a melancholy air, as he sat down. "Well, I myself have at times believed
that I was such a man; for I have done some reasonable things, and I
have made some sacrifices to the demands of society. But when in the
evening the bands of the Austrian regiments wake the echoes of our great
squares and our placid canals, with airs from _Der Freischutz_ and
fragments of Beethoven's symphonies, then I find that I have tears in
abundance, and that my sacrifices have been worth but little. A new
sense seems to awake within me: the sadness of regret and a longing for
reverie, elements which seldom enter into our southern character, find
their way into my system through every pore, and I see clearly enough
that our music is incomplete, and that the art which I serve is
insufficient to express the impulses of my heart; that is why I am, as
you see, disgusted with the stage, surfeited with the excitement of
triumph, and in nowise desirous to win fresh applause by the old
methods; I would like to plunge into a life full of new emotions, and
find in the lyric drama an image of the drama of my whole life; but in
that case I should perhaps become as gloomy and despondent as a
Hamburger, and you would laugh at me without pity, Beppa! That must not
be. Let us drink, my good friends! _viva_ merry Italy and Venice the
fair!"
He put his glass to his lips, then absent-mindedly replaced it on the
table without swallowing a drop of wine. The abbé answered him with a
sigh, Beppa pressed his hand, and after a few moments of melancholy
silence, Lelio, being urged to fulfil his promise, began his narrative
in these words:
I am, as you know, the son of a fisherman of Chioggia. Almost all the
people along that shore have a well developed thorax and a powerful
voice. Their voices would be beautiful if they did not ruin them early
in life on their boats by trying to drown the roar of the sea and the
wind, and by drinking and smoking beyond all reason, to avoid drowsiness
and fatigue. We Chioggiotes are a fine race. It is said that a great
French painter, _Leopoldo Roberto_, is even now engaged in commemorating
our type of beauty in a picture which he allows nobody to see.
Although I am of a reasonably robust organization, as you see, my
father, on comparing me with my brothers, deemed me so frail and sickly
that he would not teach me either to cast the net or to sail a boat. He
simply showed me how to handle the oar with both hands, to row a small
boat, and sent me to Venice to earn my living as an assistant gondolier
for hire. It was a great sorrow and humiliation to me, thus to go into
bondage, to leave my father's house, the seashore and the honorable and
perilous trade of my ancestors. But I had a fine voice, I knew a goodly
number of fragments of Ariosto and Tasso. I had in me the making of an
excellent gondolier, and with time and patience, I might earn fifty
francs a month in the service of artists and strangers.
You do not know, Zorzi--at this point Lelio broke off his narrative and
turned to me--you have no idea how rapidly the taste and appreciation of
music and poetry develop among us common people. We had then and we
still have--although the custom threatens to die out--our troubadours
and poets, whom we call _cupids_; itinerant rhapsodists they are, and
they bring us from the central provinces inaccurate notions of the
mother-tongue, modified, I might more properly say enriched, by all the
genius of the dialects of the north and south. Men of the people, like
ourselves, endowed at once with memory and imaginative power, do not
hesitate at all to blend their curious improvisations with the creations
of the poets. Forever picking up and dropping as they pass some novel
turn of phrase, they embellish their speech and the text of their
authors with a most extraordinary confusion of idioms. We might say that
they preserve the instability of the language in the frontier provinces
and along the coast. In our ignorance we accept as decisive the
decisions of this itinerant academy; and you have often had occasion to
admire, sometimes the energy, sometimes the grotesqueness of the Italian
of our ports as rendered by the singers of the lagoons.
