Tancred Part 41

The collectors were Michel and Adelaide. Michel was always successful at a collection. He was a great favourite, and wonderfully bold; he would push about in the throng like a Hercules, whenever anyone called out to him to fetch a Hard. Adelaide, who carried the box, was much too retiring, and did not like the business at all; but it was her turn, and she could not avoid it. No one gave them more than a sou. It is due, however, to the little boys who were admitted free, to state that they contributed handsomely; indeed, they expended all the money they had in the exhibition room, either in purchasing fruit, or in bestowing backsheesh on the performers.

'_Encore un liard pour Michel_,' was called out by several of them, in order to make Michel rush back, which he did instantly at the exciting sound, ready to overwhelm the hugest men in his resistless course.

At last, Adelaide, holding the box in one hand and her brother by the other, came up to Sidonia, and cast her eyes upon the ground.

'For Michel,' said Sidonia, dropping a five-franc piece into the box.

'A piece of a hundred sous!' said Michel.

'And a piece of a hundred sous for yourself and each of your brothers and sisters, Adelaide,' said Sidonia, giving her a purse.

Michel gave a shout, but Adelaide blushed very much, kissed his hand, and skipped away. When she had got behind the curtain, she jumped on her father's neck, and burst into tears. Madame Baroni, not knowing what had occurred, and observing that Sidonia could command from his position a view of what was going on in their sanctuary, pulled the curtain, and deprived Sidonia of a scene which interested him.

About ten minutes after this, Baroni again appeared in his rough great-coat, and with his violin. He gave a sc.r.a.pe or two, and the audience became orderly. He played an air, and then turning to Sidonia, looking at him with great scrutiny, he said, 'Sir, you are a prince.'

'On the contrary,' said Sidonia, 'I am nothing; I am only an artist like yourself.'

'Ah!' said Baroni, 'an artist like myself! I thought so. You have taste. And what is your line? Some great theatre, I suppose, where even if one is ruined, one at least has the command of capital. 'Tis a position. I have none. But I have no rebels in my company, no traitors.

With one mind and heart we get on, and yet sometimes----' and here a signal near him reminded him that he must be playing another air, and in a moment the curtain separated in the middle, and exhibited a circular stage on which there were various statues representing the sacred story.

There were none of the usual means and materials of illusion at hand; neither s.p.a.ce, nor distance, nor cunning lights; it was a confined tavern room with some glaring tapers, and Sidonia himself was almost within arm's reach of the performers. Yet a representation more complete, more finely conceived, and more perfectly executed, he had never witnessed. It was impossible to credit that these marble forms, impressed with ideal grace, so still, so sad, so sacred, could be the little tumblers, who, but half-an-hour before, were disporting on the coa.r.s.e boards at his side.

The father always described, before the curtain was withdrawn, with a sort of savage terseness, the subject of the impending scene. The groups did not continue long; a pause of half a minute, and the circular stage revolved, and the curtain again closed. This rapidity of representation was necessary, lest delay should compromise the indispensable immovable-ness of the performers.

'Now,' said Baroni, turning his head to the audience, and slightly touching his violin, 'Christ falls under the weight of the cross.'

And immediately the curtain parted, and Sidonia beheld a group in the highest style of art, and which though deprived of all the magic of colour, almost expressed the pa.s.sion of Correggio.

'It is Alfred,' said Baroni, as Sidonia evinced his admiration. 'He chiefly arranges all this, under my instructions. In drapery his talent is remarkable.'

At length, after a series of representations, which were all worthy of being exhibited in the pavilions of princes, Baroni announced the last scene.

'What you are going to see now is the Descent from the Cross; it is after Rubens, one of the greatest masters that ever lived, if you ever heard of such a person,' he added, in a grumbling voice, and then turning to Sidonia, he said, 'This crucifixion is the only thing which these savages seem at all to understand; but I should like you, sir, as you are an artist, to see the children in some Greek or Roman story: Pygmalion, or the Death of Agrippina. I think you would be pleased.'

'I cannot be more pleased than I am now,' said Sidonia. 'I am also astonished.'

But here Baroni was obliged to sc.r.a.pe his fiddle, for the curtain moved.

'It is a triumph of art,' said Sidonia, as he beheld the immortal group of Rubens reproduced with a precision and an exquisite feeling which no language can sufficiently convey, or too much extol.

The performances were over, the little artists were summoned to the front scene to be applauded, the scanty audience were dispersing: Sidonia lingered.

