VI.
_Salvator Rosa leaves Rome and goes to Florence. Conclusion of thehistory._
Everything here below beneath the sun is subject to continual change;and perhaps there is nothing which can be called more inconstant thanhuman opinion, which turns round in an everlasting circle like thewheel of fortune. He who reaps great praise to-day is overwhelmed withbiting censure to-morrow; to-day we trample under foot the man whoto-morrow will be raised far above us.
Of all those who in Rome had ridiculed and mocked at old PasqualeCapuzzi, with his sordid avarice, his foolish amorousness, his insanejealousy, who did not wish poor tormented Marianna her liberty? But nowthat Antonio had successfully carried off his mistress, all theirridicule and mockery was suddenly changed into pity for the old fool,whom they saw wandering about the streets of Rome with his head hangingon his breast, utterly disconsolate. Misfortunes seldom come singly;and so it happened that Signor Pasquale, soon after Marianna had beentaken from him, lost his best bosom-friends also. Little Pitichinacciochoked himself in foolishly trying to swallow an almond-kernel in themiddle of a cadenza; but a sudden stop was put to the life of theillustrious Pyramid Doctor Signor Splendiano Accoramboni by a slip ofthe pen, for which he had only himself to blame. Michele's drubbingmade such work with him that he fell into a fever. He determined tomake use of a remedy which he claimed to have discovered, so, callingfor pen and ink, he wrote down a prescription in which, by employing awrong sign, he increased the quantity of a powerful substance to adangerous extent. But scarcely had he swallowed the medicine than hesank back on the pillows and died, establishing, however, by his owndeath in the most splendid and satisfactory manner the efficacy of thelast tincture which he ever prescribed.
As already remarked, all those whose laughter had been the loudest, andwho had repeatedly wished Antonio success in his schemes, had nownothing but pity for the old gentleman; and the bitterest blame washeaped, not so much upon Antonio, as upon Salvator Rosa, whom, to besure, they regarded as the instigator of the whole plan.
Salvator's enemies, of whom he had a goodly number, exerted all theirefforts to fan the flame. "See you," they said, "he was one ofMasaniello's doughty partisans, and is ready to turn his hand to anydeed of mischief, to any disreputable enterprise; we shall be the nextto suffer from his presence in the city; he is a dangerous man."
And the jealous faction who had leagued together against Salvator didactually succeed in stemming the tide of his prosperous career. He sentforth from his studio one picture after the other, all bold inconception, and splendidly executed; but the so-called critics shruggedtheir shoulders, now pointing out that the hills were too blue, thetrees too green, the figures now too long, now too broad, finding faulteverywhere where there was no fault to be found, and seeking to detractfrom his hard-earned reputation in all the ways they could think of.Especially bitter in their persecution of him were the Academicians ofSt. Luke, who could not forget how he took them in about the surgeon;they even went beyond the limits of their own profession, and decriedthe clever stanzas which Salvator at that time wrote, hinting veryplainly that he did not cultivate his fruit on his own garden soil, butplundered that of his neighbours. For these reasons, therefore,Salvator could not manage to surround himself with the splendour whichhe had lived amidst formerly in Rome. Instead of being visited by themost eminent of the Romans in a large studio, he had to remain withDame Caterina and his green fig-tree; but amid these poor surroundingshe frequently found both consolation and tranquillity of mind.
Salvator took the malicious machinations of his enemies to heart morethan he ought to have done; he even began to feel that an insidiousdisease, resulting from chagrin and dejection, was gnawing at hisvitals. In this unhappy frame of mind he designed and executed twolarge pictures which excited quite an uproar in Rome. Of these onerepresented the transitoriness of all earthly things, and in theprincipal figure, that of a wanton female bearing all the indicationsof her degrading calling about her, was recognised the mistress of oneof the cardinals; the other portrayed the Goddess of Fortune dispensingher rich gifts. But cardinals' hats, bishops' mitres, gold medals,decorations of orders, were falling upon bleating sheep, braying asses,and other such like contemptible animals, whilst well-made men inragged clothes were vainly straining their eyes upwards to get even thesmallest gift. Salvator had given free rein to his embittered mood, andthe animals' heads bore the closest resemblance to the features ofvarious eminent persons. It is easy to imagine, therefore, how the tideof hatred against him rose, and that he was more bitterly persecutedthan ever.
