As the time of our departure from Venice is now approaching with rapid
steps, this week was to be devoted to seeing everything worthy of notice
in pictures and public edifices; a task which, when one intends making a
long stay in a place, is always delayed till the last moment.
The “Marriage at Cana,” by Paul Veronese, which is to be seen in a
Benedictine convent in the Island of St. George, was in particular
mentioned to us in high terms. Do not expect me to give you a
description of this extraordinary work of art, which, on the whole,
made a very surprising, but not equally pleasing, impression on me.
We should have required as many hours as we had minutes to study a
composition of one hundred and twenty figures, upon a ground thirty feet
broad. What human eye is capable of grasping so complicated a whole, or
at once to enjoy all the beauty which the artist has everywhere
lavished, upon it! It is, however, to be lamented, that a work of so
much merit, which if exhibited in some public place, would command the
admiration of every one, should be destined merely to ornament the
refectory of a few monks. The church of the monastery is no less worthy
of admiration, being one of the finest in the whole city. Towards
evening we went in a gondola to the Guidecca, in order to spend the
pleasant hours of evening in its charming garden. Our party, which was
not very numerous, soon dispersed in various directions; and Civitella,
who had been waiting all day for an opportunity of speaking to me
privately, took me aside into an arbor.
“You are a friend to the prince,” he began, “from whom he is accustomed
to keep no secrets, as I know from very good authority. As I entered
his hotel to-day I met a man coming out whose occupation is well known
to me, and when I entered the room the prince’s brow was clouded.”
I wished to interrupt him,--“You cannot deny it,” continued he; “I knew
the man, I looked at him well. And is it possible that the prince
should have a friend in Venice--a friend who owes his life to him, and
yet be reduced on an emergency to make use of such creatures?”
“Tell me frankly, Baron! Is the prince in difficulties? It is in vain
you strive to conceal it from me. What! you refuse to tell me! I can
easily learn from one who would sell any secret for gold.”
“My good Marquis!”
“Pardon me! I must appear intrusive in order not to be ungrateful.
To the prince I am indebted for life, and what is still more, for a
reasonable use of it. Shall I stand idly by and see him take steps
which, besides being inconvenient to him, are beneath his dignity?
Shall I feel it in my power to assist him, and hesitate for a moment to
step forward?”
“The prince,” replied I, “is not in difficulties. Some remittances
which we expected via Trent have not yet arrived, most likely either by
accident, or because not feeling certain whether he had not already left
Venice, they waited for a communication from him. This has now been
done, and until their arrival--”
Civitella shook his head. “Do not mistake my motive,” said he; “in this
there can be no question as to diminishing the extent of my obligations
towards the prince, which all my uncle’s wealth would be insufficient to
cancel. My object is simply to spare him a few unpleasant moments. My
uncle possesses a large fortune which I can command as freely as though
it were my own. A fortunate circumstance occurs, which enables me to
avail myself of the only means by which I can possibly be of the
slightest use to your master. I know,” continued he, “how much delicacy
the prince possesses, but the feeling is mutual, and it would be noble
on his part to afford me this slight gratification, were it only to make
me appear to feel less heavily the load of obligation under which I
labor.”
He continued to urge his request, until I had pledged my word to assist
him to the utmost of my ability. I knew the prince’s character, and had
but small hopes of success. The marquis promised to agree to any
conditions the prince might impose, but added, that it would deeply
wound him to be regarded in the light of a stranger.
In the heat of our conversation we had strayed far away from the rest of
the company, and were returning, when Z-------- came to meet us.
“I am in search of the prince,” he cried; “is he not with you?”
“We were just going to him,” was our reply. “We thought to find him
with the rest of the party.”
“The company is all together, but he is nowhere to be found. I cannot
imagine how we lost sight of him.”
It now occurred to Civitella that he might have gone to look at the
adjoining church, which had a short time before attracted his attention.
We immediately went to look for him there. As we approached, we found
Biondello waiting in the porch. On coming nearer, we saw the prince
emerge hastily from a side door; his countenance was flushed, and he
looked anxiously round for Biondello, whom he called. He seemed to be
giving him very particular instructions for the execution of some
commission, while his eyes continued constantly fixed on the church
door, which had remained open. Biondello hastened into the church. The
prince, without perceiving us, passed through the crowd, and went back
to his party, which he reached before us.
