A wedding in the Ghetto—Contrast between the state of the
Christian and Hebrew population—Arrival of the post—Highway
robberies—Exploits of Passatore.
A great wedding taking place during my residence in the town, in the
family of one of the wealthiest Jews, my uncle, who was well known to
him in the course of their commercial transactions, was invited to the
ceremony, and earnestly requested to bring his _signorine_ to witness
it. As it was the only opportunity ever likely to be given us of seeing
the interior of one of their houses, or of forming the least idea of
the manners of the Jews, we were delighted to accept the invitation,
and on the appointed day repaired to the dismal Ghetto.
The house was situated in the principal street, which was about five
feet in breadth, wider far than any of the rest, and considered quite
an enviable locality: it was lined with very ordinary shops, presided
over by frightful old women, who darted out upon us from their dens,
clamorously inviting us to purchase; and screeched and chattered in a
manner which, used as we were to Italian loquacity, was yet well-nigh
overpowering. The staircase was dark, very dirty, and very steep; for
here the wealthiest people live on the highest floor, to enjoy more
light and air; and it was not until we had climbed at least 120 steps
that we reached our destination.
Two or three stout elderly ladies, all with strongly-marked Hebrew
physiognomies, came out to receive us, and led the way to a saloon
hung with green silk, and lighted with chandeliers, although the sun
was shining: here we were introduced to about a dozen portly matrons,
who, besides an unlimited amount of courtesies and compliments, kissed
us on both cheeks—a salutation I could willingly have dispensed with.
They all wore rich silk dresses, made high up to the throat, and
magnificent diamond earrings and brooches, which, indeed, were almost
the only indications of their reputed wealth that met the eye; but I
have been told they are fearful of making any display of their riches,
lest it should subject them to fresh extortions. The tone of their
manners was decidedly vulgar, and it was impossible not to be struck
with their mode of speaking Italian—their native language of course—but
accompanied with a peculiar nasal intonation that was extremely
disagreeable.
The bride, a very pretty girl, dressed in a light blue and white silk,
with a veil and orange-blossoms, was seated on a sort of throne at
the upper end of the room, surmounted by a canopy of white silk; and,
as a peculiar mark of distinction, chairs were placed for us next to
her. Besides ourselves, no unmarried women were present; for all the
young Jewesses were kept apart, and not admitted till the conclusion
of the ceremony, when they came rushing in, and saluted the bride and
bridegroom in a tumultuous manner.
As for the religious rites, which commenced soon after our arrival,
or rather the concluding portion, which we witnessed, for the prayers
and chants had been carried on at intervals since the preceding day,
I shall not attempt to describe them; for, being common alike to the
whole Hebrew race, wherever settled, they cannot with propriety enter
into a picture of Italian life. All the ceremonies observed on this
occasion were according to ancient Jewish customs, we were told by the
bride herself, who was occasionally handed down to the centre of the
room, where stood the rabbi, the bridegroom, and the male relations
of the parties, all wearing their hats, and black-silk horns fastened
on their foreheads. Once the young pair drank wine jointly from one
cup, which was immediately dashed into a brazen vessel; and at another
time they stood together beneath a scarf which was held above their
heads; but when not immediately taking part in what was going forward,
the sposa looked on unconcerned, neither very timid, nor anxious, nor
devout, and with about as much reflection on the duties of married
life, I should imagine, as any of her Christian country-women in the
like position. As for the women who stood round, they did not join in
any of the prayers, but were evidently mere spectators, and thought the
length of the service rather tedious, whispering to us over and over
again that it was _all'uso antico_, to please the bridegroom's father,
and was almost as new to them as to ourselves.
At last, after the wedding-ring had been put on—being previously tested
as to the purity of the gold by a jeweller who was in attendance—a
little more chanting seemed to conclude the ceremony, for there was a
general move, and the bride said, “_Tutto è finito per me_—My part in
it is over; the others,” pointing to the rabbi, and some of the old
men, “have yet a few more prayers to say, but I have nothing to do
with them;” then descending from her throne, she received the kisses
and congratulations of all present, augmented by the onslaught of the
liberated damsels, who seemed to think her the most enviable of human
beings.
