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diff --git a/1811-h/1811-h.htm b/1811-h/1811-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5634eb1 --- /dev/null +++ b/1811-h/1811-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4243 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Massimilla Doni, by Honore de Balzac + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Massimilla Doni, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Massimilla Doni + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Clara Bell and James Waring + +Release Date: March 2, 2010 [EBook #1811] +Last Updated: November 22, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASSIMILLA DONI *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + MASSIMILLA DONI + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Clara Bell and James Waring + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEDICATION + + To Jacques Strunz. + + MY DEAR STRUNZ:—I should be ungrateful if I did not set your name + at the head of one of the two tales I could never have written but + for your patient kindness and care. Accept this as my grateful + acknowledgment of the readiness with which you tried—perhaps not + very successfully—to initiate me into the mysteries of musical + knowledge. You have at least taught me what difficulties and what + labor genius must bury in those poems which procure us + transcendental pleasures. You have also afforded me the + satisfaction of laughing more than once at the expense of a + self-styled connoisseur. + + Some have taxed me with ignorance, not knowing that I have taken + counsel of one of our best musical critics, and had the benefit of + your conscientious help. I have, perhaps, been an inaccurate + amanuensis. If this were the case, I should be the traitorous + translator without knowing it, and I yet hope to sign myself + always one of your friends. + + DE BALZAC. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>MASSIMILLA DONI</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + MASSIMILLA DONI + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + As all who are learned in such matters know, the Venetian aristocracy is + the first in Europe. Its <i>Libro d’Oro</i> dates from before the + Crusades, from a time when Venice, a survivor of Imperial and Christian + Rome which had flung itself into the waters to escape the Barbarians, was + already powerful and illustrious, and the head of the political and + commercial world. + </p> + <p> + With a few rare exceptions this brilliant nobility has fallen into utter + ruin. Among the gondoliers who serve the English—to whom history + here reads the lesson of their future fate—there are descendants of + long dead Doges whose names are older than those of sovereigns. On some + bridge, as you glide past it, if you are ever in Venice, you may admire + some lovely girl in rags, a poor child belonging, perhaps, to one of the + most famous patrician families. When a nation of kings has fallen so low, + naturally some curious characters will be met with. It is not surprising + that sparks should flash out among the ashes. + </p> + <p> + These reflections, intended to justify the singularity of the persons who + figure in this narrative, shall not be indulged in any longer, for there + is nothing more intolerable than the stale reminiscences of those who + insist on talking about Venice after so many great poets and petty + travelers. The interest of the tale requires only this record of the most + startling contrast in the life of man: the dignity and poverty which are + conspicuous there in some of the men as they are in most of the houses. + </p> + <p> + The nobles of Venice and of Geneva, like those of Poland in former times, + bore no titles. To be named Quirini, Doria, Brignole, Morosini, Sauli, + Mocenigo, Fieschi, Cornaro, or Spinola, was enough for the pride of the + haughtiest. But all things become corrupt. At the present day some of + these families have titles. + </p> + <p> + And even at a time when the nobles of the aristocratic republics were all + equal, the title of Prince was, in fact, given at Genoa to a member of the + Doria family, who were sovereigns of the principality of Amalfi, and a + similar title was in use at Venice, justified by ancient inheritance from + Facino Cane, Prince of Varese. The Grimaldi, who assumed sovereignty, did + not take possession of Monaco till much later. + </p> + <p> + The last Cane of the elder branch vanished from Venice thirty years before + the fall of the Republic, condemned for various crimes more or less + criminal. The branch on whom this nominal principality then devolved, the + Cane Memmi, sank into poverty during the fatal period between 1796 and + 1814. In the twentieth year of the present century they were represented + only by a young man whose name was Emilio, and an old palace which is + regarded as one of the chief ornaments of the Grand Canal. This son of + Venice the Fair had for his whole fortune this useless Palazzo, and + fifteen hundred francs a year derived from a country house on the Brenta, + the last plot of the lands his family had formerly owned on <i>terra firma</i>, + and sold to the Austrian government. This little income spared our + handsome Emilio the ignominy of accepting, as many nobles did, the + indemnity of a franc a day, due to every impoverished patrician under the + stipulations of the cession to Austria. + </p> + <p> + At the beginning of winter, this young gentleman was still lingering in a + country house situated at the base of the Tyrolese Alps, and purchased in + the previous spring by the Duchess Cataneo. The house, erected by Palladio + for the Piepolo family, is a square building of the finest style of + architecture. There is a stately staircase with a marble portico on each + side; the vestibules are crowded with frescoes, and made light by sky-blue + ceilings across which graceful figures float amid ornament rich in design, + but so well proportioned that the building carries it, as a woman carries + her head-dress, with an ease that charms the eye; in short, the grace and + dignity that characterize the <i>Procuratie</i> in the piazetta at Venice. + Stone walls, admirably decorated, keep the rooms at a pleasantly cool + temperature. Verandas outside, painted in fresco, screen off the glare. + The flooring throughout is the old Venetian inlay of marbles, cut into + unfading flowers. + </p> + <p> + The furniture, like that of all Italian palaces, was rich with handsome + silks, judiciously employed, and valuable pictures favorably hung; some by + the Genoese priest, known as <i>il Capucino</i>, several by Leonardo da + Vinci, Carlo Dolci, Tintoretto, and Titian. + </p> + <p> + The shelving gardens were full of the marvels where money has been turned + into rocky grottoes and patterns of shells,—the very madness of + craftsmanship,—terraces laid out by the fairies, arbors of sterner + aspect, where the cypress on its tall trunk, the triangular pines, and the + melancholy olive mingled pleasingly with orange trees, bays, and myrtles, + and clear pools in which blue or russet fishes swam. Whatever may be said + in favor of the natural or English garden, these trees, pruned into + parasols, and yews fantastically clipped; this luxury of art so skilfully + combined with that of nature in Court dress; those cascades over marble + steps where the water spreads so shyly, a filmy scarf swept aside by the + wind and immediately renewed; those bronzed metal figures speechlessly + inhabiting the silent grove; that lordly palace, an object in the + landscape from every side, raising its light outline at the foot of the + Alps,—all the living thoughts which animate the stone, the bronze, + and the trees, or express themselves in garden plots,—this lavish + prodigality was in perfect keeping with the loves of a duchess and a + handsome youth, for they are a poem far removed from the coarse ends of + brutal nature. + </p> + <p> + Any one with a soul for fantasy would have looked to see, on one of those + noble flights of steps, standing by a vase with medallions in bas-relief, + a negro boy swathed about the loins with scarlet stuff, and holding in one + hand a parasol over the Duchess’ head, and in the other the train of her + long skirt, while she listened to Emilio Memmi. And how far grander the + Venetian would have looked in such a dress as the Senators wore whom + Titian painted. + </p> + <p> + But alas! in this fairy palace, not unlike that of the Peschieri at Genoa, + the Duchess Cataneo obeyed the edicts of Victorine and the Paris fashions. + She had on a muslin dress and broad straw hat, pretty shot silk shoes, + thread lace stockings that a breath of air would have blown away; and over + her shoulders a black lace shawl. But the thing which no one could ever + understand in Paris, where women are sheathed in their dresses as a + dragon-fly is cased in its annular armor, was the perfect freedom with + which this lovely daughter of Tuscany wore her French attire; she had + Italianized it. A Frenchwoman treats her shirt with the greatest + seriousness; an Italian never thinks about it; she does not attempt + self-protection by some prim glance, for she knows that she is safe in + that of a devoted love, a passion as sacred and serious in her eyes as in + those of others. + </p> + <p> + At eleven in the forenoon, after a walk, and by the side of a table still + strewn with the remains of an elegant breakfast, the Duchess, lounging in + an easy-chair, left her lover the master of these muslin draperies, + without a frown each time he moved. Emilio, seated at her side, held one + of her hands between his, gazing at her with utter absorption. Ask not + whether they loved; they loved only too well. They were not reading out of + the same book, like Paolo and Francesca; far from it, Emilio dared not + say: “Let us read.” The gleam of those eyes, those glistening gray irises + streaked with threads of gold that started from the centre like rifts of + light, giving her gaze a soft, star-like radiance, thrilled him with + nervous rapture that was almost a spasm. Sometimes the mere sight of the + splendid black hair that crowned the adored head, bound by a simple gold + fillet, and falling in satin tresses on each side of a spacious brow, was + enough to give him a ringing in his ears, the wild tide of the blood + rushing through his veins as if it must burst his heart. By what obscure + phenomenon did his soul so overmaster his body that he was no longer + conscious of his independent self, but was wholly one with this woman at + the least word she spoke in that voice which disturbed the very sources of + life in him? If, in utter seclusion, a woman of moderate charms can, by + being constantly studied, seem supreme and imposing, perhaps one so + magnificently handsome as the Duchess could fascinate to stupidity a youth + in whom rapture found some fresh incitement; for she had really absorbed + his young soul. + </p> + <p> + Massimilla, the heiress of the Doni, of Florence, had married the Sicilian + Duke Cataneo. Her mother, since dead, had hoped, by