenly affected in- 
 difference, and said, 
 
 *' We have had words enough about this 
 matter ; but if she is still in the catacombs 
 we shall hear of her; in the meantime, I 
 wish you would go in quest of Furbo. I 
 wonder what keeps him so long." 
 
 The tone in which this was said, did noi 
 
 G O
 
 130 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 entirely deceive Alphonso, but the request 
 was reasonable, and he could not refuse, so, 
 without answering-, he went away. The 
 terrified Countess, in the meantime, retired 
 into the darkness of the g-allery, in an oppo- 
 site direction to that by which she had 
 entered, but she had not advanced many 
 paces till she heard the footsteps of Castag*- 
 nella coming towards her. Forg-etting in 
 the alarm of the moment, her intention to 
 beg his protection, she ran back, and nar- 
 rowly escaped falling headlong to the bot- 
 tom of the flight of steps by which she had 
 ascended. Recovering herself, she darted 
 forward, and crossing the central chamber, 
 into which the passage led, she ran into 
 the corridore, the turnings of which 
 had enabled her before to escape from Al- 
 phonso. 
 
 As she was going forward in the dark, 
 with her arm extended before her, she was 
 suddenly grasped by the wrist, and before 
 she could fetch her breath the ruffian Al- 
 phonso had carried her in his loathsome em-
 
 TM^ EARTHaUAKE. 131 
 
 brace, into another region of those terrible 
 cells. 
 
 Among" the ruins of Selinus a few goats 
 pick a scanty subsistance, and it happened 
 in this critical moment, that one of them 
 while nibbling at the lank grass and weeds, 
 which concealed on the outside the aperture 
 by which the light was admitted, stumbled 
 into the opening and precipated a quantity 
 of loose rubbish into the cell. One of the 
 stones struck Alphonso on the head so 
 violently, that he unclosed the Countess from 
 his arms, and fell staggering and stunned by 
 the blow. At the same instant Castagnello 
 entered, and the Countess threw herself at 
 his feet, exclaiming, 
 
 " O save me ! save me from that ruffian ! 
 my strength is gone, and unless you protect 
 me I am lost for ever !" 
 
 Castagnello readily promised the protec- 
 tion she implored ; he raised her gently from 
 the ground, and conducted her back to the 
 mausoleum where he took her first, and with 
 more softness in his manner than he had yet 
 shown^ pressed her to take some refreshment,
 
 132 THE EARTHQUAKE. , 
 
 assuring- her, at the same time, that she 
 might rely on his honor that not one of the 
 villains with whom the malice of fortune 
 oblig-ed him to associate, would dare to harm 
 her. 
 
 The behaviour of Castagnello was now 
 much more circumspect ; instead of the fami- 
 liarity with which he formerly addressed her, 
 he appeared desirous to conciliate her confi- 
 dence by the most marked and delicate defer- 
 ence ; he apologized for the rudeness of his 
 first reception, intreated her to view with 
 compassion the extremities to which he had 
 been reduced, and insinuated that perhaps 
 she might have it in her power to assist him 
 to quit the bad and dangerous profession to 
 which many misfortunes had reduced him : 
 thus placing himself as much as possible 
 in the situation of making her feel a wish 
 at least to do him some favor. 
 
 But althouofh there were occasional touches 
 of unfeigned feeling in the expression of 
 some of these sentiments, the Countess per- 
 ceived in his eye the lurking passion which ' 
 he endeavoured to conceal. She was how-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 133 
 
 ever surprised at the external respect with 
 which he treated her, and still more when 
 he informed her that he believed she was the 
 lady of Count Corneli. 
 
 *^ Is my husband then really also your 
 prisoner ?" cried the Countess. 
 
 " No," replied Castao^nello, ^' but we 
 have wounded and taken one of his servants. 
 He has himself with the rest of his attend- 
 ants escaped, and we expect, in the course 
 of a few hours, that we must quit tiiis place 
 te^avoid the officers of justice from Sciaccx." 
 
 The Countess however was convinced 
 that it was the Count himself whom thev 
 had taken, but she only beg-g^ed to see the 
 prisoner. 
 
 " He is weak with the loss of blood, and 
 asleep," replied Castagnello, " and it might 
 go hard with his life to disturb him at pre- 
 sent, but when he awakes you shall se^e 
 him." 
 
 He then informed her that one of their 
 confederates, no other than sturdy Father 
 Paolo, had heard that Count Corneli was to
 
 l;34 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 pass that day from Trapani to Sciacca. It 
 was to communicate this piece of intelli- 
 g-ence, that the holy capuchin had deviated 
 50 far from the hig^h road as to find it expe- 
 dient to visit the watch-tower, and it was to 
 acquaint him with the result of their success, 
 that Furbo was going to the same place, 
 when he encountered the toothless Father 
 Leonardo. It was not indeed altogether 
 on account of religion, that Father Paolo so 
 often skirred the country, for the benefit and 
 behoof of his brethren. He was a stout 
 enterprising fellow, and under the con- 
 venient sanctity of the Friar*s cloke, he found 
 opportunities of enjoying many of the tem- 
 poral pleasures of life, rendered difficult 
 of attainment to secular profligacy. 
 
 The character of Count Cornell, as the 
 reader must have already noticed, bore in 
 many points a resemblace to that of Castag- 
 nello ; but he was a man of large fortune, 
 and not subjected like the other to the effects 
 of pecuniary embarrassments. Though aban- 
 doned to his vic^s, he yet possessed his per-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 135 
 
 sonal courage unimpaired, and in the con- 
 flict with the banditti obtained the respect of 
 Castagnello for his bravery. On observing 
 the robbers approach he prepared to defend 
 himself, but he was severely wounded by the 
 second shot, and his attendants seeing him 
 fall, scampered off as fast as their horses 
 could carry them, believing him killed. 
 Castagnello and Furbo levelled their muskets 
 at the fugitives to make them halt, but they 
 escaped. At this crisis they missed Alplion- 
 so, and guessing the purpose for which he 
 had left them, execrated his selfishness. 
 They knew his cunning, and that he was 
 ruled by his passions so entirely, as to make 
 all circumstances alike till they were ap- 
 peased, " He would not scruple to profane 
 a church," said Furbo. " He would gratify 
 himself at the foot of the gallows,* ex- 
 claimed Castagnello. Both of them were 
 willing to do so themselves amidst moulder- 
 ing bones, and in the darkness and hollow of 
 the tombs. 
 
 " For God sake help me !" cried the 
 Count, as the two robbers were hasteninof
 
 136 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 from the spot without intending to take any 
 notice of him. 
 
 The natural humanity and soldierly habits 
 of Castagnello, needed but littleincitement 
 to help a fallen enemy. With the assistance 
 of Furbo he conducted him to the nearest 
 entrance to the catacombs, for there were 
 several, besides the one already described. 
 Furbo however was not quite satisfied with 
 the prudence of thus making a stranger ac- 
 quainted with the secrets of their den, and 
 remonstrated with his superior as they were 
 moving towards the opening. The Count 
 himself was struck with the observation, 
 and, with admirable presence of mind, told 
 them to pity him, for as he was oflly the 
 valet of Corneli, he would probably, but for 
 them, be left to perish on the high way. 
 
 The consideration of his being a servant 
 allayed the apprehensions of Furbo, who had 
 been formerly himself in that capacity, and 
 it held out to him a hope of perhaps obtain- 
 ing a companion of a more congenial temper 
 than the sullen Alphonso.
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 137 
 
 When they entered the opening in the 
 ground, which descended into the catacombs^ 
 Castagnello drew his sword, in case the pri- 
 soner should make any attenDpt to master 
 him in the dark, and Furbo left them to go 
 to the'watch-tower where he expected to find 
 Father Paolo, as we have already related.
 
 138 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 I think this be the land of Golgotha, 
 
 Inhabited by none but by the dead, 
 
 Except some airy shadows and they're silent. 
 
 The Thracian Wonder. 
 
 The first sentiment which arose in the 
 breast of the Countess on hearing the condi- 
 tion of her husband, was nearly akin to the 
 affection which she had so long and so pa- 
 tiently cherished ; it acquired redoubled 
 energy, when she heard that he had been the 
 preceding evening, soon after her departure, 
 at the island of Maritimo, conceiving it pos- 
 sible that he might have been actuated by 
 some contrition towards herself^ and when 
 she thought of her infant, she could no longer 
 suppress her anxiety to visit him. But Cas- 
 tagnello decidedly refused to listen to her
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 139 
 
 importunities, making humanity for tiie pa- 
 tient the pretext of his denial. 
 
 The conduct of Castagnello, however, 
 ministered against his own designs, for it 
 only served to make her thoughts run the 
 more intently on the absent ; and she was 
 several times on the point of telling her 
 relentless keeper, that the prisoner was no 
 other than the Count himself; she however 
 as often thought, that as her husband might 
 have some good reason for keeping himself 
 unknown, it did not become her as a wife 
 to betray him. 
 
 But as leisure afforded her time to reflect 
 on all that had happened, her judgment was 
 gradually disentangled from the feelings of 
 tenderness and affection, which had thus 
 been renewed by so singular a train of 
 accidents. She remembered with bitter- 
 ness the neglect which she had so long en- 
 dured, and sighed with grief as she thought 
 of the unprincipled libertinism of Corneli. 
 
 This eventful day was now drawing to a 
 close, and the Countess having other objects 
 besides her own safety to occupy her mind,
 
 140 THE EAUTHaUAKl^. 
 
 became more at ease. The sepulchral 
 chamber in which she was sitting", although 
 the sun was far declined towards the hori- 
 zon, seemed to her less dismal than before, 
 and the respectfulness of Castagnello's be- 
 haviour materially diminished her distrust, 
 especially when she reflected on the service 
 he had rendered her, in protecting" her from 
 the brutal Alphonso ; and she saw the light 
 fading, and the day closing* without dread ; 
 on the contrary she expressed a wish to 
 partake of the proffered refreshment. 
 
 The robber was delighted with this 
 change, and clapping his hands thrice,Furbo 
 entered with a lamp lighted. 
 
 * We must retire* said Castagnello * to our 
 nocturnal chamber, for in this place the light 
 might be discovered through the opening of 
 the roof;* and Furbo walked before them 
 with the lamp as they left the room. 
 
 After several turnings they came to a 
 flight of steps, which they descended, and 
 entered a large circular mausoleum, deco- 
 rated with fresco paintings, similar to those 
 which are seen on etruscan vases, but the
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 141 
 
 figures were as large as the natural size, 
 Furbo placed the lamp on the top of a black 
 marble sarcophagus in the middle of the 
 chamber, and which served the banditti for 
 a table. The appearance of this subterra- 
 nean templeof death would on any occasion 
 be pronounced magnificent, to the Countess 
 it was sublime. 
 
 Besides the door at which they entered, 
 there were five others, opening into as many 
 semi-circular recesses, in each of which were 
 three niches for the reception of the dead. 
 One of these recesses, the robbers had con- 
 verted into a bed chamber, another was 
 used as a cellar, and the rest were still 
 unprofaned. 
 
 The Countess was so much struck with the 
 funereal grandeur of the place, that she par- 
 took in silence of a slight repast of olives, 
 anchovies and bread, which Furbo had 
 placed with a pitcher of wine on the lid of 
 the tomb. Castagnello having called for 
 the goblet, the robber in waiting brought a 
 silver chalice, which 'Alphonso had stolen 
 from the altar of a church ; Furbo crossed 
 himself devoutly all the time with the one
 
 142 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 hand, holding" it between the fore finger 
 and thumb of his otiier, as if afraid to 
 touch it. 
 
 Castagnello snatched it briskly from him 
 as he was in the act of placing it on the 
 table, and filling* it with wine presented it 
 to the Countess. But she also felt a strong- 
 deo'ree of religious abhorrence at this sacri- 
 leo*e, and set it down, requesting permis- 
 sion to drink from the pitcher ; Castagnello 
 laughed and drained the chalice. 
 
 After a pause of a few seconds, the Coun- 
 tess requested Furbo to see if the prisoner 
 still slept, and he immediately left the cham- 
 ber. 
 
 When he had been absent some time, Cas- 
 tagnello observed that she frequently cast an 
 anxious glance around, and guessing what 
 was passing in her mind said, pointing to the 
 recess^ which served the robbers for a bed 
 chamber, " That is our apartment." 
 
 The Countess misconceiving his meaning, 
 exclaimed in a tone of alarm, ** I have 
 trusted myself to your protection, surely you 
 do respect your own honour." The robber 
 smiled at the mistake and replied,
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 143 
 
 " My thoug-hts are better than you give 
 me credit for; I only meant that in yon re- 
 cess Alphonso, Furbo, and myself usually 
 sleep, hut any of the others that you may 
 choose I will myself prepare for you, and 
 watch you from insult here." 
 
 This declaration quieted her fear ; but she 
 would have preferred an apartment more dis- 
 tant, her dread however of the dismal genuis 
 of the place, and the horror of her apprehen- 
 iions of Alphonso, overcame her reluctance. 
 
 There is something- undoubtedly in the 
 presence of a number of witnesses, which 
 represses the evil inclinations of the hu- 
 man heart. Conspiracies requiring more 
 than two persons are often long in being 
 formed, and are brought to maturity with 
 difficulty ; but the deeds of one criminal 
 are always speedy, and where no more 
 than two act together, the one commonly 
 submits to the will of the other. The 
 Countess preferred to pass the night in the 
 same chamber with the three robbers, to the 
 risk of being disturbed by the detestable 
 Alphonso.
 
 141 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 After a short interval Castagnello said 
 lie had a cloke, which might be hung up 
 as a screen to the door of her recess. There 
 was so mucli delicacy implied in this, and 
 the tone in which it was expressed was so 
 chaste, that she thanked him gratefully. The 
 better feelings were not entirely extin- 
 guished in the breast of this dissolute young 
 man, and he was softened to a sense of his 
 own degradation, when he saw that his un- 
 fortunate prisoner really confided in his pro- 
 mised protection. 
 
 He rose from his seat, and taking the 
 lamp, examined each of the three unappro- 
 priated recesses. Having fixed on that 
 which appeared to be least tainted with 
 damp, he told the Countess he would make 
 her bed in it, and immediately with his one 
 hand, holding the lamp in the other, he be- 
 jran to clean the hollow of one of the niches. 
 This attracted the attention of the Countess, 
 and the idea flashing across her mind that 
 he was removing the relics of the dead, raised 
 her suddenly to examine the place herself; 
 on approaching which, she saw in a handful
 
 ■TJIE EARTHaUAKE. 145 
 
 of rubbish, which he was in the act of 
 throwing down, several pieces of human 
 bone. Shuddering with terror and disgust 
 at the sight, she seized him by the hand, and 
 holding it to the light which he held in the 
 other, fainted, and fell at his feet. 
 
 Vol. 1. H
 
 146 THE EARTHaVAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Great man, 
 Ev*ry sin thou eommit'st shows, like a flame 
 Upon a mountain ; 'tis seen far about ; 
 And with a big wind made of popular breath. 
 The sparkles fly through cities ; here one takes, 
 Another catches there, and in short time 
 Waste all to cinders; but remember still 
 What burnt the vallies first, came from the hill. 
 
 T. MiDDLETON. 
 
 It is now necessary to account for the un- 
 expected appearance of Count Corneli, 
 On quitting the yEgadean islands, he took 
 his passage, as the Countess was informed 
 by the sailor, in a vessel bound from Tra- 
 pani to Leghorn, but which calm« and con- 
 trary winds obliged to put into Volcano, one 
 of the Lipari islands. Here he remained 
 in a cottage unknown several weeks, having 
 quitted the vessel determined to return 
 secretly to Palermo, in order to make pecu-
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 147 
 
 niary arrangements for a permanent resi- 
 dence abroad. In the mean time, the Vice- 
 roy, more deeply aifected by the disgrace of 
 his lady than it is alleged Sicilian hus- 
 bands commonly feel on such occasions, 
 had tendered his resignation to the Court of 
 Naples, and another nobleman was appointed 
 in his stead. 
 
 When Corneli heard this, with the cele- 
 rity by which all his movements were cha- 
 racterised, he embarked in the boat that 
 brought this intelligence from Melazzo ; and 
 as it was impossible to travel with the nurse 
 and child so expeditiously as he wished, 
 he left them in that town, and hastened 
 on to the capital. 
 
 His original intention was to make ar- 
 rangements for going abroad, but the dissi- 
 pations of that gay and idle metropolis 
 soon altered his purpose, and he engaged in 
 them anew with refreshed ardour. But en- 
 quiries were made respecting his lady, 
 which, after parrying as well as he could 
 for some time, he was obliged, in conse- 
 <]uence of a peremptory letter from her bro- 
 H 2
 
 148 THE EARTHaiTAKE. 
 
 ther, the philosophical Baron Alcamo, to 
 think it necessary to show her again to the 
 world, hoping-, however, that by this time 
 she would have resolved to take the veil, 
 the best of all the Sicilian methods of divor- 
 cing husbands. But, conscious of the 
 wrong which he had done her, and alarmed 
 lest the public should hear of the shameful 
 manner in which he had deserted her, he 
 resolved, on receiving her brother's letter, to 
 go himself to the convent, where he ex- 
 pected still to find her. She had, however, as 
 we have stated, sailed for Sciacca about an 
 hour before his arrival ; and, owing to the 
 signs of a storm which the setting sun that 
 evening presented, the boatmen, with whom 
 he came from Trapani, would not follow 
 her, but only return home. At Trapani 
 he procured horses, and set out by land. 
 
 Benvolio, the person whom he hired to be 
 hisguide to Sciacca,wasone of Father Paolo's 
 friends, and an ally of the robbers, though 
 not a regular sharer in their booty. On ar- 
 riving at Mazzara where it was necessary to 
 allow the horses to rest some time, Benvolio
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 149 
 
 Biet with Paolo, and acquainted him with 
 the rank of his charge, and the road they 
 intended to take. The worthy Friar imme- 
 diately mounting his mule, set forward ex- 
 peditiously to apprise Castagnello and his 
 companions, and the result has been re- 
 lated. 
 
 When the Count had been conducted 
 into a chamber in the catacombs, and his 
 wounds dressed, Alphonso, who had re- 
 ceived a severe contusion in the head, came 
 soon after into his apartment, and stretch- 
 ing himself on the ground near him, 
 growled like a beaten bull dog. He had 
 never been well satisfied with Castagnello, 
 and the contention respecting the Countess 
 ruptured the slender tie of alliance which 
 connected them ; so that when Furbo, who 
 was also in the room, was summoned by the 
 wonted signal of clapping the hands to 
 attend Castagnello, this treacherous ruffian 
 raised himself on his elbow, and proposed 
 to assist the Count to quit the catacombs if 
 he would procure him a place as a servant, 
 believing the prisoner to be of that class. 
 H 3
 
 150 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 Corneli instantly disclosed his rank, and 
 promised liberally. Furbo returned at this 
 juncture: Alphonso aiade a signal to the 
 Count to be prudent, and he immediately 
 pretended to be still sound asleep. 
 
 " What has Castagnello done with the 
 lady ?" said Alphonso. 
 
 ** All's in a right train," replied Furbo 
 slyly. 
 
 "Damn them both!" cried the disap- 
 pointed robber fiercely. 
 
 Thus the Count, who heard what passed, 
 was apprised that they had another pri- 
 soner, and he became curious to know who 
 she was. He accordingly affected to awake, 
 and being thirsty, entreated a draught of 
 water, which Furbo immediately went to 
 fetch from the mausoleum, where he had 
 left Castagnello and the Countess. 
 
 ** What is the lady of whom you spoke 
 just now?'' said the Count. 
 
 "Curse her," replied Alphonso; "she 
 has almost been the death of me;" and he 
 described how they had seized her, and 
 that she had been attended by a Friar.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 151 
 
 Cornell was persuaded it could be no other 
 than his wife, and having*, upon further en- 
 quiry, learnt what was meditated against 
 her, he surrendered himself in that moment 
 to his evil genius, by resolving to effect his 
 own escape, and to leave her to her fate. 
 But this wicked intention was frustrated, 
 for Furbo happening to enter the mau- 
 solem at the moment when the Countess 
 fainted, he came running back, exclaiming 
 that the lady was dead. Corneli started 
 up, and hurried with the robbers to the 
 scene, but before they arrived the Countess 
 began to recover, and in the first effort of 
 her senses, she recognized her husband. 
 " O, Corneli ! to w hat have you redujced 
 me," was her first exclamation. 
 
 These few words were not lost to Al- 
 phonso, but unheeded by Castagnello; 
 for although a wretch of the coarsest kind 
 of villainy in all that concerned his own 
 actions, he possessed uncommon quickness 
 in noticing the nicest shades of feeling, 
 much in the same way that persons of very 
 mean and obtuse intellects seem to be en- 
 H 4
 
 152 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 dowed with a« acute sense of folly in others* 
 The tact of excellence, like that of the har- 
 mony of parts which constitutes beauty, is 
 very rare, but the faculty of discovering 
 faults and errors is as common as the eye or 
 the nostril. The one is as the power of the 
 painter's eye, or the musician's ear, the 
 other is as the ordinary sense of sight and 
 hearing.
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 1,')3 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Bring them, bring them, bring them in, 
 See if they have mortal sin, 
 Pinch them as you dance about. 
 Pinch them till the truth come out. 
 
 Suckling. 
 
