MARIONETTISTS AT HOME
ALESSANDRO GRECO TO THE AUTHOR.
MARIONETTE THEATRE,
PIAZZA NUOVA, PALERMO,
4 _June_, 1909.
MY DEAR ENRICO,
Since I last wrote to you there has been a continual to-do and no
time for writing letters. What has been the to-do? Is it possible
you have forgotten my telling you that I am studying to be a singer
and that I take lessons every day? Now listen to this: Here in
Palermo, a new opera was performed recently for the benefit of the
victims of the earthquake at Messina. The story was taken from a
great German romance and the music was composed by an Italian who is
now in America. I was asked to sing as a supplementary tenor. We
had a month of rehearsals and in the end the performance was
splendidly successful. O my dear friend! If you had seen me on the
stage! I was dressed as a warrior with a wig of curly hair and a
pair of moustaches. I also received applause, and, when I appeared
before the audience to bow my acknowledgments, I thought: "Oh, if
only my dear friend were present, how he would be applauding me!"
You will understand after that whether I have had any time to write
to you; but now that things have calmed down a little and there is
less going on I can write to you as much as you like.
As you know, I am always busy in the teatrino; the other evening we
repeated Samson, that play which you once saw here. If you will
believe me, I was thinking of you the whole time because I remembered
that when we gave it two years ago you were present.
Just now in the _Story of the Paladins_, Orlando is throwing away his
arms and running about naked in the woods, mad for love of Angelica;
and soon we shall have the burning of Bizerta and the destruction of
the Africans. This will finish in July and we shall then begin the
_Story of Guido Santo_.
What have you done with that photograph of myself which I gave you
and which you put into your cigarette-case? Is still there, or have
you lost it? I have often promised to send you another but have not
done so because when you come to Palermo in September I hope we shall
be photographed together, you and I. Nevertheless I send you this
one now, it was taken by an English lady who came to the teatrino
last summer; you see me getting into a rage with a paladin, I am
talking seriously to him and swearing at him because he will not let
me dress him properly.
I will not prolong this letter, I do not wish to bore you; but I
promise you that I will never fail to let you know of my doings and I
count on you to tell me of yours.
Costantino, Sansone, Rinaldo, Rosina, Angelica, Ferrau, Pasquino,
Onofrio and all the other marionettes embrace you and send you their
kind regards.
I am and always shall be
Your affectionate friend
ALESSANDRO GRECO (Buffo).
On arriving at Palermo, I went to the teatrino at about ten at night; not
seeing the buffo in his usual place keeping order at the door, I guessed
he must be on the stage and, knowing the way, passed through the
audience, dived under the proscenium, crept along a short passage,
mounted a ladder and appeared among them unannounced. The father, the
buffo and his brother, Gildo, were so much astonished that they dropped
their marionettes all over the stage and shouted:
"When did you come?" "Why did you not write?" "Why did you not
telegraph?"
Thereby spreading their astonishment among the audience, who saw no
connection between these ejaculations and the exploits of Guido Santo.
They soon recovered themselves, however, picked up their paladins and
managed to bring the performance to its conclusion, and we shut the
theatre and proceeded upstairs to the house. On the way the buffo took
me aside into his workshop to show me two inflammable Turkish pavilions
which he was making; Ettorina in her madness was to fire them in a few
days, one in the afternoon and the other at the evening repetition, as a
conclusion to the spectacle. I inquired:
"Who was Ettorina, and why did she go mad?"
"I will tell you presently," replied the buffo, "we must first go
upstairs."
As we went up I asked after the singing and he promised to take me to the
house of his professor to hear him have a lesson. Papa and Gildo had
preceded us and we found them with the young ladies, Carolina and
Carmela, and the child, Nina, who is as much a buffa as her brother
Alessandro is a buffo. In a moment, the air was thick with compliments.
PAPA: And how well you are looking! So much fatter than last year.
MYSELF (_accepting the compliment_): That is very kind of you. You are
all looking very well also. Let me see, Buffo mio, how old are you now?