Dame Caterina warned him, with tears in her eyes, that as soon as itbegan to be dark she had observed suspicious characters lurking aboutthe house and apparently dogging his every footstep. Salvator saw thatit was time to leave Rome; and Dame Caterina and her beloved daughterswere the only people whom it caused him pain to part from. In responseto the repeated invitations of the Duke of Tuscany,[6.1] he went toFlorence; and here at length he was richly indemnified for all themortification and worry which he had had to struggle against in Rome,and here all the honour and all the fame which he so truly deservedwere freely conferred upon him. The Duke's presents and the high priceswhich he received for his pictures soon enabled him to remove into alarge house and to furnish it in the most magnificent style. There hewas wont to gather round him the most illustrious authors and scholarsof the day, amongst whom it will be sufficient to mention EvangelistaToricelli,[6.2] Valerio Chimentelli, Battista Ricciardi, AndreaCavalcanti, Pietro Salvati, Filippo Apolloni, Volumnio Bandelli,Francesco Rovai. They formed an association for the prosecution ofartistic and scientific pursuits, whilst Salvator was able tocontribute an element of whimsicality to the meetings, which had asingular effect in animating and enlivening the mind. Thebanqueting-hall was like a beautiful grove with fragrant bushes andflowers and splashing fountains; and the dishes even, which were servedup by pages in eccentric costumes, were very wonderful to look at, asif they came from some distant land of magic. These meetings of writersand savans in Salvator Rosa's house were called at that time theAccademia de' Percossi.
Though Salvator's mind was in this way devoted to science and art, yethis real true nature came to life again when he was with his friendAntonio Scacciati, who, along with his lovely Marianna, led thepleasant _sans souci_ life of an artist. They often recalled poor oldSignor Pasquale whom they had deceived, and all that had taken place inNicolo Musso's theatre. Antonio asked Salvator how he had contrived toenlist in his cause the active interest not only of Musso but of theexcellent Formica, and of Agli too. Salvator replied that it had beenvery easy, for Formica was his most intimate friend in Rome, so that ithad been a work of both pleasure and love to him to arrange everythingon the stage in accordance with the instructions Salvator gave him.Antonio protested that, though still he could not help laughing overthe scene which had paved the way to his happiness, he yet wished withall his heart to be reconciled to the old gentleman, even if he shouldnever touch a penny of Marianna's fortune, which the old gentleman hadconfiscated; the practice of his art brought him in a sufficientincome. Marianna too was often unable to restrain her tears when shethought that her father's brother might go down to his grave withouthaving forgiven her the trick which she had played upon him; and soPasquale's hatred overshadowed like a dark cloud the brightness oftheir happiness. Salvator comforted them both--Antonio and Marianna--bysaying that time had adjusted still worse difficulties, and that chancewould perhaps bring the old gentleman near them in some less dangerousway than if they had remained in Rome, or were to return there now.
We shall see that a prophetic spirit spoke in Salvator.
A considerable time elapsed, when one day Antonio burst into Salvator'sstudio breathless and pale as death. "Salvator!" he cried, "Salvator,my friend, my protector! I am lost if you do not help me. PasqualeCapuzzi is here; he has procured a warrant for my arrest for theseduction of his niece."
"But what can Signor Pasq
uale do against you now?" asked Salvator."Have you not been united to Marianna by the Church?"
