A rural christening—The young count.
Rural christenings, particularly that of the first child, are
celebrated much in the same manner. We received an invitation to one
in the spring, at the house of some peasants, who were not personal
friends, but who asked us out of compliment to a Polish lady, a
patroness of theirs, who was to stand god-mother, and with whom we were
very intimate. As the ceremony always takes place the day following
the birth of the child, we were apprized of the event as soon as it
occurred, and requested to hold ourselves in readiness at an early hour
the following morning. We set out, a merry party—our friend and her
two daughters, my cousins and myself, besides the two ladies-maids of
the establishments, friends or connections of our host's, wild with
delight, yet never throughout the day transgressing the bounds of
the strictest respect towards us. Outside the gates of the town, we
found the contadino, all smiles and importance, with his _biroccio_—a
primitive cart, rudely painted with heads of saints, wreathed with
flaming red and yellow roses, and drawn by two white oxen—waiting to
convey us to the scene of festivity. Here we also met the Conte M——,
the young owner of the possessione, a perfect stranger to all of us,
but who was to be associated in the sponsorial duties with Madame V——,
or _la Consolessa_—as she was generally termed, in allusion to the
official rank of her husband, who was consul for one of the northern
Powers. The introduction was soon effected by his tenant, in compliment
to whom all superfluous etiquette seemed laid aside, and the count
gallantly placed at our disposal his equipage—a very high, antiquated
barouche, with a step like a ladder; to this vehicle was harnessed a
cow, the hills we had to ascend being considered too steep for horses;
and in it our friend, one of her daughters, myself, and the padrone
were accommodated; while the rest of the party took their seats on
two rough benches in the cart, which, by way of awning, had a sheet
supported on four canes.
Our road lay through a lovely country, alternating from hill to vale,
and at every ascent beautiful glimpses of sea varying the prospect.
As we toiled slowly along, the contadino chiefly left his biroccio to
the care of a little boy, and walking beside the carriage, devoted his
attention to his landlord. Their conversation was very animated, and
turned upon the state of the country, their prospects for the harvest,
the hardship of being deprived of fire-arms by the Austrian general
(the Pontifical States were then, as now, under martial law), the
consequent boldness of the robbers who infested the neighbourhood, and
their inability to resist them; besides many other matters connected
with their mutual interests. In about two hours' time, we arrived at
the place of our destination, and the assembled friends came out to the
gate to welcome us: there were all the nearest of kin on both sides,
the fathers, the mothers, the brothers and sisters, besides others more
remotely connected, and affording in their contrasts of old age and
childhood, decrepitude and vigour, an admirable study of grouping and
physiognomy.
The first stage of proceedings was to conduct us to the house,
which was as rude and comfortless as most of its description, the
ground-floor being shared between the silkworms and cows, and the upper
story, inhabited by the family, being attainable only by a steep outer
staircase. At the threshold we found some more venerable dames, by whom
we were ushered—the padrone amongst the rest—to pay our respects to
the young mother, who lay smiling in her bed, the tiny stranger by her
side, all swathed and swaddled, and her gossips talking and chattering
around her, or bustling to and from the kitchen, which adjoined her
room, in utter violation of every orthodox rule of quiet and good
nursing. From thence, as soon as we were considered sufficiently
rested, we were marshalled for the christening—a little girl of twelve
years old, the contadino's sister, carrying the baby, and the rest all
following in order. It was then, as we went along, that the terrible
fact of our being heretics began to transpire, and I was amused at the
pitying interest with which we were surveyed: on entering the village
church, in particular, when it was remarked we took no holy water, nor
crossed ourselves, we overheard one old woman whisper to her cronies,
“_Peccato, non sono Cristiane!_” and the little children, clinging to
their grandams' skirts, peered at us inquisitively with their glorious
black eyes gleaming through the tangled golden hair which hung about
them like a mane.
The church was built in the shape of a Latin cross, with no pretensions
to architectural merit or high antiquity; the walls whitewashed, and
with no ornaments beyond the crucifixes, candlesticks, and vases of
artificial flowers upon the principal altar at the upper end, and in
the two small chapels or recesses at either side, in which also mass
could be celebrated. Two confessionals, a few benches, and a number of
rush-bottomed chairs piled in a corner, completed the fittings-up, if
we except three large pictures, of which one was suspended over each
altar; they were in oils, evidently originals, and of no modern date,
though from a very inferior hand—some unpromising follower, perhaps, of
the Caracci or Domenichino; for it is from the school of Bologna that
the paintings found in the environs of Ancona seem principally to have
been supplied. The subjects were the Crucifixion, the Assumption of the
Virgin, and the Virgin as a child tending some lilies, which grew up
miraculously beneath her touch. In the same chapel as this last, and
immediately beneath it, so placed that the frame, which was surmounted
with a wreath of flowers, should incline considerably forward, was
a very small discoloured head of the Madonna, as Mater Dolorosa, her
hands clasped, holding a heart, from whence seemed to proceed flames
of fire. A lamp was burning before this, and a number of votive hearts
and crosses were fastened around; these, one of the old men, while we
were waiting for the _curato_, informed me were all offerings which
had been made in return for miracles that Madonna had performed. He had
known of pilgrimages made here which were almost as efficacious as to
the shrine of Loretto. He looked wistfully at me as he said this, and
slipping away soon after, I saw him kneeling before the picture with
an expression of such unmistakable fervour in his upturned face, that
I felt persuaded he was praying heart and soul for our rescue from
perdition.
