The Marble Faun; Or, The Romance of Monte Beni - Volume 1

ory and hereditary peculiarities of the Counts of Monte Beni. There was a pedigree, the later portion of which-that is to say, for a little more t

r beyond the region of definite and demonstrable fact, a romancer might have strayed into a region of old poetry, where the rich soil, so long uncultivated and untrodden, had lapsed into near

broad track from the Middle Ages; but, at epochs anterior to those, it was distinctly visible in the gloom of the period before chivalry put forth its flower; and further still, we are almost afraid to say, it was see

ch of kingly rule. Nor even so remotely among the mossy centuries did it pause, but strayed onward into that gray antiquity of which there is no token left, save its cavernous tombs, and a few bronzes, and some quai

romantic interest around the unquestionable antiquity of the Monte Beni family, and over that tract of their own vines and fig-trees beneath the shade of which they had unquestionably dwelt for immemorial ages. And

esque, yet not unfascinating peculiarity. He caught at it the more eagerly, as it afforded a shadowy and whimsical semblance of

n deities and demigods appeared familiarly on earth, mingling with its inhabitants as friend with friend,-when nymphs, satyrs, and the whole train of classic faith or fable hardly took pains to hide themselves in the primeval woods,-at that auspicious period the lineage of Monte Beni had its rise. Its progenitor was a being not altogether human, yet partaking so largely of the gentlest human qualities, as to be neither awful nor shocking to the imag

lineaments of its wild paternity: it was a pleasant and kindly race of men, but capable of savage fierceness, and never quite restrainable within the trammels of soc

alities, and served for the most part only to bestow an unconquerable vigor, which kept the family from extinction, and enabled them to make their own part good throughout the perils and rud

clutch of grasping neighbors, and probably differed very little from the other feudal barons with whom they fought and feasted. Such a degree

And thus, it was said, from a period beyond memory or record, there had ever and anon been a descendant of the Monte Benis bearing nearly all the characteristics that were attributed to the original founder of the race. Some traditions even went so far as to enumerate the ears, covered with a delicate fur, and shaped like a

eved to possess gifts by which he could associate himself with the wild things of the forests, and with the fowls of the air, and could feel a sympathy even with the trees; among which it was his joy to dwell. On the other hand, there were deficiencies both of intellect and heart, and especially, as it seemed, in the development of the higher portion of man

e quick sensibility and joyous vivacity of youth. At worst, the reigning Count of Monte Beni, as his hair grew white, was still a jolly old fellow over his flask of wine, the wine that Bacchu

tion of the pedigree. It might, however, be considered as typifying some such assemblage of qualities-in this case, chiefly remarkable for their simplicity and naturalness-as, when they reappear in successive generations, constitute what we call family character. The sculptor found, moreover, on the evidence of some old portraits, that the physical

e former could not reconcile him to its dullness. What especially delighted the sculptor was the analogy between Donatello's character, as he himself knew it, and those peculiar traits which the old butler's narrative assumed to have been long hereditary in the race. He was amused at finding, too, that not only Tomaso but the peasantry of the estate and neighboring village recognized his friend as a genuine Monte Beni, of the original type. They seemed to cherish a great affection for the young Count, and were ful

although, when Kenyon pressed them for some particulars of this latter mode of companionship, they could remembe

. He was the soul of vintage festivals. While he was a mere infant, scarcely able to run alone, it had been the custom to make him tread the winepress with his tender little feet, if it were only to crush one cluster of the grapes. And the grape-juice that gushed beneath his childish tread, be it ever so smal

hat Donatello was not merely a sylvan faun, but the genial wine god in his very person. Making many allowances for the poetic fancies of Italian peas

hat the young Count was sadly changed since he went to Rome. The vill

hether he, too, had noticed the shadow which was s

the old Counts of Monte Beni used to be. His very first taste of it, as you see, has changed and spoilt my poor young lord. There had not been a single count in the family these hundred years or

e was a merrier worl

remembered a lord of Monte Beni-at least, he had heard of such a one, though I will not make oath upon the holy crucifix that my grandsire lived in his time who used to go into the woods and call

the sculptor. "You are right, excell

era,-on the contrary, they never before were nearly so abundant,-but that mankind are getting so far beyond the childhood of their race that they scorn to be happy any longer. A simple and joyous character can find no place for itself among the sage and sombre figures that would put his unsophisticated cheerfulness to sh

e born in. It insists upon everybody's adding somewhat-a mite, perhaps, but earned by incessant effort-to an accumulated pile of usefulness, of which the only use will be, to burden our posterity with even heavier

ad been. He could not live their healthy life of animal spirits, in their sympathy with nature, and brotherhood with all that breathed around them. Nature, in beast, fowl, and tree, and earth

at vintage time. By the aspect of the vineyard, I judge that this will be a famous year for the golden wine of Monte Beni. As long a

r with a sigh, "but he scarcely w

ve, and bring home a fair and laughing wife to chase the gloom out of yonder

age butler, looking earnestly at

lved to keep concealed in his own breast. He now took his departure cellarward, shaking his white head and muttering to himself, and did not reappear

Beni palatable. It seemed a pity that Donatello did not drink a little more of it, and go jollil

a bagpipe. Improvisatori likewise came and told tales or recited verses to the contadini-among whom Kenyon was often an auditor-after their day's work in the vineyard. Jugglers, too, obtained permission to do feats of magic in the hall, where they set even the sage Tomaso, and Stella, Girolamo, and the peasant girls from the farmhou

Rome did Donatello's presence deepen the blushes of the pretty contadinas, or his

nd filled their bags, and pocketed the little money that was given them, and went forth on their devious ways, showering blessings innumerable on the mansion and its lord, and on the souls of his deceased forefathers, who had always been just such simpletons as to be