"Oh!" replied Antonio, giving way completely to despair, "the blessingof the Church herself cannot save me from ruin. Heaven knows by whatmeans the old man has been able to approach the Pope's nephew.[6.3] Atany rate the Pope's nephew has taken the old man under his protection,and has infused into him the hope that the Holy Father will declare mymarriage with Marianna to be null and void; nay, yet further, that hewill grant him (the old man) dispensation to marry his niece."
"Stop!" cried Salvator, "now I see it all; now I see it all. Whatthreatens to be your ruin, Antonio, is this man's hatred against me.For I must tell you that this nephew of the Pope's, a proud, coarse,boorish clown, was amongst the animals in my picture to whom theGoddess of Fortune is dispensing her gifts. That it was I who helpedyou to win your Marianna, though indirectly, is well known, not only tothis man, but to all Rome,--which is quite reason enough to persecuteyou since they cannot do anything to me. And so, Antonio, havingbrought this misfortune upon you, I must make every effort to assistyou, and all the more that you are my dearest and most intimate friend.But, by the saints! I don't see in what way I can frustrate yourenemies' little game"----
Therewith Salvator, who had continued to paint at a picture all thetime, laid aside brush, palette, and maulstick, and, rising up from hiseasel, began to pace the room backwards and forwards, his arms crossedover his breast, Antonio meanwhile being quite wrapt up in his ownthoughts, and with his eyes fixed unchangeably upon the floor.
At length Salvator paused before him and said with a smile, "See here,Antonio, I cannot do anything myself against your powerful enemies, butI know one who can help you, and who will help you, and that is--SignorFormica."
"Oh!" said Antonio, "don't jest with an unhappy man, whom nothing cansave."
"What! you are despairing again?" exclaimed Salvator, who was now allat once in the merriest humour, and he laughed aloud. "I tell you,Antonio, my friend Formica shall help you in Florence as he helped youin Rome. Go away quietly home and comfort your Marianna, and calmlywait and see how things will turn out. I trust you will be ready at theshortest notice to do what Signor Formica, who is really here inFlorence at the present time, shall require of you." This Antoniopromised most faithfully, and hope revived in him again, andconfidence.
Signor Pasquale Capuzzi was not a little astonished at receiving aformal invitation from the Accademia de' Percossi. "Ah!" he exclaimed,"Florence is the place then where a man's merits are recognised, wherePasquale Capuzzi di Senigaglia, a man gifted with the most excellenttalents, is known and valued." Thus the thought of his knowledge andhis art, and the honour that was shown him on their account, overcamethe repugnance which he would otherwise have felt against a society atthe head of which stood Salvator Rosa. His Spanish gala-dress was morecarefully brushed than ever; his conical hat was equipped with a newfeather; his shoes were provided with new ribbons; and so SignorPasquale appeared at Salvator's as brilliant as a rose-chafer,[6.4] andhis face all sunshine. The magnificence which he saw on all sides ofhim, even Salvator himself, who had received him dressed in the richestapparel, inspired him with deep respect, and, after the manner oflittle souls, who, though at first proud and puffed up, at once grovelin the dust whenever they come into contact with what they feel to besuperior to themselves, Pasquale's behaviour towards Salvator, whom hewould gladly have done a mischief to in Rome, was nothing but humilityand submissive deference.
So much attention was paid to Signor Pasquale from all sides, hisjudgment was appealed to so unconditionally, and so much was said abouthis services to art, that he felt new life infused into his veins; andan unusual spirit was awakened within him, so that his utterances onmany points were more sensible than might have been expected. If it beadded that never in his life before had he been so splendidlyentertained, and never had he drunk such inspiriting wine, it willreadily be conceived that his pleasure was intensified from moment tomoment, and that he forgot all the wrong which had been done him atRome as well as the unpleasant business which had brought him toFlorence. Often after their banquets the Academicians were wont toamuse themselves with short impromptu dramatic representations, and sothis evening the distinguished playwright and poet Filippo Apollonicalled upon those who generally took part in them to bring thefestivities to a fitting conclusion with one of their usualperformances. Salvator at once withdrew to make all the necessarypreparations.
