Then came six _contadini_, young men and stout, each armed with a broom
three or four feet in length, made of rushes tied together, resembling
our birch-brooms without their handles. They entered the arena or
cistern, and then each one throwing aside his hat, had a large linen bag
coming to a point at the top, tied over his head and throat, so that it
was impossible for him to see. On each of these bags a comical face was
roughly painted. To the right leg of each man a cow-bell was tied; with
their brooms swinging a preparatory flourish, the six stood ready to
commence the game. The small hog was then turned into the cistern,
announcing his presence by sundry squeals. Now the game fairly begins:
_Whish!_ sound the brooms as they are whisked here, there, every where,
in attempts to strike the hog; one man giving a strong blow, strikes
another one who was stooping down to arrange his garters, where he
dislikes to be struck, and instantly the one struck runs a muck, hitting
wildly left and right. Two or three men charge on one another and brooms
fly in splinters all round. One champion got a head-blow and had his
wind knocked out by another blow simultaneously; round they go, and at
it they go, beating the air and each other, while the wreath of honor,
_alias_ small hog, keeps turning up his head, calculating the chances
and making fierce rushes every time he sees a broom approaching him; he
must have practiced in the game before, he manages so well to avoid
being hit. The six men being unable to hit the hog, grew angry, and one
of them, unmindful of the fact that his small clothes had burst open at
the knee, and his stockings were around his shoes, terribly batters
another combatant, who strives in vain to dodge him. Then the six
shouted truce, and pulling off their caps, declared that the small hog
must have the bell tied to him also, so that like a beacon (or bacon) he
might warn the cruisers of his whereabouts. This arranged, and the caps
being again tied on, they recommence the game with renewed spirit. One
man ignobly raised his helmet, _alias_ nose-bag, to see where the small
hog was keeping himself, and then made a rush for him, whereupon one of
three umpires, a very lean man with nervous twitches, rushed at the man
in a great state of excitement, and collared him amid the disapproving
shouts of the spectators; he let him go upon this, and the other two
umpires, who were fat men, jumping into the cistern to take away their
lean brother, received several violent blows on the road, finally
leading away the thin man in a high state of twitches, communicating
themselves to his stove-pipe hat, (only one on the ground,) and to a
large cane he tried to hold. A lucky blow from one of the gamesters
struck the hog, and there was a cessation of hitting, interrupted by an
outside _contadino_ of the tight-built style breaking through the
gendarmes and umpires and jumping into the middle of the cistern,
beginning a fearful battle of words with the man who hit the hog,
interrupted, however, by two of the gendarmes, who collared him and led
him off up the steps, his legs very stiff, his body at an angle of
forty-five degrees, and his head turned round to give a few last fierce
words to the hog-hitter. The man would have made a good bandit, on
canvas, with his bronzed, bearded face, flashing eyes, conical hat,
savage features, broad shirt-collar, red sash around his waist, and
leather gaiters, showing he rode horses and came from down in the plain.
The game recommenced, and by good luck the broom-swinger who hit the hog
the first blow, hit him twice more; and the regulation being that
whoever first struck the hog three blows should win him, the successful
hog-hunter bore off the small hog on his back, having at the same time
to carry the standard above described. The cheers of beauty and ugliness
accompanied the hog and standard-bearer, as jerking down his head the
umpire pulled off his head-bag, showing the face of Bruno, the butcher,
who kept a bull-dog. A great many friends surrounded him, patting him on
the back--_he had a hog to be eaten!_
So ended the Game of the Small-Hog.
After this was all over, a Tombola came off in front of the church, and
our three artists having purchased tickets for this Sunday lottery, in
order to keep the day as the rest of the people did, and not render
themselves liable to the censure of being eccentric, had an opportunity
of seeing its beneficial working--for those who got it up!
The Tombola finished, there was a good display of fire-works; in the
still night air of the Sabbath the fiery snakes and red serpents, blue
fires and green, darting flames and forked lights, reminded our
artists of a large painting over the Maggiore Gate of the town, where
a lot of the condemned are expiring in a very vermilion-colored
Inferno--condemned, perhaps, for Sabbath-breaking!
