A RIVAL.
Excellent! I smell a device.
-Twelfth Night.
EVERY picture has its dark side-no scene is all sunshine; and so it
is our duty to depict the shadow as well as the brightness of the
fortunes of those whose story we relate. Carlton had met with
opposition, circumstances which he had bravely overcome had impeded
his progress, physical suffering had been patiently endured, and yet
the dark side of his fortune might be said to have hardly been
turned upon his gate as yet. The love of Florinda had ever sustained
him; her solemn promise to be his wife, her tender love and constant
affection-all these had rendered his hardships mere pastimes. But
now matters were to assume a different aspect; a new stumbling-block
was to appear in his path, and a most serious one, indeed.
Florinda had an uncle resident at Bologna, where he had lived some
three years previous to the opening of our story, filling some post
delegated to him by the government. This uncle, Signor Latrezzi, was
very fond of Florinda, or at least he had always appeared to be so;
and up to the time the Grand Duke had become her guardian, he had
himself assumed the care of his lovely young niece. Some openly
declared that he had done this from mercenary motives; but be that
as it may, the story will divulge his character. He had not left her
surrounded by the gayety and dissipation of the court of Florence
without some misgivings, lest some untoward circumstance might
befall her, or that she might become entangled in some alliance
contrary to her own interests and his desires.
In consequence of these promptings, he had earnestly impressed upon
Florinda at the time of his parting from her, on his way to Bologna,
to be wary and careful. The truth was, that her uncle had laid out a
plan for her future, and would have been very glad to have remained
by her side in order the more surely to carry it out, but he could
not decline the office to which he was now appointed, and thus he
was obliged to leave. He had long designed her hand for an equally
favorite nephew on his wife's side, and on this match had firmly
fixed his heart. Some said that this was because he desired so
earnestly to sustain the character, name and blood of the house of
Carrati, of which Florinda was the sole survivor; others, more
shrewd, declared that the uncle had a sinister motive beneath all of
those so apparent.
Florinda was no stranger to this expectation, but had never given it
thought, either in favor or against the consummation of her uncle's
ideas. The subject was rarely alluded to, and even her uncle deemed
her still too young to entertain the idea of matrimony. In a country
and among a class where matches were so commonly mere matters of
business and mercenary calculation, such an affair did not create
much remark or interest between even the parties themselves. Aside
from the considerations of family honor, the pride of birth and
noble blood, the large, nay, unequalled fortune of Florinda-always
excepting that of the Grand Duke-was a strong inducement to this
step. That her relation had some personal ends in view, in
connection with the proposed alliance, was equally obvious to all
who knew the mercenary and selfish character of his general
disposition. His treatment towards Florinda had ever been kind and
fatherly, but this course was adopted only that he might gain the
necessary ascendancy over her mind and purpose to make sure of his
plan.
This plan of procedure, artfully adopted by her uncle from her very
childhood, had completely deceived Florinda-as we shall have
occasion to see-and she was led to believe him kind and affectionate
to her, who was proud and selfish in all his dealings with the rest
of the world. His nephew, Petro Giampetti, was probably the only
being he really loved; nor was his regard for him unalloyed, but
tempered with that selfishness that formed a prominent trait in his
natural disposition. He was childless himself, and had lost his wife
by death not many years previous to the time of which we write-two
circumstances which had rather tended to augment his unhappy
disposition.
At times he was moody and thoughtful, and some matter seemed to
weigh heavily upon his mind. He was, however, a peculiar man, with
few personal friends and no confidants, and there were some dark
hints thrown out touching his honesty in the matter of a sum of
money entrusted to his care and disbursement by the government. But
policy had led to this report's being hushed up on the part of
government, for he was of noble blood.