promoting this + marriage, to leave her rich and happy, according to Florentine custom. She + had concluded that her daughter, emerging from a convent to embark in + life, would achieve, under the laws of love, that second union of heart + with heart which, to an Italian woman, is all in all. But Massimilla Doni + had acquired in her convent a real taste for a religious life, and, when + she had pledged her troth to Duke Cataneo, she was Christianly content to + be his wife. + </p> + <p> + This was an untenable position. Cataneo, who only looked for a duchess, + thought himself ridiculous as a husband; and, when Massimilla complained + of this indifference, he calmly bid her look about her for a <i>cavaliere + servente</i>, even offering his services to introduce to her some youths + from whom to choose. The Duchess wept; the Duke made his bow. + </p> + <p> + Massimilla looked about her at the world that crowded round her; her + mother took her to the Pergola, to some ambassadors’ drawing-rooms, to the + Cascine—wherever handsome young men of fashion were to be met; she + saw none to her mind, and determined to travel. Then she lost her mother, + inherited her property, assumed mourning, and made her way to Venice. + There she saw Emilio, who, as he went past her opera box, exchanged with + her a flash of inquiry. + </p> + <p> + This was all. The Venetian was thunderstruck, while a voice in the + Duchess’ ear called out: “This is he!” + </p> + <p> + Anywhere else two persons more prudent and less guileless would have + studied and examined each other; but these two ignorances mingled like two + masses of homogeneous matter, which, when they meet, form but one. + Massimilla was at once and thenceforth Venetian. She bought the palazzo + she had rented on the Canareggio; and then, not knowing how to invest her + wealth, she had purchased Rivalta, the country-place where she was now + staying. + </p> + <p> + Emilio, being introduced to the Duchess by the Signora Vulpato, waited + very respectfully on the lady in her box all through the winter. Never was + love more ardent in two souls, or more bashful in its advances. The two + children were afraid of each other. Massimilla was no coquette. She had no + second string to her bow, no <i>secondo</i>, no <i>terzo</i>, no <i>patito</i>. + Satisfied with a smile and a word, she admired her Venetian youth, with + his pointed face, his long, thin nose, his black eyes, and noble brow; + but, in spite of her artless encouragement, he never went to her house + till they had spent three months in getting used to each other. + </p> + <p> + Then summer brought its Eastern sky. The Duchess lamented having to go + alone to Rivalta. Emilio, at once happy and uneasy at the thought of being + alone with her, had accompanied Massimilla to her retreat. And now this + pretty pair had been there for six months. + </p> + <p> + Massimilla, now twenty, had not sacrificed her religious principles to her + passion without a struggle. Still they had yielded, though tardily; and at + this moment she would have been ready to consummate the love union for + which her mother had prepared her, as Emilio sat there holding her + beautiful, aristocratic hand,—long, white, and sheeny, ending in + fine, rosy nails, as if she had procured from Asia some of the henna with + which the Sultan’s wives dye their fingertips. + </p> + <p> + A misfortune, of which she was unconscious, but which was torture to + Emilio, kept up a singular barrier between them. Massimilla, young as she + was, had the majestic bearing which mythological tradition ascribes to + Juno, the only goddess to whom it does not give a lover; for Diana, the + chaste Diana, loved! Jupiter alone could hold his own with his divine + better-half, on whom many English ladies model themselves. + </p> + <p> + Emilio set his mistress far too high ever to touch her. A year hence, + perhaps, he might not be a victim to this noble error which attacks none + but very young or very old men. But as the archer who shoots beyond the + mark is as far from it as he whose arrow falls short of it, the Duchess + found herself between a husband who knew he was so far from reaching the + target, that he had ceased to try for it, and a lover who was carried so + much past it on the white wings of an angel, that he could not get back to + it. Massimilla could be happy with desire, not imagining its issue; but + her lover, distressful in his happiness, would sometimes obtain from his + beloved a promise that led her to the edge of what many women call “the + gulf,” and thus found himself obliged to be satisfied with plucking the + flowers at the edge, incapable of daring more than to pull off their + petals, and smother his torture in his heart. + </p> + <p> + They had wandered out together that morning, repeating such a hymn of love + as the birds warbled in the branches. On their return, the youth, whose + situation can only be described by comparing him to the cherubs + represented by painters as having only a head and wings, had been so + impassioned as to venture to hint a doubt as to the Duchess’ entire + devotion, so as to bring her to the point of saying: “What proof do you + need?” + </p> + <p> + The question had been asked with a royal air, and Memmi had ardently + kissed the beautiful and guileless hand. Then he suddenly started up in a + rage with himself, and left the Duchess. Massimilla remained in her + indolent attitude on the sofa; but she wept, wondering how, young and + handsome as she was, she could fail to please Emilio. Memmi, on the other + hand, knocked his head against the tree-trunks like a hooded crow. + </p> + <p> + But at this moment a servant came in pursuit of the young Venetian to + deliver a letter brought by express messenger. + </p> + <p> + Marco Vendramini,—a name also pronounced Vendramin, in the Venetian + dialect, which drops many final letters,—his only friend, wrote to + tell him that Facino Cane, Prince of Varese, had died in a hospital in + Paris. Proofs of his death had come to hand, and the Cane-Memmi were + Princes of Varese. In the eyes of the two young men a title without wealth + being worthless, Vendramin also informed Emilio, as a far more important + fact, of the engagement at the <i>Fenice</i> of the famous tenor Genovese, + and the no less famous Signora Tinti. + </p> + <p> + Without waiting to finish the letter, which he crumpled up and put in his + pocket, Emilio ran to communicate this great news to the Duchess, + forgetting his heraldic honors. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess knew nothing of the strange story which made la Tinti an + object of curiosity in Italy, and Emilio briefly repeated it. + </p> + <p> + This illustrious singer had been a mere inn-servant, whose wonderful voice + had captivated a great Sicilian nobleman on his travels. The girl’s beauty—she + was then twelve years old—being worthy of her voice, the gentleman + had had the moderation to have brought her up, as Louis XV. had + Mademoiselle de Romans educated. He had waited patiently till Clara’s + voice had been fully trained by a famous professor, and till she was + sixteen, before taking toll of the treasure so carefully cultivated. + </p> + <p> + La Tinti had made her debut the year before, and had enchanted the three + most fastidious capitals of Italy. + </p> + <p> + “I am perfectly certain that her great nobleman is not my husband,” said + the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + The horses were ordered, and the Duchess set out at once for Venice, to be + present at the opening of the winter season. + </p> + <p> + So one fine evening in November, the new Prince of Varese was crossing the + lagoon from Mestre to Venice, between the lines of stakes painted with + Austrian colors, which mark out the channel for gondolas as conceded by + the custom-house. As he watched Massimilla’s gondola, navigated by men in + livery, and cutting through the water a few yards in front, poor Emilio, + with only an old gondolier who had been his father’s servant in the days + when Venice was still a living city, could not repress the bitter + reflections suggested to him by the assumption of his title. + </p> + <p> + “What a mockery of fortune! A prince—with fifteen hundred francs a + year! Master of one of the finest palaces in the world, and unable to sell + the statues, stairs, paintings, sculpture, which an Austrian decree had + made inalienable! To live on a foundation of piles of campeachy wood worth + nearly a million of francs, and have no furniture! To own sumptuous + galleries, and live in an attic above the topmost arabesque cornice + constructed of marble brought from the Morea—the land which a + Memmius had marched over as conqueror in the time of the Romans! To see + his ancestors in effigy on their tombs of precious marbles in one of the + most splendid churches in Venice, and in a chapel graced with pictures by + Titian and Tintoretto, by Palma, Bellini, Paul Veronese—and to be + prohibited from selling a marble Memmi to the English for bread for the + living Prince Varese! Genovese, the famous tenor, could get in one season, + by his warbling, the capital of an income on which this son of the Memmi + could live—this descendant of Roman senators as venerable as Caesar + and Sylla. Genovese may smoke an Eastern hookah, and the Prince of Varese + cannot even have enough cigars!” + </p> + <p> + He tossed the end he was smoking into the sea. The Prince of Varese found + cigars at the Duchess Cataneo’s; how gladly would he have laid the + treasures of the world at her feet! She studied all his caprices, and was + happy to gratify them. He made his only meal at her house—his + supper; for all his money was spent in clothes and his place in the <i>Fenice</i>. + He had also to pay a hundred francs a year as wages to his father’s old + gondolier; and he, to serve him for that sum, had to live exclusively on + rice. Also he kept enough to take a cup of black coffee every morning at + Florian’s to keep himself up till the evening in a state of nervous + excitement, and this habit, carried to excess, he hoped would in due time + kill him, as Vendramin relied on opium. + </p> + <p> + “And I am a prince!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke the words, Emilio Memmi tossed Marco Vendramin’s letter into + the lagoon without even reading it to the end, and it floated away like a + paper boat launched by a child. + </p> + <p> + “But Emilio,” he went on to himself, “is but three and twenty. He is a + better man than Lord Wellington with the gout, than the paralyzed Regent, + than the epileptic royal family of Austria, than the King of France——” + </p> + <p> + But as he thought of the King of France Emilio’s brow was knit, his ivory + skin burned yellower, tears gathered in his black eyes and hung to his + long lashes; he raised a hand worthy to be painted by Titian to push back + his thick brown hair, and gazed again at Massimilla’s gondola. + </p> + <p> + “And this insolent mockery of fate is carried even into my love affair,” + said he to himself. “My heart and imagination are full of precious gifts; + Massimilla will have none of them; she is a Florentine, and she will throw + me over. I have to sit by her side like ice, while her voice and her looks + fire me with heavenly sensations! As I watch her gondola a few hundred + feet away from my own I feel as if a hot iron were set on my heart. An + invisible fluid courses through my frame and scorches my nerves, a cloud + dims my sight, the air seems to me to glow as it did at Rivalta when the + sunlight came through a red silk blind, and I, without her knowing it, + could admire her lost in dreams, with her subtle smile like that of + Leonardo’s Mona Lisa. Well, either my Highness will end my days by a + pistol-shot, or the heir of the Cane will follow old Carmagnola’s advice; + we will be sailors, pirates; and it will be amusing to see how long we can + live without being hanged.