Rule of the Monk; Or, Rome in the Nineteenth CenturyGaribaldi, Giuseppe
History
Rule of the Monk; Or, Rome in the Nineteenth Century
Garibaldi, Giuseppe
Italian fiction -- Translations into English; Rome (Italy) -- History -- 1798-1870 -- Fiction
"You will wonder to hear," said she, "that I am the daughter of Prince
T------, whom perhaps you know in Rome, as he is famous for his wealth.
My father gave me a liberal education, for I did not care about feminine
accomplishments, such as music and dancing, but was attracted by deeper
studies. I delighted in histories; and when I commenced that of our
Rome, I was thoroughly fascinated by the story of the republic, so full
of deeds of heroism and virtue, and my young imagination became exalted
and affected to such an extent that I feared I should lose my reason.
Comparing those heroic times with the shameful and selfish empire, and
more especially with the present state of Rome, under the humiliating
and miserable rule of the priest, I became inexpressibly sorry for the
loss of that ancient ideal, and conceived an intense hatred and disgust
for those who are the true instruments of the abasement and servility of
our people. With such a disposition, and such sentiments, you can
imagine how distasteful the princely amusements and occupations of my
father's house became to me. The effeminate homage of the Roman
aristocracy--creatures of the priest--and the presence of the foreigner
palled upon me. Balls, feasts, and other dissipations, gave me no
gratification; only in the pathetic ruins scattered over our metropolis
did I find delight. On horseback or on foot, I passed hours daily
examining these relics of Rome's ancient grandeur.
"When I attained my fifteenth year I was certainly better acquainted
with the edifices of the old architects, and our numerous ruins, than
with the needle, embroidery, and the fashions. I used to make very
distant excursions on horseback, accompanied by an old and trusty
servant of the family.
"One evening, when I was returning from an exploration, and crossing
Trastevere, some drunken foreign soldiers, who had picked a quarrel at
an inn, rushed out, pursuing one another with drawn swords. My horse
took fright, and galloped along the road, overleaping and overturning
every thing in his way, in spite of all my endeavors to check his
speed. I am a good rider, and kept a firm seat, to the admiration of the
beholders; but my steed continuing his headlong race, my strength began
to fail, and I was about to let myself fall--in which case I should
certainly have been dashed to pieces on the pavement had I done so--when
a brave youth sprang from the roadside, and, flinging himself before my
horse, seized the bridle with his left hand, and, as the animal reared
and stumbled, clasped me with the right. The powerful and sudden grasp
of my robust preserver caused the poor beast indeed to swerve sharply
round, and, striking one foot against the curb, he stumbled and fell,
splitting his skull open against the wall of a house. I was saved, but
had fainted; and when I returned to consciousness I found myself at
home, in my own bed, and surrounded by my servants.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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