This nephew, Petro Giampetti, was a handsome youth after the style
of the Italians, possessed of all the noble and revengeful passions
so common to his countrymen, yet by no means an evil-disposed
person. His dark, swarthy countenance was rendered handsome by a
remarkably deep, piercing eye, about which there was a certain
something which, while you could not exactly describe, yet left an
unpleasant effect upon the beholder; a certain expression that
seemed to say that when an object was to be gained, the means would
sometimes be disregarded.
He had been much with Florinda from childhood, and he was taught to
consider her as his future wife. As to love, he might be said to
admire her beauty of person and mind, for none knew better how to
appreciate both than Petro; and, taken in connection with his
anticipated union with her, he perhaps loved her as the world goes.
But she had never excited in his bosom that latent passion which
smoulders in every heart, and which chance, earlier or later, will
eventually fan into a flame.
He thought the matter settled, and lived accordingly, giving himself
little trouble or thought as to the affair. He had often
congratulated himself, since he had become of an age to appreciate
such things, that he was to be so nobly connected, aside from the
unbounded wealth there was in store for him. To speak more
particularly, this latter consideration was of no little weight with
one whose family coffers and private purse were sadly low and much
needed replenishing.
Petro held the office of private secretary to his uncle in his
capacity as an officer of state, and was consequently called with
him to Bologna, and there resided with him until a few months
subsequent to the awarding of the prize by the Grand Duke for the
favored picture presented at the Pitti palace, when the business
which had called them from home being completed, he followed his
uncle on his return to Florence. He came back with a light heart,
little anticipating the scenes that were to follow, or deeming that
his hopes of future wealth and distinction by means of the proposed
alliance with Florinda, had suffered in his absence.
Thus stood matters at this period of Carlton's good fortune; and
here might have commenced our tale, but that we wished to show the
reader "how love does not level the proud, but raiseth the humble."
When Signor Latrezzi learned what had occurred during his
absence-that his most darling wish was about to be frustrated, and
the work of years overthrown, as it were, in a single day--his anger
knew no bounds, nor did he attempt to control it. He threw aside the
mask, and the storm burst about the devoted head of Florinda in all
its wrath and fury.
The uncle could hardly realize the present state of affairs, so
unexpected was it to him, Was it to this end he had played the
hypocrite so many years, that he had given away to all the caprices
of a wayward girl, and humored her most annoying fancies? He could
scarcely contain himself. Here was a denouement for the proud old
noble-his niece engaged to an American artist; his Italian blood
boiled at the thought. Petro, too, as we have intimated, little
dreamed of the fire that had been kindled in Florinda's heart-a
flame that all the coldness of her uncle, ay, and his assumed
authority, too, could not possibly quench.
She was an inmate now of her uncle's household, or rather, he had
full charge of her father's house, where she resided; and though in
many respects entirely independent of him, still, in the matter of
forming so important a connection, she hardly dared to proceed
openly and at once contrary to his expressed wish, and even orders.
Immediately on her uncle's return to Florence, Florinda had removed
from the duke's palace to that of her forefathers, in order to
assume, in some degree, the direction of her own affairs. Here
Carlton was peremptorily refused admittance by the directions of her
uncle; and thus poor Florinda was little less than a prisoner, in
her own house, not daring to meet Carlton, if she could have done
so. Thus commenced a drama which was to have a tragical end; and
Florinda and Carlton found a sudden end to their late happy and
joyful intercourse which neither had anticipated.
"Signor Latrezzi," said the duke one day to Florinda's uncle, "this
young American is a noble fellow."
"Doubtless, if your highness thinks so."
"Think so-I know so, signor!"
"Your highness has much befriended him."
"No more than his merit deserves."
Signor Latrezzi bowed, but said nothing.
"Signor, you have observed his intimacy with Florinda?"
"Excellenza, yes."
"A fine couple they would make."
"Does your excellenza think so?"
"To be sure I do; and if I mistake not, so does the lady."
"I know not that, excellenza."
"Ask her then, Signor Latrezzi. Either I cannot read the language of
her fair face, or she loves the artist."
"But he's a foreigner, excellenza."