ALESSANDRO: Guess.
MYSELF: Twenty-five.
ALESS: Bravo. I completed my twenty-fifth year just three weeks ago.
And you?
MYSELF: I have also completed my twenty-fifth year, but I did it more
than three weeks ago.
ALESS: I see. You have twenty-five years on one shoulder; and how many
more on the other?
MYSELF: Twenty-five.
ALESS: It seems to me you are making a habit of attaining twenty-five.
Are you going to do it again?
MYSELF: I have begun, but I shall put off completing it as long as
possible. If you want to know my exact age I will give you the materials
for making the calculation. I went to the Great Exhibition of 1851.
GILDO: Tell us about it. I have often seen pictures of it in the
illustrated papers, but I have never spoken to anyone who was there. Was
it very beautiful? Were there many people? Did you see Queen Victoria?
MYSELF: I can't tell you much about it. I was asleep and when I woke up
I was so hungry that I cried till my mother took me into a side room and
gave me my dinner. Then I went to sleep again until they took me home.
I have been to many exhibitions since, but I never enjoyed one so much.
You see, this one did not bore me.
ALESS: You should not have had your dinner there. I went to the
exhibition in Palermo and the food in the restaurant was not wholesome.
GILDO: Yes, but you must remember that Alessandro is very particular
about his food. He can only eat the most delicate things and must have
plenty of variety.
MYSELF: I did not have much variety in those days. I took my restaurant
with me, the one at which I was having all my meals.
GILDO: Oh well, if one can afford to travel like a prince--
MYSELF: Gildo! I was not six weeks old and--
PAPA: I have now made the calculation and I find you are my senior by six
years. I hope that when I have caught you up I shall carry my age as
lightly as you carry yours. Do I explain myself?
ALESS (_to me_): I think you look older. I should have said you were a
well-preserved man of sixty-four or (_stretching a point in my favour_)
perhaps sixty-five.
MYSELF (_feeling sure that here must be another compliment_): Thank you
very much.
BUFFO: Not at all; it does you great credit.
GILDO: Now me, please. Ask me my age.
MYSELF: Well, Gildo, and how old are you?
GILDO: A hundred and seventy-four next birthday.
MYSELF: Santo Diavolo! You don't look it. You must have been very busy
since last autumn when, if I remember right, you were only twenty-one.
CAROLINA (_tapping my right arm to attract my attention_): Signor Enrico,
Signor Enrico, why do you not ask me my age?
CARMELA (_tapping my left arm_): Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, you have
not asked me my age.
MYSELF: Because I know how old you are. You are both of you the age that
charming young ladies always are, and you do not look a day older.
NINA: I'm fourteen.
CARO and CARM (_comparing notes_): Did you hear what he said? He said we
are charming young ladies.
NINA (_insisting_): I'm fourteen. Do I look it?
MYSELF: I can compliment you on looking a little older. Since last year
you have grown out of being a child, but you have hardly yet grown into
being a young lady like your sisters, though you are quite as charming.
ALESS (_taking the opportunity to begin_): First you must know that Carlo
Magno is now dead and the Pope is shut up in Paris and is being--
CARO: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, do you drink marsala in London?
MYSELF: Marsala is known in London, but we do not drink it every day as
you do in Palermo.
GILDO: In England people drink tea; everything is so different in
England.
MYSELF: That is quite true, Gildo. In England what is like that
(_holding my hand out with the palm up_) in Sicily is like this (_holding
it with the palm down_:_ Peppino Pampalone taught me this gesture_).
GILDO: And that is why in London the people walk on their feet, whereas
in Palermo they walk on their hands, as you have no doubt observed.
ALESS: Si; e ecco perche in Londra si mangia colla bocca, ma qui, in
Palermo, si mangia nella maniera che ti faro vedere da un diavolo nel
teatrino. But I was telling you about the Pope. He is shut up in Paris,
where he is guarding the Christians against the--
CARO: Signor Enrico, do you ever see the sun in London?