Not long afterwards the bushes at the farther end of thebanqueting-hall began to move, the branches with their foliage wereparted, and a little theatre provided with seats for the spectatorsbecame visible.
"By the saints!" exclaimed Pasquale Capuzzi, terrified, "where am I?Surely that's Nicolo Musso's theatre."
Without heeding his exclamation, Evangelista Toricelli and AndreaCavalcanti--both of them grave, respectable, venerable men--took him bythe arm and led him to a seat immediately in front of the stage, takingtheir places on each side of him.
This was no sooner done than there appeared on the boards--Formica inthe character of Pasquarello.
"You reprobate, Formica!" shouted Pasquale, leaping to his feet andshaking his doubled fist at the stage. Toricelli and Cavalcanti'sstern, reproving glances bade him sit still and keep quiet.
Pasquarello wept and sobbed, and cursed his destiny, which brought himnothing but grief and heart-breaking, declared he didn't know how heshould ever set about it if he wanted to laugh again, and concluded bysaying that if he could look upon blood without fainting, he shouldcertainly cut his throat, or should throw himself in the Tiber if hecould only let that cursed swimming alone when he got into the water.
Doctor Gratiano now joined him, and inquired what was the cause of histrouble.
Whereupon Pasquarello asked him whether he did not know anything aboutwhat had taken place in the house of his master, Signor PasqualeCapuzzi di Senigaglia, whether he did not know that an infamousscoundrel had carried off pretty Marianna, his master's niece?
"Ah!" murmured Capuzzi, "I see you want to make your excuses to me,Formica; you wish for my pardon--well, we shall see."
Doctor Gratiano expressed his sympathy, and observed that the scoundrelmust have gone to work very cunningly to have eluded all the inquirieswhich had been instituted by Capuzzi.
"Ho! ho!" rejoined Pasquarello. "The Doctor need not imagine that thescoundrel, Antonio Scacciati, had succeeded in escaping the sharpnessof Signor Pasquale Capuzzi, supported as he was, moreover, by powerfulfriends. Antonio had been arrested, his marriage with Mariannaannulled, and Marianna herself had again come into Capuzzi's power.
"Has he got her again?" shouted Capuzzi, beside himself; "has he gother again, good Pasquale? Has he got his little darling, his Marianna?Is the knave Antonio arrested? Heaven bless you, Formica!"
"You take a too keen interest in the play, Signor Pasquale," saidCavalcanti, quite seriously. "Pray permit the actors to proceed withtheir parts without interrupting them in this disturbing fashion."
Ashamed of himself, Signor Pasquale resumed his seat, for he had againrisen to his feet.
Doctor Gratiano asked what had taken place then.
A wedding, continued Pasquarello, a wedding had taken place. Mariannahad repented of what she had done; Signor Pasquale had obtained thedesired dispensation from the Holy Father, and had married his niece.
"Yes, yes," murmured Pasquale Capuzzi to himself, whilst his eyessparkled with delight, "yes, yes, my dear, good Formica; he will marryhis sweet Marianna, the happy Pasquale. He knew that the dear littledarling had always loved him, and that it was only Satan who had ledher astray."
"Why then, everything is all right," said Doctor Gratiano, "and there'sno cause for lamentation."
Pasquarello began, however, to weep and sob more violently than before,till at length, as if overcome by the terrible nature of his pain, hefainted away. Doctor Gratiano ran backwards and forwards in greatdistress, was so sorry he had no smelling-bottle with him, felt in
allhis pockets, and at last produced a roasted chestnut, and put it underthe insensible Pasquarello's nose. He at once recovered, sneezingviolently, and begging him to attribute his faintness to his weaknerves, he related how that, immediately after the marriage, Mariannahad been afflicted with the saddest melancholy, continually callingupon Antonio, and treating the old gentleman with contempt andaversion. But the old fellow, quite infatuated by his passion andjealousy, had not ceased to torment the poor girl with his folly in themost abominable way. And here Pasquarello mentioned a host of madtricks which Pasquale had done, and which were really current in Romeabout him. Signor Capuzzi sat on thorns; he murmured at intervals,"Curse you, Formica! You are lying! What evil spirit is in you?" He wasonly prevented from bursting out into a violent passion by Toricelliand Cavalcanti, who sat watching him with an earnest gaze.