'You are living in this house, I suppose?' he said to Baroni.

Baroni shook his head. 'I can afford no roof except my own.'

'And where is that?'

'On four wheels, on the green here. We are vagabonds, and, I suppose, must always be so; but, being one family, we can bear it. I wish the children to have a good supper to-night, in honour of your kindness. I have a good deal to do. I must put these things in order,' as he spoke he was working; 'there is the grandmother who lives with us; all this time she is alone, guarded, however, by the dog. I should like them to have meat to-night, if I can get it. Their mother cooks the supper.

Then I have got to hear them say their prayers. All this takes time, particularly as we have to rise early, and do many things before we make our first course through the city.'

'I will come and see you to-morrow,' said Sidonia, 'after your first progress.'

'An hour after noon, if you please,' said Baroni. 'It is pleasant for me to become acquainted with a fellow artist, and one so liberal as yourself.'

'Your name is Baroni,' said Sidonia, looking at him earnestly.

'My name is Baroni.'

'An Italian name.'

'Yes, I come from Cento.'

'Well, we shall meet to-morrow. Good night, Baroni. I am going, to send you some wine for your supper, and take care the grandmamma drinks my health.'

II.

It was a sunny morn: upon the green contiguous to the Auberge of St.

Nicholas was a house upon wheels, a sort of monster omnibus, its huge shafts idle on the ground, while three fat Flemish horses cropped the surrounding pasture. From the door of the house were some temporary steps, like an accommodation ladder, on which sat Baroni, dressed something like a Neapolitan fisherman, and mending his clarionet; the man in the blouse was eating his dinner, seated between the shafts, to which also was fastened the little dog, often the only garrison, except the grandmother, of this strange establishment.

The little dog began barking vociferously, and Baroni, looking up, instantly bade him be quiet. It was Sidonia whose appearance in the distance had roused the precautionary voice.

'Well,' said Sidonia, 'I heard your trumpets this morning.'

'The grandmother sleeps,' said Baroni, taking off his cap, and slightly rising. 'The rest also are lying down after their dinner. Children will never repose unless there are rules, and this with them is invariable.'

'But your children surely cannot be averse to repose, for they require it.'

'Their blood is young,' continued Baroni, still mending his clarionet; 'they are naturally gay, except my eldest son. He is restless, but he is not gay.'

'He likes his art?'

'Not too much; what he wants is to travel, and, after all, though we are always moving, the circle is limited.'

'Yes; you have many to move. And can this ark contain them all?' said Sidonia, seating himself on some timber that was at hand.

'With convenience even,' replied Baroni; 'but everything can be effected by order and discipline. I rule and regulate my house like a ship. In a vessel, there is not as much accommodation for the size as in a house of this kind; yet nowhere is there more decency and cleanliness than on board ship.'

'You have an obedient crew,' said Sidonia, 'and that is much.'

'Yes; when they wake my children say their prayers, and then they come to embrace me and their mother. This they have never omitted during their lives. I have taught them from their birth to obey G.o.d and to honour their parents. These two principles have made them a religious and moral family. They have kept us united, and sustained us under severe trials.'

'Yet such talents as you all possess,' said Sidonia, 'should have exempted you from any very hard struggle, especially when united, as apparently in your case, with well-ordered conduct.'

'It would seem that they should,' said Baroni, 'but less talents than we possess would, probably, obtain as high a reward. The audiences that we address have little feeling for art, and all these performances, which you so much applauded last night, would not, perhaps, secure even the feeble patronage we experience, if they were not preceded by some feats of agility or strength.'

'You have never appealed to a higher cla.s.s of audience?'

'No; my father was a posture-master, as his father was before him. These arts are traditionary in our family, and I care not to say for what length of time and from what distant countries we believe them to have been received by us. My father died by a fall from a tight rope in the midst of a grand illumination at Florence, and left me a youth. I count now only sixty-and-thirty summers. I married, as soon as I could, a dancer at Milan. We had no capital, but our united talents found success. We loved our children; it was necessary to act with decision, or we should have been separated and trampled into the mud. Then I devised this house and wandering life, and we exist in general as you see us. In the winter, if our funds permit it, we reside in some city, where we educate our children in the arts which they pursue. The mother can still dance, sings prettily, and has some knowledge of music. For myself, I can play in some fashion upon every instrument, and have almost taught them as much; I can paint, too, a scene, compose a group, and with the aid of my portfolio of prints, have picked up more knowledge of the costume, of different centuries than you would imagine.