We resolved to sup in an open pavilion of the garden, where the marquis
had, without our knowledge, arranged a little concert, which was quite
first-rate. There was a young singer in particular, whose delicious
voice and charming figure excited general admiration. Nothing, however,
seemed to make an impression on the prince; he spoke little, and gave
confused answers to our questions; his eyes were anxiously fixed in the
direction whence he expected Biondello; and he seemed much agitated.
Civitella asked him what he thought of the church; he was unable to give
any description of it. Some beautiful pictures, which rendered the
church remarkable, were spoken of; the prince had not noticed them. We
perceived that our questions annoyed him, and therefore discontinued
them. Hour after hour rolled on and still Biondello returned not. The
prince could no longer conceal his impatience; he rose from the table,
and paced alone, with rapid strides, up and down a retired walk. Nobody
could imagine what had happened to him. I did not venture to ask him
the reason of so remarkable a change in his demeanor; I have for some
time past resigned my former place in his confidence. It was,
therefore, with the utmost impatience that I awaited the return of
Biondello to explain this riddle to me.
It was past ten o’clock when he made his appearance. The tidings he
brought did not make the prince more communicative. He returned in an
ill-humor to the company, the gondola was ordered, and we returned.
home.
During the remainder of that evening I could find no opportunity of
speaking to Biondello, and was, therefore, obliged to retire to my
pillow with my curiosity unsatisfied. The prince had dismissed us
early, but a thousand reflections flitted across my brain, and kept me
awake. For a long time I could hear him pacing up and down his room; at
length sleep overcame me. Late at midnight I was awakened by a voice,
and I felt a hand passed across my face; I opened my eyes, and saw the
prince standing at my bedside, with a lamp in his hand. He told me he
was unable to sleep, and begged me to keep him company through the
night. I was going to dress myself, but he told me to stay where I was,
and seated himself at my bedside.
“Something has happened to me to-day,” he began, “the impression of
which will never be effaced from my soul. I left you, as you know, to
see the church, respecting which Civitella had raised my curiosity, and
which had already attracted my attention. As neither you nor he were at
hand, I walked the short distance alone, and ordered Biondello to wait
for me at the door. The church was quite empty; a dim and solemn light
surrounded me as I entered from the blazing sultry day without. I stood
alone in the spacious building, throughout which there reigned the
stillness of the grave. I placed myself in the centre of the church,
and gave myself up to the feelings which the sight was calculated to
produce; by degrees the grand proportions of this majestic building
expanded to my gaze, and I stood wrapt in deep and pleasing
contemplation. Above me the evening bell was tolling; its tones died
softly away in the aisles, and found an echo in my heart. Some
altar-pieces at a distance attracted my attention. I approached to look
at them; unconsciously I had wandered through one side of the church, and
was now standing at the opposite end. Here a few steps, raised round a
pillar, led into a little chapel, containing several small altars, with
statues of saints in the niches above them. On entering the chapel on the
right I heard a whispering, as though some one near was speaking in a low
voice. I turned towards the spot whence the sound proceeded, and saw
before me a female form. No! I cannot describe to you the beauty of this
form. My first feeling was one of awe, which, however, soon gave place to
ravishing surprise.”
“But this figure, your highness? Are you certain that it was something
living, something real, and not perhaps a picture, or an illusion of
your fancy?”
“Hear me further. It was a lady. Surely, till that moment, I have
never seen her sex in its full perfection! All around was sombre; the
setting sun shone through a single window into the chapel, and its rays
rested upon her figure. With inexpressible grace, half kneeling, half
lying, she was stretched before an altar; one of the most striking, most
lovely, and picturesque objects in all nature. Her dress was of black
moreen, fitting tightly to her slender waist and beautifully-formed
arms, the skirts spreading around her like a Spanish robe; her long
light-colored hair was divided into two broad plaits, which, apparently
from their own weight, had escaped from under her veil, and flowed in
charming disorder down her back. One of her hands grasped the crucifix,
and her head rested gracefully upon the other. But, where shall I find
words to describe to you the angelic beauty of her countenance, in which
the charms of a seraph seemed displayed. The setting sun shone full
upon her face, and its golden beams seemed to surround it as with a
glory. Can you recall to your mind the Madonna of our Florentine
painter? She was here personified, even to those few deviations from
the studied costume which so powerfully, so irresistibly attracted me in
the picture.”