The whole company were then conducted for refreshment into an adjoining
saloon, not illuminated like the first, where lemonade and sugar-plums
were handed round, and sonnets in honour of the newly-wedded pair
distributed to every guest. These poetic effusions, which are of about
the same merit as the mottoes encircling bonbons at our supper-tables,
seem in Ancona to be considered indispensable to every wedding; and
printed copies, embellished with little emblematic wood-cuts, of a very
low order of art, are profusely showered about. The poor Jews, however,
were not allowed the latter privilege—they might have their sonnets
if they so chose, but not printed ones; so they were fain to content
themselves with elaborate specimens of calligraphy, on which the best
scribes in the town had been displaying their ingenuity. The apartment
in which we were assembled was very lofty and spacious, with six large
windows, through which the sun found its way cheerily enough, and a
domed ceiling, painted, as well as the walls, in fresco, with scenes
from the Old Testament, embellished with a profusion of gilding and
handsome chandeliers; but as a contrast to all this magnificence, the
floor was of brick, and the furniture merely benches, while dust and
dirt met the eye in every direction. Some of the family accounted for
this apparent inconsistency, by telling us they were not rich enough to
fit it up in a style analogous to the decorations; but the real motives
we ascribed to a fear of drawing too much attention to their means
of expenditure. This, however, had nothing to do with the absence of
brooms and scouring-pails, so curiously apparent, which confirmed the
charge the Anconitans triumphantly brought forward against their Hebrew
neighbours, of want of cleanliness; and certainly, if aught could
surpass their own shortcomings on that score, things must have been in
a woful condition!
Before we went away, they insisted on showing us the house, which
contained nothing further worthy of remark, except the presents
for the bride, spread out upon a long table, and seeming to consist
principally of innumerable loaves of sugar and bundles of wax candles,
tied together with gay-coloured ribbons. There were also one or two
large cakes, stuck all over with pins and brooches, none, however, of
any great value. The bedrooms were scantily furnished, without any
attempt at comfort or elegance, and miserably dark, for they looked
into a side-street, where the opposite houses appeared crushing in upon
us, communicating a horrible sense of suffocation, and bringing to my
mind the German legend of the prisoner who was gradually stifled in a
dungeon that daily narrowed itself round him.
I was so tormented with this notion, that it was quite a relief when
our visit came to a conclusion; and emerging from the mazes of the
Ghetto, we found ourselves on the Piazza del Teatro, which looked
quite spacious and animated in comparison. A stream of _vetture_,
carts, porters carrying merchandize, soldiers, priests, and all the
motley population of an Italian town, were constantly passing and
repassing through this square, furnishing food for amusing observation
to the gioventù, who usually sunned themselves on benches outside the
caffè, or, on those rare occasions when it rained, sought refuge in an
opposite cigar shop—quite an aristocratic resort—where, swinging upon
the counter, or leaning against the door, they gazed complacently at
all that was going on, and discussed the news and scandal of the day.
Without a future to look forward to, without a present—unless this
miserable frittering away of existence day after day, and year after
year, can be so called—they yet seem in that genial sunshine, beneath
that bright blue sky, to forget their poverty, the gloom of their
political condition, and the degradation of their country. Perhaps the
Government has a deep motive in so grievously oppressing its Hebrew
subjects; for the others, in considering the fate of these Helots of
the land, may think themselves comparatively well off, and sit down
contented with their lot.
As the hour draws near for the arrival of the post, a little more
stir is perceptible; and when, only a few hours behind its time, a
lumbering diligence containing the mail-bags makes its appearance, a
crowd follows to the office, and impatiently awaits the distribution
of the letters. Those persons who are expecting friends are here also,
of course, drawn up in readiness to receive them, and you see the most
affectionate greetings interchanged between tall black-bearded men, who
loudly kiss each other on both cheeks, and pour forth their expressions
of delight at meeting, with a volubility no Englishman could ever
attain. It is a pleasant feature in their character—not the kissing,
but the kindness with which they always go forth to welcome a friend's
arrival, or speed him on his travels. An Italian would think it hard,
indeed, to return from an absence of even a few days without finding
somebody awaiting him; and as to his departure, a perfect train always
attends the adventurous traveller who sets out on an expedition to
Rome or Florence, quite as much sensation being excited as there would
be amongst us were he going for an indefinite period to the Arctic
regions.
The perils of the road may, however, be brought forward to account
for the importance attached to any feat of locomotion, and the
congratulations attending the wanderer's safe return; for it is by
no means uncommon for the passengers to announce, as they emerge from
the diligence into the arms of their rejoicing friends, that they were
waylaid and robbed somewhere near Bologna, or else between Forli and
Rimini, that very unpromising region I passed through on my journey
from Florence to Ancona. These events were of too frequent occurrence
to excite much attention; still, any interesting particulars concerning
them never failed to find their way into every circle, and we used to
hear the details either at the houses of our acquaintances, or else
when they came to _fare un whist_ (play a rubber) at my uncle's, and
were initiated into the mysteries of the game which he had introduced
that winter among them. To obtain an insight into this new pursuit,
supposed exclusively a British pastime, the greatest ardour was
displayed; many of the società took to studying the _Vade Mecum_—a
little pocket-guide to whist—with laudable perseverance, carrying
it always about with them, and questioning each other concerning the
progress they had made; while the zest with which they assembled to put
in practice the theory so diligently acquired, materially assisted in
dispelling the monotony of Lent.
