_Once more about the "Droghe d'Amore."--I leave my readers to decide
upon the truth of my narration.--Final dissolution of Sacchi's
company.--Sacchi leaves Venice for ever._
In this chapter I shall wind up the history of my comedy _Le Droghe
d'Amore_, and relate the termination of my long connection with Sacchi's
company of actors.
Sacchi, who had proceeded on his summer tour to Milan, thought fit to
exhibit the notorious play in that city. Although it could not win the
_succes de scandale_ which made it so profitable to his pocket at
Venice, the performance gave rise to fresh prepossessions against Signor
Gratarol.
News reached Venice that the actor Giovanni Vitalba, who played the too
famous part of Don Adone, had been assaulted by a ruffian one night,
going to or returning from the theatre. The fellow flung a huge bottle
of ink full in his face, with the object of spoiling his beauty.
Fortunately for Vitalba, the bottle, which was hurled with force enough
to smash his skull, hit him on the thickly-wadded collar of his coat. To
this circumstance he owed his escape from injury or death, designed by
the abominable malice of some unknown ill-wisher.
The peaceable character of this poor comedian, who lived retired and
economically, earning his bread upon the stage, and implicitly obeying
Sacchi's orders, was so well known that no one suspected the hand of a
private enemy. Suspicion fell not unnaturally upon Gratarol. For myself,
I may say with candour that I did not lend my mind to the gossip which
disturbed the town; but it is certain that this act of violence inflamed
Gratarol's political adversaries, and made them remorseless when he
applied for the ratification of his appointment to the embassy at
Naples.[82]
On my brother's return to Venice, I begged him to speak as warmly as he
could in Gratarol's behalf to the Procuratore Tron and his all-powerful
lady. Everybody knew that Gratarol was expecting a decree of the Senate
granting him some thousands of ducats for the expenses of his outfit; it
was also asserted that, having received the usual allowance for an
embassy to Turin, which he had not been able to employ upon that
mission, his enemies intended to make this a reason for cancelling his
appointment to Naples. I thought it therefore worth while to engage
Gasparo's influence with that noble couple for the benefit of my
would-be foe and rival in his present difficulty. What Gratarol may
think about my intervention, it is impossible for me to imagine. Not
improbably he will stigmatise it as an act of officious hypocrisy. Yet I
am certain that it was sincerely and cordially meant to serve him.
My brother punctually discharged his mission, and returned with a verbal
answer from the Procuratessa and her husband, to the effect that
"insuperable obstacles lay in the way of sending the Secretary to the
Court of Naples; Pietro Antonio Gratarol cannot and will not go; the
best course for him to take is to send in his resignation." That was the
ostensible pith of their reply; but the gist, if gist it was, lurked
from sight in a cloud of political and economical considerations,
anecdotes about Gratarol's ways of life and fortune, personalities,
piques, private spites, and evidences of an unbecoming and vulgar will
to trample on him. I do not intend to expose myself to the charge of
evil intentions by setting down Mme. Dolfin Tron's malicious ultimatum
in full here. I wrote it out, however, and have kept the memorandum
among the papers locked up in my desk, whence I hope that no one will
have the wish to drag it forth and read it.
Gratarol, at the close of these transactions, finding himself
disfavoured by the Senate, did not take the prudent course of sending in
his resignation and lying by for a better turn of affairs, such as is
always to be looked for in a government like ours of Venice. On the
contrary, he flung out with all the violence of his headstrong and
indomitable temper. He left the country in a rage, exposing himself and
his relatives to the thunderbolts which were hurled upon him, partly by
the mechanical operation of our laws, but also by the force of a
rapacious and inhuman tyranny.
[Illustration: LEANDRE
_Illustrating the Italian Commedia dell'Arte, or Impromptu Comedy_]
I shall not enlarge upon what followed after Gratarol's flight to
foreign lands. These circumstances, disastrous to himself and
prejudicial to the enemies he left behind him, are only too fresh in the
memory of men. But I may indulge in one philosopher's reflection. The
man was said to be, in spite of his many profligacies and excesses,
gifted with exuberant health and physical vigour. Considering his mental
parts and moral qualities, it is a pity that he did not suffer from a
tertian or a quartan fever, the headache, the colic, or peradventure
piles. Handicapped in this salutary way, he might have continued to be a
prosperous and able servant of the State. So true is it that men often
find the faculty on which they most pride themselves their worst
stumbling-block in life!