On a Sunday at noon, after high mass, in the public square of Chioggia,
or in the evening, in the wine-shops on the shore, these rhapsodists, by
their recitations interspersed with bits of singing and declamation,
hold spellbound large and enthusiastic audiences. Ordinarily the _cupid_
stands on a table, and from time to time plays a prelude or a finale of
his own composition on some sort of an instrument; one on the Calabrian
bagpipe, another on the Bergamo viol, others on the violin, flute or
guitar. The Chioggians, outwardly phlegmatic and cold, listen at first
with an impassive and almost contemptuous air, smoking vigorously; but
at the mighty lance-thrusts of Ariosto's heroes, at the death of the
paladins, at the adventures of damsels delivered and giants run through,
the audience is roused, takes fire, shouts and works itself into such a
frenzy that glasses and pipes are shivered, tables and chairs smashed,
and often the _cupid_, on the point of falling a victim to the
excitement aroused by himself, is forced to fly, while the enthusiasts
scatter through the fields, in pursuit of an imaginary ravisher,
shouting: "_Amazza! amazza_! kill the monster! kill the rascal! death to
the brigand! bravo, Astolphe! courage, my good fellow! forward! forward!
kill! kill!"--And so the Chioggians, drunk with tobacco smoke, wine and
poetry, rush aboard their boats and declaim to the waves and the winds
scattered fragments of those soul-stirring epics.
I was the least noisy and the most attentive of these enthusiasts. As I
was very regular in my attendance at the performances, and as I always
went away silent and thoughtful, my parents concluded that I was a
docile, simple-minded youth, desirous but incapable of learning the
noble arts. They considered my voice pleasant to hear; but, as my
tendency was toward purer accentuation and less frenzied declamation
than the _cupids_ and their imitators, they decreed that, as a singer no
less than as a boatman, I was _good for the city_--thus reversing your
French saying with respect to things of small value: _good for the
country_.
I promised to tell you of two episodes only, not the whole story of my
life. So I will not detail all the sufferings through which I passed
before attaining the age of fifteen years and a very moderate degree of
skill as a gondolier, having subsisted meanwhile on rice and water and
blows of the oar across my shoulders. The only pleasure I had was in
listening to the serenaders; and, when I had a moment's leisure, I would
run after the musicians and follow them all over the city. That pleasure
was so intense that, even if it did not prevent my sighing for my
father's house, it would have prevented me from returning to it.
However, my passion for music had reached the point of sympathetic
enjoyment only, not of a personal inclination; for my voice was just
changing and seemed to me so unpleasant when I ventured timidly to try
it, that I looked forward to no other future than that of beating the
water of the lagoons all my life, at the service of the first comer.
My master and I often occupied the _traghetto_, or gondola stand, on the
Grand Canal in front of the Aldini Palace, near the image of _Saint
Zandegola_--a patois contraction of San Giovanni Decollato. While we
were waiting for customers, my master always slept, and it was my duty
to watch and offer to passers-by the service of our oars. Those hours,
which were often most uncomfortable in the scorching days of summer,
were delightful to me under the walls of the Aldini palace, because of a
superb female voice, accompanied by a harp, which I could hear
distinctly. The window through which those divine sounds came forth was
directly over my head, and the protruding balcony served me as a
protection against the heat of the sun. That little nook was my Eden,
and I never pass the place without a thrill at my heart as I remember
those modest joys of my boyhood. A silk curtain shaded the square
balcony of white marble, darkened by centuries and covered with
convolvulus and climbing plants, carefully tended by the fair hostess of
that palatial abode. For she was fair; I had caught a glimpse of her
sometimes on the balcony, and I had heard other gondoliers say that she
was the most amiable and most courted woman in Venice. I was then hardly
sensible of her beauty, although in Venice men of the lower classes have
eyes for women of the highest rank, and _vice versa_, so I am told. For
my own part, I was all ears; and when she appeared my heart beat fast
with joy, because her presence led me to hope that I might soon hear her
sing.
I had also heard the gondoliers on that stand say that the instrument
with which she accompanied herself was a harp, but their descriptions
were so confused that it was impossible for me to form a clear idea of
that instrument. Its tones enchanted me, and I was consumed with the
longing to see it rather than her. I drew a fanciful picture of it in my
mind, for I had been told that it was of pure gold and larger than I
was, and my master Masino had seen one decorated with the bust of a
beautiful woman who seemed about to fly away, for she had wings. So I
saw the harp in my dreams, sometimes in the shape of a siren, sometimes
in that of a bird; sometimes I fancied that I saw a beautiful boat
decked out with flags pass by, its silk cordage giving forth melodious
sounds. Once I dreamed that I found a harp among the reeds and the
seaweed; but, just as I put them aside to seize it, I woke with a start
and could never remember its shape distinctly.