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince lighted another cigar, and watched the curls of smoke as the + wind wafted them away, as though he saw in their arabesques an echo of + this last thought. + </p> + <p> + In the distance he could now perceive the mauresque pinnacles that crowned + his palazzo, and he was sadder than ever. The Duchess’ gondola had + vanished in the Canareggio. + </p> + <p> + These fantastic pictures of a romantic and perilous existence, as the + outcome of his love, went out with his cigar, and his lady’s gondola no + longer traced his path. Then he saw the present in its real light: a + palace without a soul, a soul that had no effect on the body, a + principality without money, an empty body and a full heart—a + thousand heartbreaking contradictions. The hapless youth mourned for + Venice as she had been,—as did Vendramini, even more bitterly, for + it was a great and common sorrow, a similar destiny, that had engendered + such a warm friendship between these two young men, the wreckage of two + illustrious families. + </p> + <p> + Emilio could not help dreaming of a time when the palazzo Memmi poured out + light from every window, and rang with music carried far away over the + Adriatic tide; when hundreds of gondolas might be seen tied up to its + mooring-posts, while graceful masked figures and the magnates of the + Republic crowded up the steps kissed by the waters; when its halls and + gallery were full of a throng of intriguers or their dupes; when the great + banqueting-hall, filled with merry feasters, and the upper balconies + furnished with musicians, seemed to harbor all Venice coming and going on + the great staircase that rang with laughter. + </p> + <p> + The chisels of the greatest artists of many centuries had sculptured the + bronze brackets supporting long-necked or pot-bellied Chinese vases, and + the candelabra for a thousand tapers. Every country had furnished some + contribution to the splendor that decked the walls and ceilings. But now + the panels were stripped of the handsome hangings, the melancholy ceilings + were speechless and sad. No Turkey carpets, no lustres bright with + flowers, no statues, no pictures, no more joy, no money—the great + means to enjoyment! Venice, the London of the Middle Ages, was falling + stone by stone, man by man. The ominous green weed which the sea washes + and kisses at the foot of every palace, was in the Prince’s eyes, a black + fringe hung by nature as an omen of death. + </p> + <p> + And finally, a great English poet had rushed down on Venice like a raven + on a corpse, to croak out in lyric poetry—the first and last + utterance of social man—the burden of a <i>de profundis</i>. English + poetry! Flung in the face of the city that had given birth to Italian + poetry! Poor Venice! + </p> + <p> + Conceive, then, of the young man’s amazement when roused from such + meditations by Carmagnola’s cry: + </p> + <p> + “Serenissimo, the palazzo is on fire, or the old Doges have risen from + their tombs! There are lights in the windows of the upper floor!” + </p> + <p> + Prince Emilio fancied that his dream was realized by the touch of a magic + wand. It was dusk, and the old gondolier could by tying up his gondola to + the top step, help his young master to land without being seen by the + bustling servants in the palazzo, some of whom were buzzing about the + landing-place like bees at the door of a hive. Emilio stole into the great + hall, whence rose the finest flight of stairs in all Venice, up which he + lightly ran to investigate the cause of this strange bustle. + </p> + <p> + A whole tribe of workmen were hurriedly completing the furnishing and + redecoration of the palace. The first floor, worthy of the antique glories + of Venice, displayed to Emilio’s waking eyes the magnificence of which he + had just been dreaming, and the fairy had exercised admirable taste. + Splendor worthy of a parvenu sovereign was to be seen even in the smallest + details. Emilio wandered about without remark from anybody, and surprise + followed on surprise. + </p> + <p> + Curious, then, to know what was going forward on the second floor, he went + up, and found everything finished. The unknown laborers, commissioned by a + wizard to revive the marvels of the Arabian nights in behalf of an + impoverished Italian prince, were exchanging some inferior articles of + furniture brought in for the nonce. Prince Emilio made his way into the + bedroom, which smiled on him like a shell just deserted by Venus. The room + was so charmingly pretty, so daintily smart, so full of elegant + contrivance, that he straightway seated himself in an armchair of gilt + wood, in front of which a most appetizing cold supper stood ready, and, + without more ado, proceeded to eat. + </p> + <p> + “In all the world there is no one but Massimilla who would have thought of + this surprise,” thought he. “She heard that I was now a prince; Duke + Cataneo is perhaps dead, and has left her his fortune; she is twice as + rich as she was; she will marry me——” + </p> + <p> + And he ate in a way that would have roused the envy of an invalid Croesus, + if he could have seen him; and he drank floods of capital port wine. + </p> + <p> + “Now I understand the knowing little air she put on as she said, ‘Till + this evening!’ Perhaps she means to come and break the spell. What a fine + bed! and in the bed-place such a pretty lamp! Quite a Florentine idea!” + </p> + <p> + There are some strongly blended natures on which extremes of joy or of + grief have a soporific effect. Now on a youth so compounded that he could + idealize his mistress to the point of ceasing to think of her as a woman, + this sudden incursion of wealth had the effect of a dose of opium. When + the Prince had drunk the whole of the bottle of port, eaten half a fish + and some portion of a French pate, he felt an irresistible longing for + bed. Perhaps he was suffering from a double intoxication. So he pulled off + the counterpane, opened the bed, undressed in a pretty dressing-room, and + lay down to meditate on destiny. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot poor Carmagnola,” said he; “but my cook and butler will have + provided for him.” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture, a waiting-woman came in, lightly humming an air from the + <i>Barbiere</i>. She tossed a woman’s dress on a chair, a whole outfit for + the night, and said as she did so: + </p> + <p> + “Here they come!” + </p> + <p> + And in fact a few minutes later a young lady came in, dressed in the + latest French style, who might have sat for some English fancy portrait + engraved for a <i>Forget-me-not</i>, a <i>Belle Assemblee</i>, or a <i>Book + of Beauty</i>. + </p> + <p> + The Prince shivered with delight and with fear, for, as you know, he was + in love with Massimilla. But, in spite of this faith in love which fired + his blood, and which of old inspired the painters of Spain, which gave + Italy her Madonnas, created Michael Angelo’s statues and Ghilberti’s doors + of the Baptistery,—desire had him in its toils, and agitated him + without infusing into his heart that warm, ethereal glow which he felt at + a look or a word from the Duchess. His soul, his heart, his reason, every + impulse of his will, revolted at the thought of an infidelity; and yet + that brutal, unreasoning infidelity domineered over his spirit. But the + woman was not alone. + </p> + <p> + The Prince saw one of those figures in which nobody believes when they are + transferred from real life, where we wonder at them, to the imaginary + existence of a more or less literary description. The dress of this + stranger, like that of all Neapolitans, displayed five colors, if the + black of his hat may count for a color; his trousers were olive-brown, his + red waistcoat shone with gilt buttons, his coat was greenish, and his + linen was more yellow than white. This personage seemed to have made it + his business to verify the Neapolitan as represented by Gerolamo on the + stage of his puppet show. His eyes looked like glass beads. His nose, like + the ace of clubs, was horribly long and bulbous; in fact, it did its best + to conceal an opening which it would be an insult to the human countenance + to call a mouth; within, three or four tusks were visible, endowed, as it + seemed, with a proper motion and fitting into each other. His fleshy ears + drooped by their own weight, giving the creature a whimsical resemblance + to a dog. + </p> + <p> + His complexion, tainted, no doubt, by various metallic infusions as + prescribed by some Hippocrates, verged on black. A pointed skull, scarcely + covered by a few straight hairs like spun glass, crowned this forbidding + face with red spots. Finally, though the man was very thin and of medium + height, he had long arms and broad shoulders. + </p> + <p> + In spite of these hideous details, and though he looked fully seventy, he + did not lack a certain cyclopean dignity; he had aristocratic manners and + the confident demeanor of a rich man. + </p> + <p> + Any one who could have found courage enough to study him, would have seen + his history written by base passions on this noble clay degraded to mud. + Here was the man of high birth, who, rich from his earliest youth, had + given up his body to debauchery for the sake of extravagant enjoyment. And + debauchery had destroyed the human being and made another after its own + image. Thousands of bottles of wine had disappeared under the purple + archway of that preposterous nose, and left their dregs on his lips. Long + and slow digestion had destroyed his teeth. His eyes had grown dim under + the lamps of the gaming table. The blood tainted with impurities had + vitiated the nervous system. The expenditure of force in the task of + digestion had undermined his intellect. Finally, amours had thinned his + hair. Each vice, like a greedy heir, had stamped possession on some part + of the living body. + </p> + <p> + Those who watch nature detect her in jests of the shrewdest irony. For + instance, she places toads in the neighborhood of flowers, as she had + placed this man by the side of this rose of love. + </p> + <p> + “Will you play the violin this evening, my dear Duke?” asked the woman, as + she unhooked a cord to let a