 From the moment that Furbo parted 
 from the Friars on the road to Castel Ve- 
 trano, Paolo exerted all his powers of per- 
 suasion to induce Leonardo to desist from 
 his intention of waiting on the magistrates. 
 He represented to him that it would be as 
 well to pause until it was actually ascer- 
 tained whether indeed the persons that 
 had seized the Countess were really rob- 
 bers, and whether she herself met with any 
 treatment to complain of; *' for you know, 
 Leonardo," added the sturdy vagabond, 
 " that you ran away immediately on the men 
 making their appearance, and perhaps all 
 they did, the levelling their guns at you, 
 n 5
 
 ^6i THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 and so forth, was only to frighten you for n 
 little amusement. I am sure, and you must 
 have observed that there was very little 
 of the robber about the pious poor soul 
 that showed us the road. On the contrary, 
 he seemed to me a simple and sincere chris- 
 tian, which you must have noticed witli 
 great pleasure, when he so respectfully re- 
 ({uested your blessing. Were I in your place, 
 1 would say nothing at all on the subject, 
 till I heard something more. If the whole 
 should turn out to have been a false alarm, 
 what a ridiculous figure, Leonardo, you will 
 cut. For my part, I can scarcely refrain 
 from laughing at this moment, when I think 
 of you looking down from the tower, like 
 an owl from his nest, and then the mishap 
 which almost killed the worthy Signora 
 Polastro's mule, to say nothing of the loss 
 of your toolh.'' 
 
 " Ah ! iruly," replied Leonardo, " that 
 was the greatest misfortune of ally for I 
 had such beautiful teeth, so white, and so 
 regular, they were like pearls set in coral ; 
 now, my afflicted mouth is good for nothing.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 165 
 
 and my tongue will not stay out of the gap. 
 But, alas ! the Countess ! what shall I say 
 to the worthy Abljess, her aunt, for not 
 bringing her with me? As for those perfi- 
 dious infidels, the boatmen, who ought to be 
 shot for cowards, they are, no doubt, safe at 
 Sciacca by this time, and have spread the 
 story far and wide." 
 
 " Let them answer for themselves," said 
 Paolo ; " but I do think it will not be pru- 
 dent of you to make any noise about the 
 business at Castel Vetrano. Suppose the 
 men were truly robbers, are not you obliged 
 to go home to Sciacca, and might they not, 
 if you were the cause of any trouble to 
 Uiem, way-lay you and cut your tliroat?" 
 
 The blood of Leonardo ran cold at this 
 expression, which he thought the most 
 shocking he had ever heard uttered. 
 
 *^ But even were you to escape tlieir ven- 
 geance at this time," continued Paolo, " men 
 of their stamp never forgive or forget in- 
 juries, and years hence they would wreak 
 a terrible revenge."
 
 liO THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 Father Leonardo replied that certainly 
 the observations of Paolo had great weight, 
 but he could not reconcile it to his consci- 
 ence ta be silent, should the Countess be 
 murdered. 
 
 " That, to be sure, would greatly alter 
 the case," said Paolo, " but at present you 
 have no reason to think that any thing so 
 dreadful has happened." 
 
 " But if we can prevent it," interrupted 
 Leonardo, " it is our duty to do so." 
 
 *^ Very true ; but first ascertain whether 
 any such thing" is intended," was the an- 
 swer, 
 
 Leonardo was puzzled, and he walked on 
 for some time without speaking, consider- 
 ing the pros and cons in his own mind. 
 
 " I have been thinking Paolo," said lie, 
 ** how fortunate it was for me that you came 
 to the tower in so critical a moment, but I 
 cannot conceive what business took you 
 there." 
 
 Paolo was not prepared for this observa- 
 tion, and Leonardo continued. *' It would
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. ]57 
 
 certainly have answered your purpose better 
 to have gone to Castel Vetrano and the 
 neighbouring" villages." 
 
 Although Leonardo had not the slio^htest 
 suspicion of his companion being concerned 
 with the banditti, and at first merely ex- 
 pressed his unaffected wonder at their pro- 
 vidential encounter, as he called it, the 
 silence of Paolo led him on from one 
 thought to another until he began to think 
 the accident was not altogether satisfactory, 
 and he said abruptly — 
 
 " What, if the magistrates require you, 
 Paolo, to explain why you were so near the 
 robbers' den ? 
 
 Paolo, whose apprehensions were awaken- 
 ed, gave Leonardo credit for more discern- 
 ment than he had ever supposed him to pos- 
 sess. Leonardo, indeed, did not stand high 
 for wisdom among his brethren, but they 
 regarded him as an honest credulous crea- 
 ture, and treated him with a degree of com- 
 passionate contempt. Paolo, who knew the 
 weakness of his character, had, in their 
 previous conversation, endeavoured to act
 
 J 58 THE EARTHUUAKE. 
 
 upon liis fears, but the idea of beino; sus- 
 pected cowed his own courage, and made 
 him for some time stand in awe of the 
 same individual, whom a few minutes be- 
 fore he scarcely seemed to consider as pos- 
 sessed of common sense. But there was a so- 
 lid and substantial mass of hardihood in the 
 character of Paolo not easily mastered, and 
 he was soon able to think of some expe- 
 dient to suspend the garrulity of Leonardo. 
 By this time, however, they were nigh the 
 town, and the valour of Leonardo gathered 
 strength as they approached it. 
 
 ** I doubt, I doubt, Paolo," said he, 
 ** that you find more pleasure in roving 
 over the country, than in attending mass. 
 When I was a novice, there was one Father 
 Giovanni in the convent, wonderfully active 
 like you. Every body knew him, and no- 
 body was louder in his praise than old blind 
 Urbano, our worthy superior, for he brought 
 such cargoes of alms to the monastery. 
 ^Ye indeed lived on clover ; no monks in 
 the island fared half so well. The bene, 
 dictines of Catania would have smacked
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 159 
 
 their lips after our v/ine, and all was owing- 
 lO Giovanni. But what do you think, 
 Paolo:* this angel of many mercies, that 
 went here and there, and every where, just 
 like yon, all for the good of the convent, had 
 the cloven foot. It was discovered that he 
 was in league with a gang of robbers, and 
 that scarcely a woman in the whole country 
 side durst say in his presence that she was 
 any better than she should be. So Giovanni 
 was taken and hanged ; I would therefore say 
 to you in time. Beware, beware, beware." 
 
 Leonardo, to give the more emphasis to 
 the moral of his tale, repeated the warning 
 word with great solemnity, looking closer 
 and closer into the face of Paolo, who, with 
 the most sovereign equanimity, gave him such 
 a stroke on the side of the head that he reel- 
 ed across the road, and paused aghast, almost 
 persuaded that he saw dreadful horns issuing 
 from beneath the cowl of his tremendous 
 companion. " Come on, you silly fool,'* 
 cried Paolo, and Leonardo came sneaking 
 behind him to the Locando, an inn, where 
 they were to pass the night, there being "no 
 convent of their order in the town.
 
 1^0 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 This hostelerie was a shed within the 
 quadrangle of a ruinous monastery, which 
 belong-ed to the Jesuits, and the landlord, 
 an acquaintance of Paolo, was just such a 
 Saracen-headed fellow as the imagination 
 of Leonardo considered a fit associate of 
 blood-thirsty banditti. " Mercy on me !*' 
 said the afflicted capuchin to himself, as 
 he looked at Bernardo, the landlord, whom 
 he thought the most horrid monster he had 
 ever beheld. *' Mercy on me ! this is out of 
 the frying pan into thefire,** and thejustnes 
 of this mental ejaculation was confirmed 
 when Paolo said, " Bernardo, keep a sharp 
 eye on this man ; I have my reasons for't :" 
 and leading the mule into one of the cells 
 which served as a stable, he unloaded its 
 burden. 
 
 Leonardo sat disconsolately down on a 
 stone, and awaited in a stale of stupid re- 
 signation, some new misfortune which he 
 tliought must certainly ensue, not daring to 
 lift his eye towards the hideous Bernarrdo, 
 who was leaning with his back agaanst a 
 letica, with one hand in his breeches pocket, 
 and the other in his bosom, smoking a segar.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKT:. l6l 
 
 On his head he wore a dirty cotton night- 
 eap, and round his waist a piece of cheque 
 as a sash. His beard was long and black, 
 and his breast, which was bare, seemed to 
 the desponding Friar, as shaggy, rough, and 
 remorseless as the bosom of a wolf or a 
 wild boar. 
 
 When Paolo had unloaded the mule, he 
 came out of the stable, and renewing his 
 request to Bernardo, went without saying a 
 word, directly to the Prefect of the town, 
 and told him that he was necessitated to 
 implore his assistance in a most mysterious 
 affair. " One of the Friars of our convent, a 
 sturdy rascal, of the name of Leonardo, was 
 found by me in a very particular situation 
 near the ruins of Selinus, where a young 
 woman of great beauty, who was also seen 
 there this morning, has disappeared, and I 
 fear he has committed some dreadful out- 
 rage. The reprobate himself is now with 
 that honest man Bernardo, the Locandiere, 
 and I beg your worship to investigate this 
 bloody business." 
 
 Signor Corbo, the Prefect, was one of
 
 162 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 those personages, who have a mighty uotioii 
 of the importance of office, and especially of 
 magisterial dignity, and he conceived that 
 power was never so wisely administered 
 but in proportion as it was done promptly. 
 Having been once deputed to the capital to 
 obtain the modification of a local tax, in 
 which the members of government took no 
 other interest than as it w^as productive, 
 they, at his suggestion, changed it to ano- 
 ther, but levied both the original tax and 
 the new one next year. This mission, with 
 the official civility that he had met with, 
 turned the head of Signor Corbo, and he 
 fancied himself from that time, qualified to 
 be a minister of state ; so that when he re- 
 turned home, he conducted himself in a 
 manner perfectly suitable to this high con- 
 ceit, making fine speeches that made him- 
 self very ridiculous. 
 
 But, although the morals of the inhabi- 
 tants of Castel Velrano, are not a whit better 
 than of those of any other Sicilian town, it 
 happened that no cause of any importance 
 had come before Signor Corbo subsequent to
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 163 
 
 his return ; he was not therefore ill pleased 
 to find that one so heinous in its complexion 
 was likely to afford 4iini an opportunity to 
 renew his acquaintance with the minister of 
 the interior. This led him at once to com- 
 ply with Paolo's request, and to send a po- 
 lice officer to bring the unfortunate Leo- 
 nardo, instantly before him. 
 
 When the officer entered the cloister of 
 the Jesuit's convent, Bernardo was making 
 an unsuccessful attempt to enter into con- 
 versation with Leonardo, but at the sight of 
 the officer, he fled from him with an ejacu- 
 lation of terror, which so startled the 
 afflicted Friar, that the fang of the law had 
 him instantly by the neck, believing he in- 
 tended to escape. Leonardo fell on his 
 knees, and entreated mercy and compassion 
 without knowing why. This only served 
 to convince the officer of his delinquency, 
 and he dragged him along in consequence 
 with the less ceremony, 
 
 Paolo, who had recourse to this stratagem 
 only to gain time, on quitting the house of
 
 164 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 the magistrate, went to one of his confede- 
 rates, a fellow who was commonly em- 
 ployed by travellers as a guide and guard, 
 and dispatched him to Selinus to ascertain 
 what had really happened to the lady, and 
 to beg the robbers to release her, and send 
 her as well as the Count? safe to Castel 
 Vetrano, in order to prevent any stir from 
 being made in the business ; and, as it is 
 not the general custom in Sicily to confront 
 the accused and accusers, he thought it bet- 
 ter to go to vespers than to return to the 
 magistrates, where Leonardo was taken, fol- 
 lowed by a numerous retinue of the rab- 
 ble. 
 
 The Prefect, on seeing the crowd ap- 
 proaching, ordered as many to be admitted, 
 as his saloon could hold, and retired to an 
 inner chamber, where his clerk or secretary 
 was sitting paring his nails, having previ- 
 ously mended his pen, preparatory to the 
 important investigation. 
 
 At the upper end of the saloon, into which 
 the officer dragged the innocent capuchin,
 
 "THE EARTHQUAKE. 165 
 
 stood a large marble table, with an inkstand 
 and a brazen lamp on it, at the one end was 
 a chair of state, behind which, and under a 
 canopy, hung- the portraits of their Sicilian 
 Majesties, under the right hand side of the 
 table a rush bottomed chair was placed for 
 the secretary. 
 
 \yhen the crowd had waited some time, 
 a servant entered and lig-hted the lamp, a 
 chamber bell was then heard to ring, and 
 another domestic came from the inner 
 apartment waving his hand as a signal far 
 silence. He was followed by the secretary 
 with a pen, and two or three sheets of paper 
 in his hand • then came the grand person- 
 age himself, with an easy negligent air, 
 which was the more remarkable, as it 
 seemed to be put on for the occasion. It is 
 not customary for provincial magistrates of 
 Sicily, any more than those of other coun- 
 tries, to affect this pompons negligence, but 
 Signor Corbo had experienced the grandeur 
 of its effect in the hollow familiarity of his 
 intercourse with the great of Palermo. 
 
 When Signor Corbo had taken his seat
 
 1G6 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 ill the chair of state, he threw a glance of 
 supreme discernment at the prisoner, and 
 over the multitude, and turning to the se- 
 cretary, said with a significant smile, draw- 
 ing his hand over his mouth, ' A bad coun- 
 tenance,' and in the same breath raising his 
 voice and looking from under his brows, he 
 addressed the prisoner, 
 
 " Well, friend, what have you got to say 
 for yourself ?" 
 
 Father Leonardo, not understanding the 
 import of the question, answered timidly, 
 « Nothing." 
 
 'Nothing!' echoed Signor Corbo chuck- 
 linof — and the clerk recorded the word, 
 " that is worse than I expected. Do you 
 know why you have been brought here ?" 
 
 *' That man brought me," replied Leo- 
 nardo, with sincere simplicity, pointing to 
 the police officer. 
 
 " A deep rogue," was the sapient remark 
 of Signor Corbo to his secretary, but in a 
 careless confidential manner, and lifting his 
 voice into an oratorical swell, he addressed 
 the astonished Friar to the following effect :
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 167 
 
 ^' Information friend has been given to us, 
 that you have been acting under circum- 
 stances of a most equivocal kind, in which a wo- 
 man was most deeply interested, and respect- 
 ing whose suspicious non-appearance v/e 
 intend to proceed, to a most strict and satis- 
 factory investigation. It is enough to make 
 the blood boil in every honest man's veins, to 
 think, how, under that cloak of sanctity, you 
 should have carried your unfortunate vic- 
 tim to a desolate and sequestered spot. 
 But I would put the most favorable con- 
 struction on every fact conducive to your 
 acquittal, were I not constrained by a sense 
 of public duty, in which I trust my towns- 
 men will never find me wanting, to see 
 many indicatory presumptions pointing not 
 only to a crime of the deepest die, but to 
 murder itself. It is therefore with infinite 
 concern that I am obligred to commit vou to 
 prison, until this affair is placed in a more 
 luminous point of view. Officers, you will 
 take him to prison, and my secretary will 
 prepare the necessary document for you in 
 the evening.'
 
 168 XHE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 Sig"nor Corbo then rose and bowed to the 
 audience, who testified their, approbation 
 of this Ciceronian farrago, by shouting Viva, 
 viva il Signor Corbo ! He then moved with 
 a triumphant stride from his lofty seat, but 
 suddenly checking himself he turned round 
 to the clerk and said, " You will acquaint 
 my colleague Signor Pavietto with this, and 
 tell him that I have had highly satisfactory 
 letters relative to Rosalia, my eldest daugh- 
 ter, who has made a promising beginning on 
 her second sampler, a proficiency which the 
 Abbess assures me is of the most flattering 
 kind 'y and so saying he hastily retired into 
 the inner room, charmed with the wisdom 
 and dignity of his jurisprudence. Poor 
 Leonardo was in the same moment led 
 away and lodged in prison. 
 
 In the mean time the pious Poulo had re- 
 turned to Bernardo's, and pleased with the 
 success of his stratagem, sat down to a plen- 
 tiful supper, which he catered from his own 
 basket. Being naturally good humoured, 
 though a profligate fellow, by the time he had 
 finished his meal, the quality and quantity
 
 THE EARTHatJAKE. 169 
 
 cf the wine he drank extinguished all 
 the grudge he owed his unfortunate com- 
 loanion, and he resolved to carry him some- 
 thing to eat *• 
 
 It was now dark, and Leonardo had re- 
 covered the use of his faculties, and was 
 anxious that some person might come to 
 him to hear the facts of the story, when 
 Paolo made his appearance at the grated 
 window of his cell. **0 Paolo!" exclaimed 
 the prisoner, *' behold what has happened ! 
 they have made me an hostage for the ap- 
 pearance of the Countess." 
 
 " Thou shouldst have been more pru- 
 dent, and taken my advice," replied Paolo, 
 " but I have brouoht thee some excellent 
 wine, and the breast of a chicken as plump 
 as the bosom of Signora Polostra, whose mule 
 thou hadst almost put to death." 
 
 " But," said Leonardo, ^-^ they accuse me 
 of rape and murder, and you know Paolo 
 that I am as innocent of these sins as the 
 child unborn ?" 
 
 *' How do I know that?" said the roffue 
 jocularily, *'I have only thine own word 
 
 Vol. I. I
 
 170 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 for't — and Leonardo how can I tell if there 
 be a word of truth in all thy story about 
 the Countess and the robbers. But come, 
 be of good heart, pick that by^ne, and taste 
 this wine, it will put life into thy withered 
 heart, and enable thee to meet thy fate with 
 courage.'* 
 
 ** Ah, what do you think will be my fate, 
 Paolo?" 
 
 The officer who arrested Leonardo 
 had noticed Paolo approaching" the vvin- 
 dow^of the prison, and slipping" gradually 
 along the wall nearer and nearer, over- 
 heard enough of their conversation to jus- 
 tify him in seizing Paolo as an accomplice, 
 which he did at this point of their discourse. 
 But instead of falling on his knees, and be- 
 seeching mercy like the innocent Leonardo, 
 conscious guilt animated the courage of Paolo 
 and he struggled manfully with the officer. 
 Having the pitcher of wine in his hand, he 
 endeavoured to break it on the officer's head, 
 but the handle gave way, and it flew like a 
 bomb shell against the window, where Leo- 
 nardo was standing, and was broken to pieces
 
 THE JEARTHaUAKE. 171 
 
 on the grating in such a manner, that the 
 whole contents dashed in the ill-fated ca- 
 puchin's face. Leonardo yelled so wildly, 
 that the officer thought he was killed, and 
 grasping Paolo with redoubled energy, got 
 the key into the lock, opened the door, drag- 
 ged him'into the cell, in less time than we have 
 taken to tell the particulars, where finding 
 that Leonardo was more frightenedthan hurt, 
 he locked them both up, and went to inform 
 Bignor Corbo of what had happened. 
 
 1 2
 
 172 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Though all my hours be doom'dto chains and darkness. 
 The pleasing thought that 1 have given thee safety. 
 Will chear me more than liberty and day-light. 
 
 Gay. 
 
 The guide and servants of Count Cornell, 
 those who deserted h.im in the conflict with 
 the robbers, had in the meantime arrived at 
 Sciacca, and proclaimed his murder, with 
 many circumstances highly honorable to 
 their own valour and prowess. The boat 
 had also reached the town, and the story of 
 the boatmen respecting the Countess was 
 still more terrible, and not less to their ad- 
 vantage as valiant men. 
 
 Such atrQpious transactions filled the 
 whole city with horror, and when it was un- 
 derstood that the Countess was alive, and
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 173 
 
 still in the hands of the robbers, a party of 
 young' men volunteered to attempt her 
 rescue. 
 
 At break of day, they set off for the ruins 
 of Selinus, and when they reached the spot, 
 where they expected to find the body of the 
 Count, they traced from thence by his blood 
 the track by which he had been conducted 
 to the catacombs; but being unprovided, 
 with lights to explore them, they could pro- 
 ceed no further. Two however were imme- 
 diately dispatched to Castel Vetrano for 
 torches, and the rest of the party sat down 
 to wait their return, and to watch in case 
 of any of the robbers appearing at the mouth 
 of the hole. 
 
 Furbo, who had been abroad, seeing as he 
 returned this band of armed youths, guessed 
 their object, and approached them with a 
 timid and respectful air, and before any of 
 them could enquire what he was, said, " He 
 was happy to inform them, that a priest who 
 had been concerned in the bloody robbery, 
 was taken and lodged in prison, at Castel 
 Vetrano.'* This was suggested by theinfor- 
 I 3
 
 174 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 mation which he had received from Paolo's 
 messenger; and he added, " I was told last 
 night that the Count is not dead, but being- 
 found by two honest men on the road^ has 
 been taken by them to their house, and it is 
 hoped his wounds will not prove mortal." 
 
 " But what has become of the Countess?** 
 cried all the volunteers at once. 
 
 " Idon^t know," replied Furbo, with an 
 unchanging tranquillity of countenance, 
 *^nor did I understand that she was with the 
 Count.*' 
 
 The youths then told him her story, as 
 it had been reported by the boatmen, and 
 the robber observed with simplicity, that 
 she had fallen into very bad hands, but that 
 Providence had often worked great miracles, 
 and was able to deliver her. 
 
 While they were thus conversing, the 
 Countess herself was seen rushing from the 
 opening between the two pillars, and in a 
 moment after Alphonso also appeared, fol- 
 lowed by Castagnello, with his sword drawn. 
 The volunteers immediately cocked their 
 aiuskets and ran towards them ; Furbo in
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 175 
 
 the same moment dived into the catacombs, 
 conscious that the discovery of his true cha- 
 racter was now inevitable, and that his only 
 chance of escape was in his knowledge of 
 the labyrinth. 
 
 Before the young* men were within shot of 
 the robbers, Castagnello, seeing them com- 
 ing, uttered a wild cry, and making a des- 
 perate cut at Alphonso with his sabre, the 
 ruffian fell, and he leaped iato the vault to 
 seek refuge likewise in the catacombs. 
 