GILDO: Yes, they see the sun in London, but only on three days of the
week; on the other days they send it to be cleaned.
CARM: Then it is not the same sun as ours?
GILDO: It is a different sun. Our sun is made of gold and remains always
bright. The sun of London is made of copper and, being constantly
exposed to the air, it tarnishes more rapidly even than the breastplate
of Carlo Magno, and you know what a lot of cleaning that wants.
PAPA: All this is very interesting, but listen to me. I have something
to say. When I was a boy at school--are you attending? Very well, then,
I may proceed. When I was a boy at school, we had a professor who told
us that in consequence of--
CARO: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, what is the English for Grazie?
MYSELF: It means Thank you.
CARM: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, what is the English for Buona notte?
MYSELF: Buona notte in English is Good night.
ALESS:--and Paris is being besieged by four Turkish emperors, namely,
Rodoferro di Siberia, Balestrazzo di Turgovia, Leofine di Cina and
Bracilone d'Africa, and they have two hundred thousand men--
GILDO: Now me, please. Teach me to speak English. What did you say is
the English for Grazie?
MYSELF: Thank you.
GILDO: And Buona notte?
MYSELF: Good night.
GILDO (_tentatively_): Thank you. Good night.
MYSELF: Bravo, very good.
CARO: What does that mean?
MYSELF: Very good means--
PAPA:--and this professor of ours told us that in consequence of certain
natural--do I explain myself?--of certain natural causes, it is rare for
a human being to live more than one hundred years. It is therefore
unlikely that--
ALESS:--and Paris is being besieged by--
MYSELF: Yes, I know, Buffo, by four Turkish emperors and they have two
hundred thousand men. I should think it must be rather a serious
situation. But I want to hear about Ettorina.
ALESS: It is a very serious situation, but do not be alarmed because--
PAPA:--it is therefore unlikely that Gildo will ever reach the age of one
hundred and seventy-four. Do I explain myself?
CARO: Signor Enrico, Come sta? what does it mean?
MYSELF: It means How do you do?
CARO (_trying her hand_): How do you do?
MYSELF: Brava. Very good.
(_Nina did not ask to be taught English_._ She was following the
conversation with sympathetic illustrative gestures not caring two straws
whether anyone observed her_, _just as she did not care whether anyone
observed that she was breathing_; _and_, _just as she could not stop
breathing_, _so she appeared unable to stop her gestures_._ She was as
incessant and as resourceful as the orchestra in_ Hansel and Gretel.)
CARM: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, Io t'amo.
MYSELF: Oh! but this is so sudden.
ALESS:--do not be alarmed, because--
CARM: What does it mean in English?
MYSELF: Oh, I beg your pardon. It means--
ALESS:--do not be alarmed, for it is the will of heaven that--
PAPA: I may even go further and say it is unlikely that Gildo--
CARO: Signor Enrico, do you know what Carmela is doing?
MYSELF: She is making lace on a pillow, no doubt for her wedding
trousseau.
CARM (_demurely_): Not for my wedding. No one will ever want to marry
me.
MYSELF: Oh, come now, you don't expect me to believe that?
ALESS:--it is the will of heaven that they shall all escape--
MYSELF: Well, if this is not for you, perhaps it is for Carolina's
wedding?
ALESS:--that they shall all escape to Montalbano--
CARO (_demurely_): Not for my wedding. I shall never marry. I shall
stay at home and look after my dear papa and my dear brothers.
NINA (_recklessly_): That's all very pretty, but I'm going to get
married. (_She was sitting on the edge of the table swinging her legs_.)
ALESS:--that they shall all escape to Montalbano through the subterranean
road which the devils--
MYSELF: Why don't you tell me about Ettorina? Come to Ettorina.
ALESS: One moment, if you please--which the devils will make on Wednesday
evening--
CARM: You have not yet told me what it is in English.
MYSELF: What what is in English?
CARM: Io t'amo.