handsome curtain fall over the door. + </p> + <p> + “Play the violin!” thought Prince Emilio. “What can have happened to my + palazzo? Am I awake? Here I am, in that woman’s bed, and she certainly + thinks herself at home—she has taken off her cloak! Have I, like + Vendramin, inhaled opium, and am I in the midst of one of those dreams in + which he sees Venice as it was three centuries ago?” + </p> + <p> + The unknown fair one, seated in front of a dressing-table blazing with wax + lights, was unfastening her frippery with the utmost calmness. + </p> + <p> + “Ring for Giulia,” said she; “I want to get my dress off.” + </p> + <p> + At that instant, the Duke noticed that the supper had been disturbed; he + looked round the room, and discovered the Prince’s trousers hanging over a + chair at the foot of the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Clarina, I will not ring!” cried the Duke, in a shrill voice of fury. “I + will not play the violin this evening, nor tomorrow, nor ever again—” + </p> + <p> + “Ta, ta, ta, ta!” sang Clarina, on the four octaves of the same note, + leaping from one to the next with the ease of a nightingale. + </p> + <p> + “In spite of that voice, which would make your patron saint Clara envious, + you are really too impudent, you rascally hussy!” + </p> + <p> + “You have not brought me up to listen to such abuse,” said she, with some + pride. + </p> + <p> + “Have I brought you up to hide a man in your bed? You are unworthy alike + of my generosity and of my hatred—” + </p> + <p> + “A man in my bed!” exclaimed Clarina, hastily looking round. + </p> + <p> + “And after daring to eat our supper, as if he were at home,” added the + Duke. + </p> + <p> + “But am I not at home?” cried Emilio. “I am the Prince of Varese; this + palace is mine.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, Emilio sat up in bed, his handsome and noble Venetian head + framed in the flowing hangings. + </p> + <p> + At first Clarina laughed—one of those irrepressible fits of laughter + which seize a girl when she meets with an adventure comic beyond all + conception. But her laughter ceased as she saw the young man, who, as has + been said, was remarkably handsome, though but lightly attired; the + madness that possessed Emilio seized her, too, and, as she had no one to + adore, no sense of reason bridled her sudden fancy—a Sicilian woman + in love. + </p> + <p> + “Although this is the palazzo Memmi, I will thank your Highness to quit,” + said the Duke, assuming the cold irony of a polished gentleman. “I am at + home here.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, Monsieur le Duc, that you are in my room, not in your + own,” said Clarina, rousing herself from her amazement. “If you have any + doubts of my virtue, at any rate give me the benefit of my crime—” + </p> + <p> + “Doubts! Say proof positive, my lady!” + </p> + <p> + “I swear to you that I am innocent,” replied Clarina. + </p> + <p> + “What, then, do I see in that bed?” asked the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Old Ogre!” cried Clarina. “If you believe your eyes rather than my + assertion, you have ceased to love me. Go, and do not weary my ears! Do + you hear? Go, Monsieur le Duc. This young Prince will repay you the + million francs I have cost you, if you insist.” + </p> + <p> + “I will repay nothing,” said Emilio in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing due! A million is cheap for Clara Tinti when a man is so + ugly. Now, go,” said she to the Duke. “You dismissed me; now I dismiss + you. We are quits.” + </p> + <p> + At a gesture on Cataneo’s part, as he seemed inclined to dispute this + order, which was given with an action worthy of Semiramis,—the part + in which la Tinti had won her fame,—the prima donna flew at the old + ape and put him out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “If you do not leave me in quiet this evening, we never meet again. And my + <i>never</i> counts for more than yours,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “Quiet!” retorted the Duke, with a bitter laugh. “Dear idol, it strikes me + that I am leaving you <i>agitata</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The Duke departed. + </p> + <p> + His mean spirit was no surprise to Emilio. + </p> + <p> + Every man who has accustomed himself to some particular taste, chosen from + among the various effects of love, in harmony with his own nature, knows + that no consideration can stop a man who has allowed his passions to + become a habit. + </p> + <p> + Clarina bounded like a fawn from the door to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “A prince, and poor, young, and handsome!” cried she. “Why, it is a fairy + tale!” + </p> + <p> + The Sicilian perched herself on the bed with the artless freedom of an + animal, the yearning of a plant for the sun, the airy motion of a branch + waltzing to the breeze. As she unbuttoned the wristbands of her sleeves, + she began to sing, not in the pitch that won her the applause of an + audience at the <i>Fenice</i>, but in a warble tender with emotion. Her + song was a zephyr carrying the caresses of her love to the heart. + </p> + <p> + She stole a glance at Emilio, who was as much embarrassed as she; for this + woman of the stage had lost all the boldness that had sparkled in her eyes + and given decision to her voice and gestures when she dismissed the Duke. + She was as humble as a courtesan who has fallen in love. + </p> + <p> + To picture la Tinti you must recall one of our best French singers when + she came out in <i>Il Fazzoletto</i>, an opera by Garcia that was then + being played by an Italian company at the theatre in the Rue Lauvois. She + was so beautiful that a Naples guardsman, having failed to win a hearing, + killed himself in despair. The prima donna of the <i>Fenice</i> had the + same refinement of features, the same elegant figure, and was equally + young; but she had in addition the warm blood of Sicily that gave a glow + to her loveliness. Her voice was fuller and richer, and she had that air + of native majesty that is characteristic of Italian women. + </p> + <p> + La Tinti—whose name also resembled that which the French singer + assumed—was now seventeen, and the poor Prince three-and-twenty. + What mocking hand had thought it sport to bring the match so near the + powder? A fragrant room hung with rose-colored silk and brilliant with wax + lights, a bed dressed in lace, a silent palace, and Venice! Two young and + beautiful creatures! every ravishment at once. + </p> + <p> + Emilio snatched up his trousers, jumped out of bed, escaped into the + dressing-room, put on his clothes, came back and hurried to the door. + </p> + <p> + These were his thoughts while dressing:— + </p> + <p> + “Massimilla, beloved daughter of the Doni, in whom Italian beauty is an + hereditary prerogative, you who are worthy of the portrait of <i>Margherita</i>, + one of the few canvases painted entirely by Raphael to his glory! My + beautiful and saintly mistress, shall I not have deserved you if I fly + from this abyss of flowers? Should I be worthy of you if I profaned a + heart that is wholly yours? No; I will not fall into the vulgar snare laid + for me by my rebellious senses! This girl has her Duke, mine be my + Duchess!” + </p> + <p> + As he lifted the curtain, he heard a moan. The heroic lover looked round + and saw Clarina on her knees, her face hidden in the bed, choking with + sobs. Is it to be believed? The singer was lovelier kneeling thus, her + face invisible, than even in her confusion with a glowing countenance. Her + hair, which had fallen over her shoulders, her Magdalen-like attitude, the + disorder of her half-unfastened dress,—the whole picture had been + composed by the devil, who, as is well known, is a fine colorist. + </p> + <p> + The Prince put his arm round the weeping girl, who slipped from him like a + snake, and clung to one foot, pressing it to her beautiful bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Will you explain to me,” said he, shaking his foot to free it from her + embrace, “how you happen to be in my palazzo? How the impoverished Emilio + Memmi—” + </p> + <p> + “Emilio Memmi!” cried Tinti, rising. “You said you were a Prince.” + </p> + <p> + “A Prince since yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in love with the Duchess Cataneo!” said she, looking at him from + head to foot. + </p> + <p> + Emilio stood mute, seeing that the prima dona was smiling at him through + her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Your Highness does not know that the man who had me trained for the stage—that + the Duke—is Cataneo himself. And your friend Vendramini, thinking to + do you a service, let him this palace for a thousand crowns, for the + period of my season at the <i>Fenice</i>. Dear idol of my heart!” she went + on, taking his hand and drawing him towards her, “why do you fly from one + for whom many a man would run the risk of broken bones? Love, you see, is + always love. It is the same everywhere; it is the sun of our souls; we can + warm ourselves whenever it shines, and here—now—it is full + noonday. If to-morrow you are not satisfied, kill me! But I shall survive, + for I am a real beauty!” + </p> + <p> + Emilio decided on remaining. When he signified his consent by a nod the + impulse of delight that sent a shiver through Clarina seemed to him like a + light from hell. Love had never before appeared to him in so impressive a + form. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Carmagnola whistled loudly. + </p> + <p> + “What can he want of me?” said the Prince. + </p> + <p> + But bewildered by love, Emilio paid no heed to the gondolier’s repeated + signals. + </p> + <p> + If you have never traveled in Switzerland you may perhaps read this + description with pleasure; and if you have clambered among those mountains + you will not be sorry to be reminded of the scenery. + </p> + <p> + In that sublime land, in the heart of a mass of rock riven by a gorge,—a + valley as wide as the Avenue de Neuilly in Paris, but a hundred fathoms + deep and broken into ravines,—flows a torrent coming from some + tremendous height of the Saint-Gothard on the Simplon, which has formed a + pool, I know not how many yards deep or how many feet long and wide, + hemmed in by splintered cliffs of granite on which meadows find a place, + with fir-trees between them, and enormous elms, and where violets also + grow, and strawberries. Here and there stands a chalet and at the window + you may see the rosy face of a yellow-haired Swiss girl. According to the + moods of the sky the water in this tarn is blue and green, but as a + sapphire is blue, as an emerald is green. Well, nothing in the world can + give such an idea of depth, peace, immensity, heavenly love, and eternal + happiness—to the most heedless traveler, the most hurried courier, + the most commonplace tradesman—as this liquid diamond into which the + snow, gathering from the highest Alps, trickles through a natural channel + hidden under the trees and eaten through the rock, escaping below through + a gap without a sound. The watery sheet overhanging the fall glides so + gently that no ripple is to be seen on the surface which mirrors the + chaise as you drive past. The postboy smacks his whip; you turn past a + crag; you cross a bridge: suddenly there is a terrific uproar of cascades + tumbling together one upon another. The water, taking a mighty leap, is + broken into a hundred falls, dashed to spray on the boulders; it sparkles + in a myriad jets against a mass that has fallen from the heights that + tower over the ravine exactly in the middle of the road that has been so + irresistibly cut by the most formidable of active forces. + </p> + <p> + If you have formed a clear idea of this landscape, you will see in those + sleeping waters the image of Emilio’s love for the Duchess, and in the + cascades leaping like a flock of sheep, an idea of his passion shared with + la Tinti. In the midst of his torrent of love a rock stood up against + which the torrent broke. The Prince, like Sisyphus, was constantly under + the stone. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth does the Duke do with a violin?” he wondered. “Do I owe + this symphony to him?” + </p> + <p> + He asked Clara Tinti. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child,”—for she saw that Emilio was but a child,—“dear + child,” said she, “that man, who is a hundred and eighteen in the parish + register of vice, and only forty-seven in the register of the Church, has + but one single joy left to him in life. Yes, everything is broken, + everything in him is ruin or rags; his soul, intellect, heart, nerves,—everything + in man that can supply an impulse and remind him of heaven, either by + desire or enjoyment, is bound up with music, or rather with one of the + many effects produced by music, the perfect unison of two voices, or of a + voice with the top string of his violin. The old ape sits on my knee, + takes his instrument,—he plays fairly well,—he produces the + notes, and I try to imitate them. Then, when the long-sought-for moment + comes when it is impossible to distinguish in the body of sound which is + the note on the violin and which proceeds from my throat, the old man + falls into an ecstasy, his dim eyes light up with their last remaining + fires, he is quite happy and will roll on the floor like a drunken man. + </p> + <p> + “That is why he pays Genovese such a price. Genovese is the only tenor + whose voice occasionally sounds in unison with mine. Either we really do + sing exactly together once or twice in an evening, or the Duke imagines + that we do; and for that imaginary pleasure he has bought Genovese. + Genovese belongs to him. No theatrical manager can engage that tenor + without me, nor have me to sing without him. The Duke brought me up on + purpose to gratify that whim; to him I owe my talent, my beauty,—my + fortune, no doubt. He will die of an attack of perfect unison. The sense + of hearing alone has survived the wreck of his faculties; that is the only + thread by which he holds on to life. A vigorous shoot springs from that + rotten stump. There are, I am told, many men in the same predicament. May + Madonna preserve them! + </p> + <p> + “You have not come to that! You can do all you want—all I want of + you, I know.” + </p> + <p> + Towards morning the Prince stole away and found Carmagnola lying asleep + across the door. + </p> + <p> + “Altezza,” said the gondolier, “the Duchess ordered me to give you this + note.” + </p> + <p> + He held out a dainty sheet of paper folded into a triangle. The Prince + felt dizzy; he went back into the room and dropped into a chair, for his + sight was dim, and his hands shook as he read:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR EMILIO:—Your gondola stopped at your palazzo. Did you not + know that Cataneo has taken it for la Tinti? If you love me, go + to-night to Vendramin, who tells me he has a room ready for you in + his house. What shall I do? Can I remain in Venice to see my + husband and his opera singer? Shall we go back together to Friuli? + Write me one word, if only to tell me what the letter was you + tossed into the lagoon. + + “MASSIMILLA DONI.” + </pre> + <p> + The writing and the scent of the paper brought a thousand memories back to + the young Venetian’s mind. The sun of a single-minded passion threw its + radiance on the blue depths come from so far, collected in a bottomless + pool, and shining like a star. The noble youth could not restrain the + tears that flowed freely from his eyes, for in the languid state produced + by satiated senses he was disarmed by the thought of that purer divinity. + </p> + <p> + Even in her sleep Clarina heard his weeping; she sat up in bed, saw her + Prince in a dejected attitude, and threw herself at his knees. + </p> + <p> + “They are still waiting for the answer,” said Carmagnola, putting the + curtain aside. + </p> + <p> + “Wretch, you have undone me!” cried Emilio, starting up and spurning + Clarina with his foot. + </p> + <p> + She clutched it so lovingly, her look imploring some explanation,—the + look of a tear-stained Samaritan,—that Emilio, enraged to find + himself still in the toils of the passion that had wrought his fall, + pushed away the singer with an unmanly kick. + </p> + <p> + “You told me to kill you,—then die, venomous reptile!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + He left the palace, and sprang into his gondola. + </p> + <p> + “Pull,” said he to Carmagnola. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” asked the old servant. + </p> + <p> + “Where you will.” + </p> + <p> + The gondolier divined his master’s wishes, and by many windings brought + him at last into the Canareggio, to the door of a wonderful palazzo, which + you will admire when you see Venice, for no traveler ever fails to stop in + front of those windows, each of a different design, vying with each other + in fantastic ornament, with balconies like lace-work; to study the corners + finishing in tall and slender twisted columns, the string-courses wrought + by so inventive a chisel that no two shapes are alike in the arabesques on + the stones. + </p> + <p> + How charming is that doorway! how mysterious the vaulted arcade leading to + the stairs! Who could fail to admire the steps on which ingenious art has + laid a carpet that will last while Venice stands,—a carpet as rich + as if wrought in Turkey, but composed of marbles in endless variety of + shapes, inlaid in white marble. You will delight in the charming ornament + of the colonnades of the upper story,—gilt like those of a ducal + palace,—so that the marvels of art are both under your feet and + above your head. + </p> + <p> + What delicate shadows! How silent, how cool! But how solemn, too, was that + old palace! where, to delight Emilio and his friend Vendramin, the Duchess + had collected antique Venetian furniture, and employed skilled hands to + restore the ceilings. There, old Venice lived again. The splendor was not + merely noble, it was instructive. The archaeologist would have found there + such models of perfection as the middle ages produced, having taken + example from Venice. Here were to be seen the original ceilings of + woodwork covered with scrolls and flowers in gold on a colored ground, or + in colors on gold, and ceilings of gilt plaster castings, with a picture + of many figures in each corner, with a splendid fresco in the centre,—a + style so costly that there are not two in the Louvre, and that the + extravagance of Louis XIV. shrunk from such expense at Versailles. On all + sides marble, wood, and silk had served as materials for exquisite + workmanship. + </p> + <p> + Emilio pushed open a carved oak door, made his way down the long, vaulted + passage which runs from end to end on each floor of a Venetian palazzo, + and stopped before another door, so familiar that it made his heart beat. + On seeing him, a lady companion came out of a vast drawing-room, and + admitted him to a study where he found the Duchess on her knees in front + of a Madonna. + </p> + <p> + He had come to confess and ask forgiveness. Massimilla, in prayer, had + converted him. He and God; nothing else dwelt in that heart. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess rose very unaffectedly, and held out her hand. Her lover did + not take it. + </p> + <p> + “Did not Gianbattista see you, yesterday?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “That piece of ill-luck gave me a night of misery. I was so afraid lest + you might meet the Duke, whose perversity I know too well. What made + Vendramin let your palace to him?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a good idea, Milla, for your Prince is poor enough.” + </p> + <p> + Massimilla was so beautiful in her trust of him, and so wonderfully + lovely, so happy in Emilio’s presence, that at this moment the Prince, + wide awake, experienced the sensations of the horrible dream that torments + persons of a lively imagination, in which after arriving in a ballroom + full of women in full dress, the dreamer is suddenly aware that he is + naked, without even a shirt; shame and terror possess him by turns, and + only waking can relieve him from his misery. Thus stood Emilio’s soul in + the presence of his mistress. Hitherto that soul had known only the + fairest flowers of feeling; a debauch had plunged it into dishonor. This + none knew but he, for the beautiful Florentine ascribed so many virtues to + her lover that the man she adored could not but be incapable of any stain. + </p> + <p> + As Emilio had not taken her hand, the Duchess pushed her fingers through + his hair that the singer had kissed. Then she perceived that Emilio’s hand + was clammy and his brow moist. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you?” she asked, in a voice to which tenderness gave the + sweetness of a flute. + </p> + <p> + “Never till this moment have I known how much I love you,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear idol, what would you have?