 The Countess, after having run with great 
 speed to the distance of two or three hun- 
 dred yards, stopped and looked back, wring- 
 ing her hands aloft, and exhibiting all the 
 symptoms of the most frantic despair. Two 
 of the young men hastened towards her, but 
 before they were near enough to render her 
 any assistance, she sunk, and was lying on 
 the ground exhausted when they came up ; 
 meanwhile those who had gone to Alphonso, 
 found him weltering in his blood, and his 
 bowels protruding from a terrible wound, 
 which he had received from Castagnello. 
 
 He glanced at them furiously as they bent 
 14
 
 176 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 over him, hesitating what they ought to do. 
 One of them, a barber lad, who was also a 
 surgeon, the two professions being still uni- 
 ted in Sicily, and who had come prepared 
 to dress any wounds they might receive, ex- 
 mined Alphonso's. 
 
 "Is it mortal think you?" said the rob- 
 ber. The skill of the doctor, however, 
 could not answer that question, but he re- 
 plied hopefully, as the faculty generally do 
 in all doubtful cases. " Then if it is not, I 
 will make it so," cried Alphonso, and with 
 a horrible grasp he tore out his own en- 
 trails. 
 
 The terrified youths recoiled with a howl 
 of horror and disgust, and when they re- 
 turned he was dead. One of the two who 
 had gone to the Countess, came to request 
 the assistance of the surgeon, and the whole 
 of them forgetting Castagnello, who had 
 disappeared so close to the spot where the 
 body lay, hastened to where the unfortunate 
 lady was supported by their companion. ' 
 
 As they were standing round her, Cas- 
 tagnello was seen advancing from the open-
 
 # THE EARTHaUAKE. 177 
 
 ing", and they all left her to attack him. 
 But he came towards them with such a 
 free intrepid demeanour that they halted and 
 looked at him in doubt what to do. He 
 passed on without heeding, and walked 
 straight tq where the Countess sat on the 
 ground. 
 
 The youths, as they drew near, enquired 
 if it was true that the Count was alive. 
 
 " He is a villain, and should be in hell,** 
 exclaimed Castagnello, " but let us not lose 
 time in vain regrets. This unfortunate lady 
 must be taken to some place of safety. 
 Where have you come from?" 
 
 They answered from ^ciacca, and would 
 willingly assist to carry her there, but that 
 they could not leave the spot till their com- 
 panions came from Castel Yetrano, where 
 they had gone for torches to explore the 
 catacombs. 
 
 '' I do not think," replied Castagnello 
 with great presence of mind, " that it is now 
 of any use to search the catacombs, for the 
 band of robbers is broken up. But if you 
 must wait for the return of your friends, 
 I 5
 
 178 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 lend rae one of your horses and I will con- 
 duct the Countess myself to Sciacca. Each 
 of the young" men readily offered his horse, 
 and Castagnello made choice of the best, 
 placing the Countess, who seemed still in- 
 sensible to all that passed, on the saddle be- 
 fore him. The youths admired the noble- 
 ness of his air, as he vaulted into the saddle 
 and rode away, and could not persuade 
 themselves that he was one of the robbers ; 
 indeed, such was the favourable impression 
 he had produced on their minds, that they 
 took afterwards a great and friendly interest 
 in his fate. But it is time we should give 
 some account of his previous adventures.
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Whilst I am here on earth let me be cloy'd 
 With all thiugs that delight the heart of man : 
 My four and twenty years of liberty, 
 I'll spend in pleasure and in dalliance. 
 
 Marlowe. 
 
 It is the nature of vice to propagate itself, 
 and the history of Castagnello affords a 
 melancholy example of the effects of here- 
 ditary profligacy. The youth of ample for- 
 tune, in the career of dissolute indulgence, 
 impairs only his health or his patrimony, and 
 may, after a violent course of dissipation, 
 redeem his manhood to an honorable place 
 in society; but the young man who, without 
 such recourses, gives way to the same 
 promptings of passion, will be driven to 
 fraudulent expedients for pecuniary means, 
 and consequently, whatever may be his natu- 
 ral endowments or the aspirations of his 
 contrition, he must necessarily sink deeper 
 and deeper in depravity. There is no hope
 
 180 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 for him ; he provokes the ill-will of the 
 world against him, and the invidious spirit 
 of his cotemporaries is secretly gratified by 
 the progress of his degradation. 
 
 Castaonello was the son of a celebrated 
 actress at Naples, and an English nobleman, 
 who had the credit of being his father, made 
 a respectable provision for his future pros- 
 pects in life. The professional duties of his 
 mother, and the necessity she was under to 
 preserve the symmetry of her beautiful form, 
 prevented her from nursing him, and he was 
 in consequence committed, soon after his 
 birth, to the care of a peasant's wife in the 
 neighbourhood. As he was a very fine 
 child, his foster-mother became much at- 
 tached to him; she was, however, about 
 four months after receiving' him, tempted 
 by an offer from the Duchess Del Fuocco 
 to nurse her daughter, lleluctant to re- 
 sign Castagnello, and at the same time 
 desirous to reap the advantages of her 
 Grace's offer, she hesitated till the Duchess, 
 a dissipated woman, who disliked the trou- 
 ble of children, consented to allow her to 
 take the infant home.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 181 
 
 The son of the actress and the daughter 
 of the Duchess were thus nursed' together, 
 and an affection arose between them that 
 deeply coloured with misery the events of 
 their future lives. Bellina, at the end of 
 twelve months, was removed to the palace 
 of her father, but Castasfnello was allowed 
 to remain with the nurse, who, as often as 
 she went to see her foster-daughter, carried 
 the little boy with her, and the children 
 were allowed to play together as brother 
 and sister. 
 
 This continued several years, and in the 
 mean time the mother of Castaofnello, still 
 in the zenith of her fame and the noon of 
 her beauty, had borne several other children. 
 But at length newer faces and younger 
 talents of the same kind, if not of the same 
 excellence, shared with her the admiration 
 and applause which she had long exclusively 
 enjoyed. She had, however, realized a consi- 
 derable fortune, and being sensible of the 
 decline in her popularity, she resolved to re- 
 tire from the stage. Accordingly she made 
 proposals of marriage to a handsome young
 
 182 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 musician belonging* to the opera house, by 
 whom they were readily accepted, and 
 having" purchased a villa in the vicinity of 
 the city, she became an honest woman, and 
 really in point of decorum, as respectable a 
 wife as could reasonably be expected. 
 
 Her children, consisting- of two daughters 
 and a son, besides Castagnello, were edu- 
 cated in a style calculated certainly for 
 show and effect, but sufficiently solid, had 
 their accomplishments been grounded on 
 proper morals, to have made them true orna- 
 ments to society. As it was, the daughters 
 became distinguished public singers at Lon- 
 don and Paris, and the brother of Castag- 
 nello went to England with a nobleman and 
 participated in the distribution of those 
 places and pensions which the British go- 
 vernment so liberally bestows to encourage 
 foreigners to settle among us, it being well 
 known that no nation can improve itself 
 without having alien assistance. 
 
 Castagnello was in his seventh year when 
 he was taken home on the marriao^e of his 
 mother, and placed under the care of the
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE . 185 
 
 masters who attended her other children. 
 His proficiency in learning", however, was 
 not equal to theirs, although he was not in- 
 ferior in capacity ; for he was playful and 
 borne away by the liveliness of his animal 
 spirits. 
 
 He had also another fatal temptation. 
 His singular beauty had attracted the notice 
 of Bellina's mother, and her Grace was so 
 pleased at the delight which his company 
 gave to her daughter, that she frequently 
 sent for him to spend the day at her man- 
 sion. This sacrifice of the precious time of 
 youth, in which all that is valuable to the 
 man must be acquired, would have grieved 
 any judicious parents. But his mother and 
 her husband, accustomed to regard the pa- 
 tronage of the great as the prime good of 
 life, considered him highly fortunate to have 
 obtained so early a connection so flatter- 
 ing. 
 
 Thus unimpressed with any respect for 
 the most delicate of the domestic virtues, 
 acquiring at the same time a taste for the 
 enjoyments of the higher classes, withoi ^
 
 184 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 receiving the education requisite to better 
 his condition, Castagnello grew up to man- 
 hood. The Duke Del Fuocco, the father 
 of Bellina, although much engaged in those 
 frivolous affairs to which the government 
 of Naples at that time attached as much 
 importance as the cabinets of Versailles or 
 St. James's did to their more calamitous in- 
 trigues, had seen with some uneasiness the 
 frequent visits of Castagnello to his daugh- 
 ter, and remonstrated with the Duchess for 
 allowing it so long.* Her Grace, whose main 
 virtue was the pride of rank, became alarmed 
 at her own imprudence, and anxious that 
 no time should be lost in repairing the evil. 
 But the Duke, accustomed to view every 
 thing with the sapience of a statesman, 
 and being at all times fonder of attain- 
 ing his object by address than by direct 
 proceedings, thought it expedient in this 
 business to proceed with the utmost wari- 
 ness. " It is not only necessary," said he to 
 the Duchess, " to effect a separation, but to 
 do it in such a manner as to give the young 
 ^3ople no suspicion of our apprehensions;
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 185 
 
 and it is also necessary to render the se- 
 paration final if possible. Lastly, we must 
 procure a fit match for our dear daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 But the Duke Del Fuocco, although de- 
 voted to diplomatic modes of business, was 
 naturally a man of some talent for practi- 
 cal affairs ; having determined on the 
 expediency of ending for ever the intercourse 
 which had existed too lonof between his 
 daughter and Castagnello^ he lost no 
 time in carrying his purpose into effect. 
 On leaving the Duchess, he went to his 
 closet and wrote a letter to Cardinal Albano, 
 respecting several antique gems, which had 
 been found among the ruins of Herculanium, 
 and which he enclosed in a packet to be 
 examined by his Eminence, who was at that 
 time the most celebrated virtuoso in Italy, 
 particularly in that class of art. In a post- 
 script to this letter, he begged the Cardinal's 
 hospitality for the bearer, in whose welfare 
 he was not only deeply interested, but 
 pledged to promote his fortune. 
 
 Having finished this adroit epistle, his
 
 186 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 Grace sent for Castagnello, and on his en- 
 tering- the closet, he addressed him to the 
 following effect, sealing the packet at the 
 same time. 
 
 ** My dear Castagnello, I have had often 
 occasion to admire }onr ability and address, 
 and having some private confidential 
 business to transact, with a distinguished 
 member of the papal court, it would confer 
 on me an immense obligation, if you would 
 immediately set out for Rome, and deliver 
 this packet into the hands of Cardinal Al- 
 bano. The excursion I have no doubt will 
 prove agreeable to a young man of your taste, 
 and you may spend a week or two highly to 
 vour satisfaction and advantasre.'* 
 
 Castagnello was delighted with the mis- 
 sion, and flattered by the confidence which 
 his Grace reposed in him. His mother and 
 her husband also anticipated great tilings 
 from so decisive a beginning, and he set off 
 the same evening, followed by the acclama- 
 tions of all his friends. 
 
 On arriving at "the eternal city," he 
 went straight to the palace of the Cardinal,
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 187 
 
 and delivered the packet into his own hands. 
 The Cardinal, it is well known, had been for 
 many years quite blind, and as it was neces- 
 sary that his secretary should read to him 
 all his letters, he requested Castagnello to 
 withdraw, until he had perused the des- 
 patches. 
 
 A present of gems from the ruins of Her- 
 culanium, was a matter of infinite import- 
 ance to Cardinal Albano; when the secretary 
 had read the letter, he therefore gave orders 
 to his household to pay every attention to 
 the young friend of the Duke Del Fuocco, 
 and that on no account was he himself to be 
 disturbed during the remainder of the day. 
 The package containing the antiquities was 
 then opened, and with his secretary to note 
 down his observations on them severally, he 
 remained in his cabinet till after mid- 
 night. 
 
 Castagnello would probably have consi- 
 dered himself treated with contempt had he 
 known the frivolous nature of his mission, 
 for he was too young to reflect that the
 
 188 THE EARTHaUAKti. 
 
 toys of antiquarians and children differ* 
 but in their age; so that when he found 
 himself treated with great distinction, as the 
 friend of the Duke Del Fuocco, by the 
 domestics, and the Cardinal shut up with his 
 secfetaryyideliberating on the confidential 
 despatches of which he had been the bearer, 
 he thought himself in the fair way to prefer- 
 ment, and the natural hilarity of his spirits 
 sparkled to overflowing. 
 
 One of the cardinal's nephews, a dissi- 
 pated young nobleman, but possessed of 
 many companionable qualities, called on 
 Castagnello, and finding him a handsome 
 young man, full of sprightliness, and more- 
 over highly accomplished in those shallow 
 attainments which make the greatest glitter 
 in company, just as plating and gilding 
 occupy a larger space in the eye than solid 
 bullion, he carried him to several of the 
 gayest assemblies in the city. 
 
 Although Castagnello was a frequent in- 
 mate of the Duke Del Fuocco's, his mother 
 was too well known at Naples to render 
 him a fit guest for the public parties of the
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. ] 89 
 
 Duchess, and at home he saw but little 
 general company, so that hitherto he had 
 been kept free from the contagion of profli- 
 gate companions even in that city, the most 
 dissipated in all Europe. But lo a youth of 
 his temperament and lax education, the ec- 
 clesiastical capital was even more dangerous 
 than Naples. For such was the fatal ex- 
 ternal decorum maintained there, that the 
 natural bashfulness- and sense of shame 
 which it is the aim of all judicious educa- 
 tion to fortify into chaste and modest prin- 
 ciples, was seldom offended though con- 
 stantly assailed. To speak aphoristically, 
 Sin, as described by Milton, in Rome wears 
 a petticoat, and Castagnello was cajoled into 
 her embrace by the alluring beauty of her 
 face and bosom. His constitutional ardour 
 was excited by indulgence, and his career 
 in vice was so rapid that all his ambition 
 was forgotten in the whirl of dissipation. 
 
 In the meantime Cardinal Albano havina" 
 examined the gems, had prepared an elaljo- 
 rate account of them for the Duke, which 
 he was on the eve of sending, when fresli
 
 190 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 despatches arrived froQi Naples. His 
 Grace had been regularly informed of the 
 proceedings of Castagnello, by one of the 
 Neopolitan emissaries, to whom he had writ- 
 ten to observe him carefully, and who had 
 in consequence found means to ingratiate 
 himself so completely into his confidence, 
 that he became at once necessary and ac- 
 cessary to all the errors of that unfortu- 
 nate young man. Of the rapid derilections 
 of Castagnello, the Duke heard with indif- 
 ference, or if he had any feeling on the sub- 
 ject it was not far removed from satisfaction. 
 But he considered himself as embarked in 
 a serious undertaking, in which all his poli- 
 tical wisdom was laid under contribution, 
 and he was decidedly of opinion that a great 
 statesman should advance to the accom- 
 plishment of his purposes undeterred and 
 undaunted by any change of circumstances, 
 applying the general principle of Horace 
 to affairs that only related to one individual ; 
 but this was in character with the business 
 of the court of Naples at that time, where 
 talents and genius that in a more noble
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 191 
 
 field of action would have been found equal 
 to those of any other statesmen in Europe, 
 were wasted on local and petty details, with 
 as much earnestness as if they had been 
 affecting the concerns of empires and the 
 destinies of mankind. Men of more or of 
 less understanding than the Duke Del 
 Fuocco, would, on hearing- of the miscon- 
 duct of so fine a young* man as Castagnello, 
 either have tried to arrest his infatuation, or 
 have allowed him to go to the devil his own 
 way. But his Graoe had formed a plan, 
 and was determined to carry it into effect; 
 and in doing so, had taken a vast deal of 
 trouble to procure for his protgee a com- 
 mission in the Austrian service. This com- 
 mission was contained in the despatches 
 alluded to. 
 
 Had Castagnello thought when he left Na- 
 ples that he was to be parted for ever from 
 his beautiful foster-sister, it is probable that 
 he would have hesitated, at least, it seems 
 natural to think that had he not calculated 
 on soon returning home, some sense of re- 
 gret and tenderness would have prevented
 
 192 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 him from engaging with so much Sprightli- 
 ness in the licentious decorum of Rome. 
 But he went with the high health and spirits 
 of a school boy to enjoy his holidays, and 
 yielded to the temptations of the place, 
 with the avidity with which the other par- 
 takes of the sweets and treats of his aunts 
 and grandmother. 
 
 The commission came in a moment of 
 spleen arising from temporary satiety, and 
 although he wished that he could have seen 
 Bellina before going to Germany, the state 
 of his mind at the time did not allow the 
 wish to grow into desire, and as he was 
 urged to join the army immediately, he 
 left Rome the following day. 
 
 The seven years war was then raging in 
 all its fury, and, the approacji of the Rus- 
 sians towards the Brandenburgh territory, 
 had obliged the King of Prussia to abandon 
 the siege of Olmutz, and advance against 
 them. About the time that Frederic had 
 repulsed these barbarians, and was return- 
 ing to defend Saxony, Castagnello left 
 Rome, and reached the camp of Marshal
 
 THE EARTHaXJAKE. 193 
 
 Daun on the eveningr before the battle in 
 which that General compelled Frederic to 
 retreat, after losing Marshal Keith and 
 Prince Francis of Brunswick, with up- 
 wards of seven thousand no less gallant 
 soldiers. The young Neopolitan having 
 recommendatory letters from the imperial 
 minister at Naples, was received by the 
 Commander in Chief Avith marked distinc- 
 tion, and invited to sup with him. While 
 they were at table, an officer brought in a 
 note to the Field Marshal, who, after read- 
 ing it thoughtfully, ordered the troops to be 
 put in motion, and turning to Castagnello 
 and several young Austrian noblemen who 
 were in company, and who had also but just 
 recently joined the army, said, ** Gentlemen, 
 we shall have hot work to-morrow, for I 
 expect to be engaged before day-light; 
 you must therefore make haste with your 
 supper." The Austrians, brave enough at 
 })ottom, were rather disconcerted, and 
 seemed little disposed to eat any more, but 
 Castagnello, who had just filled his glass 
 with wnne^ drank, with his usual gaietj^, 
 
 YOL. I. K
 
 194 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 success to their arms. The etiquettes of 
 the Count's table did not allow of such 
 familiarities; but the contrast between his 
 case and the anxiety of the other young 
 officers, not only procured his pardon in the 
 mind of the Field Marshal, but left an im- 
 pression in his favour, which his conduct in 
 the field next morning confirmed so highly, 
 that Daun, in aftervv.ards acknowledging 
 receipt of the minister's letters, and giving 
 some account of the battle, spoke of him 
 with unusual warmth and approbation, and 
 the young Austrians to whom he had been 
 introduced, courted his friendship in the 
 most conciliating way possible for them to 
 practice. 
 
 After the battle, it is well known that 
 Daun advanced with about sixty thousand 
 men against the city of Dresden, then occu- 
 pied by the Prussians, and that the gover- 
 nor perceiving the Austrians would annoy 
 him from the suburbs which were easy to be 
 possessed, determined to burn them. 
 
 The suburbs of Dresden, at this period, 
 composed one of the finest towns in Europe.
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 195 
 
 In them the wealthiest inhabitants resided, 
 and there the manufactures were carried on, 
 for which Dresden was then so famous. Count 
 Daun, desirous of preserving so valuable a 
 portion of the city, endeavoured to intimi- 
 date the governor from his purpose. But 
 he answered his threats as became a soldier, 
 and declared that he would not only set fire 
 to the suburbs if Daun advanced, but would 
 defend the town street by street, and at last 
 the palace itself if compelled. The magis- 
 trates fell at his feet, and implored him to 
 change a resolution so terrible, and the 
 members of the royal family also suppli- 
 cated in vain. Combustibles, were laid 
 in all the houses, and Daun, though ap- 
 prized of this circumstance, continued to 
 advance. At three o'clock in the morning 
 of the 10th of November^ a day ever memo- 
 rable in the records of Saxony, as Castag- 
 nello was calling in the picquets of a small 
 outpost which he commanded, the troops 
 having received orders to enter the suburbs 
 that morning, three guns were fired from 
 the walls, and in the same moment a wild 
 K 2
 
 196 THE EA-RTHaUAKE. 
 
 and universal wail was heard to ascend from 
 all the city. In the course of a few minutes, 
 volumes of smoke arose from different parts 
 of the suburbs, the crackling- of destruction 
 was heard, and a thousand flames burst from 
 the roofs of the buildings. The steeples of 
 the town, as seen through the red glare of 
 the opening conflagration, seemed at first 
 like dark columns supporting a rolling canopy 
 of sparks and darkness, but as the burning 
 spread brighter and brighter, every object 
 became more and more distinctly visible, 
 till they appeared with a vividness of out- 
 line stronger than in the effect of noon-day. 
 Castagnello saw with surprise a frightened 
 dove fluttering on the weather-cock of one of 
 the steeples, which in day-light was so dis- 
 tant from his post as to be scarcely visible, 
 and he persuaded himself that he discovered 
 the grief and consternation of the multitude 
 of faces, which he beheld in clusters at the 
 windows of all the lofty edifices secured in 
 that part of the town within the walls. But 
 his attention was roused from the contem- 
 plation of this awful spectacle by an inci-
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. ]97 
 
 dent in itself trivial, but fatal to his for- 
 tunes. 
 
