In the minds of middle-class young men life is associated with a
career, and in early youth that career is usually Napoleon’s. They
do not of course necessarily dream of becoming Emperor, because it
is possible to be like Napoleon while remaining far, far below him.
Similarly, the most intense life is summarised in the most rudimentary
of sounds, that of a sea-wave, which from the moment it is born until
it expires is in a state of continual change. I too, like Napoleon and
like the wave, could at any rate look forward to a recurring state of
birth and dissolution.
My life seemed only able to supply one note without any variation, a
fairly high note for which some people envied me, but nevertheless
terribly monotonous. During my whole life my friends have never changed
their opinion of me, and I think that since I attained years of
discretion my conception of myself has not changed very much either.
Perhaps it was the tedium of producing and hearing that solitary note
which put into my head the idea of getting married. Those who have not
experienced it are inclined to think marriage more important than it
really is. The mate you choose renews, for better or for worse, her own
race in your children, but Mother Nature who ordains it thus, and yet
cannot lead us straight to the goal (because when we get married it is
not of children that we are thinking), persuades us that our wife will
bring about our own renewal--a curious illusion which the facts in no
way support. In fact one may live together quite unchanged, except that
one may come to feel dislike for a being so different from oneself or
envy for a being so superior.
The odd thing about my matrimonial adventure is that it began by my
making the acquaintance of my future father-in-law, and feeling a great
admiration and affection for him before I knew that he had daughters
of a marriageable age. But obviously it was no conscious purpose which
drove me towards a goal of which I was completely ignorant. I deserted
a girl who at one moment I thought would have suited me, and attached
myself wholly to my future father-in-law. I almost feel inclined to
believe in fate.
The desire for novelty which I secretly cherished in my soul found
satisfaction in Giovanni Malfenti, who was so entirely different from
me and from anyone whose friendship I had enjoyed up to that time. I
had a considerable degree of culture owing to my having studied at
the university; and still more owing to my long, and I think very
instructive period of doing nothing. He, on the other hand, was an
important business man, ignorant and pushing. But his ignorance gave
one an impression of quiet strength which fascinated me. I loved to
watch him and envied him for what he was.
Malfenti was about fifty, with a constitution of iron; a huge, tall
man weighing about fifteen stone. The few ideas which he kept in his
great head had been weighed, analysed and sifted by him with such care
and lucidity, and their application to the numerous cases which arose
each day so perfectly thought out that they seemed to have become part
of himself, like his limbs or his character. I was lacking in ideas
like that and I clung to him in the hope of enriching myself. Olivi
had advised my going to the Tergesteo,[1] for he said it would be a
good preparation for commercial life for me to frequent the Bourse, and
that I might be able from thence to give him some useful tips. I sat
down at the table presided over by my future father-in-law, and there
I remained; for it seemed to me that I had at last discovered a true
chair of commerce, such as I had been in search of for a very long time.
[1] The Bourse of Trieste.
He soon noticed my admiration for him and responded with an affection
which at once struck me as paternal. Did he know from the very
beginning how things were going to turn out? When, in the enthusiasm
produced in me by his great activity, I declared one evening my
intention of getting rid of Olivi and managing my affairs myself, he
strongly dissuaded me and even seemed rather alarmed at my proposal. He
had nothing against my devoting myself to commerce, but I must always
remain in close touch with Olivi, whom he also knew.
He was very ready to help me, and went so far as to write with his own
hand in my notebook three commandments which he held should suffice to
make any business prosper.
(1) It is not essential to work yourself, but you are lost if you can’t
make others work for you.
(2) There is only one great cause for remorse--to have failed to look
after one’s own interests.
(3) Theory is very useful in business, but only when the business has
already been settled.
I knew these and ever so many other wise sayings by heart, but they
were never any use to me. When I admire anyone I at once try to be
like him. So I began to imitate Malfenti. I soon began to feel myself
as astute as he was, and once I even thought I was the sharper of the
two, for I fancied I had discovered a weak point in his way of carrying
on business, and decided to tell him of it at once in order to win
his respect. At the Tergesteo one day I heard him calling someone a
blockhead to his face, and went up to his desk and began taking him to
task. I explained to him that he was making a mistake in proclaiming
his cunning far and wide. The really cunning business man, I said,
ought to aim at appearing as stupid as possible.