[Illustration: _NELLO ENTERS THE ALDINI PALACE._
_While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed
on the awning of my gondola, and thence to the sill
of a window on the lower floor; then I grasped the
balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and
found myself behind the curtain._]
My curiosity on this subject took such complete possession of my young
brain that one day I yielded to a temptation I had conquered many times.
While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed on the awning of my
gondola, and thence to the sill of a window on the lower floor; then I
grasped the balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and found
myself behind the curtain.
I had before me the interior of a sumptuously furnished cabinet; but the
only object that struck my eye was the harp, standing silent amid the
rest of the furniture, above which it towered proudly. The ray of
sunlight which shone into the cabinet when I drew the curtain partly
aside fell upon the gilding of the instrument, and made the beautiful
carved swan that surmounted it gleam brightly. I stood motionless with
admiration, never wearying of examining its slightest details, the
graceful frame, which reminded me of the prow of a gondola, the slender
chords, which seemed to be of spun gold, the gleaming copper, and the
satin-lined wooden case, whereon were painted birds, flowers, and
butterflies, richly colored and of an exquisite workmanship.
However, amid all those superb objects, the shape and uses of which were
quite unfamiliar to me, my mind was still beset by doubt. Was I not
mistaken? Was it really the harp that I was looking at? I determined to
make sure of it; I entered the cabinet and placed an awkward, trembling
hand on the strings. O rapture! they answered to my touch. Impelled by
indescribable excitement, I made all those resonant voices speak, at
random and in a sort of frenzy, and I do not believe that the most
skilful and most skilfully led orchestra has ever, since that day,
afforded me so much pleasure as the horrible confusion of sounds with
which I filled Signora Aldini's apartment.
But my joy was not of long duration. A servant who was at work in the
adjoining rooms ran to investigate the noise, and was so enraged to find
that a little clodhopper in rags had stolen in that way and was
abandoning himself to the love of art with such shocking disregard of
the proprieties, that he set about expelling me by beating me out with
his broom. I did not care to be dismissed in that way, and prudently
retired to the balcony, intending to go away as I had come. But before I
could climb over the balustrade, the servant pounced upon me, and I
found myself confronted by the alternative of being beaten or turning a
ridiculous somersault. I adopted a violent course, namely, to avoid the
blow by stooping quickly, grasping my adversary by the legs, and thus
throwing him forward with his breast against the balcony rail. Then to
lift him up and throw him into the canal was the affair of a moment.
That is the game that the children practise on one another at Chioggia.
But I had no time to reflect that the balcony was twenty feet above the
water, and that the poor devil of a footman might not know how to swim.
Luckily for him and for me he came to the surface at once and clung to
the boats at the _traghetto_. I was horribly frightened when I tossed
him over; but, as soon as I saw that he was safe, I began to think about
making my escape; for he was roaring with rage and would surely set all
the pack of servants in the Aldini Palace upon me. I passed through the
first door I saw, and, hurrying through the corridors, was about to go
downstairs, when I heard indistinct voices apparently coming toward me.
I ran upstairs again in hot haste, and took refuge under the eaves,
where I hid in a garret among old worm-eaten pictures and discarded
furniture.
I remained there two days and two nights, without a mouthful of food,
afraid to venture forth into the midst of my enemies. There were so many
people and so much going and coming in that house that one could not
take a step without meeting some one. Through the little round windows
in the garret I heard the remarks of the servants in the corridors of
the floor below. They talked about me almost continuously, indulged in a
thousand conjectures concerning my disappearance, and promised to give
me a sound thrashing if they succeeded in catching me. I also heard my
master on his gondola expressing surprise at my absence, and exulting at
the thought of my return, with no less kindly designs. I was brave and
strong; but I realized that I should be overborne by numbers. The
prospect of being beaten by my master troubled me but little; that was
one of the hazards of being an apprentice, which involved no disgrace.