 Many of the inhabitants, persuaded that 
 the governor would never carry his threats 
 into execution, had remained in their houses 
 till the last moment, and, among* others, a 
 Neopolitan, who kept a small music shop, 
 and who was distantly related to Castag- 
 nello. This poor man, when the Prussians 
 began to fire the houses, came running in a 
 state of distraction towards the Austrian 
 camp, and happened to fall into the hands 
 of some of Castagnello's men, who brought 
 him to their officer, by whom he was at 
 once recognized and protected. But it 
 so fell out, that one of the young Aus- 
 trian noblemen came up at the same time, 
 and discovered, with infinite indignation, 
 that the Italian whom he had courted as 
 related to,the Duke Del Fuocco, and whom 
 he had seen treated with invariable distinc- 
 tion by his Commander in Chief, was no other 
 than the son of a Neopolitan actress. The 
 gallantry and agreeable qualities of Castag- 
 H 3
 
 108 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 nello were entirely forgotten in this serious 
 disc'over}^ and before day-light the story 
 ^was so spread that even the Field Mar- 
 shal himself was made acquainted with it. 
 Chagrined and provoked as Daun was by 
 the burning of the suburbs, by which he saw 
 it would be necessary to abandon his design 
 against the town, when Castagnello waited 
 on him in the morning, as it was his custom 
 to do, he was received with such marked 
 coldness, or more properly insolence, that be 
 retired at a loss to divine the cause, of which, 
 however, he was not long allowed to remain 
 ignorant; for scarcely had he quitted the 
 presence of the General, when he was met 
 by two of the x4.ustrians, his most intimate 
 friends, deputed by the other officers of his 
 regiment to inquire the story. Castag- 
 nello felt mortified, but frankly told them 
 the truth. This, however, instead of 
 producing any such impression in his fa- 
 vour, as might have been expected, only 
 served to shew the meanness of spirit, 
 which the prejudices of Germany at that
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 199 
 
 period cherished, to the injury of worth. The 
 Austrians magnanimously said that it would 
 be necessary for him to quit the regiment; 
 that the officers would no longer associate 
 with him as their equal; and they turned 
 away with as much haughtiness as if they 
 had resented an insult. 
 
 Castagnello was thunderstruck; his bet- 
 ter qualities had been awakened by his pro- 
 fession, and he was in a fair train to have 
 become a respectable man and a gallant 
 officer. But this blow was beyond his 
 strength to withstand : he returned instantly 
 to Count Daun, briefly related what had 
 passed, and tendered his resignation. The 
 Count heard him without emotion, accepted 
 the resignation without speaking, and al- 
 lowed him to walk away without taking any 
 notice of him. Castagnello went directly 
 into Dresden, and when he had been gone 
 about an hour, an officer came to the Gene- 
 ral to report some proceedings which had 
 taken place in his brigade during the march, 
 and he spoke of the young Italian in the 
 highest terms of admiration. Castagnello's 
 H 4
 
 200 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 commission was still lying on the table, and 
 Daun looked at it for a moment with regret. 
 This was the last and only tribute of re- 
 spect paid to the talents of the ill-fated 
 youtli.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 201 
 
 CHAPTER XIX, 
 
 Infectious mists and mill-dews hang at 's eyes, — 
 The weather of a dooms-day dwells upon him. 
 
 MiDDLETON. 
 
 Castagnello was but just taraed nine- 
 teen wfien he left the army. The provision 
 which Lord Wildwaste, his reputed father, 
 had made for him was still entire, and he 
 had received a handsome remittance a short 
 time before from the Duke Del Fuocco. 
 Had he continued in the army, he was 
 possessed of sufficient to maintain him in the 
 rank of a gentleman, but nothing to spare 
 on pleasures. At such an age, and with such 
 slender means, with an education so defective 
 in principles, and a constitutional tempera- 
 ment so easily excited, without profession, 
 without friends, and tingling with the sense 
 K 5
 
 2K)2 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 of insult from the great, he could not but fall 
 to ruin. 
 
 He continued but a short time in Dresden; 
 his residence there was marked, however, 
 with many affecting- incidents; — a conflict 
 between his good and evil genius, in which 
 the latter prevailed. 
 
 His first intention was to return to Na- 
 ples, but when he reflected on his trium- 
 phant departure, and the great expecta- 
 tions entertained by his family, he shrunk 
 within himself, and the pride of youth would 
 not allow him to encounter the mortification 
 of receiving their compassionate sympathy. 
 He felt besides an unconscious enmity to- 
 wards his mother, as the original cause of 
 the insult and disgrace which he had met 
 with. He then turned his thoughts towards 
 England, but the Earl of Wildwaste, his 
 father, had been dead some time, and was 
 succeeded in his estates and titles by his 
 son, who though only a year younger than 
 himself, the treatment which he had re- 
 ceived from the Austrian noblemen tended
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 203 
 
 to make him distrust. As he possessed a 
 fine voice, and a considerable knowledge of 
 music, the idea sometimes presented itself 
 that he ought to adopt his mother's profes- 
 sion, and go upon the stage. But the con- 
 tempt in which singers and actors are held 
 in Italy, and the consequences which his 
 connections with the stage had already oc- 
 casioned, made him abandon this design in 
 the conception : in England his views would 
 probably have been different. 
 
 With his mind thus fluctuating, and thus 
 balancing different schemes of life, he passed 
 several painful and gloomy days. The mi- 
 worthy conduct of his brother officers was 
 a drop of burning misthanthropy that con- 
 tinued to eat deeper and deeper into his 
 heart. His conduct however while he re- 
 mained at Dresden was unstained by any 
 vicious indulirence, although it might have 
 been thought that intellectual suffering so 
 keen as his, acting on such a sanguine 
 character, would have sought relief in sen- 
 suality, as it commonly does with young mea 
 so situated, and so constituted.
 
 204 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 When he had been about ten days in 
 Dresden, he happened to fall in with one of 
 his coantrymen, engaged for the Opera at 
 Vienna, and from him he learnt that his 
 eldest sister was in Paris, and celebrated for 
 her musical talents. Upon receiving this 
 information, his wavering thoughts settled, 
 and he went as ^oon as possible to that gay 
 capital. Here he was led to form an ac- 
 quaintance with several prodigal persons of 
 both sexes, and his principles of private virtue, 
 always weak, were nearly entirely destroyed. 
 When he gambled, to which from the vo- 
 latility of his spirits he had but little pre- 
 deliction, he was in general successful. 
 It happened however one night that he was 
 destined to prove the common caprice of 
 fortune. Something had disconcerted him, 
 and he was irritable by the effect of his 
 dissolute excesses. In his first stake he lost ; 
 he doubled and lost again, doubled still, and 
 still was a loser, until he had exhausted not 
 only all he was worth in the world, but a 
 considerable sum more^. 
 
 Maddened almost to frenzy, he left the
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 205 
 
 feouse and ran to the theatre. As he reached 
 the door a carriage at the same inoment 
 drew up ; and he paused to see whom it con- 
 tained. It was his darling foster-sister, the 
 beautiful Bellina, attended by a young 
 Neopolitan, whom he knew by name, and 
 who, by his attentions, he perceived was 
 her husband. 
 
 Castagnello had heard of her marriage 
 some time before, but the intelligence did 
 not much aifect him, for he was then in the 
 full enjoyment of every species of Parisian 
 pleasure. But the sight of her, and that in 
 the self same hour in which he was ruined^ 
 rendered him incapable of moving from the 
 spot. He saw her pass without having 
 power to address her, and he was on the 
 point of rushing from the theatre, as 
 precipitably as he had come to it, when 
 she chanced to look around, and instantly 
 recognized him, " My dear Castagnello," 
 she exclaimed with delighted sincerity, and 
 came back followed by her husband, who 
 evinced scarcely less satisfaction at the 
 meeting. But Castagnello received her
 
 200 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 sullenly and with difficulty suppressed his 
 tears. This emotion, owing* to the conflict 
 of feelinofs with which he was at that mo- 
 ment distracted, was attributed by them to 
 another cause, and it awakened in the same 
 instant the sorrow of Bellina and the jea- 
 lousy of her husband, for he noticed in the 
 first glance the bold and handsome ap- 
 pearance of Castagnello, and remarked with 
 alarm that libertine peculiarity of coun- 
 tenance, which may be denominated the fore- 
 head mark of profligacy. 
 
 Bellina was so pleased to see her former 
 play-mate, one whom she loved with the 
 purity of a sister's aflection, that she invited 
 him to go with them into the theatre; but 
 this he declined; her hssband however having 
 pressed him to sup with them, he agreed to 
 do so, and left them. 
 
 Castagnello, agitated by a thousand vin- 
 happy thoughts, having strayed along the 
 street some time, found himself unconsci- 
 ously at the house where he had been ruined, 
 and in a momentary paroxysm of despair he 
 went again in, and staked the onlv Louis he
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 20? 
 
 had remaining" in his pocket. He was suc- 
 cessful, he tried again, and again won. 
 Fortune had changed, and in the course of 
 an hour he had recovered all that he had 
 previously lost, and the time being expired 
 when he had promised to join Bellina and 
 her husband, he went to them in a far dif- 
 ferent state of mind to that in which he had 
 so shortly before met them. 
 
 The sudden change of spirit, which this 
 oscillation of fortune had produced, tended 
 to stir up the whole force of his mind, and 
 he appeared to the husband of Bellina, one of 
 the most dangerous and fascinating young- 
 men he had ever seen address his wife. The 
 habits of former intimacy allowed Castag- 
 nello a degree of familiarity which con- 
 tributed essentially to the workings of 
 this empoisoned reflection and the dis- 
 trust imbided on observing his appearance, 
 took the character of jealousy before they 
 separated that evening. Experience had 
 made Castagnello sharp-sigiited in these 
 feelings, and he was piqued to be suspected ; 
 for the affection which he entertained
 
 208 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 towards Bellina, was analogous to that only 
 genuine Platonic love which exists between 
 the brothers and sisters of one family ; 
 and perhaps, but for this circumstance, he 
 might never have looked on her with profane 
 intentions. The jealousy of her husband, 
 however, awakened in him the first senti- 
 ment that he had ever felt of a malignant 
 kind ', the evil of his fate and nature was 
 now getting uppermost in his character. 
 Some little rudeness, felt but not discri- 
 bable, and the faintness with which the 
 husband echoed Bellina's request to repeat 
 his visits frequently, stirred up feelings to the 
 force of motives, and actuated him with a 
 vindictive determination aofainst the virtue 
 of the only female he had ever regarded 
 with a correct affection. 
 
 He visited Bellina often, and employed 
 all his address to corrupt her imagination. 
 But there was an innocent candour about 
 her, which long prevented her from being 
 aware of his criminal intentions; for like 
 many of the Italian women of high rank, 
 she had been educated in such extreme re-
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 209 
 
 lirement, that she came into the world at 
 her marriage as simple to its dangers, al- 
 most as Eve in her first conversation with 
 the serpent. The jealousy of her husband 
 had in the meantime become stronger and 
 stronger, and the attentions of Castagnello 
 having one evening been insolently obvious, 
 he cautioned her on that night against him, 
 describing the dissolute character which he 
 bore in the Palais Royal. 
 
 The headlong career of Castagnello was 
 now thoroughly begun. Experience in 
 gaming taught him caution, and having 
 sometimes detected the fraudulent dexterity 
 of others, he was soon led to practice the 
 same thing himself. This often secured 
 him from that perdition of his all, to which 
 the fluctuations of fortune sometimes exposed 
 him. But one evening, when the run of luck 
 was strong against him, he was detected by 
 an Englishman, with whom he happened to 
 be playing, in an attempt to take an unfair 
 advantage, and received a blow on the spot. 
 Murder at that moment would have been 
 too sm^ll an atonement to the revenge of
 
 210 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 the Italian. He absolutely howled with 
 rag-e, as he sprung upon his antagonist, and 
 would literally have worried him with the 
 savage fierceness of a tyger. But the cool 
 Englishman repeated the blow, as i^fteu as 
 Jie was attacked, till Castagnello was com- 
 pelled to quit the house, followed by the 
 hooting and derision of all present. 
 
 His fall was now complete and irretriev- 
 able. He went home to his lodgings, and 
 for several days confined himself to bed, me- 
 ditating the most atrocious vengeance; hav- 
 ing at length settled some dreadful purpose, 
 he rose one night, and dressing himself went 
 in quest of his antagonist, but on reaching 
 the hotel where he lodged, was informed 
 that he had two days before left Paris. 
 
 Frustrated in his revenge, and undeter- 
 mined as to what he should next do, he found 
 himself drawn involuntarily towards Belli- 
 na's residence. It was near supper time, and 
 her husband being abroad, he found her 
 alone in her Boudoir. At his entrance, she 
 was startled by his altered appearance. His 
 cheeks were flushed, his lips pale and qui-
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 211 
 
 vering, and his eyes vivid and wild with a 
 supernatural brilliancy. He looked around 
 him with the glance of a demon in quest of a 
 victim, and when he addressed her, she 
 shuddered at the hoarse and hollow sound 
 of his voice. 
 
 " In the name of goodness, Castagnello," 
 she exclaimed " what is the matter?? — what 
 has happened ?" 
 
 " I am damned deeper than all the fiends, 
 for they have still the means of a suf- 
 ficient revenge," was the dreadful reply of 
 the reprobate, and rushing forward, as if 
 driven by some invisible impulse, he seized 
 her by the arm. Terrified by his looks and 
 indignant at this action, she shrieked for 
 help, and in the same moment her husband 
 and several of the domestics entered. 
 
 Without requiring any explanation, the 
 servants were ordered to turn him out of 
 doors, and they dragged him to the gate, 
 and threw him into the street like a dog. 
 
 This consummate disgrace awakened him 
 from the drunken infatuation of his revenge^
 
 !Jlt THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 and when he recovered from the shock oi 
 the precipitation with which he had been 
 cast from the portal of the hotel, he walked 
 sedately to his lodgings. On returning 
 home he prepared for his immediate depar- 
 ture from Paris, and at day-light next morn- 
 ing set out for Brest, where an expedition 
 was at that time on the point of sailing for 
 India. 
 
 When he arrived at Brest, he was hag- 
 gered and pale. The beauty of his coun- 
 tenance was ofone for ever, and instead 
 of that frank and beaming cheerfulness 
 which had rendered him once a delightful 
 companion, his brows were knitted with 
 a morose scowl, and the very accents 
 of his voice were become harsh and ab- 
 rupt. 
 
 Some delay occurred before he obtained 
 permission to join the expedition ; but, 
 by the influence of his sister, then the 
 favorite singer of the theatre, to whose 
 good graces one of the courtiers, being an- 
 xious to recommend himself, the objection
 
 THE EARXaaUAKE. 21^ 
 
 ^as Obviated, and he embarked for Pon- 
 rdn-y, .Uh the h^ent.ou of eu er>„, 
 the service of some of the natue rimce. 
 
 of Hindoostan.
 
 214 THE JEARTHaUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Net in the desert. 
 
 Son of Hodeirah. 
 
 Wer't thou abaudon'd ! 
 
 The co-existent fire, 
 
 That in the dens of darkness burns for thee. 
 
 Burns yet, and yet shall burn. 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 The expedition in which Castag-nello em- 
 barked consisted of several ships of war 
 and transports with troops, and it was his 
 had fortune to be on board the dullest 
 sailer in the fleet. What rendered this 
 disagreeable circumstance a real misfortune 
 was the ignorance of the master, who having 
 been only accustomed to trade between Brest 
 and Martinique, was totally unacquainted 
 with the coast of Africa, and the currents 
 which bear towards it from the westward.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 215 
 
 The consequence was that having* parted con- 
 voy off Cape St. Vincent, he committed the 
 fatal blunder of keeping too far to the east- 
 ward, and being" carried also by the current, 
 in a dark and stormy night the vessel struck 
 the ground. 
 
 This occurrence, which overwhelmed 
 every other on board with dismay, gave 
 satisfaction fo the lacerated heart of Cas- 
 tagnello, and he retired to his cabin, ex- 
 pecting the vessel to sink ; for it was sup- 
 posed that she had grounded on a rock, and 
 would be forced over it by the sea, and go 
 to the bottom on the other side. As the 
 day dawned, however, this alarm was dis- 
 pelled, for the shore was seen about half a 
 cable's length from the ship ; and the wind 
 having abated, and the waves subsided, the 
 crew got out the boats and all on board land- 
 ed. But scarcely had they touched the beach, 
 when the tide which was then out began to 
 flow again, and with the rise of the water, 
 the wind returned, and the surf came in so 
 furiously, that the vessel was completely 
 wrecked.
 
 216 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 While the crew and passengers, consist- 
 ing of more than fifty persons, stood on the 
 shore contemplating, with the feelings na- 
 tural to their situation this calamity, a 
 party of Moors came towards them, and in 
 the course of a few liours they were sur- 
 rounded by several hundreds, who seized 
 ■them all as slaves. 
 
 As the ship broke up, and her cargo was 
 driven to the beach, the Moors opened the 
 bales and boxes^ and divided the contents. 
 Those who had seized the men also claimed 
 a share, but this in some instances was re- 
 fused by the others, quarrels ensued, and 
 the unfortunate cast-away s were almost torn 
 to pieces between tliem. 
 
 Castaguello became the prize of an old 
 Moor, who appeared to be the chief of the 
 plunderers, and being taken by his master 
 into the interior, never afterwards heard of 
 what became of the rest. 
 
 That part of Africa where the shipwreck 
 happened, is an extensive sandy desert, be- 
 tween two considerable ridges of hills, which 
 at sea have the appearance of islands, owing
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 217 
 
 to the lowness of the land, and it is the more 
 danoerous as the mountains are often 
 covered with clouds, and not visible even in 
 the finest weather. Across this dreary and 
 arid desert, on which not a shrub or plant 
 of any kind was to be seen, but only the 
 sand, linduiated by the wind into a resem- 
 blance of the waves of the sea, Castagnelio 
 travelled on foot more than twenty miles, 
 following the horse of Abdullah his mas- 
 ter, in company with about twenty of his 
 retainers. During the journey across 
 the '^esert, the Moors were sullen and 
 silent. They walked in single file along 
 a track of footsteps in the sand, which was 
 so straight that it seemed to have been 
 made by a line, so little did it deviate either 
 to the right or left. The taciturnity of his 
 companions, the stillness of the solitude over 
 which they were moving, and the monotony 
 of the loose light sand in which their steps 
 had no distinct sound, was in unison with 
 the misanthrophic musings of the slave. He 
 had so little knowledge of geography, that 
 although aware he was in Africa, and that 
 Vol. I. L
 
 218 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 he was travelling" eastward, he was ignorant 
 whether he was approaching towards the 
 shores of the Mediterranean, or going into 
 the interior, nor did he care. 
 
 At sun-set the party reached the extremity 
 of the desolate waste, near the entrance of a 
 narrow pass, where the two ridges of hills 
 met, leaving the spacious herbless solitude 
 that extended to the sea, like a lake between 
 them. Here Abdullah alighted at the side 
 of a spring of beautiful water, which gushed 
 from a fissure in the face of a rock, and 
 spread around a matty carpet of the bright- 
 est verdure, till its freshening influence was 
 absorded in the thristy sand. At this place 
 they prepared to pass the night. The IMoors, 
 after a slight repast from a little haversack 
 which each of them carried, spread their 
 cloakes on the ground, and having paid their 
 evening devotions with their faces towards 
 Mecca, rolled their arms, which they had 
 previously taken from their belts, up in their 
 shawls, and placing them as pillows, stretched 
 themselves down, and were soon all asleep. 
 
 But Castagnello, though much fatigued
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 219 
 
 by the journey, especially in his limbs, 
 which the heaviness of \valkins" in the sand 
 had rendered very stiff and painful, could 
 not close his eyes, and he sat ruminating on 
 the succession of events which had befallen 
 him, as if they had been injuries, wholly in- 
 sensible to the turpitude of his own conduct, 
 and glad that an opportunity was thus afford- 
 ed of hiding his dishonour in the unknown re- 
 o-ions of Africa. These reflections, calculated 
 as they were to demoralize him more and 
 more, tended however to appease the stings 
 of his vindictive recollections. When towards 
 midnight he feel asleep, his sleep was less per- 
 turbed than it had been for many months be- 
 fore, and he awoke in the morning refreshed' 
 and disposed to be cheerful. The Moors 
 were pleased with the change, and their own 
 sullenness was also relaxed. 
 
 The day was considerably advanced be- 
 fore Abdullah mounted his horse, and Cas- 
 tagnello was surprised at the delav : but the 
 road lay through a narrow defile between 
 two lofty precipices, here and there tufted 
 L 2
 
 220 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 with shrubs, and russetted with lichens, 
 through which the morning sun darted the 
 whole force of his beams, but as he ascended 
 the shadows of the cliffs on the right hand, 
 fell across the road, and preserved it cool and 
 delightful during the warmest part of the 
 day. In the afternoon the travellers reached 
 the end of this rocky pass,which opened into 
 another desert, almost as extensive as that 
 which they had crossed on the preceding 
 day, and the Moors cheered Castagnello by 
 pointing forward and making signs, to let 
 him know that he would soon arrive at the 
 dwelling of Abdullah. 
 
 The road lay across the desert in a straight 
 line like the other, and when they were near 
 the middle of the waste, Castagnello dis- 
 covered a mineret and the dome of a mosque 
 rising before him, like a vessel coming from 
 afar at sea. lie soon after saw palm and 
 pomegranate trees, interspersed with houses 
 forming with their gardens and verdant en- 
 virons, a lovely island in this Caspian of sand. 
 As he drew nearer cattle were seen round a
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 22l 
 
 well drinking from troughs which their 
 keepers successively filled with gourds, and 
 in passing he noticed that the troughs were 
 antient marble sarcophagii, adorned with 
 elegant sculpture, on one of which the slory 
 of Europaand the Bull was represented. "It 
 is an emblem," thought Castagnello, " of the 
 mind being carried away by violent passions, 
 and the sarcophagus must have been for an 
 outcast like me." 
 