Returning to their inn to supper, the landlord handed them a note
without address, which he said had been sent them by the Gonfaloniere of
the city, who had called upon them as soon as he learned that they were
strangers there. Caper opening the envelope, found in it the following
printed invitation to attend a concert to be given that night at the
Palazzo Comunale, in honor of the day:
'IL GONFALONIERE
'DELLA CITTA' DI SEGNI
'Invita li sigi, Rocjean, Caper e Dexter ad intervenire all'
Accademia di Musica che si terrà nella Sala del Palazzo Comunale il
giorno 18 Luglio alle ore 9-1/2 pom. per festeggiare la ricorrenza
del Protettore S. Bruno.'
'It sounds well,' said Dexter; 'but both of you have seen the
tumble-down, ruined look of the old town, or city, as they call it; and
the inhabitants, as far as I have seen them, don't indicate a very
select audience for the concert.'
'Select audience be hanged! it's this very selectness that is no
selectness, that makes your English and a part of our American society a
dreary bore,' broke in Caper; 'I've come up here in the mountains to be
free, and if the Gonfaloniere bids me welcome to a palace where the
_nobilitá_ await me, with music, I shall not ask whether they are select
or not, but go.'
'I think,' spoke Rocjean, 'we should go; it will be the easiest way to
acknowledge the attention shown us, and probably the pleasantest to the
one who sent it. I am going.'
It therefore came to pass that near the hour noted in the invitation,
Rocjean and Caper, inquiring the direction to the Palazzo Comunale of
the landlord, went forth to discover its whereabouts, leaving Dexter to
hunt scorpions in the sitting-room of the inn, or study the stars from
its balcony.
Climbing up the main street, now quite dark save where the lamp of a
stray shrine or two feebly lit up a few feet around it, they soon found
the palace, the lower story of which held the post-office and various
other offices. After passing a gendarme on guard at the door, they found
themselves in a not very light hall leading to the second story;
mounting a flight of stairs, there stood another soldier on guard; a
door suddenly was thrown open, and then a burst of light showed them a
large hall with lofty ceilings, the walls hung with red and golden
tapestry and with its rich medieval groined arches and gilded cornices,
resembling, after all the ruins and decay of the town, a castle-hall in
fairy-land rather than a positively real earthly room. Dazzled by the
brilliance of the scene, Rocjean and Caper were standing near the door
of entrance, when a tall, stout, and very handsome man, leaving a circle
of ladies, at once approached them, and introducing himself as the
Gonfaloniere of the city, with much courtesy showed them to seats among
the 'most reserved of the reserved.' There sat the Bishop of the Commune
in purple silk robes, with an inch-wide golden chain over his breast,
animatedly conversing with a dashing Roman lady, startingly handsome,
with solitaire diamond ear-rings flashing light, while the lace on her
dress would have caused deaths of envy in one of our country villages.
The Governor of the Province was there, a quiet, grave gentleman,
earnest enough in his duties to be respected, and evidently a favorite
with several ladies who also shone in diamonds and with the 'air noble'
so much adored by Dexter, A warlike looking priest whom Caper afterward
found out was the chaplain of a regiment of soldiers, and by no means
afraid of grape-juice, was also there; and with numerous distinguished
men and beautiful women including one or two of the _Stelle d'Anagni_,
or Stars of Anagni, as the nobility of that town are called, made with
their rich dresses and courteous manners such a picture--so startlingly
in contrast with the out-door life that our artists had seen, that they
have never forgotten it to this day. The concert for which the
invitation was given soon commenced. The selection of vocal and
instrumental pieces was made with good judgment, and the singers who
came from Rome, and had been selected for their ability, sung with a
skill and grace that proved they knew that their audience had nice
judgment and critical ears.
The concert was over: and having made their acknowledgments to the
Gonfaloniere for the pleasure they had received through his invitation,
our two artists, lighting segars, walked up to the Pianillo, where the
rising moon gave them a splendid view of the Campagna and
mountain-bounded horizon. Thus ended their first day in Segni, and their
first Sunday in the Campagna.