The race of the Rommany is by nature perhaps the most beautiful in
the world; and amongst the children of the Russian Zigani are
frequently to be found countenances to do justice to which would
require the pencil of a second Murillo; but exposure to the rays of
the burning sun, the biting of the frost, and the pelting of the
pitiless sleet and snow, destroys their beauty at a very early age;
and if in infancy their personal advantages are remarkable, their
ugliness at an advanced age is no less so, for then it is
loathsome, and even appalling.
A hundred years, could I live so long, would not efface from my
mind the appearance of an aged Ziganskie Attaman, or Captain of
Zigani, and his grandson, who approached me on the meadow before
Novo Gorod, where stood the encampment of a numerous horde. The
boy was of a form and face which might have entitled him to
represent Astyanax, and Hector of Troy might have pressed him to
his bosom, and called him his pride; but the old man was, perhaps,
such a shape as Milton has alluded to, but could only describe as
execrable - he wanted but the dart and kingly crown to have
represented the monster who opposed the progress of Lucifer, whilst
careering in burning arms and infernal glory to the outlet of his
hellish prison.
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