 After passing the well, the road lay through 
 a cemetery in which the tombs were over- 
 shadowed with cypress trees, among which a 
 number of women veiled, and young chil- 
 dren, were seen amusing themselves, as the 
 sun declined. The heart of Castagnello was 
 soothed by these images of repose and social 
 leisure, and he thought that he had never 
 witnessed a scene so calculated for human 
 happiness as this island of the desert. The 
 prejudices which, like all Italians and Chris- 
 tians in general, he entertained against the 
 Moors, were thus softened, and he went for- 
 ward to the village contented with the lot 
 L 3
 
 222 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 that had placed him among- a people seem- 
 ingly so bh\nieless. 
 
 The town itself was small, but neatly 
 biiilt, and the main street, which lay due 
 north and south, was a bazar or market place, 
 and a row of palm trees in the middle served 
 to screen it during" the short time that it was 
 exposed to the meridian sun. 
 
 In this pleasant and unknown village Cas- 
 tagnello remained about ten days, at the end 
 of which, Sahib the only son of Abdullah his 
 master, a fine young* man of a free and no- 
 ble character, made him understand that he 
 was to go with him to a relation, who dwelt 
 beyond the eastern chain of mountains that 
 bounded the desart, no longer howerer as a 
 slare, but as a friend. 
 
 After quitting the desert, they arrived at 
 the foot of a precipice. The rocks were 
 piled on each other like the fragments of a 
 vast building, and the travellers ascended by 
 a path so narrow that they were obliged to 
 dismount and lead their horses. On the top 
 of this black and basaltic cliff, they found
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 223 
 
 a plain upwards of a league in breadth, co- 
 vered with a rich coat of g-rass, embroidered 
 with aneoionies in full blossom, and on which 
 a great number of cattle were feeding, at- 
 tended by armed herdsmen, who, on see- 
 ing the son of Abdullah, came towards him 
 with tiie reverence of servants to theirmas- 
 ter. 
 
 When they had passed this plain they soon 
 after reached the mountains, and rested dur- 
 ing the heat of the day at the side of a foun- 
 tain, which Sahib, in pointing to the inscrip- 
 tion on it, made Castagnello understand had 
 been constructed by Abdullah his father. The 
 road from this place to the brow of the 
 mountains afforded no object of interest; it 
 was a narrow^ and rugged path beaten out by 
 the footsteps of travellers, but the view from 
 the summate was gloriously magnificent. 
 A long and deep valley, watered by a con- 
 siderable stream, spread into a plain so vast, 
 that the eye could discover no limit to its ex- 
 tent, for the tops of stupendous mountains 
 beyond it, seemed to rise far behind the cur- 
 viture of the earth, like the peaks and ridges 
 of so many separate islands. The young
 
 224 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 Moor, pointing to tins sublime landscape with 
 II lofty and exulting- look, intimated by 
 waving- his scymeter that it was all subject to 
 the command of his father. 
 
 As they descemled towatds the banks of 
 t])e river, the Moor beg-an to sing- a martial 
 air, full of pathos and solemnity. The ima- 
 gination of Castagnello was inflamed with 
 an aimless enthusiasm, and he looked abroad 
 on the expanse before him, like Adam at the 
 gate of Paradise after his fall, surveying the 
 earth in all the loneliness of unappropriated 
 nature. 
 
 When they had reached an abrupt turn 
 in the road, Sahib directed Castagnello to 
 look up, and he beheld the river rushing 
 from a cavern in the side of the mountains. 
 They followed the course of the stream, till 
 they came to where it was joined by a smalt 
 rivulet from behind an insulated conical hill, 
 between which and the great chain ofmoini- 
 tains, Castagnello was delighted to see 
 cultivated fields and gardens, intersj)er.sed 
 with country houses, indicating the neigh- 
 bourhood of a populous town. Soon after 
 they reached the gate of a fortified city,
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 225 
 
 which in successive tiers of houses covered 
 the side of the hill. 
 
 The uncle of Sahib was the governor, ajid 
 received his nephew and Castagnello with 
 much kindness. In the sequel it appeared 
 that the Emperor of Morocco was at this 
 time much disturbed in this province of his 
 dominions by a rebellion, in which several 
 Spanish reneg^dos took a distinguished part, 
 and Sahib was desirous of entering* the field 
 against them» For this purpose he had 
 come to his uncle, and had brouofht Castaof- 
 nello with him, conceiving, as he had the ap- 
 pearance of being a European officer, he 
 might prove useful to him in the war. 
 
 The old Governor applauded the heroic 
 
 spirit of his nephew, and was pleased with 
 
 bis sagacity in bringing Castagnello. In the 
 
 course of a few days Sahib was placed at the 
 
 iiead of a body of cavalry, and Castagnello, 
 
 equipped as aMoor, attended him to the scene 
 
 of action. But in the first skirmish the ofal- 
 
 lant and generous Sahib fell, his party was 
 
 routed and Castagnello taken prisoner. 
 
 When the renegados learnt the rank and 
 L 4
 
 226 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 connections of the young* chief who had fal- 
 len, they were seized with great terror. 
 They knew that the whole force of the Go- 
 vernor would be immediately sent out ag-ainst 
 them ; even many of their followers lament- 
 ed the death of Sahib, for the character of his 
 father was much venerated over all the coun- 
 try, and he was universally spoken of by the 
 beautiful title of the Well i n the Desert ; instead 
 therefore of attempting to reap any advantage 
 from their victory, they retired from the field 
 as if they had lost the battle, and of all the 
 prisoners Castagnello was alone taken with 
 them, and it was indeed at his own request. 
 It is needless to describe the abandoned 
 character of the renegades, who occasion- 
 ally raise the standard of revolt against the 
 barbarian authorities of Africa. Castag- 
 nello remained with them about two years, 
 in the course of which time they had been 
 gradually driven beyond the eastern confines 
 of the empire of Morocco. Castagnello had 
 at firsi, like the others, expected that they 
 would establish an independent jurisdiction 
 and state for themselves, but seeing evjery
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 227 
 
 prospect of this becoming" daily more ob- 
 SjCiire, he grew weary of their fruitless and 
 unavailing" fatigues, and determined to seize 
 the first opportunity of quitting their stand- 
 ard. 
 
 When any resolution is once decidedly 
 formed, the opportunity is not long wanting 
 to carry it into effect. The party to whom 
 he always adhered, had, after encountering 
 many hardships among the mountains near 
 the source of the river Adjidi, resolved to at- 
 tack Bescara, a town of some note, situated 
 on the banks of one of tliose numerous streams 
 which have their fountain heads among the 
 Alsferine mountains, and running- south- 
 ward into the interior of the continent, are 
 absorbed in the deserts, or find outlets un- 
 known to European geographers. 
 
 The renegados having heard that the 
 Dey of Algiers had been deposed and a new 
 one appointed, whose authority was disputed 
 by several of the towns, and particularly by 
 the city of Tubnah, against which all the 
 troops in Bescara had marched, resolved to 
 avail themselves of their absence and to 
 sack the place. But in carrying this design
 
 228 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 into effect, they met with more resistance 
 than they expected, for a numerous caravan 
 of travelling" merchants, with their guards 
 and attendants, had in the meantime arrived*, 
 who defended the walls so bravely, that the 
 renegados were repulsed with the loss of 
 some of their bravest soldiers, and Castag-- 
 iiello was left amonof the wounded. The 
 attack being made in the night, he lay 
 undiscovered and unassisted on the field till 
 the morninff. 
 
 Among the travellers was a French Acade- 
 mician who, actuated by a laudable desire to 
 make discoveries in Africa, had spent several 
 years with different caravans, carrying on 
 a small trade that furnished a pretext for his 
 beinof with them. Monsieur La Force was 
 employed by his government, but justly con- 
 sidering how little likely his treatment was to 
 be bettered by appearing in any accredited 
 character, he judiciously preferred the mode 
 of travelling here alluded to, and obtained 
 much valuable information in the manage- 
 ment of his little traffic, to which travellers 
 of greater pretension have no means of ac- 
 cess. He was now returning home to Paris^
 
 THE EAPvTHaUAKK. 22^ 
 
 that paradise of all true Frenchmen, with a 
 journal filled with a great deal of curious 
 matter, and with a rich collection of rare 
 plants, seeds, and singular arms, utensils, 
 and antiquities, under the denomination of 
 drugs and merchandize. 
 
 Monsieur Le Force, considering himself 
 destined to make a distinguished appear- 
 ance in the AcadeiDy, did not choose to risk 
 his erudite and valuable head in the conflict, 
 not that he was deficient in jiersonal bravery, 
 that characteristic virtue of his countrymen; 
 on the contrary, the undertaking to explore 
 the undescribed and dangerous regions of 
 barbarous Africa by himself, was a proof of 
 courage and intrepidity that the boldest en- 
 terprises of few soldiers could match. He 
 came, however, early in the morning to ex- 
 amine the dead, for the purpose of purchas- 
 sing from those who stripped the bodies, any 
 antique rings, coins, or curious arms, that 
 miofht be found anion"- them. 
 
 As he was walking over the scene of car- 
 nage, his foot slipped on a stone foul with 
 clotted blood, and he fell with his face
 
 ^30 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 against the gasliy bosom of a Moor that lay 
 rlead by the side of Castagnello. " Pest, O 
 sacre Dieu !" exclaimed Monsieur La Force, 
 in his native language, as he rose shuddering. 
 *' For the love of God and the holy virgin !' 
 cried Castagnello in Italian, "spare me, have 
 mercy!" — aware how general the custom is 
 for both Moor and Christian, when prowl- 
 ing the field of glory, to put the wounded 
 out of pain. 
 
 Monsieur La Force^ who was spitting 
 and loathing, and wiping his face, struck 
 with the unusual accent, paused, and looking 
 at Castagnello, said, " Ah, ah, friend ! be- 
 hold the most miserable of mankind," hold- 
 ing up his hands, and shrugging his should- 
 ers as he leered on him, with his face be- 
 smeared with gore. 
 
 Castagnello repeated his supplication, and 
 La Force, who was too much of an Acade- 
 mican to do any thing either for the love of 
 God or tlie holy Virgin, was still so much of 
 a man that distress never pleaded to his hu- 
 manity in vain. In a moment he procured 
 assistance, and forgetful of the object for
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 231 
 
 which he had come to the field of battle, 
 but littering every malediction and interjec- 
 tion of abhorrence that the gilb tongue of a 
 Frenchman could articulate, at being so 
 clashed against the bloody body of a dead 
 infidel, he carried him to his lodgings. In 
 the way thither, Castagnello, in order still 
 more to conciliate the kindness of Monsieur 
 La Force, told him he was not a Renegado, 
 but an unfortunate young man who had 
 been taken prisoner by them in the interior; 
 for he was so ignorant of the country that 
 he knew not of his being at this time much 
 farther in the interior than he had ever been 
 before. "Ah I" exclaimed Monsieur La 
 Force, and he stopped the persons who were 
 assisting to carry Castagnello to enquire 
 how he came there, and in what direction 
 he had been, conceiving that he was also a 
 traveller. Castagnello thought that he must 
 have committed some indiscretion in saying 
 that he was not a Renegado, and fearful of 
 being abandoned, endeavoured to eat in his 
 words. "Oh! Oh!" said the Frenchmun, 
 " it is of no importance, but when you are
 
 2;32 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 better you will tell me all your travels, and 
 I must try to heal you as soon as possible." 
 
 Amon^ other things that this indefatiga- 
 ble traveller had observed during his sojourn 
 in Africa, was the art of curing wounds by 
 what is called the first intention, an aft 
 which his countrymen scarcely practice at 
 this day, and finding, when he examined Cas- 
 tagnelloVs, that the lips adhered, he gave his 
 patient a significant nod, and saying, *' Bonj 
 bon!" he tied it up without any dressing. 
 
 But Monsieur La Force paid dearly for 
 his humanity. Among the dead, a match- 
 less antique ring was found, which an Arme- 
 nian merchant from Constantinople pur- 
 chased from an Arab slave for a mere trifle, 
 and refused to part with it at any reason- 
 able price. This disappointment vexed the 
 Frenchman exceedingly, and made him most 
 impatient for tiie recovery of Castagnello, 
 from whom he expected a world of infor- 
 mation. This impatience, with liis anxiety to 
 observe the progress of his experiment of 
 the effect of the first intention, kept him in 
 a constant flutter, and he untied the wound
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 233 
 
 twenty times in the day. On the following' 
 morning, however, he had the satisfaction to 
 see that the adhesion was complete, and the 
 patient having passed a good night, was 
 able to answer all his questions. 
 
 Monsieur La Force spoke Italian fluently, 
 and Castagnello, having acquired his lan- 
 guage chiefly under his mother's tuition, used 
 only the choicest and best expressions; this, 
 with the fine natural intelligence of his 
 mind, led his preserver to form a very high 
 idea of his accomplishments, he was there- 
 fore prepared to obtain not only a vast ac- 
 cession to his stock of African knowledge, 
 but large additions to his notes relative to 
 antiquities. For he had discovered that Cas- 
 tagnello was not a man of scientific pursuits, 
 but he spoke so well, and had so many beau- 
 tiful ideas, that he concluded he must be 
 full of classical learning, and possess an ex- 
 quisite taste in the remains of antient art. 
 Nothing, therefore, could surpass his vexa- 
 tion and disappointment when he found his 
 accomplished patient utterly incapable of 
 giving a satisfactory answer to any of hi^
 
 234 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 questions. " My God!" cried Monsieur Ln 
 Force in despair, ** ihou knowest nothing;" 
 and bounced from his seat. In a moment 
 after, he however, returned to the charge, 
 and enquired if he had seen no remark- 
 able natural phenomenon, and Castagnello 
 glad to be at last able to tell him some- 
 thing, described the great fountain head of the 
 river to which )!?ahib had directed his atten- 
 tion. The Academician was delighted, and 
 enquired many particulars to which no direct 
 answer could be given ; but when Castag- 
 nello mentioned the boundless plain watered 
 by the stream, he clapped his hands with rap- 
 ture, and exclaimed, " The banks of the river 
 were superb!"' "Beautiful!'* said Castag- 
 nello, " But nothing could surpass the lovely 
 environs of the city, fields, gardens, and 
 country houses.'* " A city too, and near that 
 great river!" exclaimed Monsieur La Force, 
 'Miappy man; it was the source of the 
 Niger; you have been at Tombactoo;'* an I 
 he kissed Castagnello in a transport of ad- 
 miration, crying in the same moment, ** How 
 miserable am I to have spent so many years
 
 THE EARTIiaUAKE, 235 
 
 in the petty regions of Upper Egypt, Ethi- 
 opia, and the Mountains of the Moon. 
 ** What, however,*' continued he, subsiding 
 into a calm and philosophical mood, " ren- 
 ders these discoveries of your's the more 
 important is, that they tend to throw light 
 on many things hitherto imperfectly ex- 
 plained, or not explained at all. Innume- 
 rable streams, like the Adjidi and the Wadi 
 Abiad, rise among the northern mountains of 
 Africa, take a southern course, and cer- 
 tainly do not fall into the Mediterranean: 
 where then do they go? I will tell you. 
 Depend upon it that the source of the Ni- 
 ger, which you have had the liappiness to 
 behold, is the outlet to some great congre- 
 gation of waters behind the mountains, the 
 confluence of all those rivers." 
 
 Castagnello had been on the shores of the 
 lake Elloudeah, and had travelled more 
 than forty leagues along its banks without 
 being sensible that he was going round it, 
 and he described it as a sea so wide that 
 the mountainous land could not be seen 
 across it.
 
 236 THE EARTHaUAKK. 
 
 Monsieur Lu Force struck his forehead, 
 and rising", said with solemn emphasis to his 
 patient, " Another Columbus ! you are the 
 greatest of men. I will go in quest of that 
 superb water, and all Europe will resound 
 with the fame of our discoveries.'* Accord- 
 ingly, as soon as the necessary preparations 
 were made, Monsieur La Force set out for 
 the mountains of Belid alJerid, or the land 
 of grasshoppers, and in seeking the source 
 of the Niger and the metropolis of Tom- 
 bactoo, went into that undiscovered country 
 from which no traveller returns.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXr. 
 
 This solitude but more foments despair, 
 Recals — compares — and to the incessant pangs 
 Of Spite^ revenge, and shame, condemns my soul! 
 O ! what a miserable slave am I, ' 
 Precipitated from the tow'ring hope 
 Of eagle-eved ambition, to the abyss 
 Of mutl'ring horror, curs'd from thought to thought. 
 
 Smollet. 
 
 Before his departure from Bescara, the 
 warm hearted and ingenious Monsieur La 
 Force arranged with the obstinate Armenian 
 merchant, that he should see Castagnello to 
 Bujeiah, a seaport at the mouth of the river 
 Zowah, about eighty miles to the east of the 
 city of Algiers, and, at this place, after a 
 journey of ten days, they arrived without 
 meeting with any adventure. Here they 
 embarked in a Frencli vessel, bound to Mar- 
 seilles, but the day following the wind came
 
 238 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 SO strong from the Westward that they were 
 obliged to bear away before it, and were 
 driven into Malta, having suffered severely 
 \n attempting to make the islandof Sardinia. 
 In Valetta, the capital of Malta, Castag- 
 nello met with a Neopolitan nobleman, 
 one of the knights who had been a favorite 
 admirer of his mother, and who received 
 him with great kindness and procured for 
 him a commission in the Life Guards of the 
 Grand Master. Perhaps in all Europe there 
 never had existed such a dissolute society as 
 that of Malta at this period, and Castagnello 
 was soon one of the most distinguished 
 ofamblers and libertines in the island. The 
 ruffian Alphonso was then a private in his 
 company, and having assisted him in some 
 of his iutrigues, was raised to the rank and 
 dignity of his confidential servant. About 
 the same time a conjpany of players from 
 Sicily arrived to perform during the carnival, 
 and among them was an actress remarkable 
 for her stupidity on the stage, but possessed 
 of extraordinary beauty. The patron of 
 Castaj^nello, Don Juliano Piccha, having,
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 2.39 
 
 notwithstanding' his vows of diastity as 
 'one of the knights of St. John of Jerusalem, 
 —vows which were as little respected by 
 ^he whole order as by himself — induced 
 Signora Cantabella to become his mis- 
 tress, was supplanted in her good graces by 
 Castagnello. 
 
 It happened one evening that when Don 
 Juliano came to sup with her, that Furbo, 
 who was then her servant, pretended she wag 
 indisposed and asleep. The old gentleman 
 alarmed at this intelligence insisted on being 
 admitted to her apartment, and found her in 
 high health and spirits, lovingly supping 
 with Castagnello — Alphonso at the moment 
 serving them with some beautiful cham- 
 paigne, which Don Juliano himself had 
 that morning sent to her. 
 
 Enraged, as it may well be supposed at 
 this discovery, the knight accused Castag- 
 nello of the basest ingratitude, and assailed 
 him with a torrent of degrading epithets. 
 The latter retorted ; from words they came 
 to threats, and swords were drawn, but the 
 cries of the faithless damsel were so loud
 
 240 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 and vehement, that hefore tlje rivals conkl 
 make a thrust at each other, the house was 
 filled from the streets, and they were both 
 disarmed. 
 
 This affair being- reported next morning" 
 to the Grand Master, who had heard some- 
 thino- of the character which Castag-nello 
 bore in the place, ordered him, Alphonso, and 
 Furbo to be forthwith banisfied the island, 
 which was done accordingly, in the course 
 of the same day, and they were landed 
 next morning- on the coast of Sicily, at the 
 mouth of the river Madiuni, formerly tlie 
 harbour of Selinus. 
 
 Destitute of all the means of subsistence, 
 Castagnelloand his companions had no other 
 resource but robbery. 
 
 These desperate men vvere not long' left 
 without an opportunity of excercising- their 
 inevitable profession. While they were yet 
 standing- on the beach looking- at the Spar- 
 ranaro depart, fronn which they had been 
 landed, and swearing- a violent and aimless re- 
 venge against the whole immaculate order of 
 the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, Father
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 241 
 
 Paolo passed on one of his begging excur- 
 sions attended by Bernardo the Locandier6 
 of Castel Vetrano, who was armed with a 
 musket. The outcasts ran instantly to them, 
 as if actuated by a single impulse, Bernardo 
 flung down his gun and fled, but the Friar, 
 unfitted by his garb for such celerity, was 
 obliged to stand and deliver. The spoil was 
 not valuable, but us it consisted chiefly of 
 dried fruits, wine and provisions, it was bet- 
 ter to them at that time than money. 
 
 In this their first adventure, Castagnello 
 and his companions aflected to be greatly 
 more fierce and tremendous than there was 
 any occasion for them to be, and Alphonso 
 proposed that they should put the HolyFather 
 to death. But Turbo's blood turned cold at 
 this horrible proposal, and Castagnello, natu- 
 rally more humane, decidedly refused. Paolo, 
 who, as we have already observed, was a 
 self-possesed adroit knave, discovering by 
 their conversation that this was their first ad- 
 venture, addressed them freely on the subject 
 of their profession, and offered to enter into 
 a confidential correspondence with them, on 
 
 YOL. I. M
 
 242 THE EAJRTHaUAKE. 
 
 condition of sharing regularly in their plun- 
 der. He spoke to them of the catacombs of 
 Selinus as an inscrutable retreat, and pointed 
 out in what manner, by prudence and perse- 
 verance, qualities which secure success in all 
 pursuits, whether good or evil, they migjjt 
 acquire money enough to enable them, in 
 the course of a short time, to return to the 
 world as honest men. 
 