"What of that?"
"Nothing, save that Florinda is nobly born, and bears some of the
best and oldest blood of Italy."
"Time will settle the matter," said the duke, turning away.
Signor Latrezzi having ascertained that the duke favored the
alliance of his niece with the American artist, was too good a
subject-or rather, too experienced a courtier-to attempt openly
before his master to oppose the matter, taking good care to avoid
any interference with one whose wish, when expressed, was law. His
opposition to the proposed marriage was, however, none the less
rigorous; and he determined, on such occasions as he could do so, to
exercise his spirit with impunity, and he was often heard to say
that the affair should never take place, even if he was himself
obliged to call out the young American to single combat.
The thought of the bare possibility of the connection as sanctioned
by the duke, so embittered his feelings as to render him
disagreeable to all about him. His conscious pride and self-interest
both prompted him in this emergency; for in the case of Florinda's
marrying Petro, as we have already intimated, there would be some
important pecuniary interest of his own benefited thereby-and then
his old aristocratic notions were shocked at the prospect of the
plebeian match.
Now was poor Carlton cornered on the chequer-board of life, and he
must play boldly, if he would reach the desired goal. He had those
to deal with who possessed every facility and advantage successfully
to battle him in his hopes and plans. But then he was no longer the
poor painter, who did not know where his next meal was to be
obtained; he was no longer the hungry artist-the butt and jest of
his old companions. No! he was under the patronage of the Grand
Duke, whose personal friendship he could boast. His brush brought
him daily-or as often as he was pleased to exert himself-large sums
of money; and his well-lined purse was significant of his unbounded
success in his profession as an artist.
Carlton knew as well as those who had ever possessed the means, how
best to employ them when at his command. His noble person was now
garbed in the rich dress of a court favorite, while the plenty and
comfort he now enjoyed had again filled his sunken cheek, and lit up
the fire of his bright hazel eye; his hair, long and curling about
his spirited and intelligent face, was the pride of Florinda, and
the envy of the whole court.
His fellow-students of the academy were also but too happy to
receive the least attention from their late companion; he now moved
in a grade of society far above them-a circle which was as
inaccessible to them as the throne itself. What was his return to
them for the spirit they had ever manifested towards him? Did he
retaliate and put them to shame? He did not retaliate, and yet he
put them to shame-ay, his was a noble revenge; he returned them good
for evil.
Carlton's kindness to those who had so illy treated him was
unbounded; they received no such return from him-far from it. He
encouraged in every way their studies, and even condescended
gratuitously to teach them, and they were very ready and happy to
thrive under his instruction. Thus did he heap coals of fire on
their heads, showing them what sort of a spirit they had trampled on
in its adversity.
"Whither away, in such haste?" asked one young artist of another in
the streets of Florence.
"To Signor Carlton's, the American artist," was the reply.
"All Florence is after him-what want you?"
"He is to give a finishing touch to a bit of canvass for me."
"That's clever of him."
"Yes, since no one can do so well as he," was the ready
acknowledgement.
Thus were the tables completely turned. Little did his former
companions and fellow-students dream of this transition of good
fortune to the share of him they had so lately scoffed at in the
open streets of Florence. One, to see their ready obeisance now, and
their earnest endeavors to please him, would hardly think they had
ever treated him with less respect.
So goes the world. If ill fortune betide us, how many stand ready to
give us a push on our downward course, and to scoff at our misery;
but let the tide turn and set favorably on our bark, and none are so
ready to do obeisance as those very curs who have barked and growled
at us the loudest. Carlton, the court favorite, the unrivalled
artist, the now liberal and wealthy Carlton, was a very different
person from the threadbare artist who turned from his companions on
the piazza at noonday.
He retraced his steps towards the grand gallery at that time, faint
and hungry, because he had not the means to procure for himself a
dinner, avoiding his fellow-artists to escape the mortification of
expressing the extent of his poverty and want.