Pasquarello concluded his narration by telling that Marianna had atlength succumbed to her unsatisfied longing for her lover, her greatdistress of mind, and the innumerable tortures which were inflictedupon her by the execrable old fellow, and had died in the flower of heryouth.
At this moment was heard a mournful _De profundis_ sung by hollow,husky voices, and men clad in long black robes appeared on the stage,bearing an open coffin, within which was seen the corpse of lovelyMarianna wrapped in white shrouds. Behind it came Signor PasqualeCapuzzi in the deepest mourning, feebly staggering along and wailingaloud, beating his breast, and crying in a voice of despair, "OMarianna! Marianna!"
So soon as the real Capuzzi caught sight of his niece's corpse he brokeout into loud lamentations, and both Capuzzis, the one on the stage andthe one off, gave vent to their grief in the most heartrending wailsand groans, "O Marianna! O Marianna! O unhappy me! Alas! Alas for me!"
Let the reader picture to himself the open coffin with the corpse ofthe lovely child, surrounded by the hired mourners singing their dismal_De profundis_ in hoarse voices, and then the comical masks ofPasquarello and Dr. Gratiano, who were expressing their grief in themost ridiculous gestures, and lastly the two Capuzzis, wailing andscreeching in despair. Indeed, all who were witnesses of theextraordinary spectacle could not help feeling, even in the midst ofthe unrestrained laughter they had burst out into at sight of thewonderful old gentleman, that their hearts were chilled by a mostuncomfortable feeling of awe.
Now the stage grew dark, and it thundered and lightened, and there roseup from below a pale ghostly figure, which bore most unmistakably thefeatures of Capuzzi's dead brother, Pietro of Senigaglia, Marianna'sfather.
"O you infamous brother, Pasquale! what have you done with my daughter?what have you done with my daughter?" wailed the figure, in a dreadfuland hollow voice. "Despair, you atrocious murderer of my child. Youshall find your reward in hell."
Capuzzi on the stage dropped on the floor as if struck by lightning,and at the same moment the real Capuzzi reeled from his seatunconscious. The bushes rustled together again, and the stage was gone,and also Marianna and Capuzzi and the ghastly spectre Pietro. SignorPasquale Capuzzi lay in such a dead faint that it cost a good deal oftrouble to revive him.
At length he came to himself with a deep sigh, and, stretching out bothhands before him as if to ward off the horror that had seized him, hecried in a husky voice, "Leave me alone, Pietro." Then a torrent oftears ran down his cheeks, and he sobbed and cried, "Oh! Marianna, mydarling child--my--my Marianna." "But recollect yourself," said nowCavalcanti, "recollect yourself, Signor Pasquale, it was only on thestage that you saw your niece dead. She is alive; she is here to cravepardon for the thoughtless step which love and also your owninconsiderate conduct drove her to take."
And Marianna, and behind her Antonio Scacciati, now ran forward fromthe back part of the hall and threw themselves at the old gentleman'sfeet,--for he had meanwhile been placed in an easy chair. Marianna,looking most charming and beautiful, kissed his hands and bathed themwith scalding tears, beseeching him to pardon both her and Antonio, towhom she had been united by the blessing of the Church.