As soon as the priest, who had been detained some little time in the
sacristy, made his appearance, the ceremony was performed, and then
the baby was handed round to receive the greetings of its sponsors
and ourselves, on which occasion, be it said, a convenient opportunity
was afforded for slipping a slight donation amongst the swathes with
which the hapless infant was encumbered; after which all the relations
pressed forward, and men as well as women kissed the little _creatura_,
as they termed it, with great affection, and carried it back in triumph
to the mother, who forthwith hung a bag of relics round its neck.
I should be guilty of insincerity if I concealed that the two hours
which intervened between the banquet were somewhat wearying. It was
too hot to walk out, nor was there any shade in the possessione; we had
exhausted our little topics of conversation with our hostess, who was,
besides, much occupied with her son; and no resource appeared but to
sit in the apartment where the cloth was being laid with indescribable
clatter both of plates and tongues—a very small room on the other side
of the kitchen, furnished with a table and benches, from which the bed
had been removed for the occasion—or walk into the kitchen itself, and
contemplate the preparations for dinner.
Our party had been increased by the young _curato_, the son of a
neighbouring contadino, who seemed rather agitated at the presence of
so many ladies, and apparently looked for countenance and protection
to the count, who having but recently returned from completing his
education at an ecclesiastical seminary, had not yet learned to
manifest that utter contempt for the priestly office which the youth
of Italy generally display. Madame V——, who had a great respect for
all spiritual authority, also hastened to the rescue, and engaged the
poor priest in a conversation about his parishioners and the state of
his church, on which he talked very fluently; but unfortunately, on her
proceeding to tell him of various missions to Madagascar and China,
in which she took great interest, he showed himself so completely at
fault, apparently considering she alluded to some towns in the Turkish
dominions, that she hastened to change the subject, to prevent our
discovering any further deficiencies.
Meantime the count, who, by the by, was not a very brilliant specimen
of the Anconitan gioventù, acquitted himself of his arduous duties
with tolerable ease, notwithstanding that the trammels of his education
still hung about him, and he looked rather too demure and artificial;
above all, he was dazzled by the spectacle of four or five girls, who
laughed, talked, ventured to express an opinion, and did not keep their
eyes immovably cast down. He certainly did not get on so well with us
as with his tenant; we had very few subjects of interest in common;
his family was one of the most strict and old-fashioned in Ancona,
and his mother and sisters were rarely seen in society, or even beyond
their own walls. We remarked to him that we never met them out, and he
said that his mother disliked walking, and did not approve of trusting
her daughters with any one but herself; so they only went to mass on
Sundays and _feste_; and then in the afternoon, by way of taking the
air, as well as for recreation, they repaired to a terrace on the roof
of their house, from whence they enjoyed a distant view of the public
gardens outside the Porta Pia, with all their promenaders, and the
Corso delle Carrozze. Remembering the scanty rows of trees and patches
of brambles dignified by this appellation, as well as the half-dozen
antediluvian equipages therein displayed, it was scarcely possible
to refrain from smiling; but as he spoke in perfect seriousness,
I was compelled to check all tendency to mirth, and prosecute my
inquiries. Why did not he, then, sometimes escort his sisters? He
looked astonished, and replied, that his mother did not think this
proper—other young men, his friends, might join them—in fact, it was
not according to their ideas. This was a trait of manners so unique
as to surprise even my cousins, accustomed as they were to the code
of Ancona propriety; but they listened with provoking equanimity, and
seemed more diverted at my amazement than at anything else. “These
poor people understand nothing of domestic life, or the happiness of
domestic intercourse,” whispered Lucy, pityingly; “brothers and sisters
are very different here from what they are in England.”
The two lively Polish girls, however, came to my assistance, though
under certain reservations. “Ah, _par exemple_,” cried Natalie V——,
who, with her sister, had not long returned from completing her
education at a convent in France, “that is extraordinary! I remember at
Les Oiseaux, that several of the girls had brothers, who were allowed
to see them in the _parloir_ alone; and I know, when they returned
home, they used to walk out with them sometimes. _Pour aller dans le
monde_, certainly not; but if our brother was here instead of in the
Caucasus, poor fellow, you should see, Monsieur le Comte, that Olga and
I would outrage _les convenances_ a little!”
