Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/296

24, 1860.] hand. Let us imagine ourselves, about three o’clock, in the Corso. The weather is lovely, the fun is at its height. As we stand here, at the end of the street leading into the Piazza del Popolo, a most stirring and brilliant perspective meets the eye: every window and balcony, from top to bottom of the houses, is decorated with draperies of some bright colour, and every window and balcony is occupied by spectators of and combatants in the revel, many in masquerade attire, and all gaily dressed. The fronts of the shops have been removed, and the spaces fitted up like the boxes of a theatre. Bright coloured streamers float out into the street, innumerable rods project from the windows, baited with oranges, bonbons, and quaintly dressed puppets, which are bobbed among the passing crowd, and the unceasing shower of bouquets, &c, from above and below—all give a life and flutter to the scene impossible to describe. The street is almost impassable, so thickly is it crowded by revellers on foot, and two ranks of carriages slowly moving in opposite directions; but let us move on, noting as we go a few of the different scenes that are occurring. Look at that girl at a first-floor window on the left, she whose fine figure is shown to the best advantage in a bright blue jacket and crimson vest, and a black velvet cap set knowingly on her head. She has not missed a day of the eight; and each day, from the commencement to the end, has stood smilingly at her post, receiving tribute from her admirers, and dispensing favours with the grace of a queen. Look, one stops beneath her window, and throws a choice bouquet; but his aim is bad, and it falls into the hands of one of the many urchins around, who, like harpies, dart upon anything near them. She nevertheless acknowledges the attempt with a smile, and drops a bonbon in return. He stretches forth his hand to catch it, but some flowers from a neighbouring window on one side, and a shower of confetti on the other, confuse him, and the bonbon follows the fate of the bouquet; but before he has recovered himself, the lady has taken a little basket decorated with ribbons, placed another bonbon within, and commenced lowering it by a string; it soon reaches his eager hand, and he presses it to his lips with rapture; then, diving into a pouch by his side, produces some still choicer trifle, and puts it into the basket. The lady quickly pulls it up, and smiles graciously; and he, laying his hand on his heart, goes his way. Who is this stalking so gravely along, dressed in black, with knee breeches, capacious wig, and spectacles, immense shirt-frill and buckles, and a large book under his arm. See, he stops two masked young ladies in short petticoats and flesh-coloured stockings, takes one by the wrist, and solemnly feels her pulse; the result is a portentous shake of the head, and the word “innamorata,” pronounced in solemn tones. He opens his book, and is about to read, when a being dressed in white, his coat ornamented with huge red buttons, a white cap on his head, and his face of a floury paleness, rushes past with an unearthly yell, bestowing as he goes a sounding blow, with an inflated bladder fastened to a stick, upon the Doctor’s back: and at the same moment a shower of confetti from a passing carriage turns his black garments into the hue of a miller’s.

That domino at an upper window, fishing about with an orange over the heads of the crowd, thinks it is quite secure, and is complacently facetious over the failure of a young man in a carriage, who, in trying to grasp it, almost loses his balance, only saving himself by clutching desperately at a long-bearded Turk, his companion; but lo! while the fisherman is enjoying the effects of his skill, a hooked stick is suddenly thrust out of a lower window, the line dragged in, and the next moment it hangs baitless in the air, a derisive peal of laughter following.

Surely yonder sits a woman on a coach-box, handling the whip and reins like a practised Jehu. Her bonnet is of Gampish size, but how coquettishly she sets her head on one side, and allows an unusual portion of white stocking to appear beyond her petticoats. Is she pretty? Sha turns her face towards us. What a mistake we have made! Do you not see the whiskers beneath those well-oiled ringlets? Among the “fast” young Romans, this is a very favourite disguise.

“''Brava! brava!''” See that fair young girl with round, rosy cheeks, and fine white teeth: her hair all dishevelled with her exertions, how she struggles against a very hurricane of bouquets and sugar-plums—returning them with both hands in a perfect fever of excitement and delight! She indeed enjoys the Carnival with all her joyous young heart. She seems made for the situation.

Various are the contrivances by which the safe delivery of a bouquet or bonbon is insured without throwing them. Perhaps the most clever is carried by yonder policinello:—it appears to be a number of pieces of painted wood, fastened together; but wait a moment; he is fixing some flowers to it. He stops under a window a good height from the ground, where stand two pretty girls costumed à la paysanne, in white head-dresses and rod bodices; he looks up at them with a comical grin, and they throw him flowers. Holding up his little instrument with both hands, he gives a quick jerk with his elbows, and up fly a connected series of wooden diamonds (like a gigantic child’s toy), with his flowers on the highest point. The girls are a little startled at first; then, with a merry laugh, they make a dash at the bouquet,—at the same time, however, a little puppet at the end of a string passing slowly across the window diverts the attention of one of them; she makes a grasp at it, but the doll, moved by a skilful hand, flies from her like a Will-o’-the-Wisp; meanwhile her companion has secured the bouquet, and the diamonds have returned to their former shape.

The cries of “''Fiori—ecco fiori! Confetti, confetti, un bajocco la libra!” (Flowers—here are flowers! Sugar-plums, one bajocco a pound!), bawled by twenty or thirty voices, fill the air; and here we are at the top of the Via de’ Condotti, the street by which the carriages must enter the Corso, and which is a complete market-place for flower and confetti'' sellers. We are now in the very thick of the fun. That is the long balcony of the Caffé Nuovo, and is chiefly occupied by foreigners. At this part of the Corso the English are in great force, pelting away, especially the fairer