With regard to the Madonna, of whom the prince spoke, the case is this:
Shortly after your departure he made the acquaintance of a Florentine
painter, who had been summoned to Venice to paint an altar-piece for
some church, the name of which I do not recollect. He had brought with
him three paintings, which had been intended for the gallery in the
Cornari palace. They consisted of a Madonna, a Heloise, and a Venus,
very lightly apparelled. All three were of great beauty; and, although
the subjects were quite different, they were so intrinsically equal that
it seemed almost impossible to determine which to prefer. The prince
alone did not hesitate for a moment. As soon as the pictures were
placed before him the Madonna absorbed his whole attention; in the two
others he admired the painter’s genius; but in this he forgot the artist
and his art, his whole soul being absorbed in the contemplation of the
work. He was quite moved, and could scarcely tear himself away from it.
We could easily see by the artist’s countenance that in his heart he
coincided with the prince’s judgment; he obstinately refused to separate
the pictures, and demanded fifteen hundred zechins for the three. The
prince offered him half that sum for the Madonna alone, but in vain.
The artist insisted on his first demand, and who knows what might have
been the result if a ready purchaser had not stepped forward.
Two hours afterwards all three pictures were sold, and we never saw them
again. It was this Madonna which now recurred to the prince’s mind.
“I stood,” continued he, “gazing at her in silent admiration. She did
not observe me; my arrival did not disturb her, so completely was she
absorbed in her devotion. She prayed to her Deity, and I prayed to her
--yes, I adored her! All the pictures of saints, all the altars and the
burning tapers around me had failed to remind me of what now for the
first time burst upon me, that I was in a sacred place. Shall I confess
it to you? In that moment I believed firmly in Him whose image was
clasped in her beautiful hand. I read in her eyes that he answered her
prayers. Thanks be to her charming devotion, it had revealed him to me.
I wandered with her through all the paradise of prayer.
“She rose, and I recollected myself. I stepped aside confused; but the
noise I made in moving discovered me. I thought that the unexpected
presence of a man might alarm, that my boldness would offend her; but
neither of these feelings were expressed in the look with which she
regarded me. Peace, benign peace, was portrayed in her countenance, and
a cheerful smile played upon her lips. She was descending from her
heaven; and I was the first happy mortal who met her benevolent look.
Her mind was still wrapt in her concluding prayer; she had not yet come
in contact with earth.
“I now heard something stir in the opposite corner of the chapel. It
was an elderly lady, who rose from a cushion close behind me. Till now
I had not observed her. She had been distant only a few steps from me.
and must have seen my every motion. This confused me. I cast my eyes
to the earth, and both the ladies passed by me.”
On this last point I thought myself able to console the prince.
“Strange,” continued he, after a long silence, “that there should be
something which one has never known--never missed; and that yet on a
sudden one should seem to live and breathe for that alone. Can one
single moment so completely metamorphose a human being? It would now be
as impossible for me to indulge in the wishes or enjoy the pleasures of
yesterday as it would be to return to the toys of my childhood, and all
this since I have seen this object which lives and rules in the inmost
recesses of my soul. It seems to say that I can love nothing else, and
that nothing else in this world can produce an impression on me.”
“But consider, gracious prince,” said I, “the excitable mood you were in
when this apparition surprised you, and how all the circumstances
conspired to inflame your imagination. Quitting the dazzling light of
day and the busy throng of men, you were suddenly surrounded by twilight
and repose. You confess that you had quite given yourself up to those
solemn emotions which the majesty of the place was calculated to awaken;
the contemplation of fine works of art had rendered you more susceptible
to the impressions of beauty in any form. You supposed yourself alone--
when you saw a maiden who, I will readily allow, may have been very
beautiful, and whose charms were heightened by a favorable illumination
of the setting sun, a graceful attitude, and an expression of fervent
devotion--what is more natural than that your vivid fancy should look
upon such a form as something supernaturally perfect?”
“Can the imagination give what it never received?” replied he. “In the
whole range of my fancy there is nothing which I can compare with that
image. It is impressed on my mind distinctly and vividly as in the
moment when I beheld it. I can think of nothing but that picture; but
you might offer me whole worlds for it in vain.”
“My gracious prince, this is love.”
“Must the sensation which makes me happy necessarily have a name?
Love! Do not degrade my feeling by giving it a name which is so often
misapplied by the weak-minded. Who ever felt before what I do now?