He laughed at me. On the contrary, he said, his reputation for cunning
was most useful to him. A great many people came to ask his advice and
brought him all kinds of fresh news, while the sound advice he gave
them was based on experience dating from the Middle Ages. Sometimes
the people who brought him information ended by buying his goods. At
this point he would begin to shout, for he had at last discovered the
final argument which was to convince me: if you wanted to buy or sell
profitably you always went to the man who had the greatest reputation
for cunning. All you could hope for from your stupid man was to cheat
him of his profit, but his goods were always sure to cost more than the
other’s because he had probably been cheated when he bought them in the
first instance.
I was the person whom he thought most of in his little circle at the
Tergesteo. He confided to me his business secrets, and I never betrayed
them. He had chosen his confidant so well that he twice succeeded in
cheating me after I became his son-in-law. The first time his sharpness
cost me a lot of money, but as it was Olivi who was taken in I did
not mind so much. Olivi had sent me to get some tips from him, which
I did. But they turned out so badly that Olivi never forgave me, and
afterwards whenever I was about to open my mouth to give him a new tip
he would ask: “Who did you get that from? Your father-in-law?” In order
to defend myself I was obliged to begin defending Giovanni, and I ended
by feeling that I had been the cheater instead of the cheated: a very
agreeable sensation.
But on the other occasion I was the victim, though I could not even
then bear any ill-will to my father-in-law. Sometimes he provoked
my envy, sometimes my mirth. My misfortune seemed to me a perfect
illustration of his principles; never had he explained them to me so
well. He laughed about it too with me. He said he was only laughing
because he found my folly so comic. Once however he did confess to
having played a trick on me. It was at the wedding of his daughter Ada
(not, alas, to me) after he had drunk some champagne, which had an
exciting effect on his great body accustomed only to drink pure water.
Then he revealed what had happened, shouting in order to overcome his
mirth, which almost prevented him from speaking:
“And then out came that decree! It knocked me flat, and I was just
working out how much it would cost me when in came my son-in-law. He
said he wanted to take up commerce. ‘Here’s a splendid chance for you,’
I said. He flung himself on the document and signed it right away,
lest Olivi should arrive and interfere; and the deed was done!” Then
he began singing my praises. “He knows the classics by heart. He knows
who said this and who said that. But he doesn’t know how to read the
newspaper!”
It was quite true. If only I had seen that decree, which had appeared
in an inconspicuous place in the five newspapers I read every day, I
should not have fallen into the trap. But even so I should have had to
take in at once the whole bearing of the new law, which was not such an
easy matter, for it concerned the reduction of a customs tax which in
its turn would send down the value of certain goods.
The following day my father-in-law denied having made such a
confession. The whole business assumed the same aspect it had before
the wedding breakfast. “Wine is a great inventor,” he calmly said, and
maintained that the decree had not been published till two days after
he had concluded the affair with me. He said it was clear that if I had
seen it I should have realised its import. I felt flattered by this,
but it was not said to spare my feelings, for he assumed that everyone
who read the papers was bound to keep their own interests in mind all
the time. But when I read the papers I at once become metamorphosed
into public opinion, and if I see that a tax has been reduced my
thoughts turn at once to Cobden and Liberalism. This seems to me so
uplifting an idea that I have no room left for my own particular
merchandise.
Once I really did succeed in winning his admiration, though
unfortunately on account of my least admirable qualities. He and I
had both had shares for some time past in a sugar factory, which was
supposed to be going to work miracles. The shares however began to go
down, only a little, but quite regularly, and Giovanni, who had no
idea of swimming against the stream, sold his and advised me to sell
mine. I entirely agreed, and decided to order my broker to do so, and
I made a note of it in the little book which I had lately started for
that purpose. But no one looks in their pockets during the daytime,
and for several days on end I kept coming across my entry in turning
out my pockets before going to bed, when it was of course too late to
do anything. Once I could not help calling out from sheer annoyance,
and so as not to have to explain to my wife I told her I had bitten
my tongue. Next time in my rage at such incompetence I bit my hand.
“Look out for your foot,” said my wife laughing. By this time I had
got so used to it that I ceased mutilating myself. I only stared in
stupefaction at the accursed little book which was too thin to make
itself felt during the day, and then forgot all about it till the
following evening.
One day a heavy shower drove me to shelter at the Tergesteo. There I
happened to meet my broker, who told me that during the last week those
shares had almost doubled in price.
“I’ll sell them now,” I cried, triumphantly.
I hastened at once to my father-in-law, who had already heard of the
rise in price of the shares and was lamenting having sold his and, a
little less perhaps, having persuaded me to sell mine.
“Patience!” he said, laughing. “It’s the first time you have lost in
consequence of taking my advice.”
The other affair had not been by his advice, but only at his
suggestion, which according to him was quite a different matter.