After Signer Gratarol's departure to the frozen North, I felt strongly
inclined to have done, at once and for ever, with my lucubrations for
the stage. Friends, however, pointed out that a sudden retirement from
the pastime of many previous years would expose me to malignant
comments. Accordingly, I completed two plays which I had already
planned--_Il Metafisico_ and _Bianca Contessa di Melfi_--giving them to
Sacchi in exchange for the autograph and all the copies of my now too
notorious _Droghe d'Amore_. Those manuscripts I locked up in my
escritoire, vowing that the comedy should never see the footlights of a
theatre again.
It will not be impertinent, as I have touched upon these stage-affairs,
to relate the dissolution of Sacchi's company in detail.
I had patronised my friends with heroico-comical perseverance for a
quarter of a century. The time now came for me to part with them. Sacchi
himself, aged in years, was falling rapidly to pieces. Absurd
octogenarian love-affairs completed the ruin of his dotage. His
daughter, who not unreasonably expected to inherit money, plate, and
jewels of considerable value, never ceased inveighing against her
father's anachronistic fondnesses. These invectives reached his ears,
and exasperated a naturally irritable temper. Meanwhile, his partners in
the company resented the despotism with which he claimed to rule the
roost and use their common purse for benefactions to his mistresses.
Detected in these private foibles, yet far from being taught the error
of his ways, old Sacchi became a kind of demon. He never opened his lips
without insulting his daughter, his partners, and the whole troupe. I do
not expect my reader to imagine that their replies were sweetmeats.
Discord ruled in every hall and chamber of this house of actors. It came
to drawing swords and knives; and bloodshed was only obviated by the
bodily intervention of bystanders.
I felt that the moment had come to take my leave. With this in view, I
packed up a bundle of Spanish books lent to me by Sacchi and returned
them. But things had gone too far to be remedied by hints and
intimations. Petronio Zanerini, the best actor of Italy; Domenico
Barsanti, a very able artist; Luigi Benedetti and his wife, both of them
useful for all ordinary purposes; Agostino Fiorelli, stupendous in the
role of Tartaglia; each and every one of these retired in disgust and
took engagements with rival companies. Sacchi's eccentricities had
reduced his troupe to a mere skeleton. Finally, the patrician who owned
S. Salvatore, scenting disaster in the air, gave the lease of his
theatre to another set of players.
I took certain steps at this juncture to keep what remained of the
company together and to heal its breaches. Through my mediation Atanagio
Zannoni, a splendid actor, an excellent fellow, and Sacchi's
brother-in-law, consented to hold on upon the understanding that Sacchi
should execute a deed according his partners their just share in the
management. The document was drawn up and signed. Sacchi cursed and
swore while signing; and Zannoni told me that it would prove waste
paper, as indeed it did.
Patched up in this way, the company removed to the theatre of S.
Angelo, which had been their old quarters before I succeeded in
transferring them to S. Salvatore. They were scarce of money, scarce of
actors, and the few actors they had were people of no talent. Two pieces
I composed for them, _Cimene Pardo_ and _La Figlia dell'Aria_, could not
be put upon the stage for want of funds and proper players to sustain
the parts. I had eventually to give these dramas to two different
companies. The history of one of them, _Cimene Pardo_, brings my old
friend and gossip, Teodora Ricci, once more upon the scene; but I do not
think that I should interest my readers by relating it.[83]
Suffice it to say, that everything went daily from bad to worse with
Sacchi's troupe. He did not improve in temper. Receipts dwindled. The
paid actors had to recover their salaries by suits at law, and left the
company. Nothing was heard but outcries, lamentations, mutual
reproaches, threats, complaints, demands for money, talks about
executions, writs, and stamped papers from the courts. At last, after
two years of this infernal squabbling, a troupe which had been the
terror of its rivals and the delight of our theatres broke up in
pitiable confusion.
Sacchi, on the point of setting out for Genoa, came to visit me, and
spoke as follows, shedding tears thereby. I remember his precise words:
"You are the only friend on whom I mean to call before I leave Venice
secretly and with sorrow for ever. I shall never forget the benefits you
have heaped upon me. You alone have told me the truth with candour. Do
not deny me the favour of a kiss at parting, the favour of your pardon,
and of your compassion."
I gave him the kiss he asked for. He left me weeping; and I--I am bound
to say it--remained not less affected at the closing of this long and
once so happy chapter in my life.[84]
After that moment I laid my pen down, and never again resumed it for
dramatic composition.