Suddenly the hot blood surged into the old man's pallid face, furyflashed from his eyes, and he cried in a half-choked voice, "Oh! youabominable scoundrel! You poisonous serpent whom I nourished in mybosom!" Then old Toricelli, with grave and thoughtful dignity, puthimself in front of Capuzzi, and told him that he (Capuzzi) had seen arepresentation of the fate that would inevitably and irremediablyovertake him if he had the hardihood to carry out his wicked purposeagainst Antonio and Marianna's peace and happiness. He depicted instartling colours the folly and madness of amorous old men, who calldown upon their own heads the most ruinous mischief which Heaven caninflict upon a man, since all the love which might have fallen to theirshare is lost, and instead hatred and contempt shoot their fatal dartsat them from every side.
At intervals lovely Marianna cried in a tone that went to everybody'sheart, "O my uncle, I will love and honour you as my own father; youwill kill me by a cruel death if you rob me of my Antonio." And all theeminent men by whom the old gentleman was surrounded cried with oneaccord that it would not be possible for a man like Signor PasqualeCapuzzi di Senigaglia, a patron of art and himself an artist, not toforgive the young people, and assume the part of father to the mostlovely of ladies, not possible that he could refuse to accept with joyas his son-in-law such an artist as Antonio Scacciati, who was highlyesteemed throughout all Italy and richly crowned with fame and honour.
Then it was patent to see that a violent struggle went on within theold gentleman. He sighed, moaned, clasped his hands before his face,and, whilst Toricelli was continuing to speak in a most impressivemanner, and Marianna was appealing to him in the most touching accents,and the rest were extolling Antonio all they knew how, he kept lookingdown--now upon his niece, now upon Antonio, whose splendid clothes andrich chains of honour bore testimony to the truth of what was saidabout the artistic fame he had earned.
Gone was all rage out of Capuzzi's countenance; he sprang up withradiant eyes, and pressed Marianna to his heart, saying, "Yes, Iforgive you, my dear child; I forgive you, Antonio. Far be it from meto disturb your happiness. You are right, my worthy Signor Toricelli;Formica has shown me in the tableau on the stage all the mischief andruin that would have befallen me had I carried out my insane design. Iam cured, quite cured of my folly. But where is Signor Formica, whereis my good physician? let me thank him a thousand times for my cure; itis he alone who has accomplished it. The terror that he has caused meto feel has brought about a complete revolution within me."
Pasquarello stepped forward. Antonio threw himself upon his neck,crying, "O Signor Formica, you to whom I owe my life, my all--oh! takeoff this disfiguring mask, that I may see your face, that Formica maynot be any longer a mystery to me."
Pasquarello took off his cap and his artificial mask, which looked likea natural face, since it offered not the slightest hindrance to theplay of countenance, and this Formica, this Pasquarello, wastransformed into--Salvator Rosa.[6.5]
"Salvator!" exclaimed Marianna, Antonio, and Capuzzi, utterlyastounded.
"Yes," said that wonderful man, "it is Salvator Rosa, whom the Romanswould not recognise as painter and poet, but who in the character ofFormica drew from them, without their being aware of it, almost everyevening for more than a year, in Nicolo Musso's wretched littletheatre, the most noisy and most demonstrative storms of applause, fromwhose mouth they willingly took all the scorn, and all the satiricmockery of what is bad, which they would on no account listen to andsee in Salvator's poems and pictures. It is Salvator Formica who hashelped you, dear Antonio."
"Salvator," began old Capuzzi, "Salvator Rosa, albeit I have alwaysregarded you as my worst enemy, yet I have always prized your artisticskill very highly, and now I love you as the worthiest friend I have,and beg you to accept my friendship in return."
"Tell me," replied Salvator, "tell me, my worthy Signor Pasquale, whatservice I can render you, and accept my assurances beforehand, that Iwill leave no stone unturned to accomplish whatever you may ask of me."
And now the genial smile which had not been seen upon Capuzzi's facesince Marianna had been carried off, began to steal back again. TakingSalvator's hand he lisped in a low voice, "My dear Signor Salvator, youpossess an unlimited influence over good Antonio; beseech him in myname to permit me to spend the short rest of my days with him, and mydear daughter Marianna, and to accept at my hands the inheritance lefther by her mother, as well as the good dowry which I was thinking ofadding to it. And he must not look jealous if I occasionally kiss thedear sweet child's little white hand; and ask him--every Sunday atleast when I go to Mass, to trim up my rough moustache, for there'snobody in all the wide world understands it so well as he does."