(_By the time I had given the information Papa_, _who had been proposing
my health in a speech of which I caught little except an occasional_ Do I
explain myself? _had begun perorating towards a close and was about to
crown his remarks with a brindisi in verse_.)
PAPA: Questa tavola--
GILDO (_taking the words out of his mouth_):
--oggi e assai piu bella.
Enrico! Bevo alla salute di tua sorella. {60}
ALESS:--which the devils will make on Wednesday evening by command of
Argantino the--
PAPA (_beginning again_):
Questa tavola non e sporca ma e netta.
Enrico! mangia, e non dare a loro retta. {61a}
MYSELF (_obediently taking a pear_._ It was a fine pear with a maggot in
it_;_ they wanted me to take another but I knew that those with maggots
are usually the best_. _Not seeing why I should not be a poet also_, _I
put it thus_):
Animale
Non fa male. {61b}
GILDO (_instantly raising his glass_):
Ora che ho mangiato non sono piu a dieta;
Bevo alla salute d'Enrico che e poeta. {61c}
ALESS:
Anch'io voglio brindar, da povero precoce,
Ad Enrico che sentir vuole la mia voce;
Da un anno non ti vedo, O caro fratello!
Vieni oggi, ti faro sentir l'_Otello_. {61d}
MYSELF (_bowing my acknowledgments_): Thank you very much.
GILDO: What did you say? Does that mean Good night? Is that what you
said before?
MYSELF: Very much means Molto, Thank you means Grazie, and Good night
means Buona notte.
GILDO: Let me try. Very much thank you good night?
MYSELF: Bravo, Gildo! You are making progress.
(_Nina was not so much preoccupied with her comments as to be unable to
take a line of her own when there was nothing particularly inspiring in
the conversation and_, _just now_, _she had laid her head down in an
empty plate and was unostentatiously putting out her tongue and making
faces sideways at me_.)
GILDO (_taking a fig in one hand and raising his glass with the other_):
Oggi mi voglio mangiare un fico;
Bevo alla salute del Signor Enrico. {62}
(_I had to drink each time_, _not much_--_merely to acknowledge the
compliment_--_excusing myself by saying I had not the energy to drink
more_.)
MYSELF: My dear Buffo, when you have sufficiently got into the habit of
being twenty-five to approach the age Gildo says he is, you will not have
so much energy as you have now.
ALESS: Yes, I shall.
MYSELF: No, Buffo mio.
ALESS: We will make a bet about it, but you will lose.
GILDO (_to Aless_): By that time Enrico will not be here to pay if he
does lose, so you will not win.
MYSELF: Bravo, Gildo.
GILDO (_bowing his acknowledgments_): Thank you very night--Why do you
laugh? That is what you say. Why do you laugh?
PAPA (_taking his revenge about the brindisi_): Don't talk so much,
Gildo.
ALESS (_taking his about the bet_): You have been talking all the
evening, Gildo. You are as bad as a conjurer in the piazza.
(_Gildo proclaimed a general silence and_, _as a guarantee of good
faith_, _pretended to skewer his lips together with a tooth-pick_.)
ALESS (_whispering to me_): Argantino is the Prince of the Devils and has
commanded them to make the subterranean road from Paris to Montalbano--
PAPA: May I speak one word?
MYSELF (_graciously_): Yes, Papa. You may even speak two words.
PAPA: I--
ALESS and GILDO (_shouting_): One!
PAPA:--have--
ALESS and GILDO: Two! There now, shut up. You've spoken your two words.
Silence.
CARO: Signor Enrico, last year you only stayed in Palermo four days; this
year you will, of course, stay at least a month.
MYSELF: I am sorry, my dear young lady, but it is impossible.
ALESS:--and they will all escape and--
MYSELF: Please, Buffo, how many kilometres is it from Paris to
Montalbano?
ALESS: I do not remember, but it is a long way.
CARO: Why do you not stay a month?
CARM: Yes, why are you going away?
MYSELF: My dear young ladies, I must go to Calatafimi.