But the idea of being chastised by servants was so horrifying to me that
I preferred to die of hunger. And my adventure came very near ending in
that way. At fifteen years one does not readily endure starvation diet.
An old lady's-maid, who came to the garret in search of a runaway
pigeon, found instead of her fugitive the poor _barcarolino_,
unconscious and almost dead, at the foot of an old canvas representing a
Saint Cecilia. The point that impressed me most profoundly in my
distress was that the saint had in her arms a harp of antique shape,
which I had abundance of leisure to contemplate amid the torments of
hunger, and the sight of which became so hateful to me that for a long
time thereafter I could not endure the sight or sound of that fatal
instrument.
The good creature brought me back to life, and interested Signora Aldini
in my fate. I speedily recovered from the effects of my fasting, and my
persecutor, appeased by that expiation, accepted my acknowledgment of my
wrong-doing, and my somewhat abrupt, but sincere expression of regret.
My father, on learning from my master that I had disappeared, had come
to Venice. He frowned when Signora Aldini expressed a purpose to take me
into her service. He was a rough-mannered man, but proud and
independent. In his view it was bad enough that my delicate constitution
condemned me to live in the city. I was of too good a family to be a
footman, and although gondoliers enjoyed important privileges in private
establishments, there was a well-marked distinction in rank between
public gondoliers and _gondolieri di casa_. These last were better
dressed, to be sure, and shared the comforts of patrician life, but they
were ranked as servants, and there was no such blemish in my family.
However, Signora Aldini was so gracious and kindly that my excellent
father, twisting his red cap about in his hands in his embarrassment,
and constantly pulling his pipe from his pocket, as a matter of habit,
could find nothing to reply to her affable words and her generous
promises. He determined to leave me free to choose, expecting that I
would refuse. But I, although I was utterly disgusted with the harp,
could think of nothing but music. Signora Aldini exerted a magnetic
influence over me which I cannot describe; it was a genuine passion, but
an artistic passion, absolutely platonic and philharmonic. In the small
room on the lower floor to which I had been taken--for I had several
attacks of fever as a result of my fasting--I could hear her singing,
and on those occasions she accompanied herself on the harpsichord, for
she played equally well on several instruments. Intoxicated by her
voice, I could not even understand my fathers scruples, and I accepted
without hesitation the post of second gondolier at the Aldini palace.
It was good form in those days to be _well equipped_ with gondoliers;
that is to say, that, as the gondola in Venice corresponds to the
carriage elsewhere, so gondoliers are at the same time luxuries and
necessaries, like horses. All the gondolas being practically alike,
according to the sumptuary law of the Republic, which required that they
should all be draped in black, persons of wealth could make themselves
noticeable among the multitude only by the figures and costumes of their
oarsmen. The fashionable patrician's gondola would be propelled, at the
stern, by a muscular man, of a masculine type of beauty; at the bow by a
negro dressed in some unusual style, or by a fair-haired native, a sort
of page or jockey, clad with taste and elegance, and placed there as an
ornament, like the figure-head of a ship.
I was perfectly adapted to that honorable post. I was a genuine child of
the lagoons, of fair complexion, ruddy-cheeked, very strong, with a
somewhat feminine figure, my head and feet and hands being remarkably
small, my chest broad and muscular, my arms and neck white and round and
sinewy. Add to this, amber-colored hair, fine and abundant, and
naturally curly; imagine a charming costume, half Figaro and half
Cherubino, legs generally bare, sky-blue trunk hose kept up by a scarlet
silk sash, and the breast covered simply by a shirt of embroidered
linen, whiter than snow; then you will have an idea of the poor actor in
embryo who was called in those days Nello, by contraction of his true
name, Daniele Gemello.
