Part 15 (1/2)

Chapter XX.

The Mad House.

”And see the mind's convulsion leave it weak.”

The land breeze continued to freshen, and the first dawn of morning saw our party on deck, scanning with near view, the opposite coasts of Sicily and Italy, as their vessel glided through the Faro of Messina.

Some pilot boats,--how unlike those which greet the homeward-bound voyager, as he first hails Britain's chalky cliffs--crowded around the vessel, offering their services to guide it through the strait.

Avarice--one incentive to language--had endowed these Sicilian mariners with a competent knowledge of English, which they dealt out vociferously.

As the Captain made his selection, the rejected candidates failed not to use that familiar English salam; half the gusto of which is lost, when used by foreign lip.

On the Calabrian coast, the sea-port town of Reggio wore an unusual air of bustle and animation.

It was a festa day there; and groups of peasants, in many-coloured costumes, paced up and down the mole; emitting that joyous hum, which is the never-failing concomitant of a happy crowd. Pa.s.sing through the Faro, the vessel's course lay by the northern coast of Sicily.

The current and wind were alike favourable, as it swept on by Melazzo and Lascari.

Etna, towering over the lesser mountains, became once more visible; its summit buried in the clouds of heaven.

On the right, a luminous crimson ring revealed Stromboli, whose fitful volcano was more than usually active.

The following day our party arrived at Palermo. So pleasurable had been their voyage, that it was with a feeling akin to regret, that they heard the rumbling chains of the anchor, rush through the hawse-hole, as their vessel took her station in the bay.

After going through those wearisome forms, which a foreign sea-port exacts; and which appear purposely intended, to temper the rapture of the sea-worn voyager, as he congratulates himself on once more treading terra firma; our party found themselves the inmates of the English hotel; and spent the remainder of the day in engaging a cicerone, and in discussing plans for the morrow.

The morrow came--sunny and cloudless--and the cicerone bowed to the ground, as he opened the door of the commodious fiacre.

”Where shall I drive to, Sir?”

”What were our plans, George?” said Sir Henry.

”I think,” replied George, ”that we only formed one plan to change it for another. Let the cicerone decide for us.”

_He,_ nothing loath, accepted the charge; and taking his station on the box of the carriage, directed the driver.

The carriage first stopped before a large stone building. The bell was rung--a veteran porter presented himself--and our party entered the court yard.

”What place is this?” said Delme.

”This,” rejoined his guide, with the true cicerone fluency, ”is the famous lunatic asylum, inst.i.tuted by the ill.u.s.trious Baron Pisani. This, gentlemen, is the Baron!”

Here a benevolent-looking little man with a large nose, took off his hat.

”So much approved of was his beneficent design, that our n.o.ble King, and our paternal Government, have not only adopted it; but have graciously permitted the Baron, to continue to preside over that inst.i.tution, which he so happily commenced, and which he so refulgently adorns.”

During this announcement, the Baron's face flushed with a simple, but honest pride.

These praises did not to him appear exaggerated; for his intentions had been of the purest, and in this inst.i.tution was his whole soul wrapt up.