 Too well pleased to hear of any place 
 of shelter with such an eventual prospect, 
 and too long accustomed to general delin- 
 quency in small affairs to feel any repug- 
 nance to the principle of robbery, both Furbo 
 and Alphouso at once acceded to the scheme 
 suggested. As for Castagnello, the captain- 
 ship of banditti was exactly the situation 
 for which a singular train of circumstance 
 seemed to prepare him so well, that it might 
 be considered as the natural issue of his 
 destiny. Having thus arranged with Paolo 
 apian of co-operation for mutual advantage, 
 they were conducted by him to the catacombs, 
 and shown the marks by which the intri- 
 cacies of the labyrinth could be easiest ex-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKJS. 24;J 
 
 plored. How he came to possess this know- 
 ledge was never well explained, but several 
 years before a band of robbers had resided 
 there, who suddenly departed none ever knew 
 into what region, and about the same period 
 Paolo canae in the garb of a young pea- 
 sent to the gate of the Capuchin nionastery at 
 Sciacca, and prayed to he admitted for the 
 love of St. Francis as a novice ; nor had any 
 of his brethren, till the meeting with the 
 ill-fated Leonardo, reason to suspect hisinte* 
 orritv, but much to admire his indefationable 
 zeal in providing for their enjoyments. 
 
 Alphonso, a Calabrian peasant, and whose 
 highest pleasures had been those of a sub- 
 altern's servant in the guard of the Grand 
 Master of Malta, thouglit the catacombs very 
 comfortable quarters. But Furbo, footman 
 to a Courtezan, was hugely shocked at the 
 idea of taking up his abode in the receptacles 
 of the antientdead. Castagnello regarded 
 their lodgings with indifference, and only 
 felt irritation against his stars in being ne- 
 cessitated to associate with wretches so vile, 
 and to adopt a profession which he still con- 
 M 2
 
 244 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 sidered derogatory. For although differing 
 little in detail froai what he had followed 
 with the Renagados in Africa, it was not 
 like theirs exalted with any ambitious aim ; 
 it wanted the iris of political glory, and 
 resolved itself into an impassioned attempt 
 to wrench a miserable existence from the 
 fangs of famine. The poison of misan- 
 throphy, which had been long preying upon 
 the vitals of his mind, shot keener and fiercer 
 pangs through all his reflections, and his 
 thoughts partook at times of Satanic energy. 
 He contracted a sullen hatred against 
 Alphonso and Furbo, and never spoke to 
 them but when obliged, and he bore himself 
 apart from them, even in their enterprizes, 
 so haughtily that he may be described as de- 
 liberately insolent. During the greater 
 part of the day he would sit among the ruins 
 of Selinus contemplating the sea, and it was 
 diflScult to say whether his gloomy mind 
 delighted most in the calm or the tempest. 
 For when all was smooth, silent, sunny and 
 cloudless, he was observed to knit his brows, 
 and to assume the sinister look of distrust, as 
 
 m
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 245 
 
 if he ruminated on those false and flattering 
 assurances of fortune, which are made up of 
 fraud and hypocrisy and terminate in crimes. 
 When the winds were abroad, and the rack 
 flying over the expanse of the sky, he would 
 stand aloft on some broken column or pedes- 
 tal, and drawing his sword seem to menace 
 the heavens with a courageous an<l sublime 
 impiety. On other occasions he would 
 make Furbo serve him with wine till he had 
 sunk himself lower than brutality, but in the 
 progress of intoxication the original hilarity 
 of his youthful fancy would sometimes break 
 out with more than its natural brilliancy, like 
 the vividness with which the light glances 
 from the fractures of broken crystals. But 
 the general mood and frame of his be- 
 haviour was stern, resolute, and relentless, 
 and he passed many hours daily walking 
 backwards and forwards in the apartment, 
 which he had made choice of for himself, 
 with his arms folded and his eyes fixed in 
 abstraction. 
 
 Several months had passed in this way, 
 
 durino' which the outcasts made so 
 
 «3 
 
 many
 
 246 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 successful attacks on the travellers between 
 Mazzara and Sciacca, that the road was 
 almost deserted, and that by Castel Vetrano 
 preferred although considerably longer. 
 The consequence of which was, that 
 Castagnello, conceiving he had acquired 
 money enough for his share of plunder to 
 enable him to try his fortune in the gaming 
 houses of Palermo, had resolved, on the very 
 morning in which the unfortunate Countess 
 fell into his hands, to separate himself from 
 his hated and vulgar companions. But this 
 design was frustrated, as we have already 
 related. 
 
 After leaving the volunteers among the 
 ruins, admiring his intrepidity, he conducted 
 the Countess to Sciacca. During the course 
 of the journey she so far recovered as to 
 be able to request him to take her to the 
 Convent of which her aunt was the superior; 
 but with the exception of the few brief sen- 
 tences which passed on that occasion, they 
 reached the gate in silence. Having assist- 
 ed her to alight, and seen her safely received 
 within the walls, he re-mounted, but in pass-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 247 
 
 ing along" the street he was stopped by a 
 number of persons, who had seen him pass 
 with the Countess, and who knew the horse 
 to belong to one of the volunteers. He 
 answered their enquiries as discreetly as he 
 could, informing" them that the Count had 
 been wounded but not danoferouslv, and he 
 praised the alacrity and generosity of their 
 friends in enablinof him to bring" the Countess 
 to a safe asylum. In the meantime the 
 crowd was pressing in from all quarters, and 
 he was obliged to dismount and give the 
 horse to a boy, requesting him to take it to 
 the stable of the owner, as he walked to- 
 wards the only inn which the town afforded. 
 Such a day as this was in Sciacca ! The 
 anticipations of Father Leonardo were fully 
 realized; and the old maiden ladies -were 
 particularly curious to hear all the details 
 of what the Countess had suffered from the 
 robbers. 
 
 M 4
 
 248 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Troops of artizans 
 Follow his panting horse, and with a strange 
 Confused noise, partly with joy to see him. 
 Partly with fear for what his haste portends. 
 
 Webster. 
 
 There lived at this time ia Sciacca a little 
 black and yellow apothecary, whom his 
 friends styled 11 Medico Gabinetto, but he 
 was more generally known by the epithet of 
 Poty Gabi. His hair was jet black, and 
 it lay as smoothly on liis head, as if it had 
 been dressed with some of his own ointment. 
 He commonly wore a purple velveteen 
 waistcoat, speckled with g'old, green inex- 
 pressibles, a sky blue silk coat, with large 
 yellow buttons, and a cocked hat that might 
 have served a grenadier. His watch chain, 
 long and dangling, was adorned with many
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 249 
 
 trinkets, among- others with a small shell, on 
 which he set great value, as it had been 
 brought from the West Indies ; and when 
 he walked abroad, or to visit his patients, he 
 usually carried a silver headed cane, consi- 
 derably taller than the man who grasped it 
 by the middle. 
 
 Nobody thought so much of Poty GabI, 
 as he did of himself; he allowed however 
 that there might have been doctors who 
 treated their patients with more success, but 
 was quite sure none carried to the couch 
 of disease more skill, or sent so much medi- 
 cine, notwithstanding which many of his 
 patients unaccountably died. 
 
 The doctor having a small estate in the 
 neighbourhood of Mazzara, was in the prac- 
 tice of annually going thither to dispose of 
 the produce of his vines and olives, and it hap- 
 pened on his return about a fortnight before 
 the period of which we are treating, that 
 he was robbed by Castagnello and liis com- 
 panions, and besides his money the invalu- 
 able shell and his watch were taken from 
 him.
 
 250 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 This affair at the time occasioned ao^reat 
 deal of talk, particularly respecting- the shell, 
 and no one spoke half so much on the subject 
 as the doctor himself; he lamented his loss 
 tlie more on account of the interest which 
 every body seemed to take in it. He had 
 worn the shell upwards of ten years in the 
 public view, and no one before ever seemed 
 to notice it, but now when it was gone, he was 
 called on twenty times a day for a descrip- 
 tion of its beauties, and while describing- it, 
 a curious twinkling was observed in the cor- 
 ner of the eyes of his auditors, which ren- 
 dered it sometimes difficult to believe that 
 they were sincere in the sympathy they 
 professed ; and he was often disturbed 
 after he had retired to bed, by mischievous 
 boys, bringing worthless shells from the 
 shore, at his door enquiring if they were not 
 
 his? 
 
 Among those who most frequently and 
 seemingly most fervently condoled with 
 Poty Gabi on the irreparable loss which he 
 had sustained, was a young man of the 
 name of Gaminetti, who was not less satis-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 2ol 
 
 tied with himself than the doctor with his 
 own medical knowledsre. Sio:nor Gaminetti 
 was indeed a very remarkable person, or 
 rather, as he thought himself, he possessed a 
 remarkable person, and that a very hand- 
 some one. His face was beautiful, and his 
 cheeks were so prettily dimpled, and he 
 knevv^ this so well, that he constantly ap- 
 peared v/ith a smiling countenance, but his 
 leg's were round and not well formed, and, 
 being inclined to corpulency, his belly was 
 iarofer than became his vearjs. But as he 
 was not sensible himself of these peculiar 
 drawbacks on his beauty, he retidered them 
 more conspicuous by his fondness for dancing, 
 although he had no natural taste for the art, 
 being destitute of any musical ear j so that 
 what with his blunders as to time in the 
 dance, attracting attention to his legs, and 
 his inordinate conceit of his person, causing 
 him not only to hold his head up but to hold 
 it back in dancing as in walking, he was 
 really a very ridiculous tiguce. 
 
 Signor Gaminetti, like all those who are 
 on good terms with themselves, had a littlo 
 
 r
 
 252 THE EARTHUUAKE. 
 
 spice of satire in his disposition, and he was in 
 consequence regarded as agreeable com- 
 pany by many charitable minded ladies and 
 gentlemen of Sciacca, who in a sociable man- 
 ner delighted X,o pity the faults and misfor- 
 tunes of their neighbours; and the story o^f 
 Poty and his shell had often furnished him 
 with a pleasant topic. It was however ob- 
 served that although Sij^nor Gaminetti was 
 often invited to parties, he never gave any in 
 return ; perhaps he thought the invitations 
 but a just tribute to his singular merits. 
 
 In the course of time somebody insinuated 
 to the Doctor that he had been more than 
 once the subject of Gaminetti's sneers, and 
 particularly that he had made the loss of his 
 shell a very diverting story. This piece of 
 malicious information sunk very de^p into 
 the breast of Poty Gabi, and he burned for 
 revenge. He knew the self-satisfaction of 
 Gaminetti as well as the whole town, and 
 he was aware that if he could make his 
 pefson in any way an object of public 
 derision, he should obtain a complete and
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 253 
 
 lasting" triumph over him. But the diffi- 
 culty was to devise the means. 
 
 Matters were in this state when the attack 
 on Count Corneli took place, and it came to 
 pass when Castag'nello brought the Countess 
 to Sciacca that he wore the Doctor's watch, 
 and that Sio^nor Gaminetti recoofnized the 
 chain and shell, as Castao^nello was g-oingf to 
 the inn attended by so many of the people. 
 Gabi's shop being at- hand, Gaminetti with- 
 out reflecting on any of the consequences 
 turned around to the Doctor, who was stand- 
 ing- behind the half door elevated on his 
 mortar, endeavouring- to see over the crowd, 
 and told him in a sarcastic manner that the 
 stranger had certainly his watch and Indian 
 shell. 
 
 The Doctor being-of a peppery temper, ir- 
 ritated by the sneer of Gaminetti, quickened 
 by revenge, and anxious to recover his jewel, 
 darted out of the shop without speaking, and 
 nimbly elbowing the crowd aside, reached 
 Castagnello, and pulled the watch out of his 
 pocket. This action, though instantaneous, 
 was perfectly understood by the multitude
 
 234 THK EAUTHaUAKE. 
 
 who liad all one way or anotlier heard 
 something of the shell, and twenty hands in 
 the same moment seized Castagnello, and 
 dragged him before a magistrate. 
 
 The Doctor, content with recovering his 
 trinket, returned to his shop, but he was 
 almost instantly summoned to attend the 
 examination of the robber. Gaminetti, in 
 expectation of a scene that would afford some 
 amusement, was the bearer of the magistrate's 
 message to him, and they walked together 
 to the council-chamber. The Poty said not a 
 word, but meditated on the ridicule that he 
 had suffered from his companion. Gami- 
 netti, on the contrary, was in high glee, and 
 amused himself exceedingly with the anti- 
 cipation of what he thought must take place. 
 In this state they reached the chamber where 
 the maofistrate was sittinof with Castag-nello 
 before him and a great assemblage of spec- 
 tators around. 
 
 The Doctor was asked by the Magistrate 
 if he knew the person at the bar. ** Please 
 your worship,*' replied the little vindictive 
 wasp, fluttering with malice, *' by your leave
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 255 
 
 I will tell you the whole particulars. Not 
 being so tall as my good friend Signior Ga- 
 rni netti there, for it has not pleased God to 
 give me such long legs, and far less such 
 thick leofs, seeinofa crowd comingf alonsr the 
 street, I turned my mortar upside down and 
 mounting upon the bottom, stood at my shop 
 door, to see what was going forward. By 
 this help I was raised so high that my beJiy 
 was above the half door, and not having to 
 thank my friends for contributing like those 
 of the worthy Signer Garni netti, by much 
 good eating to make it so large as his, I could 
 stand without inconvenience and look out 
 with ease. While I was thus elevated, my 
 beautiful friend Signor Gaminetti there 
 came running towards me from the mob — 
 O, 1 shall never forget his countenance ! — 
 his cheeks scooped out into the most bene- 
 volent dimples ! — the sight of them made me 
 not only forget the fatness of his legs, but 
 that even his waistcoat was so big with belly, 
 I forgot in that moment how often he has 
 raised a laugh at my expence, while he was 
 most substantially feasting at the expence of
 
 256 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 others. I forgot when he walks, but more 
 especially when he dances, that he pushes 
 his belly forward as an article deserving of 
 public attention ; and I thought with a sigh, 
 how much it is to be lamented that so pretty 
 a youth as my amiable friend Signor Ga- 
 minelti there, should have no ear for music, 
 and yet be so fond of dancing, and that his 
 legs, which were never made for that pur- 
 pose, should be always, in consequence, 
 thrown into the most awkward perplexity. 
 But, alas! we cannot help our defects, and 
 therefore should not be proud of our beauties ; 
 and if Si^nor Gaminetti is afflicted with a 
 big belly, he may console himself with the 
 beauty of his face; and if he has fat legs, look 
 at his dimples and you will forget them." 
 
 The Doctor continued speaking in this 
 ridiculous manner until the whole assem- 
 bly was convulsed with laughter^ while poor 
 Signor Gaminetti, who had placed himself 
 in a conspicuous situation to enjoy a far dif- 
 ferent scene, was ready to sink into the earth 
 with shame and vexation. Never was re- 
 venge more complete ; andtheDoctor having
 
 THE JEARTHaUAKE. 257 
 
 vented all his gall, and being satisfied with 
 his victory, was little disposed to prosecute 
 Castagnello. The good humourof the crowd 
 was also propitiated by the sacrifice which 
 had thus been made of the self-conceit of a 
 young man, whom no one esteemed, so that 
 when the little Apothecary declined to make 
 any accusation against the gallant robber, they 
 actually applauded his generosity, exclaim- 
 ing as he left the hall, '^Yiva Signor Gabi ! 
 viva Poty Gabi 1 viva il medico Gabinetto !" 
 
 In the meantime Father Leonardo had ar- 
 rived from Castel Vetrano. In the morn- 
 ing he had been carried before Sio:nor 
 Pavietto, a plain sensible man, not over sa- 
 tisfied at any time with the discretion of 
 Signor Corbo his colleague, and having been 
 carefully and calmly examined, was set at 
 liberty, while Paolo, although much more 
 adroit and clever in his answers, was remand- 
 ed for another examination. 
 
 These circumstances being reported to 
 the Magistrates of Sciacca during the time 
 that the vindictive little Doctor was venting 
 his spleen, they deemed it necessary to com-
 
 258 THE EARTHQUAICE. 
 
 niit Castagnellointo custody until the return 
 of the volunteers. In them however the 
 robber found friends ; for, the next day when 
 he was again broug-ht before the Magistrates, 
 and was convicted on the evidence of several 
 of the inhabitants, as one of the banditti who 
 haunted the ruins of Selinus, they interested 
 themselves in his behalf, and obtained a re- 
 mission of his punishment so far, that in- 
 stead of being- obliged to sweep the streets 
 of Sciacca, he was sent to a prison situ- 
 ated on a small Island near Cape Pasero. 
 
 It ought to be mentioned here likewise, 
 that after he had parted from these young 
 men at the catacombs, they buried the body 
 of Alphonso on the spot where he fell. 
 Furbo, in the meantime, having* obtained 
 possession of all the plunder, watched their 
 departure, and as soon as they were out of 
 sight quitted his retreat, and travelled into 
 the interior of the country to a village cal- 
 led Santa Margarita, where he entered the 
 Capuchin monastery there, and devoting him- 
 self to the priesthood, in due time acquired 
 a Wonderful reputation for piety. The pea- 
 sants around the ruins, happy in being re-
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 269 
 
 lieved from such disagreeable neighbours, 
 filled up the entrances to the catacombs, 
 which are now totally unknown; but a rude 
 cross erected over the grave ot Antonio 
 is still pointed out to the stranger.
 
 260 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 What angel shall 
 Bless this unworthy husband 1 he cannot thrive 
 Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear 
 And loves to grant, reprieve hira from the wrath 
 Of greatest justice. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The messenger whom Paolo in the mo- 
 ment of alarm, had sent from Castel 
 Vetrano to the catacombs, arrived about 
 an hour before midnight. Being unac- 
 quainted with the secrets and manifold pas- 
 sages of the labyrinth, he did not venture 
 to explore them alone, but fired a pistol at 
 the entrance, and Alphonso made his ap- 
 pearance to ascertain the cause of this un- 
 usual occurrence. On hearing the message, 
 he requested Bernardo, the bearer, to await, 
 and alertly retiring into the vaults, re- 
 turned in the course of a few minutes, with 
 the wounded Count. Few words passed :
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 261 
 
 Alphonso assisted Cornell over the ruins 
 and rough ground, till he reached the place 
 where Bernardo had left his horse, and then 
 hastened back to his den. 
 
 The Count having- mounted, was obliged, 
 on account of the pain he suffered from his 
 wound, to ride slowly, and Bernardo walked 
 at his stirrup. As they proceeded along, 
 Bernardo made several unsuccessful at- 
 tempts to enter into conversation, but he 
 was as often sullenly repulsed, and they tra- 
 velled on in silence. 
 
 They had not, however, gone far when 
 the Count stopped his horse, and turning 
 suddenly round, listened a few seconds, and 
 said, *' Did you hear that ?'* 
 
 '' I hear nothing but the noise of the sea 
 breaking on the rocks," replied Bernardo, 
 and the Count rode on. 
 
 When they had reached the brow of a 
 hill, the Count halted a second time, and 
 Bernardo said, without any question being 
 asked, — " It is but the baying of a wolf on 
 the mountains." Corneli took no notice of 
 his observation, but contemplated the ex-
 
 262 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 tent of desolation which spread like a silent 
 cemetery of tombs in the moonlicrht be- 
 low them. The fragments, in the silvery 
 brightness of the side, which they presented 
 to the moon, contrasted with the blackness 
 of their shadows, might have been com- 
 pared to human beings attended by their 
 good and bad angels. As this thought rose 
 in the fancy of the Count, a dark cloud 
 floated over the moon, and the scene was 
 troubled and overcast. Bernardo, observ- 
 ing an expression of great anxiety in his 
 countenance, said, ** It is indeed a terrible 
 place, and our acquaintance are not the 
 worst inhabitants that have resided yon- 
 der." Corneli made no reply, but walked 
 his horse slowly, and Bernardo, not being 
 checked, continued : — 
 
 '* Those antients must have been terrible 
 sinners, for, although they had the saints 
 living among them, their wickedness was 
 so great that the heavens were obliged to 
 weed them utteily away from the face of 
 the earth. I wonder how it is Signor, that 
 we are all so very wicked. Don't you think
 
 THE EAJRTHaUAKE. 263 
 
 it would have been much better and saved 
 a vast of trouble, had sin been kept out of 
 the world altogether. But our natural sins 
 are nothing* to those we are obliged to 
 commit, or to make others do, for the sake 
 of law and right, as it is called. If a man 
 kills another, it is called murder, and yet the 
 law itself makes no scruple to take away 
 life. And surely it would have been better, 
 instead of ordering us not to steal, to have 
 made things so that we should have had no 
 occasion to do so. x\nd, as for adultery, had 
 there^been no marriages, there could have 
 been no adultery. Now, what can be said of 
 laws that are the creators of the sins that 
 they punish?" 
 
 The Count at first paid no attention to 
 what Bernardo was saying, but as he pro- 
 ceeded he became surprised at the cha- 
 racter of his observations, and allowed him 
 to talk on without interruption. 
 
 " Thus it is you see, my Lord," he conti- 
 nued, ** how it happens that poor men are 
 made wicked. It is not their fault, but the 
 fault of those who make the laws, and I
 
 26*4 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 should think that it is of very little con- 
 sequence in the eye of heaven, whether a 
 man kill another by a stiletto or a statute: 
 for if we cannot get what we need without 
 robbing, surely the sin is not in the robbery 
 but in the need; and if we can spare what 
 we are robbed of, surely it is very wicked, 
 and against all goodness to punish the unfor- 
 tunates who are compelled by their need to 
 take what we could very well spare. Now, 
 my lord, what will you be the worse after 
 your wound is healed, by^the loss of the trifle 
 of money that the poor men in the cata- 
 combs have taken from you. I know that 
 if I were in your lordship's place — 
 
 *^ What would you do?'* cried Cornell, 
 amused at the art and ingenuity of Ber- 
 nardo. 
 