CARO: But why do you go to Calatafimi?
CARM: Yes, why do you not stay with us?
(_Nina did not speak_. _She merely gazed at me as though she could not
mind her wheel_, _Mother_.)
MYSELF: I have friends at Calatafimi whom I have promised to go and see
and I cannot--
ALESS:--and arrive in safety at Montalbano.
MYSELF: I believe you told me once that Montalbano is Rinaldo's castle in
Gascony. Did the devils make a subterranean road right across France?
It is a long way, you know.
ALESS: The devils must do as Argantino commands them.
MYSELF: If he is the Prince of the Devils of course they must; but this
seems rather a large order. Come to Ettorina. Why don't you come to
Ettorina?
ALESS: One moment, if you please; first you must know that--
CARO: Signor Enrico, who are your friends at Calatafimi?
MYSELF: I know a baritone singer and his father and mother, two or three
landed proprietors and the custode of the Temple of Segesta who lives at
Calatafimi and is great friend of mine. I also know another--
CARM: It is not true. How many ladies do you know at Calatafimi?
MYSELF: Well, let me see. I don't think I can exactly--
CARO: Tell us about the young ladies of Calatafimi, you like them better
than you like us.
(_Here sobs were heard_;_ Nina's head and shoulders had fallen over the
back of her chair_, _her hair had come down an she was weeping gently but
inconsolably_.)
MYSELF: I shall be back in three days.
(_Whereupon Nina recovered herself and fixed her eyes on the ceiling with
an expression of beatific joy such as is worn by S. Caterina da Siena
when the ring is being put on her finger in the pictures_._ Nina's hair
had now to be done up and it is magnificent hair_, _lustrous_, _black_,
_wavy thick and long--for a girl of fourteen_, _wonderful_._ Her two
sisters did it up as though it usually came down about this time of the
evening and she submitted in the same spirit_._ It was no concern of
ours_.)
PAPA: It is now one year since you were last in Palermo and it seems like
yesterday--do I explain myself?
GILDO (_so that everyone could hear_): I have kept all your post-cards in
a secret place. No one suspects that I have received them.
ALESS: You must know that before Malagigi died he--
CARO: Signor Enrico, why do you wear spectacles?
MYSELF: In order that I may more clearly contemplate your beauty.
CARO: I do not believe you.
CARM: Signor Enrico, why do you wear your hair so short?
MYSELF: In order that--
CARO: Signor Enrico, why do you wear that little beard, that barbetta?
CARM: Signor Enrico, why do you wear--?
ALESS: Why do you wear a coat and waistcoat?
GILDO: Why do you wear boots?
PAPA: Why do you--?
NINA: I can tell you why he does all these things. It is to make the
young ladies of Calatafimi go mad for love of him as the daughter of
Cladinoro went mad for love of Ruggiero Persiano.
MYSELF: I have never heard of Ruggiero Persiano. Who was he, a paladin?
NINA: Yes; a cavaliere errante.
MYSELF: Then who was the daughter of Cladinoro?
NINA: Ettorina.
MYSELF: Do you mean to say that Ettorina went mad for love of Ruggiero
Persiano?
NINA: Yes.
MYSELF (_rising to go_): Finalmente!
ALESS: Yes, but first you must know--
MYSELF: All right, Buffo, never mind about that; at last I know who
Ettorina was and why she went mad and that will do for the present.
Thank you very much and good night.
GILDO: That is what I said. Why did you laugh when I said that?
MYSELF: Say it again, Gildo, and I won't laugh this time.
GILDO: Thank you very night and good much.
MYSELF: Bravo. If you go on at this rate you will soon be speaking
English like a native.
I took leave of the young ladies, and Papa, Alessandro and Gildo
accompanied me to the albergo, where they left me. As I approached my
bedroom door I looked up over it half-expecting to see there the words
which, years ago, I had seen written over the entrance to a Tuscan
monastery:
O beata Solitudo!
O sola Beatitudo!