These little assemblies were very lively and sociable. Tea was drunk by
the very conscientious without milk, while they heroically abstained
from _ploomkek_; and after the customary bows and complimentary
phrases, the conversation became very animated. Anecdotes of robberies
were of course rife on such occasions. “By the by, marchese,” said a
card-player one evening, “this reminds me of that story of the man who
singly robbed thirteen people: do you remember it?”
“_E come!_” was the reply; “it did not happen so many years ago,
and was, besides, the drollest thing I ever heard of. He hung up a
number of hats and cloaks among the bushes on the wayside, with poles
projecting, which in the dim uncertain twilight looked like men drawn
up with guns presented. He then fastened a cord right across the
road, and awaited the diligence, the horses of which, encountering
this obstacle, were of course thrown down, and all was terror and
confusion. At this moment, our friend rushed forward, shouting, as if
to his followers, '_Attenti, figliuoli!_ but do not fire till I give
the word!' and demanded their purses and watches from the passengers,
threatening them with an instantaneous volley if they did not at
once comply. They were all so completely taken by surprise, and so
glad, moreover, to be let off thus easily, that they obeyed without
a moment's hesitation, and the contents of their pockets were quickly
handed to the captain of that formidable band, who, in return, raised
the struggling horses, and dismissed them amicably on their way,
rejoicing at their escape from rougher usage. Ah, he was a genius,
that man! He had the makings of a Napoleon! It was a pity he was taken
and hanged, for he had committed no murder, and, according to law, his
punishment should have been imprisonment; but an exception was made in
his case—the Government was so angry at his stratagem.”
“Well, that is an amusing story,” said the little contessa. “I had
quite forgotten it, so that it is as new to me as to the 'Signorina
forestiera,'” smiling at me, whose spirit of inquiry always excited her
amazement. “At any rate, he was a harmless sort of creature, this hero
of yours, caro marchese, not like that dreadful Passatore who ravaged
all Romagna lately.”
This led to an account of many of the feats of this freebooter and his
band, who for nearly two years had infested the country, and rendered
property and travelling very insecure. His most celebrated exploit was
taking possession of the theatre at Forlimpopoli, a small town a few
miles to the south of Forli, on the high-road to Cesena.
It was an evening in the Carnival of 1851. The spectators were
assembled, the orchestra had tuned their instruments, and the curtain
drew up. Instead of the usual performers, the stage was occupied by
Passatore and his followers, armed to the teeth. He was as polite,
however, as circumstances permitted; and addressing the terrified
audience, begged them not to be alarmed, nor to be so rash as to
attempt any resistance: a superfluous recommendation, seeing that the
whole population could not have mustered a single weapon, offensive or
defensive, amongst them.
Passatore then called, one by one, on the principal personages who
were present, and requested they would repair to their homes, under the
escort of some of his men, and deliver up all their valuables.
While this was going on, none but those he named were permitted to
leave the theatre. As the booty was brought in, it was all deposited
on the stage at his feet, until every one who had anything to lose
had been laid under contribution. He then rose, bowed his thanks, and
wishing them a “buon divertimento,” retired.
His career is supposed to have ended in a skirmish with Austrian
troops; but his body not having been secured by the conquerors,
considerable mystery for a long time hung over his fate. The remnants
of his band continued their old calling, and kept up the bad reputation
of the roads in Romagna and the Marche. Near Ancona country houses
were often attacked; and in some districts, proprietors were fain to
compromise with them for the payment of a certain sum annually. Not
having any means of defending their property, they were completely at
the brigands' mercy.
These facts ought to have furnished more food for melancholy than
amusement; but they did not come amiss to the società. And thus
laughing, talking, pausing in their play to relate some new evidence
of their country's miserable condition, or rallying each other upon
an oversight in the game, the evening would pass on, with as many
variations as the light and shadow cast by a tree stirred in the autumn
wind; and if I seem to shift waywardly from one subject to another in
delineating the Italian character, it is that this apparent instability
is required to give greater accuracy to my picture, and truthfulness to
its details.