As it is the fate of small dogs to be petted by idiotic masters and
beaten by jealous servants, the ordinary lot of those in my position was
a mixture of unbounded tolerance on the part of the former, and of
brutal hatred on the part of the latter. Luckily for me, Providence cast
my lines in a blessed spot: Bianca Aldini was the incarnation of
kindness, indulgence, and charity. Widowed at twenty, she passed her
life helping the poor and comforting the afflicted. Where there were
tears to be wiped away, or alms to be bestowed, you would soon see her
hurrying thither in her gondola, with her little four-year-old daughter
in her lap; a fascinating miniature, so tiny, so pretty, and always so
daintily dressed that it seemed as if her mother's lovely hands alone,
in all the world, were soft and gentle and tapering enough to touch her
without crushing or bruising her. Signora Aldini herself was always
dressed with a taste and elegance which all the other ladies in Venice
tried in vain to equal; she was immensely rich, loved luxury, and spent
half of her income in the gratification of her artistic tastes and her
patrician habits. The other half went in almsgiving, in favors bestowed,
in benefactions of every sort. Although that was a sufficiently generous
_widow's mite_, as she called it, she artlessly accused herself of
lacking energy, of not doing all that she ought; and, being moved to
repentance rather than pride by her charity, she determined every day
that she would leave society and devote herself to her own salvation.
From this mixture of feminine weakness and Christian virtue you can see
that she had not a strong mind, and that her intelligence was no more
enlightened than the period and the social circle in which she lived
demanded. For all that, I do not know that a better or more delightful
woman ever lived. Other women, jealous of her beauty, her wealth and her
virtue, avenged themselves by declaring that she was narrow-minded and
ignorant. There was some truth in that charge, but Bianca was a most
lovable woman, none the less. She had a reserve stock of common sense
which prevented her from ever being ridiculous; and as for her lack of
education, the ingenuous modesty which resulted from it was an
additional charm. I have seen the most enlightened and most
serious-minded men gathered about her, never weary of conversing with
her.
Living thus at church and at the theatre, in the poor man's garret and
at sumptuous palaces, she imposed gratitude or cheerfulness upon one and
all. Her disposition was even and playful, and the character of her
beauty was enough to shed serenity all about her. She was of medium
height, as white as milk, and fresh as a flower; all was gentleness and
youth and kindliness. Just as one would have looked in vain for a sharp
angle in her own graceful person, so there was never the slightest
asperity in her temper, the slightest break in her goodness. As active
as the true spirit of devotion, and at the same time as inert as
Venetian indolence, she never passed more than two hours during the day
in the same place; but in her palace she was always lying on a sofa, and
out-of-doors she was always stretched out in her gondola. She said that
she was weak on her legs, and she never went up or down stairs without
being supported by two persons; in her own apartments she always leaned
on the arm of Salomé, a young Jewess, who waited upon her and acted as
her companion. People said that Signora Aldini was lame as a result of
the fall of a piece of furniture which her husband had pushed upon her
in a fit of anger, and which had broken her leg. Although for more than
two years she leaned on my arm as she went in and out of her palace, I
never discovered the exact truth of the matter, she took so much pains
and exerted so much skill to conceal her infirmity.
Despite her benevolence and sweetness of disposition, Bianca lacked
neither discrimination nor prudence in the choice of her associates; I
can safely say that I have never seen in any other place so many
excellent people together. If you detect in me any kindness of heart,
any praiseworthy pride, you must attribute it to my stay in that house.
It was impossible not to contract the habit there of thinking, speaking
and acting rightly; the servants were honest and hard-working, the
friends faithful and devoted; even the lovers--for I cannot deny that
there were lovers--were loyal and honorable. I had several masters while
I was there; of them all the signora was the least imperious. However,
they were all kind, or at all events just. Salomé, who was the
executive officer of the household, maintained order with some little
severity; she seldom smiled, and the great arch of her eyebrows was
rarely divided into two quarter circles over her long black eyes. But
she had much patience, a keen sense of equity, and a searching glance
which never misinterpreted sincerity. Mandola, the chief gondolier and
my immediate superior, was a Lombard giant, whose huge black whiskers
and muscular frame might have led one to take him for Polyphemus.
Nevertheless he was the mildest, calmest and most humane peasant who
ever came down from his mountains to the civilization of great cities.
Lastly, Count Lanfranchi, the handsomest man in the whole Republic, whom
we had to row about every evening in a closed gondola with Signora
Aldini, from ten o'clock to midnight, was the most gracious and amiable
nobleman whom I have ever met.