Carlton was in doubt as to the most proper course for him to pursue.
He hardly dared to lay the matter in its present form before the
duke, lest it might seem impertinent and obtrusive in him towards
one who had already extended unprecedented kindness and protection
towards him; and yet he knew no other source upon which he might
rely. In this dilemma, Carlton grew quite dejected. He was one of
those persons who, notwithstanding he possessed a strong mind and
determination of purpose, was easily elated or depressed in his
spirits; and the present state of affairs rendered him sad enough.
He was rudely repulsed in every endeavor to gain an audience of
Florinda by the menials of Signor Latrezzi-who had been instructed
to this effect by their master-and Carlton was obliged to content
himself with an epistolary communication, having to conduct even
this in secret.
At length one day, finding the duke in a happy mood and at leisure,
he frankly stated the matter to him as it actually existed, and
begged of him to advise him what course to pursue in the case.
"Signor Carlton," said the duke, kindly, after hearing him to the
end, "I have little love for this uncle of Florinda's, and therefore
avoid any issue with him, or I would openly express my wishes on
this point. But as it is, Signor Americano, there are fleet horses
in Florence, and ready postilions about the gates of the city, who
know the route to Bologna over the mountains! Thou hast ridden in a
cabriolet, signor?"
"A cabriolet?" repeated Carlton, inquiringly.
"Yes, there are plenty in Florence."
"Your highness is pleased to be facetious."
"Not at all."
"Then why speak of cabriolets in this connection?"
"Canst not take the hint?"
"Your excellenza speaks in riddles."
"One of thy discernment, Signor Carlton, should understand me."
"Would your excellenza have me clo--"
"I would not have you do anything but that which your own judgment
should approve," interrupted the duke.
"Thanks, excellenza, I understand you."
"You may be assured of my friendship in all cases when it can be
reasonably exercised," continued the duke.
"Your excellenza is ever kind."
A new field was opened for Carlton, and he was as much elated as he
had heretofore been depressed; and he resolved to take the hint of
the duke, and bring matters to an issue in the most summary manner.
Young Petro Giampetti immediately on his return to Florence, having
learned the state of affairs between Carlton and Florinda, had
resolved at once to challenge his rival; being an expert swordsman,
and knowing Carlton's peaceful occupation, he made no doubt that he
could easily despatch him in single combat, and thus rid himself of
one who, to say the least, was a very dangerous rival.
In this frame of mind, Petro sought some cause of difference with
Carlton other than the true one at issue-a quarrel could hardly be
raised, inasmuch as the latter remained ignorant even of the
pretensions of Petro, or the design of Florinda's uncle up to the
time of their return from Bologna.
Failing otherwise to accomplish his purpose, Petro, whose standing
and connection served him as a key to the royal presence, sought to
offer at court some slight to Carlton, so public and marked as to
render it necessary for him to demand satisfaction after the code of
Italian honor. Three times, in pursuance of this object, he had
vainly endeavored to accomplish his purpose; but each time, Carlton,
basking in the sunshine of royal favor, turned by without notice the
intended insult in such a manner as to show himself as feeling far
above an insult from such a source, and again in so cool and
diplomatic a manner, as to turn the very game upon poor Petro
himself, who found that nothing save some open and decided offense
could bring matters to an issue.
"You don't seem to get along very fast in this little matter," said
one of his friends rather tauntingly to him.
"No, it doesn't look much like a draw-game between them, either,"
said another friend, venturing a pun.
"Curse him," growled Petro, "he's a coward, and wont take offence.
What can a man do in such a case as that?"
"Carlton doesn't look to me just like a coward," said one of the
speakers; "but he doesn't want to fight you, Petro."
"Can't help it," said Petro, "he must do it."
"Well, then, give him a chance, and have it over."
"I'll improve the first opportunity, believe me."
But Petro did not further annoy Carlton that evening; the coolness
and self-possession he evinced quite nonplussed the angry Italian.