The youth thus apostrophized smiled dubiously, and attempted to
express that had he such charming sisters to accompany, he should be
glad to enjoy the privileges of other countries; but being a novice
in such matters, he broke down suddenly, and again fell a prey to my
inquisitorial propensities. Was he fond of reading, and did he ever
read aloud in the evening to his sisters while they worked? At this he
fairly laughed, and said that _libri di devozione_ were all very well
while one was in the seminary, but he had had enough of them there, and
knew the _Vita de' Santi_ by heart, and therefore always kept out of
the way when any _lettura_ was going on.
“Then they are never allowed to read stories, or history, or—or
romances?” I proffered the latter suggestion very hesitatingly, it must
be owned.
“Oh, no—of course not: his mother said girls must attend to the affairs
of the house and to their religion; but as to books of entertainment,
or travels, or anything of the sort, the less they read of them the
better, as their heads would inevitably be turned, and they would be
wanting to rove about the world, or be thinking about marriages of
affection and lovers”—and at this last word he blushed.
Thus foiled at every effort, the conversation had almost come to a
stand-still, when the noise, the stamping of feet, the clanging of
_casseroles_, and hissing of frying-pans, reached their climax, a huge
dish of macaroni was brought in, and we were told to _restar serviti_.
No entreaties could induce any of our hospitable entertainers to seat
themselves at table—they all insisted upon serving us; and between the
intervals of carrying in the dishes and changing our plates, repaired
to the kitchen, where our handmaids were also regaled, and made merry
with right good-will. An amusing incident occurred just before we took
our places, when Madame V—— and all of us stood up, and she motioned
to the young curato to say grace: he grew very red, began in Latin,
then stopped abruptly, and whispered to the count imploringly, “I have
forgotten it: what am I to say?”
“_Via, Via_,” was the rejoinder: “say anything, say a _benedicite_;”
which being hastily gone over, the poor priest, in much confusion,
explained that he really did not remember any formula, being accustomed
only to make the sign of the cross and say a paternoster.
The repast so closely resembled what I have described as usual at
the marriage-feast, that any recapitulation would be tedious; neither
vegetables nor fruit appeared, for they would have been considered too
like every-day fare to do fitting honour to the occasion. As usual in
such cases, one had to choose the alternative of eating and drinking to
excess, or mortifying the good folks, whose hearts were set upon seeing
us do justice to their good cheer. Wine, both red and white, abounded;
and the young padrone took as much interest in its merits as the
contadino himself, recommending the different qualities, and telling us
of the various ways of preparing them. To the guests in the kitchen it
was just as liberally dispensed, but no instance occurred of its abuse;
there was not even any approach to uproarious hilarity.
No quarrel or dispute impaired the harmony of the day; all the
best features of the peasants' character had been displayed—their
hospitality, their courtesy, their simple piety; and as we wended
homeward, walking through lanes and vineyards a portion of the way to
the foot of a declivity, where the biroccio and carriage awaited us, we
were enthusiastic in our praises. As a landed proprietor, the count was
naturally pleased at these encomiums on his tenantry; but he somewhat
damped our ardour by assuring us that we must look upon the contadini
we had just quitted not as specimens of the whole race, but exceptions.
“Through all the Pope's States,” he said, “the country people round
Ancona are remarked as being generally good and well-conducted; but
if you go only a short distance into the interior, a great difference
is perceptible; and beginning at Loretto, which is only twenty miles
from here, they are all noted for their implacability and revenge.”
And then, by way of illustration, he related some startling stories of
treachery and murder, with as much coolness as if they were everyday,
straightforward occurrences. These narratives brought us to our
equipages, in which we placed ourselves in the same order as when we
came, but without much attempt at conversation; the young count, or
hero of the day, as we had named him, fell into a reverie, which we
attributed to fatigue, and Madame V——, in her excellent motherly way,
recommended him to retire early, and take a _lait de poule_. But two
days afterwards furnished an elucidation of this mystery, in a visit to
the _Consolessa_ from the priest of her parish, who had been requested
by Count M—— to inquire if her daughter Mademoiselle Natalie's hand was
at liberty, and the amount of her dowry. The first of these questions,
however, not being answered in a manner favourable to his wishes, there
was no necessity for entering into a specific reply to the second.
Disappointed, but not dismayed, the trusty envoy presented himself,
very shortly after, to my uncle, with similar interrogatories relative
to the _cugina forestiera_, to which the proviso of a change of
religion was subjoined. It is needless to give the tenor of his
answer, or to add, that this adventure often furnished us with many
amusing recollections, and was a magnificent termination to our
christening-party.