Such a being never before existed; how then can the name be admitted
before the emotion which it is meant to express? Mine is a novel and
peculiar feeling, connected only with this being, and capable of being
applied to her alone. Love! From love I am secure!”
“You sent away Biondello, no doubt, to follow in the steps of these
strangers, and to make inquiries concerning them. What news did he
bring you?”
“Biondello discovered nothing; or, at least, as good as nothing. An
aged, respectably dressed man, who looked more like a citizen than a
servant, came to conduct them to their gondola. A number of poor people
placed themselves in a row, and quitted her, apparently well satisfied.
Biondello said he saw one of her hands, which was ornamented with
several precious stones. She spoke a few words, which Biondello could
not comprehend, to her companion; he says it was Greek. As she had some
distance to walk to the canal, the people began to throng together,
attracted by the strangeness of her appearance. Nobody knew her--but
beauty seems born to rule. All made way for her in a respectful manner.
She let fall a black veil, that covered half of her person, over her
face, and hastened into the gondola. Along the whole Giudecca Biondello
managed to keep the boat in view, but the crowd prevented his following
it further.”
“But surely he took notice of the gondolier so as to be able to
recognize him again.”
“He has undertaken to find out the gondolier, but he is not one of those
with whom he associates. The mendicants, whom he questioned, could give
him no further information than that the signora had come to the church
for the last few Saturdays, and had each time divided a gold-piece among
them. It was a Dutch ducat, which Biondello changed for them, and
brought to me.”
“It appears, then, that she is a Greek--most likely of rank; at any
rate, rich and charitable. That is as much as we dare venture to
conclude at present, gracious sir; perhaps too much. But a Greek lady
in a Catholic church?”
“Why not? She may have changed her religion. But there is certainly
some mystery in the affair. Why should she go only once a week? Why
always on Saturday, on which day, as Biondello tells me, the church is
generally deserted. Next Saturday, at the latest, must decide this
question. Till then, dearest friend, you must help me to while away the
hours. But it is in vain. They will go their lingering pace, though my
soul is burning with expectation!”
“And when this day at length arrives--what, then, gracious prince? What
do you purpose doing?”
“What do I purpose doing? I shall see her. I will discover where she
lives and who she is. But to what does all this tend? I hear you ask.
What I saw made me happy; I therefore now know wherein my happiness
consists!
“And our departure from Venice, which is fixed for next Monday?”
“How could I know that Venice still contained such a treasure for me?
You ask me questions of my past life. I tell you that from this day
forward I will begin a new existence.”
I thought that now was the opportunity to keep my word to the marquis.
I explained to the prince that a protracted stay in Venice was
altogether incompatible with the exhausted state of his finances, and
that, if he extended his sojourn here beyond the appointed time, he
could not reckon on receiving funds from his court. On this occasion,
I learned what had hitherto been a secret to me, namely, that the prince
had, without the knowledge of his other brothers, received from his
sister, the reigning ----- of --------, considerable loans, which she
would gladly double if his court left him in the lurch. This sister,
who, as you know, is a pious enthusiast, thinks that the large savings
which she makes at a very economical court cannot be deposited in better
hands than in those of a brother whose wise benevolence she well knows,
and whose character she warmly honors. I have, indeed, known for some
time that a very close intercourse has been kept up between the two,
and that many letters have been exchanged; but, as the prince’s own
resources have hitherto always been sufficient to cover his expenditure,
I had never guessed at this hidden channel. It is clear, therefore,
that the prince must have had some expenses which have been and still
are unknown to me; but if I can judge of them by his general character,
they will certainly not be of such a description as to tend to his
disgrace. And yet I thought I understood him thoroughly. After this
disclosure, I of course did not hesitate to make known to him the
marquis’ offer, which, to my no small surprise, he immediately accepted.
He gave me the authority to transact the business with the marquis in
whatever way I thought most advisable, and then immediately to settle
the account with the usurer. To his sister he proposed to write without
delay.
It was morning when we separated. However disagreeable this affair is
to me for more than one reason, the worst of it is that it seems to
threaten a longer residence in Venice. From the prince’s passion I
rather augur good than evil. It is, perhaps, the most powerful method
of withdrawing him from his metaphysical dreams to the concerns and
feelings of real life. It will have its crisis, and, like an illness
produced by artificial means, will eradicate the natural disorder.
Farewell, my dear friend. I have written down these incidents
immediately upon their occurrence. The post starts immediately; you
will receive this letter on the same day as my last.