_The sequel to Gratarol's missive of defiance.--My personal relations
with him cease._
On the morning of the 19th I rose from sleep with a calm mind, and
recovered my natural risibility. My ante-chamber was thronged with
gentlemen, relatives, and friends, who thought it their duty to pay me
respects after the event of yesterday. They were not a little eager to
learn how I had been dragged into a mess so much at variance with the
well-known tenor of my life. While I was gratifying their excusable
curiosity with a candid and humorous account of the whole matter, my
brother Gasparo appeared. He brought with him the Senator Paolo Renier,
afterwards Doge of Venice,[76] whom I had not hitherto the privilege of
knowing.
In compliance with this nobleman's request, I told the whole tale over
again. "So then," he said, "make a plain and brief statement in writing
of the facts you have described to me. Put it in the form of a memorial
to the Supreme Tribunal. Petition to have your honour vindicated.
Enclose Gratarol's defamatory letter. Name your witnesses. Add anything
you think of use, and bring the whole to me."
I obeyed him blindly; and I do not suppose that any one will be so
foolish as to imagine that I departed in one hair's-breadth from the
truth while appealing to those awful Three, before the very name of whom
the whole town trembles.[77]
The difficulty of narrating a long series of closely connected incidents
prevented me from making my memorial as short as I could have wished.
Such as it was, I took it, with its appended documents, to Senator
Renier. When he had read it through, he said: "I must confess that the
tribunal before which this document will appear is not accustomed to
peruse compositions of such length. Yet I can find no superfluities
which could be omitted. So it will serve its purpose."
What happened to my supplication is utterly unknown to me. I can only
say that on the morning of the 23rd of January, while I was still in
bed, the same footman who had brought me the letter of the 18th was
introduced into my chamber. He handed me a sealed missive, saying: "My
master bade me give this note into your own hands." I took it, and read
what follows:--
"SIR COUNT, my most revered friend,--In complete contradiction of
the sentiments expressed by me in a letter of some days ago, I beg
you to understand by these present, which are in no way different
from the sincere esteem and good-will I have entertained for you
through many years, that I never meant to offend you; and that,
forgetting byegones,[78] I shall continue to profess toward you
the same regard and friendship, in the hope of receiving from you a
reciprocation of feeling commensurate with the candour of my
declaration.
"From my house, the 23rd of January 1776/1777.
"Your most devoted servant and friend,
"PIETRO ANTONIO GRATAROL."
Folding the paper, I bade the servant carry my respects to his master.
Visitors arrived, and Gratarol's letter of retractation circulated
through the city in a score of copies. There was the usual result of
tittle-tattle, especially among the idlest and most numerous members of
the community.
I repaired to the senator who had espoused my cause, in order to express
my thanks and to report what had occurred. On hearing that I had
received the letter, he replied with gravity: "I am well aware of it."
"I was thinking," I continued, "of paying that gentleman a visit. He has
been twice to my house; and as I harbour no ill-will against him, and
can excuse the errors into which his heated temper drove him, I should
like to assure him of my cordiality by a friendly embrace." Signor
Renier dissuaded me from taking this course. "You have ability and
penetration," he observed, "but you do not sufficiently understand the
nature of men puffed up with pride. In case you meet Gratarol, and only
if he should be the first to raise his hat, you may return the salute
with reserved politeness. Do not extend your civility to words or any
inconsiderate demonstrations. A man so perversely proud as he is may
stir up new mischief and involve you in further embarrassments. I take
it that now the actors will continue to perform your comedy." "I do not
know," I answered, "but from what I have heard, the piece has been
withdrawn." "Wrong, very wrong!" he rejoined; "that arrogant fellow will
try to make it be believed that his retractation was given as an
equivalent for the suspension of the performance. They ought at least to
put your comedy once more upon the boards, letting the public know that
people of importance have bespoken it." I could only answer that, so far
as I was concerned, the production, repetition, continued presentations,
and suspension of the play had taken place without my interference.
Comedians, I added, only looked to their own pecuniary interests. The
senator proceeded to deliver an eloquent and singularly penetrative
discourse upon the corruption of the age, and the ill-regulated ways of
thinking which had been introduced and widely diffused amongst us. I
have never heard this matter handled with more acumen, learning,
precision of judgment, logical clearness, breadth of view, and pungent
truth. I am speaking only of an elevated mind and ready tongue. I do not
pretend to see into the inmost hearts of men.[79]
When I took my leave, I resolved to carry out the recommendations of
Signor Renier to the letter. In obedience to this determination, I told
Sacchi what he had said about the repetition of my comedy. He replied
that he should not have withdrawn it except for the behaviour of Signora
Ricci. During the last two evenings she mumbled and gabbled out her part
in a way to provoke the audience. Catcalls from the pit and gallery and
opprobrious epithets from the boxes were showered upon her; all of
which, together with the reproaches of her comrades, she bore with
stolid indifference. "Verily," cried I, "Gratarol owes a great deal to
that poor woman. For his sake she fell down a staircase, and now she
bears the brunt of public outrage! You have done well to stop a comedy
which ought to have been damned beyond redemption on the first night."
To wind up the episode of Signor Gratarol, I may say, in conclusion,
that I often met him both in Venice and at Padua. To his credit let it
be spoken, that he never stooped one inch from the high perch of his
incorrigible haughtiness. His hat stuck to that cage of cockchafers he
called his head, as though it had been nailed there. Mindful of the
advice I had received, and which amounted to a command, I refrained from
bowing. I should have liked to be on good terms with him, and felt
uncomfortable at the rudeness I was bound to display. Had he drawn his
sword upon me, I could have understood that his retractation had been
forced. But there was nothing in his stupid inurbanity to justify this
supposition. Who could have divined that he was planning a flight to
Stockholm, and that he would draw his sword upon me there and stab me
with words, while I remained at Venice?