 " I would not," replied Bernardo; " I 
 would not go this night to Castel Vetrano." 
 
 " Why so?" enquired the Count, curious 
 to discover his object, being now aware of 
 his drift. 
 
 **I would go to Mazzara," answered 
 Bernardo, " where nobody as yet has heard
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 265 
 
 of your being" robbed, and you may get horses 
 there in the morning", and a very comfort- 
 able letica, to carry you to Palermo without 
 any questions being asked, or any necessity 
 imposed on you to hunt our friends in the 
 catacombs to death for the public o-ood." 
 
 Cornell had much stronorer reasons than 
 these for adopting this advice, but he did not 
 choose to acquaint Bernardo with them. 
 On the contrary, he appeared to acquiesce 
 in his opinion, and when they reached the 
 high road, instead of going on to Castel 
 Vetrano, he turned his horse towards Maz- 
 zara, where he arrived about the break of 
 day. Bernardo, who knew the town well, 
 instantly procured mules and a letica to 
 carry the Count to Palermo; and not 
 choosing to apprize the persons, from whom 
 he hired them, of his having been at the 
 catacombs, he pretended that they had 
 come that morning from Castel Vetrano, 
 and cautioned the Count to do the same. 
 
 On reaching the metropolis, Cornell imme- 
 diately made some necessary arrang-ements 
 Vol. I. N
 
 266 THE EARTIiaUAKE. 
 
 with his agent, and embarked for the con- 
 tinent, before it was known to the public 
 that he had met with any accident in his 
 journey. In the meantime his infant son 
 had continued to thrive, and before his de- 
 parture he left instructions that he should, 
 as soon as possible, be sent to the care of 
 his mother's family at Messina. 
 
 Baron Alcamo, the brother of the Coun- 
 tess, and who ought naturally to have taken 
 a deep interest in the fate of his sister, was, 
 at the time the Count*s letters arrived, en- 
 gaged in some philosophical pursuit, which 
 so entirely occupied his whole attention that 
 he had not a thought to bestow on any other 
 subject 5 and when in the course of a few 
 days after, he received a letter from the 
 Countess, informing him that she was in 
 the convent at Sciacca, of which their aunt 
 was the superior, he concluded that she 
 had fallen into some of those indiscretions, 
 which are ailed ged to be not peculiar to the 
 Sicilian ladies, and that the less any of her 
 friends said about her the better. 
 
 The conduct, however, of her aunt the
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 267 
 
 Abbess was very diiTerent. Previous to the 
 arrival of the Countess, she had been in- 
 formed by the boatmen of what had hap- 
 pened, and her grief and anxiety were no- 
 thing* short of Father Leonardo's anticipa- 
 tions. It may therefore be easily conceived, 
 without description, how happy she was 
 to receive her niece from the arms of Cas- 
 tagnello. 
 
 In the course of her ride from the ruins, the 
 horror and agitation into which the Countess 
 had been thrown by the death of Alphonso, 
 had so far subsided, that on alighting at the 
 convent, she was able to enjoy the maternal 
 embraces of her aunt, and in a condition to 
 relate the story of her misfortunes. Having 
 communicated the circumstances already 
 described, she mentioned that the Count, on 
 seeing her recover from the shock which 
 she felt at the idea of sleeping in a sepul- 
 chre, from which the relics of the dead had 
 been removed to make room for her, seemed 
 disposed to indemnify her for his former in- 
 attention, by the particular kindness of his 
 caresses : and that, deceived by this ilat- 
 N 2
 
 268 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 tering" change in his behaviour, she had soon 
 after fallen asleep beside him ; the robbers 
 having, on the faith of a large reward, pro- 
 mised to assist, in the morning, to remove 
 the Count to Castel Vetrano. But, during 
 her sleep, the perfidous and profligate Cor- 
 nell had risen and quitted her unknown, as 
 she supposed at first, to the banditti, who 
 had retired to another apartment for that 
 night. How long he had left her before 
 she awoke she could not tell, but she 
 waa disturbed in her sleep by the ruffian 
 Alphonso laying his rude hands upon her 
 in the dark. Starting from the floor where 
 she lay and screaming for help, Castagnello 
 had come into the chamber, followed by 
 Furbo with a light, and happily again res- 
 cued her from the brutality of the Cala- 
 brian. Enraged to be again thus frus- 
 trated, Alphonso rushed for his sword fol- 
 lowed by Castagnello ; the Countess in the 
 same moment also ran from the mausoleum, 
 in which this hideous business had taken 
 place, and going forward in the labyrinth 
 at random, fortunately, and as if miracu-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 269 
 
 lously conducted, reached the corridore, and 
 escaped by the opening in the vault through 
 which she had been led by Castagnello. 
 
 What then took place has been already 
 described, and we shall now resume the 
 story of her unfortunate protector. 
 
 n3
 
 270 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 O, good old man ! how well in thee appears 
 The constant service of the antique world. — 
 But, poor old man ! thou prun'st a rotten tree 
 That cannot so much as a blossom yield. 
 In lieu of ail thy pains and husbandry. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 "While Castagnello remained in the prison 
 of Sciacca, the Abbess liberally furnished 
 him with every necessary to alleviate the 
 privations of his condition ; the volunteers 
 also assisted him with money, and frequently 
 visited him, promising" a continuance of their 
 endeavours to obtain an abatement of his 
 punishment. Nor did the females of the 
 town show any want of the usual charity of 
 the sex on tliis occasion. We sliall not in- 
 sinuate that their kindness was at all influ- 
 enced by the handsome figure of the culprit,
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 271 
 
 and far be it from us to allow that any other 
 sentiment than the purest benevolence, led 
 so many elderly ladies to his cell with 
 gifts and pity, although they particularly 
 questioned him about the Countess, and 
 wondered how she could contrive to pass 
 the time pleasantly in the doleful mansions 
 of the antient dead. 
 
 When he had been about ten days in pri- 
 son, he was summoned one morning* to pre- 
 pare for the journey to Cape Pasero, toge- 
 ther with two other convicts, also sentenced 
 to confinement in the same place. These 
 two were coupled by fetters like blood- 
 hounds, but in consequence of the interest 
 which the public took in his fate, Castagnello 
 was spared this degradation. 
 
 Their road lay along the skirts of the 
 coast at the bottom of Mount San Calosrero, 
 a rugged track unfit for wheel- carriages even 
 from the gates of Sciacca. On approaching 
 the river Yerdura, it was much swollen 
 by the rain of a thunder-storm that had taken 
 place in the course of the night ; and they 
 found a letica and several mules, with an 
 X 4
 
 272 THE EARTHUUAKt:. 
 
 English traveller and his servants standing" 
 on the bank, afraid to pass the torrents. 
 The Englishman, on seeing the convicts and 
 their conductors, entered into conversation 
 witli them, and enquired particularly into 
 the circumstances of the offence, which had 
 reduced so fine a young man as the outcast, 
 to such a state of wretchedness. The kind 
 treatment which the ill-fated Castagnello 
 received from the good people of Sciacca, 
 had greatly tended to appease his misan- 
 thropy ; perhaps the reflection of having 
 behaved so much better than he intended to 
 the Countess, had also some share in pro- 
 ducing the cheerful composure which he 
 then enjoyed. Before the waters had so far 
 subsided as to render it prudent to attempt 
 the ford, the Englishman felt a strong inter- 
 est in his favour, and assured him that on his 
 return to the capital he would exert all his 
 influence to obtain an entire remission of the 
 punishment to which he had been sentenced. 
 This benevolent partiality w^as soon con- 
 verted into an obligation. 
 
 The stransrer and his servants, like the
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 273 
 
 generality of their countrymen in similar 
 situations, became impatient at the duration 
 of the bridgeless flood, and by menaces tt 
 at length induced their Sicilian conductors 
 to try the ford. The mules with the lug* 
 gage were led across in safety, but the letica, 
 in which the master and his valet were 
 seated, was not so fortunate. In the mid- 
 dle of the stream one of the mules stum- 
 bled, and the letica was upset. Cas- 
 tagnello darted forward, and in the moment 
 of almost inevitable destruction rescued the 
 passengers. 
 
 When the immediate consequences of 
 this accident were put to rights, the Eng- 
 lishman, who was going to see the ruins of 
 Triocala, took leave of his deliverer, not 
 however without presenting him with a 
 sum of money, and renewing still more 
 warmly the promises of his endeavour to 
 serve him. The convicts turned off to 
 the left, being obliged to rest that night in 
 Calatabellota, a small miserable town, pic- 
 turesquely situated on the summit of a very 
 lofty and in many places inaccessible moun- 
 
 N S
 
 274 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 tain, the inhabitants of which are notorious for 
 their wild and desperate character. The clas- 
 sical reader will perhaps recollect it was on 
 this hill that the adventurers Trypho and 
 Athenio established that republic of slaves 
 who defended themselves with such constancy 
 and valour ag-ainst their masters, that the 
 Consul Aquilius was obh^ed to lay seige to 
 them with the reg'ular army, and extirpated 
 but could not subdue them. 
 
 Castagnello and his companions were 
 lodged in a small locanda or wine-house 
 for the night, when as they sat at supper 
 with the officers who had charge of them, 
 an old priest, Father Jacomo, came in, and 
 entered into conversation with ihem. The 
 appearance of this venerable man deeply 
 interested Castagnello, wiio was at that time 
 peculiarly susceptible of kindly impressions. 
 He was pale and thin, and his eyes were 
 full of a sad and pathetic expression, which 
 the melancholy accents of his voice rendered 
 extremely touching. His beard was entirely 
 hoary, and on the head of the tall staff with
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 275 
 
 which he supported his feeble and ao-ed 
 steps, was affixed an ivory crucifix, that 
 gave a picturesque effect to the apostolic 
 simplicity of his manners and deportment. 
 He had evidently come to offer consolation 
 to the convicts, but his attention was soon 
 particularly addressed to Castagnello ; in- 
 deed the two other delinquents were coarse 
 and hardened vagabonds, whom a lono- 
 career of petty crimes and punishments had 
 rendered callous to every moral impress 
 sion. 
 
 Father Jacomo having received from 
 Castagnello a short account of the imme- 
 diate causes of the necessity which obhVed 
 him to become a robber, and of the subse- 
 quent events which had finally brought him 
 to the condition in which he then appeared, 
 that amiable old man endeavoured to make 
 him sensible that fortune was not alto«'ether 
 to blame for what had befallen him, at the 
 same time admitting, in a mild but diffident 
 manner, that our errors in life are as often 
 the result of some inborn impulse, as they 
 are attributable to the defects of our iudo--
 
 ?76 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 ment. This judicious concession to the 
 prejudices of Castai^nello conciliated his at- 
 tention, and the Friar continued. " Were 
 it not indeed for this innate evil, this 
 effect of original sin, there would have been 
 no occasion for heaven to have communi- 
 cated to man the blessed doctrines of salva- 
 tion." 
 
 Castagnello had never before held any 
 conversation of a religious kind, and he hap- 
 pened to be in a frame of mind favourable 
 to the benig-n object which the pious ecclesi- 
 astic had in view. He accordingly listened 
 with profound interest to what he said. 
 
 " I think," continued Father Jacomo, 
 " that it is greatly owing to the negligence 
 with which constitutional predilections to do 
 wrong, are allowed to grow into habits, 
 that much of the guilt and sorrow which 
 darken the beauty and order of the world 
 oucrht to be ascribed. It seems to me unde- 
 niable, that punishment alone is not suffi- 
 cient to remove the causes of criminal ac- 
 tions. There are certain moral secretions 
 natural to man, and it is from them that our
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 277 
 
 good and evil actions arise. These can no 
 more be eradicated from the intellectual 
 constitution by employing the scourge or 
 the rack, than a patient afflicted with disease 
 can be cured by the same means. It is 
 only by being changed in nature, born again 
 by religion, that the moral patient can hope 
 for a cure.'' 
 
 *' But how is that to be done, holy Father," 
 said Castagnello disconsolately. ** By keep- 
 ing the mind's eye fixed on the sublime 
 objects which religion has disclosed." 
 
 " And what are those objects ?" enquired 
 the penetential convict. 
 
 The old man looked at him with indig- 
 nant surprize, not believing it possible that 
 an officer in the Life Guards of the Grand 
 Master of the religious fraternity of St. John 
 of Jerusalem, could be so ignorant, but when 
 he saw the sincere and unaffected expres- 
 sion of his countenance, his heart melted 
 with tenderness and compassion. 
 
 By this time the night was far advanced, 
 and the officers, being desirous of going to 
 sleep, they requested the Friar to desist
 
 278 THE EARTIiaUAKE. 
 
 from any farther conversation with the 
 prisoners and to go away. Castagnello 
 becrsfed them to allow him to remain a little 
 longer, but the old man himself was tired, 
 and declined to stay ; he promised however 
 to come ajrain in the mornins:. But in 
 going home he was attacked by two black- 
 guards in the street, who pushed him down 
 and otherwise used him so ill, that he was 
 nnable next morning to quit his bed, and 
 Castagnello saw him no more. His obser- 
 vations however had taken a strong hold of 
 the outcast's mind, which in the whole 
 course of the journey from Calatabc llota to 
 La Catholica, wandered as it were in a 
 chaos of conjectures, and vague imaginings. 
 His spirit was like the soul of an Atheist 
 immediately after death, when it finds itself 
 in the eternal regions, and still doubts if the 
 things and elements around are everlasting 
 truths, or the phantasma of a dream.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 270 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? 
 Why, what means this ? Why do you look on me ? 
 I see no more in you than in the ordinary 
 Of Nature's sale-work. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 When the convicts reached the banks of 
 the Platina, they were informed that the 
 English traveller had crossed the river the 
 preceding" evening, a circumstance at which 
 they were much surprized, for the fisher- 
 men at the spot assured them that the 
 river was more swollen than it was then, 
 although they considered it still impassable. 
 But the convicts, on being told in what 
 manner the enterprize was effected, re- 
 solved to attempt it also. 
 
 The chad-fishers at this place have con- 
 structed five or six small isla^ds-in a line 
 across the stream, by means of wattled 
 stakes filled up with turf and stones, and
 
 260 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 between these they stretch their nets. Over 
 the channels which §eparate these artificial 
 islets, the Englishman instructed the fisher- 
 men to lay poles and sticks, and upon these, 
 from isle to isle successively, the travellers 
 crept on all fours, swimming the mules in 
 the river. 
 
 At the city of La Catholica, the convicts 
 intended to halt for the night, but one of the 
 police officers having procured at that place 
 the loan of a mule for himself and his 
 friend, to ride and tye, it was resolved that 
 they should go as far as the priestless town 
 of Siculiana. The prisoners remonstrated 
 against this, as subjecting them to a scan- 
 dalous degree of fatigue; and Castagnello 
 having expressed himself in a manner more 
 becoming an officer in the life guards of 
 the Grand Master, than his actual condi- 
 tion, the officers threatened to shoot him on 
 the spot, but commuted the insult by only 
 tying his hands behind. 
 
 To this abject and ultimate disgrace the 
 miserable outcast however submitted with a 
 smiling countenance, but it indicated no
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 281 
 
 cheerfulness at heart, for it was but the 
 external synaptoms of a convulsion in the 
 mind, that nearly overwhelmed the throne 
 of reason. At first, the officers and the 
 other felons regarded it as the expression 
 of a cool contempt, and the former were 
 enraged at his insolence, while the latter 
 admired his courasre. But all were struck 
 with awe and alarm, when he soon after be- 
 gan to sing and warble some of his mother's 
 most brilliant bravuras, with astonishing 
 taste and spirit. In the midst of one of the 
 gayest, he suddenly burst into tears and 
 threw himself on the ground, sobbing like 
 an artless and offended infant. 
 
 This affecting incident touched even the 
 hearts of the guards with remorse, and they 
 unbound his^ hands ; but when the fit of 
 passion had abated, his tranquillity was not 
 restored, and he marched to Siculiana 
 sullenly and stern. 
 
 This town, to which we have applied the 
 epithet of priestless, is distinguished in the 
 priest-ridden region of Sicily, for not 
 having a single convent within its pre-
 
 282 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 cincts j this, however, is not entirely owing^ 
 to the philosophical illumination of the in- 
 habitants, for when Swinburn, the traveller, 
 several years after, stopped there for the 
 night, he met with a thesis pasted on the 
 walls of his bed-chamber, to be maintained 
 in the schools of Gergente, by a native of 
 Siculiana, wherein the said native nnder- 
 took to demonstrate that the Copernican 
 system is impious and absurd, and that the 
 earth stands still and the sun moves round it 
 like the sails of a windmill round the pivot. 
 But for that matter, perhaps, it does not 
 very well become us to be satirical on this 
 orthodox sage of Siculania, for about three 
 years prior to the present Anno Domino, 
 we were present with divers learned 
 and publishing personages, printers and 
 booksellers, in the house of a classical 
 friend, within the sound of Bow bell, for 
 the express purpose of hearing an old vil- 
 lage barber deliver certain truths — a special 
 revelation no doubt to him, that would tend 
 to prove there were no such things as the 
 laws of nature, and he really began by
 
 THE EAPvTHaUAKE. 283 
 
 proposing' that we should commence a sub- 
 scription to enable him to make a planetary 
 machine, according to his notions, by which 
 the whole public would at once be con- 
 vinced of the absurdity of the Newtonian 
 system. But to return to our unfortunate 
 hero. 
 
 Owing to fatigue, vexation, or to some- 
 thing else, when Castagnello reached Sicu- 
 liana, he was very unwell : his pulse beat 
 high, his cheeks were inflamed, and his 
 eyes sparkled with the fire of a burning 
 fever, so that next morning, instead of 
 being in a condition again to take the road, 
 he was unable to raise his head from the 
 sleepless stone which had served him for a 
 pillow, his couch being the floor of the 
 warehouse where the party lodged. 
 
 The officers were at a loss v»'hat to do 
 with him, but having waited till the stew- 
 ard of the Prince of La Catholica was 
 stirring, who, in the absence of his Lord, 
 exercised the supreme magisterial func- 
 tions, and Vv'ho, even when his highness was 
 there, exercised the authority of *' Viceroy
 
 284 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 over him:" one of them went to the ba- 
 ronial residence, and entreated the advice of 
 the great man. Fortunately the English 
 traveller had arrived the evening before, 
 and being" lodged with the steward, met the 
 police officer in the hall, and enquired for 
 Castagnello. On learning his situation, he 
 immediately interceded in his behalf, and 
 the steward too happy, as he alledged, to 
 have it in his power to oblige an honored 
 guest of his Prince, readily consented to be 
 responsible for the prisoner, until he was 
 in a condition to be removed from the town, 
 in the hope that the petitioner would amply 
 reward his obliging disposition. The offi- 
 cers were thus induced to leave Castag- 
 nello under charge of a doctor, whom the 
 traveller had the charity to send to his 
 assistance, although he refrained from visit- 
 ing him, being told by the physician be- 
 fore he saw the patient, that the fever was 
 in all probability contagious. 
 
 The disease, however, proved but of 
 short duration, for on the third day Castag- 
 nello was able to leave his apartment, much
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 283 
 
 to the chagrin of the steward of the Prince 
 of La Catholica, who had been led to hope, 
 by the representations of the police officer, 
 that he would die and g-ive him no further 
 trouble; for the Englishman, on quitting the 
 town, gave him a purse to defray any ex- 
 pences which the prisoner might occasion, 
 and which the honest steward was desirous 
 of appropriating entirely to himself. 
 