It cost Salvator an effort to repress his laughter at the strange oldman; but before he could make any reply, Antonio and Marianna,embracing the old gentleman, assured him that they should not believehe was fully reconciled to them, and should not be really happy, untilhe came to live with them as their dear father, never to leave themagain. Antonio added that not only on Sunday, but every other day, hewould trim Capuzzi's moustache as elegantly as he knew how, andaccordingly the old gentleman was perfectly radiant with delight.Meanwhile a splendid supper had been prepared, to which the entirecompany now turned in the best of spirits.
In taking my leave of you, beloved reader, I wish with all my heartthat, whilst you have been reading the story of the wonderful SignorFormica, you have derived as much pure pleasure from it as Salvator andall his friends felt on sitting down to their supper.
* * * * * * *
FOOTNOTES TO "SIGNOR FORMICA":
PART I.
[Footnote 1.1: This tale was written for the Leipsic _Taschenbuch zumgeselligen Vergnuegen_ for the year 1820.]
[Footnote 1.2: Respecting the facts of Salvator Rosa's life thereexists more than one disputed statement; and of these perhaps the mostdisputed is his share of complicity (if any) in the evil doings ofCalabrian banditti. Poor, and of a wild and self-willed disposition,but with a strong and independent character, he was unable to find asuitable master in Naples, so, at the age of eighteen, he set out tostudy the lineaments of nature face to face, and spent some time amidstthe grand and savage scenery of Calabria. Here it is certain that hecame into contact with the banditti who haunted those wild regions. Heis alleged to have been taken prisoner by a band, and to have become amember of the troop. Accepting this as true, we may perhaps charitablybelieve that he was prompted not so much by a regard for his ownsafety, as by the wish to secure a rare opportunity for studying hisart unhindered, and also charitably hope that the accusations of hisenemies, that he actively participated in the deeds of his companions,are unfounded, or, at any rate, exaggerations. It may be remarked thatthe "Life and Times of Salvator Rosa" by Lady Morgan (1824) isadmittedly a romance rather than an accurate and faithful biography.]
[Footnote 1.3: Masaniello, a poor fisherman of Naples, was for a weekin July, 1647, absolute king of his native city. At that time Napleswas subject to the crown of Spain. The people, provoked by theexasperating rapacity and extortion of the Viceroy of the King ofSpain, rose in rebellion, choosing Masaniello as their captain andleader.]
[Footnote 1.4: Aniello Falcone (1600-65), teacher of Salvator Rosa andfounder of the _Compagnia della Morte_, painted battle-pieces whichbear a high reputation. His works are said to be scarce and much soughtafter.]
[Footnote 1.5: At first the young fisherman administered stern butimpartial justice; but afterwards his mind seems to have reeled underthe intense excitement and strain of his position, and he began to actthe part of an arbitrary and cruel tyrant. Several hundreds of personsare said to have been put to death by his order during the few days heheld power.]
[Footnote 1.6: Amongst them more than one by Salvator himself.]
[Footnote 1.7: A French painter and writer on painting; was born nearBordeaux in 1746, and died at Paris in 1809. Besides other works hewrote _Observations sur quelques grands peintres_ (1807).]
[Footnote 1.8: The sequin was a gold coin of Venice and Tuscany, worthabout 9s. 3d. It is sometimes used as equivalent to ducat (see note p.98).]
[Footnote 1.9: The Corso is a wide thoroughfare running almost northand south from the Piazza del Popolo, a square on the north sideof Rome, to the centre of the city. It is in the Corso that thehorse-races used to take place during the Carnival.]
[Footnote 1.10: The great painter Sanzio Raphael.]
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