_CONTE ZORAFI, THE PRINCE'S
"PRESS"_
Conte Zurla, the Minister of the Interior, brought to Signora
Sanseverina's Conte Zorafi, who was the Press of Parma.
At the gatherings at which he appeared, that silence, which is often
painful at official gatherings, could not find a place, and, in a
country which has a terrible police and a State Prison the tower of
which, one hundred and eighty feet high, may be seen at the end of every
street, all gatherings of more than two persons may be considered
official.
One thing that may be said in praise of Zorafi is that he was no more of
a spy than any other gentleman at court; in fact, at heart he was
ridiculous, but not at all wicked. No other gentleman at court could,
without risk to his friends, have seen the Sovereign daily. Zorafi
fancied himself a Minister, and was afraid of Conte Mosca. At the same
time he was obliged, ten times in a month perhaps, to speak evil of him.
When the Conte had scored a marked success in any affair, he was certain
to be blamed, the day after, by the Prince's Press.
Conte Zorafi was a man of spirit who could not bear to have fifty
napoleons in his desk. As soon as he saw that sum, or indeed a much less
considerable sum in his possession, he would think of spending it. For
instance, on the day on which we shall do him the honour of presenting
him to the reader, he will have just bought for forty-five napoleons a
magnificent English lustre. The purchase made, not knowing where to
place it and already caring less about it, he has asked Prinote, the
famous jeweller, to keep it in his shop.
This Conte had spent his youth in composing sonnets in an emphatic style
over which the people of Lombardy had gone so mad as to compare them to
the sonnets of Monti. Now, in some connexion or other, someone had
ventured to say in public that this style, which was so emphatic, was
emphatic with the simple character of Napoleon; it had required only
this comment to make Zorafi's sonnets fall into disrepute.
And, a surprising thing, Zorafi, whose character was precisely that of a
conceited child, had not shewn the slightest annoyance. Besides what was
more serious than the decline of his sonnets, he had an income of barely
nine or ten thousand lire and spent twenty-five.
In spite of these 25,000 lire he frequently had debts, and these debts
were paid every year by an unseen hand.
What then was Zorafi? He was the Prince's _Press_.
He was a Conte, as everyone is in Italy, but besides that he had enjoyed
the greatest literary renown for ten years. Zorafi was not at all
wicked, or at least had only the ill temper of a child. He had the
purest Sienese accent. The sentences flowed from his lips with a perfect
facility, he spoke of everything with charm, in a word nothing would
have been lacking if from time to time he could have found some idea to
place in his sentences.
A little time since, the Prince had given Zorafi a carriage, but this
was on condition of his paying at least twenty-five visits daily.
"It does not suit me at present to have a newspaper printed," the Prince
had said to him in making him a present of the carriage, with horses
attached, and a coachman and groom to boot. "A newspaper conducted by a
man of your sort would have a crowd of subscribers; very well, have a
crowd of friends and tell them, with the spirit for which you are
distinguished, the articles that you would print, if you had the
privilege of the newspaper. One day, you shall have this newspaper, and
it will bring you in an income of 50,000 lire. For I shall give you
plenty of liberty, you will speak of the measures adopted by my
Government."
Once they had observed this mania in Zorafi, people listened to him in
society, as in another place they read the _Journal Officiel_.