 The next best thing, therefore, that could 
 happen in the opinion of this conscientious 
 personage was that the prisoner should make 
 his escape, knowing that he might safely 
 trust to the power of his master to protect 
 himself from the consequences of the respon- 
 sibility which he had incurred to the police 
 officers. In Sicily, as well as in many other 
 places, the local magistrates wink at a 
 great many of the inconveniences attend- 
 ing the administration of public justice, 
 especially when it serves themselves to do 
 so. Accordingly, when Castagnello was 
 quite recovered, Signor Scampavia, the 
 steward, that nothing might be wanting on 
 his part, sent for him to the castle, and
 
 286 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 having' courteously condescended, in consi- 
 deration of the culprit being" a friend of the 
 Mi Loido, to request him to be seated, ad- 
 dressed him to the following effect: — 
 
 " It gives me great pleasure, Signor, to 
 see you look so well. I was much afraid 
 you would have died among us, which 
 would have occasioned no small expence to 
 his highness, the Prince, my master, as I 
 should have been obliged to bury you at his 
 cost and charge, for you know that here in 
 Siculiana you are as destitute of kith and 
 kin, as a dog or the wild boars in the ches- 
 nut woods of Mount Etna; and any trifle of 
 money in your pocket would have gone of 
 right to the worthy men who brought you 
 here, unless it had pleased them to give part 
 of it to the Capuchin friars in La Catholica 
 to say mass for your soul. Honest men ! I 
 am sure they well deserve all you have, and 
 much more if you had it to give, for if 
 they had not consented to leave you, which 
 they did most readily at my suggestion, you 
 would have perished on the road, and the 
 flies would have eaten the flesh from your
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 287 
 
 bones. Bat, thank heaven ! you are now 
 haie and hearty, and as able for a journey 
 as any young fellow that ever made a g-ood 
 use of his limbs. I trust, however, that 
 after all the kindness you have met with, 
 you will not use them to run av/ay from 
 Siculiana, because that would be the most 
 horrid ingratitude, as you cannot but know 
 very well, that were you to do so, I have no 
 men to send after you. At the same time, 
 I think it is a great pity that so handsome a 
 young fellow as you are should be doomed 
 for life to the miserable piison-isle of Cape 
 Pasero. Oh ! it is the most terrible place 
 in all the known world. I had once occa- 
 sion to be there. I went of my own accord, 
 Signor, when becalmed in a voyage from 
 Gergente to Syracuse. Being becalmed, 
 and having nothing to do, I visited the pri- 
 son island. There i saw a dismal black 
 castle — a black castle, mark that; and in 
 the inside were some twenty felons with 
 long beards, and bound hand and feet with 
 fetters of iron. The devils in hell, I am sure,
 
 288 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 are perfect beauties compared to them. 
 Mercy on us 1 what a life it must be to live 
 all the days of the year with such compa- 
 nions, nay, not only all the days of the year, 
 but all the years of one's life. I know not 
 what I should do were I in your situation, 
 Signor, but stone and lime would not hold 
 me fast, stronger though they are than gra- 
 titude and every principle of honour; what, 
 indeed, does it signify to a man to cherish 
 either gratitude or honour, when, by so 
 doing, he must take up his abode in the 
 prison-isle of Cape Pasero, and die there, 
 and go to hell afterwards ; for he can have 
 no hope of ever reaching the gates of Para- 
 dise when he has associated with the incar- 
 nated demons of the black castle of the pri- 
 son-isle of Cape Pasero; and, if he once 
 goes there, he can never hope to escape; for 
 Signor, it is an island, which you know, Sig- 
 nor, is a rock surrounded by the waves of the 
 sea, that dash against it night and day, and 
 are never at rest. But if }^ou go to the 
 prison-isle, perhaps you think the Mi Lordo
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 289 
 
 -will obtain your pardon. Ah! Signor, if 
 you knew as much of those English as I do, 
 you would not trust a pinch of snuff to their 
 fidelity. Poor wretches ! are they not here- 
 tics? and what faith can you have in a 
 heretic ? To be sure, the Mi Lordo did leave 
 these two dollars with me to give to you, 
 and with them a sober man might travel 
 from Siculiana to Palermo, where the Mi 
 Lordo expects to be in a day or two; but 
 were you, Signor Castagnello, to attempt 
 that, I would account you an ungrateful 
 monster, only fit to live with the heretical 
 English, in that hell-upon-earth of their's, 
 the great city of London, where such excel- 
 lent beer is made, and every luxury in life 
 abounds, and the most beautiful girls in the 
 vv^orld, dressed like princesses, take the 
 young men by the arms, and lead them into 
 delicious gardens, more splendid than the 
 palace of Morgiana, the fairy, but where, 
 alas ! there is not a single saint that can be 
 depended on.** 
 
 Castagnello perfectly understood the drift 
 of this harrangue, and the same night, when 
 
 YOL. I. o
 
 QSQ THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 the moon rose, he departed from Siculiana, 
 leaving the two dollars in the hands of the 
 honest steward, as a pledge that he could 
 not be such a monster of ingratitude as that 
 discreet personage apprehended.
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. '291 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 If ever you have look'd on better days, 
 
 If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, 
 
 If ever sat at any good man's feast; 
 
 If ever from your eye-lids wiped a tear. 
 
 And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, 
 
 I^t gentleness my strong enforcement be. 
 
 When Castagnello had descended from 
 the hills on which the town of Siculiana is 
 situated, he paused, in doubt which way to 
 direct his steps. The frag-ance of the orang-e 
 gardens in the valley, came in the freshness 
 of the west wind upon his senses; and the 
 recollections of his past life, particularly of 
 all that had preceded the evening of his 
 departure from Naples, when the same deli- 
 cious perfumes were breathed towards him 
 as he passed along the road to Rome, him- 
 self then uncontaminated with any vice, 
 rose in his mind in successive emotions of 
 o 2
 
 292 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 pleasure and sadness, like the reflection of 
 the moonlight on the Mediterranean, as seen 
 through the boughs of the trees. 
 
 About two miles from the town, on the 
 side of the road that leads to Gergente, 
 there is a small niche, containing an image 
 of the Virgin, to which passengers are in 
 the practice of doing reverence, and on the 
 steps before it, on which they are accustomed 
 to kneel, the outcast sat down. 
 
 He thought of the high hopes he had 
 once cherished, and sighed to think how 
 harshly they had been all plucked and trod- 
 den. In that moment he threw his eyes 
 upwards, and a cloud, the only one that 
 then hovered in the whole expanse of the 
 starry tranquillity of the air, came slowly 
 over the ascending moon. He felt as if it 
 were a type of his own destiny, and watch- 
 ed its progress till the planet was swallowed 
 in the darkness of its bosom. In a few 
 minutes the occultation began to lessen ; 
 the cloud melted away, and the beautiful 
 orb again solemnly launched into the chrys- 
 taline abyss, floated alone in her sphere like
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 293 
 
 the spirit of a vestal rising towards hea- 
 ven. 
 
 " Darkened and disgraced as I am," said 
 the convict with emotion, " may I not yet 
 be destined to shine ont?" and as he uttered 
 these words, he rose, and turning round, 
 prostrated himself before the image of the 
 Virgin, and implored her assistance with 
 great fervour. 
 
 Whether the virgin heard his prayer, 
 we have never been in a situation to 
 learn, but while he was kneeling, the sound 
 of voices approaching startled his ear, and 
 presently he discovered with alarm that they 
 were those of the officers who had brought 
 him from Sciacca. Fortunately, however, 
 gentlemen of their profession are not much 
 more addicted to religion than the other 
 culprits of the law, and they not only passed 
 the image of our blessed lady without re- 
 verence, but one of them gave a profane 
 and contemptuous whistle when he saw her 
 votary prostrate on the ground, but did not 
 disturb his devotion. 
 
 They had delivered the two convicts 
 o 3
 
 294 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 safely to the governor of the prison -isle and 
 were returning home. The probability, 
 therefore was, that had they been aware 
 who the worshipper was, tliey would not 
 have seized him, because it might have oc- 
 casioned them to return with him to Cape 
 Pasero, but they were not tempted either 
 way. They passed on towards Siculiana 
 as I have described, left it again early in 
 the morning, and never troubled themselves 
 to enquire whether the prisoner was dead or 
 alive. 
 
 Castagnello rose immediately on their 
 passing, hastened down the hill, and, urged 
 by the impulse of the incident, went for- 
 ward on the road to Girorente. At day- 
 break he found himself near the precincts 
 of that porl, and observing three Maltese 
 boats making for the harbour, he resolved 
 to conceal himself till they reached the 
 mole, and to mingle with the passengers 
 at disembarkation, and pretend that he 
 ulso had come in one of the boats from 
 Malta. 
 
 This expedient was not only ingenious,
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 295 
 
 but the very best he could adopt ; for, being 
 still in the uniform of the Grand Master s 
 guard, it saved him a world of other subter- 
 fuges. Accordingly, when the passengers 
 were put on shore, and their luggage raven- 
 ously taken possession of by the crowd of 
 poor wretches who infest the mole of Ger- 
 gente, and ply as porters between the har- 
 bour and the city, which is superbly situated 
 on the top of a mountain, about four miles 
 distant, Castagnello joined the loquacious 
 throng as they proceeded, bag and baggage, 
 to the custom-house, aad readily obtained, 
 for the customary fee, a passport among the 
 rest to Palermo. Having no luggage, he 
 walked on without delay to the city. The 
 path was rugged and steep, but the sides 
 were lined with magnificent rows of the 
 American aloes in blossom, and he reached 
 the locanda in the lower range of the town, 
 in a state of calm and temperate feeling, 
 produced by the beauty of the landscape 
 and the freshness of the morninof air. On 
 entering the house he sent for the master to 
 procure him something for breakfast. It 
 o 4
 
 296 THE EARTHQUAKE, 
 
 was still an early hour, but not having had 
 any supper, his appetite was sharpened by 
 want as well as by the length of his jour- 
 journey. 
 
 While the locandiere was absent, a youn^ 
 man who kept a small school in the neigh- 
 bourhood, came in and offered himself as a 
 Cicerone to conduct the captain to the ruins 
 of Agregentum. It may easily be ima- 
 gined that the captain was in no great hu- 
 mour for any such amusement, and indeed, 
 lie rudely repulsed the offer ; but there was 
 so much patient meekness in the look with 
 which the poor young man regarded him, 
 that it almost instantly softened his spirit, 
 and he invited him to partake of his break- 
 fast with materials for which the locandier6 
 then entered. The gentle domine respect- 
 fully accepted the invitation, but request- 
 ed leave to step home to acquaint the 
 good woman with whom he lodged. We 
 might here moralize, with great propriety, 
 on the hollowness of appearances in the 
 relative conditions of mankind, and assure 
 the courteous reader of that never-befor^
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 297 
 
 mentioned truism, that the great are not 
 so much to be envied as some honest folks 
 imagine ; but a topic so original and curious 
 would deserve more time to do it justice 
 than our publisher will allow at this ad- 
 vanced period of the season, he being very 
 anxious to have the book out in time, while 
 the wintry mornings allow the fair and 
 young leisure lime to read ; and we our- 
 selves being in great need of the stipulated 
 price at which we engaged to finish this 
 piece of work. 
 
 When Signor Salpano, the school-maS" 
 left the locanda, the landlord said to Cas- 
 tagnello, *' He is the best poet in all Si- 
 cily and an excellent creature, with a 
 heart as tender as the dove's. There is not 
 a god or goddess but he can make a song 
 about, nay, for that, Signor Capitano, he 
 could make a most divine one about your- 
 self; and he is such a clever improvisatore, 
 that a Mi Lordo who was here yesterday, 
 told him that if he could speak English and 
 carry his genius to London, he would make 
 o 5
 
 298 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 more money in one winter than the revenues 
 of the archbishop for a whole year.'* 
 
 Castagnello was convinced that this Mi 
 Lordo could be no other than the generous 
 Englishman who had expressed so much 
 concern for himself; it was therefore with a 
 feeling" of intense pleasure, that he lieard 
 from the Cicerone, on his return, that the 
 traveller had lodged in the Benedictine 
 monastery, and that he had brought letters 
 to the Archbishop, who could, no doubt, tell 
 his name. 
 
 When breakfast was finished, Castag- 
 nello begged the schoolmaster to ^o to the 
 convent and palace, and obtain for him all 
 the information he could ; and, being fa- 
 tigued with his journey, he stretched him- 
 self on the only bed which the locanda 
 afforded, and fell into a profound sleep, 
 which may he enjoy till the return of Sig- 
 nor Salpano; while we, by way of epi- 
 sode, and in pleasant contrast to the gloomy 
 incidents of this authentic history, relate 
 some particulars in the life of the poetical 
 domine.
 
 THE EARTHOUAKE. 299 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Full many a gem of purest ray serene. 
 The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; 
 Full many a flower has blown to blush unseen, 
 And wa?te its sweetness on the desert air. 
 
 The poor school-master believed that, as 
 ill the fabulous ages of antiquity, poets were 
 still regarded as the most illustrious of man- 
 kind; and that kings and queens, princes 
 and princesses, and ail the members of the 
 blood royal of Europe were ambitious to do 
 them homage, and longed for opportunities 
 to crown them with laurel wreaths, in the 
 midst of their applauding people. His faith 
 even went so far as to think that critics 
 were held in abomination witli the wise 
 and good ; and that, whenever they ven- 
 tured so show their heads, they ran the risk 
 of being pelted to death with stones. Sig- 
 ner Salpano was therefore scarcely more
 
 300 THE EARTHUUAKE. 
 
 anxious to obtain the means than a pretext 
 to quit his school, that he mi^ht see the 
 worlds and receive at the hands of their 
 Sicilian majesties, then in the bloom ot" 
 youth and the spring* of their eventful reign, 
 those evergreen testimonies of merit which 
 he was conscious of deserving'. 
 
 He was a native of Rusi, a pleasant vil- 
 lage in one of the romantic vallies through 
 which the river Salso, the Himera of the 
 antients, winds his desultory stream. His 
 father was a barber, and not more distin- 
 guished for the suavity of his razor than the 
 taste with which he embellished the most 
 simple tidings, and it was supposed by 
 many of his philosophical customers that 
 the genius which the son afterwards dis- 
 played in extemporaneous compositions, 
 both in verse and prose, was either derived 
 from some hereditary impulse, or from the 
 excitement which he experienced in listen- 
 ing to the old man's garrulous narratives. A 
 few were of a different opinion, and thought 
 bis talent was original and peculiar to him- 
 self ^ but these were weak persons, for
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 301 
 
 every body now knows that there is no 
 such thin^ as peculiar endowments. Na- 
 ture, in fact, has nothing* to do with the 
 formation of the mind, according to the 
 opinions of the most eminent metaphysi- 
 cians of the present day, who maintain that 
 the human being may be modified into any 
 thing by education. In the particular case 
 of Salpano nothing wa,« ever determined, 
 but many disputes took place on the sub- 
 ject in the barber's shop ; and least my 
 British readers doubt that such discussions 
 were held in such a place, I beg leave to 
 mention that those disputants were friars 
 belonging to a neighbouring monastery, 
 one of whom became the voluntary in- 
 structor of the bardling. 
 
 Father Ludivico had early discovered 
 the natural intelligence of young Salpano, 
 and thought that in time he might be 
 formed into an excellent priest ; but the 
 bent of his genius was not ecclesiastical. 
 The good friar, however, was induced from 
 kindliness for the boy, to continue that at- 
 tention to the cultivation of his mind, which
 
 302 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 he had commenced for the benefit of the 
 church ] so that about the age of eighteen the 
 future poet was an accomplished classical 
 scholar, but as ignorant as such youths com- 
 monly are of modern practical knowledge. 
 Beinof thus filled with the beautiful of an- 
 tiquity, and his notions elevated far above 
 the sphere of human cares and actions, he 
 was sent to the city of Alicata, which 
 stands at the mouth of his native river, and 
 placed as an apprentice in the shop of one 
 Doctor Epicaco, the brother of his tutor. 
 
 The Doctor was as testy as a wasp, but 
 the gentle spirit of Salpano submitted to 
 his spleen with the meekness of a holy 
 martyr, and, for three years, endured his 
 peevish eflfervescence without complaint, al- 
 most without repining. But the patient ass 
 may be overloaded, and the docile camel dri- 
 ven too far. The resignation of Salpano 
 was at length exhausted ; still he did not com- 
 plain. He performed his embittered duties 
 with his wonted punctuality, but he grew pale 
 and thin, and his languid eyes sometimes over-
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. ^03 
 
 flowed with tears that he could not suppress. 
 He was always solitary, but, instead of re- 
 turning- to his lodging's to feed his hopes 
 with the romances of literary honour, it 
 was observed, that when he shut the shop 
 at sunset, he walked towards the sea shore, 
 and sat, for hours together, on the rocks, 
 looking mournfully at the waves that rose 
 against them and were thrown back, and 
 lost for ever in the multitudinous swellings 
 the water. 
 
 One evening, after the irritable Epicaeo 
 had been rendered more than usually acri- 
 monious, by the ill success of an experi- 
 ment that he tried with one of his patients, 
 and which occasioned immediate death 
 when no danger was apprehended, his dis- 
 consolate apprentice was seen to walk with 
 hasty aud perturbed steps to the rock 
 where he was accustomed to sit so often 
 musing, and to stand there tossing his hands 
 in a very frantic manner towards the hea- 
 vens ; but, as he was a shy and strange lad, 
 nobody heeded this extravagance, and the
 
 304 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 darkness soon concealed him from observa- 
 tion. 
 
 Next morning", the Doctor was surprised 
 that he came not to the shop, and, recollect- 
 ing that he liad for some time appeared 
 sickly, he thought that he must be ill, but 
 on sending to enquire for him, was exceed- 
 ingly exasperated to hear he had not been 
 at home all night. Father Ludivico was 
 no less surprised, when, much about the 
 same time, he saw his unhappy pupil enter 
 his cell and burst into tears. 
 
 What took place need not be related; 
 the result, however, was, that the Friar 
 wrote an angry letter to the Doctor, and 
 Salpano, in the course of a few days after, 
 departed for Girgente, where, under the pa. 
 tronage of " a little round fat oily man of 
 God," a cousin to Father Ludivico, and who 
 was much in the good graces of Signora 
 Camerara, the housekeeper of the Arch- 
 bishop, he undertook to teach the young 
 idea how to shoot, a profession consecrated 
 by the example of Socrates and Plato.
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 305 
 
 In this situation he had been about three 
 years, during* which his poetical talents had 
 been occasionally unfolded; and having 
 made himself acquainted with the his- 
 tory and local antiquities, he had accu- 
 mulated a little money by acting- as Cice- 
 rone to strangers visiting the ruins of 
 Agrigentum. 
 
 The self-denial with which he had saved 
 this money, would have beggared the mi- 
 sery of an Elwes, but it was cheered with 
 most delightful vistas of fancy, and every 
 dollar that he added to his stock seemed, to 
 his fond enthusiasm, as the bright finger of 
 a cherub beckoning on to immortality. 
 His object was to gather a sum sufficient to 
 enable him to study in the university of 
 Palermo, until he found an opportunity of 
 reciting some of his poetry before the Vice- 
 roy, who would, no doubt, send him to the 
 Court of Naples, as worthy to partake the 
 liberality of their Majesties who were, as 
 be understood, not only the greatest sove- 
 reigns, but the most munificent patrons of 
 literature then in the known world.
 
 306 THE EARTHaUAKE. 
 
 On counting his savings, after adding to 
 it the present which he had received from 
 the Englishman, he thought it enough for all 
 his purposes, and was standing at the door 
 of his school, ruminating on the brilliant 
 destiny awaiting him when Castagnello 
 passed towards the Locanda. 
 
 The Englishman being the only traveller 
 that he had yet met with who appeared 
 to take any interest in his fate, it was not 
 altogether on Castagnello's account that he 
 went with renovated cheerfulness to enquire 
 his name and address in Palermo. In as- 
 cending the steep lanes which lead to that 
 high ridge of the city, where the Benedic- 
 tine monastery and the palace of the Arch- 
 bishop are situated, his imagination was 
 busy forming a project which could not 
 fail to realize all his golden dreams of fame 
 and fortune. It was nothing* less than to 
 give up his school, and offer his services as 
 a valet to Castagnello, with whose manners 
 and appearance he was much prepossessed, 
 thinking that, by these means, he would 
 obtain some way of distino^uishinsr himself
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 307 
 
 without impairing" the little fund of his 
 savings. Accordingly, when he had pro- 
 cured the requisite information, he has- 
 tened back to the locanda, and Caslagnello 
 awaking as he entered, looked out and 
 enquired what success had attended his 
 mission. But I must leave the reader 
 himself to imagine what were the feelings 
 of the outcast on hearing that the traveller was 
 no other than the Earl of Wildwaste, his bro- 
 ther. It will be recollected that the arro- 
 gance of the Austrians had inspired him with 
 something like a prejudice against this rela- 
 tion, but the civility which had been so 
 spontaneously bestovted by his lordship 
 wiped it away, and he now felt towards 
 him a sentiment of gratitude that only re- 
 quired time and experience to be concen- 
 trated into brotherly love. 
 
 When the transport with which he heard 
 the information had subsided, the simple- 
 hearted Salpano meekly submitted to him 
 the prudent project which he had so judi- 
 ciously formed, but Castagnello declared, 
 with unfeiof-ned fervour, that his news were
 
 308 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 equivalent to a great stroke of good fortune, 
 and that so far ironi consenting to lake him 
 to Palermo in any menial capacity, he should 
 accompany him as his friend. 
 
 This was an assurance of success so far 
 beyond the most sanguine hopes of the mo- 
 dest poet, that he could scarcely credit his 
 ears, and without taking lime to make any 
 answer to the outcast, he ran to his school 
 where his pupils had by this time assembled, 
 and addressing them in a rapsody of non- 
 sense and tenderness, that alternately shook 
 them with laughter and melted their young 
 hearts with tears, he bade them farewell for 
 ever with a triumphant flourish of his hand, 
 and rushed, sobbing like an artless child, 
 into the street. 
 
 Preparations for immediately proceeding 
 to Palermo were ordered by Castagnello ; 
 and while the exulting schoolmaster was 
 running here and there in great glee, shak- 
 ing hands and talking fast with every body 
 he knew, a letica was brought to the door of 
 the Locanda. 
 
 It has been remarked by many travellers
 
 THE EARTHaUAKE. 309 
 
 that the inhabitants of the Italian regions do 
 honour to their great men in a better taste 
 than any other people, and the departure of 
 Signor Salpano, the schoolmaster, for the 
 capital, afforded a fine example of this pre- 
 eminence. Of all his scholars, not one was 
 seen in the streets, as the letica ascended the 
 hill to the gate which opens on the road to 
 Palermo. But beyond the walls lining the 
 road which winds down into the valley, they 
 were all assembled with all their kindred, 
 bearing green boughs in their hands, which 
 as the mules came merrily shaking- their 
 bells, they waved over the letica, shouting, 
 Long life to our poet, Salpano — Glory and 
 riches — adieu, adieu. 
 
 The warm-hearted enthusiast was quite 
 overcome by the eclat of his departure, and 
 in spite of all the refulgent visions that 
 floated in his fancy, he was dissolved with 
 tenderness and sorrow. Even Castagnello, 
 who was at first much inclined to laugh at 
 this mixture of burlesque and affection, was 
 greatly moved. He remembered the high 
 anticipations of his own departure from home;
 
 310 THE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 a keener sentiment of compassion was 
 awakened for his companion than his bosom 
 had ever before enjoyed, and the artless 
 manners of Salpano were calculated to con- 
 vert this feeling' into a more permanent re- 
 gard. Thus an incident, in itself exceedingly 
 ludicrous, gave him the first sense of pure 
 and virtuous emotions ; but it often happens 
 that things of the deepest consequence to 
 our character, arise in circumstances which 
 from their own nature seem the least likely 
 to produce any permanent impression. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BY W. SMITH, KING STREET, LONG ACRE.
 
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