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done to make her ask that?” he wondered to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Emilio, what letter was that which you threw into the lagoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Vendramini’s. I had not read it to the end, or I should never have gone + to my palazzo, and there have met the Duke; for no doubt it told me all + about it.” + </p> + <p> + Massimilla turned pale, but a caress from Emilio reassured her. + </p> + <p> + “Stay with me all day; we will go to the opera together. We will not set + out for Friuli; your presence will no doubt enable me to endure + Cataneo’s,” said Massimilla. + </p> + <p> + Though this would be torment to her lover’s soul, he consented with + apparent joy. + </p> + <p> + If anything can give us a foretaste of what the damned will suffer on + finding themselves so unworthy of God, is it not the state of a young man, + as yet unpolluted, in the presence of a mistress he reveres, while he + still feels on his lips the taste of infidelity, and brings into the + sanctuary of the divinity he worships the tainted atmosphere of the + courtesan? + </p> + <p> + Baader, who in his lectures eliminated things divine by erotic imagery, + had no doubt observed, like some Catholic writers, the intimate + resemblance between human and heavenly love. + </p> + <p> + This distress of mind cast a hue of melancholy over the pleasure the young + Venetian felt in his mistress’ presence. A woman’s instinct has amazing + aptitude for harmony of feeling; it assumes the hue, it vibrates to the + note suggested by her lover. The pungent flavor of coquettish spice is far + indeed from spurring affection so much as this gentle sympathy of + tenderness. The smartness of a coquette too clearly marks opposition; + however transient it is displeasing; but this intimate comprehension shows + a perfect fusion of souls. The hapless Emilio was touched by the unspoken + divination which led the Duchess to pity a fault unknown to her. + </p> + <p> + Massimilla, feeling that her strength lay in the absence of any sensual + side to her love, could allow herself to be expansive; she boldly and + confidently poured out her angelic spirit, she stripped it bare, just as + during that diabolical night, La Tinti had displayed the soft lines of her + body, and her firm, elastic flesh. In Emilio’s eyes there was as it were a + conflict between the saintly love of this white soul and that of the + vehement and muscular Sicilian. + </p> + <p> + The day was spent in long looks following on deep meditations. Each of + them gauged the depths of tender feeling, and found it bottomless; a + conviction that brought fond words to their lips. Modesty, the goddess who + in a moment of forgetfulness with Love, was the mother of Coquettishness, + need not have put her hand before her face as she looked at these lovers. + As a crowning joy, an orgy of happiness, Massimilla pillowed Emilio’s head + in her arms, and now and then ventured to press her lips to his; but only + as a bird dips its beak into the clear waters of a spring, looking round + lest it should be seen. Their fancy worked upon this kiss, as a composer + develops a subject by the endless resources of music, and it produced in + them such tumultuous and vibrating echoes as fevered their blood. + </p> + <p> + The Idea must always be stronger than the Fact, otherwise desire would be + less perfect than satisfaction, and it is in fact the stronger,—it + gives birth to wit. And, indeed, they were perfectly happy; for enjoyment + must always take something off happiness. Married in heaven alone, these + two lovers admired each other in their purest aspect,—that of two + souls incandescent, and united in celestial light, radiant to the eyes + that faith has touched; and, above all, filled with the rapture which the + brush of a Raphael, a Titian, a Murillo, has depicted, and which those who + have ever known it, taste again as they gaze at those paintings. Do not + such peerless spirits scorn the coarser joys lavished by the Sicilian + singer—the material expression of that angelic union? + </p> + <p> + These noble thoughts were in the Prince’s mind as he reposed in heavenly + calm on Massimilla’s cool, soft, white bosom, under the gentle radiance of + her eyes veiled by long, bright lashes; and he gave himself up to this + dream of an ideal orgy. At such a moment, Massimilla was as one of the + Virgin visions seen in dreams, which vanish at cock-crow, but whom we + recognize when we find them again in their realm of glory,—in the + works of some great painters of Heaven. + </p> + <p> + In the evening the lovers went to the theatre. This is the way of Italian + life: love in the morning; music in the evening; the night for sleep. How + far preferable is this existence to that of a country where every one + expends his lungs and strength in politics, without contributing any more, + single-minded, to the progress of affairs than a grain of sand can make a + cloud of dust. Liberty, in those strange lands, consists in the right to + squabble over public concerns, to take care of oneself, to waste time in + patriotic undertakings each more futile than the last, inasmuch as they + all weaken that noble, holy self-concern which is the parent of all great + human achievement. At Venice, on the contrary, love and its myriad ties, + the sweet business of real happiness, fills up all the time. + </p> + <p> + In that country, love is so much a matter of course that the Duchess was + regarded as a wonder; for, in spite of her violent attachment to Emilio, + everybody was confident of her immaculate purity. And women gave their + sincere pity to the poor young man, who was regarded as a victim to the + virtue of his lady-love. At the same time, no one cared to blame the + Duchess, for in Italy religion is a power as much respected as love. + </p> + <p> + Evening after evening Massimilla’s box was the first object of every + opera-glass, and each woman would say to her lover, as she studied the + Duchess and her adorer: + </p> + <p> + “How far have they got?” + </p> + <p> + The lover would examine Emilio, seeking some evidence of success; would + find no expression but that of a pure and dejected passion. And throughout + the house, as they visited from box to box, the men would say to the + ladies: + </p> + <p> + “La Cataneo is not yet Emilio’s.” + </p> + <p> + “She is unwise,” said the old women. “She will tire him out.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Forse!</i>” (Perhaps) the young wives would reply, with the solemn + accent that Italians can infuse into that great word—the answer to + many questions here below. + </p> + <p> + Some women were indignant, thought the whole thing ill-judged, and + declared that it was a misapprehension of religion to allow it to smother + love. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, love that poor Emilio,” said the Signora Vulpato to Massimilla, + as they met on the stairs in going out. + </p> + <p> + “I do love him with all my might,” replied the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + “Then why does not he look happy?” + </p> + <p> + Massimilla’s reply was a little shrug of her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + We in France—France as the growing mania for English proprieties has + made it—can form no idea of the serious interest taken in this + affair by Venetian society. + </p> + <p> + Vendramini alone knew Emilio’s secret, which was carefully kept between + two men who had, for private pleasure, combined their coats of arms with + the motto <i>Non amici, frates</i>. + </p> + <p> + The opening night of the opera season is an event at Venice, as in every + capital in Italy. The <i>Fenice</i> was crowded. + </p> + <p> + The five hours of the night that are spent at the theatre fill so + important a place in Italian life that it is well to give an account of + the customs that have risen from this manner of spending time. + </p> + <p> + The boxes in Italy are unlike those of any other country, inasmuch as that + elsewhere the women go to be seen, and that Italian ladies do not care to + make a show of themselves. Each box is long and narrow, sloping at an + angle to the front and to the passage behind. On each side is a sofa, and + at the end stand two armchairs, one for the mistress of the box, and the + other for a lady friend when she brings one, which she rarely does. Each + lady is in fact too much engaged in her own box to call on others, or to + wish to see them; also no one cares to introduce a rival. An Italian woman + almost always reigns alone in her box; the mothers are not the slaves of + their daughters, the daughters have no mother on their hands; thus there + are no children, no relations to watch and censure and bore, or cut into a + conversation. + </p> + <p> + In front every box is draped in the same way, with the same silk: from the + cornice hang curtains, also all to match; and these remain drawn when the + family to whom the box belongs is in mourning. With very few exceptions, + and those only at Milan, there is no light inside the box; they are + illuminated only from the stage, and from a not very brilliant hanging + lustre which, in spite of protests, has been introduced into the house in + some towns; still, screened by the curtains, they are never very light, + and their arrangement leaves the back of the box so dark that it is very + difficult to see what is going on. + </p> + <p> + The boxes, large enough to accommodate eight or ten persons, are decorated + with handsome silks, the ceilings are painted and ornamented in light and + pleasing colors; the woodwork is gilt. Ices and sorbets are served there, + and sweetmeats; for only the plebeian classes ever have a serious meal. + Each box is freehold property, and of considerable value; some are + estimated at as much as thirty thousand lire; the Litta family at Milan + own three adjoining. These facts sufficiently indicate the importance + attributed to this incident of fashionable life. + </p> + <p> + Conversation reigns supreme in this little apartment, which Stendhal, one + of the most ingenious of modern writers, and a keen student of Italian + manners, has called a boudoir with a window opening on to a pit. The music + and the spectacle are in fact purely accessory; the real interest of the + evening is in the social meeting there, the all-important trivialities of + love that are discussed, the assignations held, the anecdotes and gossip + that creep in. The theatre is an inexpensive meeting-place for a whole + society which is content and amused with studying itself. + </p> + <p> + The men who are admitted take their seats on one of the sofas, in the + order of their arrival. The first comer naturally is next to the mistress + of the box, but when both seats are full, if another visitor comes in, the + one who has sat longest rises, takes his leave and departs. All move up + one place, and so each in turn is next the sovereign. + </p> + <p> + This futile gossip, or serious colloquy, these elegant trivialities of + Italian life, inevitably imply some general intimacy. The lady may be in + full dress or not, as she pleases. She is so completely at home that a + stranger who has been received in her box may call on her next day at her + residence. The foreign visitor cannot at first understand this life of + idle wit, this <i>dolce far niente</i> on a background of music. Only long + custom and keen observation can ever reveal to a foreigner the meaning of + Italian life, which is like the free sky of the south, and where a rich + man will not endure a cloud. A man of rank cares little about the + management of his fortune; he leaves the details to his stewards + (ragionati), who rob and ruin him. He has no instinct for politics, and + they would presently bore him; he lives exclusively for passion, which + fills up all his time; hence the necessity felt by the lady and her lover + for being constantly together; for the great feature of such a life is the + lover, who for five hours is kept under the eye of a woman who has had him + at her feet all day. Thus Italian habits allow of perpetual satisfaction, + and necessitate a constant study of the means fitted to insure it, though + hidden under apparent light-heartedness. + </p> + <p> + It is a beautiful life, but a reckless one, and in no country in the world + are men so often found worn out. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess’ box was on the pit tier—<i>pepiano</i>, as it is called + in Venice; she always sat where the light from the stage fell on her face, + so that her handsome head, softly illuminated, stood out against the dark + background. The Florentine attracted every gaze by her broad, high brow, + as white as snow, crowned with plaits of black hair that gave her a really + royal look; by the refinement of her features, resembling the noble + features of Andrea del Sarto’s heads; by the outline of her face, the + setting of her eyes; and by those velvet eyes themselves, which spoke of + the rapture of a woman dreaming of happiness, still pure though loving, at + once attractive and dignified. + </p> + <p> + Instead of <i>Mose</i>, in which la Tinti was to have appeared with + Genovese, <i>Il Barbiere</i> was given, and the tenor was to sing without + the celebrated prima donna. The manager announced that he had been obliged + to change the opera in consequence of la Tinti’s being ill; and the Duke + was not to be seen in the theatre. + </p> + <p> + Was this a clever trick on the part of the management, to secure two full + houses by bringing out Genovese and Tinti separately, or was Clarina’s + indisposition genuine? While this was open to discussion by others, Emilio + might be better informed; and though the announcement caused him some + remorse, as he remembered the singer’s beauty and vehemence, her absence + and the Duke’s put both the Prince and the Duchess very much at their + ease. + </p> + <p> + And Genovese sang in such a way as to drive out all memories of a night of + illicit love, and to prolong the heavenly joys of this blissful day. Happy + to be alone to receive the applause of the house, the tenor did his best + with the powers which have since achieved European fame. Genovese, then + but three-and-twenty, born at Bergamo, a pupil of Veluti’s and devoted to + his art, a fine man, good-looking, clever in apprehending the spirit of a + part, was already developing into the great artist destined to win fame + and fortune. He had a wild success,—a phrase which is literally + exact only in Italy, where the applause of the house is absolutely + frenzied when a singer procures it enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + Some of the Prince’s friends came to congratulate him on coming into his + title, and to discuss the news. Only last evening la Tinti, taken by the + Duke to the Vulpatos’, had sung there, apparently in health as sound as + her voice was fine; hence her sudden disposition gave rise to much + comment. It was rumored at the Cafe Florian that Genovese was desperately + in love with Clarina; that she was only anxious to avoid his declarations, + and that the manager had tried in vain to induce her to appear with him. + The Austrian General, on the other hand, asserted that it was the Duke who + was ill, that the prima donna was nursing him, and that Genovese had been + commanded to make amends to the public. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess owed this visit from the Austrian General to the fact that a + French physician had come to Venice whom the General wished to introduce + to her. The Prince, seeing Vendramin wandering about the <i>parterre</i>, + went out for a few minutes of confidential talk with his friend, whom he + had not seen for three months; and as they walked round the gangway which + divides the seats in the pit from the lowest tier of boxes, he had an + opportunity of observing Massimilla’s reception of the foreigner. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that Frenchman?” asked the Prince. + </p> + <p> + “A physician sent for by Cataneo, who wants to know how long he is likely + to live,” said Vendramin. “The Frenchman is waiting for Malfatti, with + whom he is to hold a consultation.” + </p> + <p> + Like every Italian woman who is in love, the Duchess kept her eyes fixed + on Emilio; for in that land a woman is so wholly wrapped up in her lover + that it is difficult to detect an expressive glance directed at anybody + else. + </p> + <p> + “Caro,” said the Prince to his friend, “remember I slept at your house + last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you triumphed?” said Vendramin, putting his arm round Emilio’s + waist. + </p> + <p> + “No; but I hope I may some day be happy with Massimilla.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Marco, “then you will be the most envied man on earth. The + Duchess is the most perfect woman in Italy. To me, seeing things as I do + through the dazzling medium of opium, she seems the very highest + expression of art; for nature, without knowing it, has made her a Raphael + picture. Your passion gives no umbrage to Cataneo, who has handed over to + me a thousand crowns, which I am to give to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” added Emilio, “whatever you may hear said, I sleep every night at + your house. Come, for every minute spent away from her, when I might be + with her, is torment.” + </p> + <p> + Emilio took his seat at the back of the box and remained there in silence, + listening to the Duchess, enchanted by her wit and beauty. It was for him, + and not out of vanity, that Massimilla lavished the charms of her + conversation bright with Italian wit, in which sarcasm lashed things but + not persons, laughter attacked nothing that was not laughable, mere + trifles were seasoned with Attic salt. + </p> + <p> + Anywhere else she might have been tiresome. The Italians, an eminently + intelligent race, have no fancy for displaying their talents where they + are not in demand; their chat is perfectly simple and effortless, it never + makes play, as in France, under the lead of a fencing master, each one + flourishing his foil, or, if he has nothing to say, sitting humiliated. + </p> + <p> + Conversation sparkles with a delicate and subtle satire that plays + gracefully with familiar facts; and instead of a compromising epigram an + Italian has a glance or a smile of unutterable meaning. They think—and + they are right—that to be expected to understand ideas when they + only seek enjoyment, is a bore. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, la Vulpato had said to Massimilla: + </p> + <p> + “If you loved him you would not talk so well.” + </p> + <p> + Emilio took no part in the conversation; he listened and gazed. This + reserve might have led foreigners to suppose that the Prince was a man of + no intelligence,—their impression very commonly of an Italian in + love,—whereas he was simply a lover up to his ears in rapture. + Vendramin sat down by Emilio, opposite the Frenchman, who, as the + stranger, occupied the corner facing the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + “Is that gentleman drunk?” said the physician in an undertone to + Massimilla, after looking at Vendramin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied she, simply. + </p> + <p> + In that land of passion, each passion bears its excuse in itself, and + gracious indulgence is shown to every form of error. The Duchess sighed + deeply, and an expression of suppressed pain passed over her features. + </p> + <p> + “You will see strange things in our country, monsieur,” she went on. + “Vendramin lives on opium, as this one lives on love, and that one buries + himself in learning; most young men have a passion for a dancer, as older + men are miserly. We all create some happiness or some madness for + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you all want to divert your minds from some fixed idea, for which + a revolution would be a radical cure,” replied the physician. “The Genoese + regrets his republic, the Milanese pines for his independence, the + Piemontese longs for a constitutional government, the Romagna cries for + liberty—” + </p> + <p> + “Of which it knows nothing,” interrupted the Duchess. “Alas! there are men + in Italy so stupid as to long for your idiotic Charter, which destroys the + influence of woman. Most of my fellow-countrywomen must need read your + French books—useless rhodomontade—” + </p> + <p> + “Useless!” cried the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “Why, monsieur,” the Duchess went on, “what can you find in a book that is + better than what we have in our hearts? Italy is mad.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot see that a people is mad because it wishes to be its own + master,” said the physician. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” exclaimed the Duchess, eagerly, “does not that mean paying + with a great deal of bloodshed for the right of quarreling, as you do, + over crazy ideas?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you approve of despotism?” said the physician. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I not approve of a system of government which, by depriving us + of books and odious politics, leaves men entirely to us?” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought that the Italians were more patriotic,” said the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + Massimilla laughed so slyly that her interlocutor could not distinguish + mockery from serious meaning, nor her real opinion from ironical + criticism. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not a liberal?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven preserve me!” said she. “I can imagine nothing in worse taste than + such opinions in a woman. Could you love a woman whose heart was occupied + by all mankind?” + </p> + <p> + “Those who love are naturally aristocrats,” the Austrian General observed, + with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “As I came into the theatre,” the Frenchman observed, “you were the first + person I saw; and I remarked to his Excellency that if there was a woman + who could personify a nation it was you. But I grieve to discover that, + though you represent its divine beauty, you have not the constitutional + spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you not bound,” said the Duchess, pointing to the ballet now being + danced, “to find all our dancers detestable and our singers atrocious? + Paris and London rob us of all our leading stars. Paris passes judgment on + them, and London pays them. Genovese and la Tinti will not be left to us + for six months—” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture, the Austrian left the box. Vendramin, the Prince, and + the other two Italians exchanged a look and a smile, glancing at the + French physician. He, for a moment, felt doubtful of himself,—a rare + thing in a Frenchman,—fancying he had said or done something + incongruous; but the riddle was immediately solved. + </p> + <p> + “Do you thing it would be judicious,” said Emilio, “if we spoke our mind + in the presence of our masters?” + </p> + <p> + “You are in a land of slaves,” said the Duchess, in a tone and with a + droop of the head which gave her at once the look for which the physician + had sought in vain. “Vendramin,” she went on, speaking so that only the + stranger could hear her, “took to smoking opium, a villainous idea + suggested to him by an Englishman who, for other reasons of his, craved an + easy death—not death as men see it in the form of a skeleton, but + death draped with the frippery you in France call a flag—a maiden + form crowned with flowers or laurels; she appears in a cloud of gunpowder + borne on the flight of a cannon-ball—or else stretched on a bed + between two courtesans; or again, she rises in the steam of a bowl of + punch, or the dazzling vapor of a diamond—but a diamond in the form + of carbon. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever Vendramin chooses, for three Austrian lire, he can be a Venetian + Captain, he can sail in the galleys of the Republic, and conquer the + gilded domes of Constantinople. Then he can lounge on the divans in the + Seraglio among the Sultan’s wives, while the Grand Signor himself is the + slave of the Venetian conqueror. He returns to restore his palazzo with + the spoils of the Ottoman Empire. He can quit the women of the East for + the doubly masked intrigues of his beloved Venetians, and fancy that he + dreads the jealousy which has ceased to exist. + </p> + <p> + “For three zwanziger he can transport himself into the Council of Ten, can + wield there terrible power, and leave the Doges’ Palace to sleep under the + watch of a pair of flashing eyes, or to climb a balcony from which a fair + hand has hung a silken ladder. He can love a woman to whom opium lends + such poetic grace as we women of flesh and blood could never show. + </p> + <p> + “Presently he turns over, and he is face to face with the dreadful frown + of the senator, who holds a dagger. He hears the blade plunged into his + mistress’ heart. She dies smiling on him; for she has saved him. + </p> + <p> + “And she is a happy woman!” added the Duchess, looking at Emilio. + </p> + <p> + “He escapes and flies to command the Dalmatians, to conquer the Illyrian + coast for his beloved Venice. His glory wins him forgiveness, and he + enjoys a life of domestic happiness,—a home, a winter evening, a + young wife and charming children, who pray to San Marco under the care of + an old nurse. Yes, for three francs’ worth of opium he furnishes our empty + arsenal, he watches convoys of merchandise coming in, going to the four + quarters of the world. The forces of modern industry no longer reign in + London, but in his own Venice, where the hanging gardens of Semiramis, the + Temple of Jerusalem, the marvels of Rome, live once more. He adds to the + glories of the middle ages by the labors of steam, by new masterpieces of + art under the protection of Venice, who protected it of old. Monuments and + nations crowd into his little brain; there is room for them all. Empires + and cities and revolutions come and vanish in the course of a few hours, + while Venice alone expands and lives; for the Venice of his dreams is the + empress of the seas. She has two millions of inhabitants, the sceptre of + Italy, the mastery of the Mediterranean and the Indies!” + </p> + <p> + “What an opera is the brain of man! What an unfathomed abyss!—even + to those who, like Gall, have mapped it out,” cried the physician. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Duchess,” said Vendramin, “do not omit the last service that my + elixir will do me. After hearing ravishing voices and imbibing music + through every pore, after experiencing the keenest pleasures and the + fiercest delights of Mahomet’s paradise, I see none but the most terrible + images. I have visions of my beloved Venice full of children’s faces, + distorted, like those of the dying; of women covered with dreadful wounds, + torn and wailing; of men mangled and crushed by the copper sides of + crashing vessels. I begin to see Venice as she is, shrouded in crape, + stripped, robbed, destitute. Pale phantoms wander through her streets! + </p> + <p> + “Already the Austrian soldiers are grinning over me, already my visionary + life is drifting into real life; whereas six months ago real life was the + bad dream, and the life of opium held love and bliss, important affairs + and political interests. Alas! To my grief, I see the dawn over my tomb, + where truth and falsehood mingle in a dubious light, which is neither day + nor darkness, but partakes of both.” + </p> + <p> + “So you see that in this head there is too much patriotism,” said the + Prince, laying his hand on the thick black curls that fell on Vendramin’s + brow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if he loves us he will give up his dreadful opium!” said Massimilla. + </p> + <p> + “I will cure your friend,” said the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “Achieve that, and we shall love you,” said the Duchess. “But if on your + return to France you do not calumniate us, we shall love you even better. + The hapless Italians are too much crushed by foreign dominion to be fairly + judged—for we have known yours,” she added, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “It was more generous than Austria’s,” said the physician, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Austria squeezes and gives us nothing back, and you squeeze to enlarge + and beautify our towns; you stimulated us by giving us an army. You + thought you could keep Italy, and they expect to lose it—there lies + the difference. + </p> + <p> + “The Austrians provide us with a sort of ease that is as stultifying and + heavy as themselves, while you overwhelmed us by your devouring energy. + But whether we die of tonics or of narcotics, what does it matter? It is + death all the same, Monsieur le docteur.” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy Italy! In my eyes she is like a beautiful woman whom France ought + to protect by making her his mistress,” exclaimed the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “But you could not love us as we wish to be loved,” said the Duchess, + smiling. “We want to be free. But the liberty I crave is not your ignoble + and middle-class liberalism, which would kill all art. I ask,” said she, + in a tone that thrilled through the box,—“that is to say, I would + ask,—that each Italian republic should be resuscitated, with its + nobles, its citizens, its special privileges for each caste. I would have + the old aristocratic republics once more with their intestine warfare and + rivalry that gave birth to the noblest works of art, that created + politics, that raised up the great princely houses. By extending the + action of one government over a vast expanse of country it is frittered + down. The Italian republics were the glory of Europe in the middle ages. + Why has Italy succumbed when the Swiss, who were her porters, have + triumphed?” + </p> + <p> + “The Swiss republics,” said the doctor, “were worthy housewives, busy with + their own little concerns, and neither having any cause for envying + another. Your republics were haughty queens, preferring to sell themselves + rather than bow to a neighbor; they fell too low ever to rise again. The + Guelphs are triumphant.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not pity us too much,” said the Duchess, in a voice that made the two + friends start. “We are still supreme. Even in the depths of her misfortune + Italy governs through the choicer spirits that abound in her cities. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately the greater number of her geniuses learn to understand life + so quickly that they lie sunk in poverty-stricken pleasure. As for those + who are willing to play the melancholy game for immortality, they know how + to get at your gold and to secure your praises. Ay, in this land—pitied + for its fallen state by traveled simpletons and hypocritical poets, while + its character is traduced by politicians—in this land, which appears + so languid, powerless, and ruinous, worn out rather than old, there are + puissant brains in every branch of life, genius throwing out vigorous + shoots as an old vine-stock throws out canes productive of delicious + fruit. This race of ancient rulers still gives birth to kings—Lagrange, + Volta, Rasori, Canova, Rossini, Bartolini, Galvani, Vigano, Beccaria, + Cicognara, Corvetto. These Italians are masters of the scientific peaks on + which they stand, or of the arts to which they devote themselves. To say + nothing of the singers and executants who captivate Europe by their + amazing perfections: Taglioni, Paganini, and the rest. Italy still rules + the world which will always come to worship her. + </p> + <p> + “Go to Florian’s to-night; you will find in Capraja one of our cleverest + men, but in love with obscurity. No one but the Duke, my master, + understands music so thoroughly as he does; indeed he is known here as <i>il + Fanatico</i>.” + </p> + <p> + After sitting a few minutes listening to the eager war of words between + the physician and the Duchess, who showed much ingenious eloquence, the + Italians, one by one, took leave, and went off to tell the news in every + box, that la Cataneo, who was regarded as a woman of great wit and spirit, + had, on the question of Italy, defeated a famous French doctor. This was + the talk of the evening. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the Frenchman found himself alone with the Duchess and the + Prince, he understood that they were to be left together, and took leave. + Massimilla bowed with a bend of the neck that placed him at such a + distance that this salute might have secured her the man’s hatred, if he + could have ignored the charm of her eloquence and beauty. + </p> + <p> + Thus at the end of the opera, Emilio and Massimilla were alone, and + holding hands they listened together to the duet that finishes <i>Il + Barbiere</i>. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing but music to express love,” said the Duchess, moved by + that song as of two rapturous nightingales. + </p> + <p> + A tear twinkled in Emilio’s eye; Massimilla, sublime in such beauty as + beams in Raphael’s Saint-Cecilia, pressed his hand, their knees touched, + there was, as it seemed, the blossom of a kiss on her lips. The Prince saw + on her blushing face a glow of joy like that which on a summer’s day + shines down on the golden harvest; his heart seemed bursting with the tide + of blood that rushed to it. He fancied that he could hear an angelic + chorus of voices, and he would have given his life to feel the fire of + passion which at this hour last night had filled him for the odious + Clarina; but he was at the moment hardly conscious of having a body. + </p> + <p> + Massimilla, much distressed, ascribed this tear, in her guilelessness, to + the remark she had made as to Genovese’s cavatina. + </p> + <p> + “But, <i>carino</i>,” said she in Emilio’s ear, “are not you as far better + than every expression of love, as cause is superior to effect?” + </p> + <p> + After handing the Duchess to her gondola, Emilio waited for Vendramin to + go to Florian’s. + </p> + <p> + The Cafe Florian at Venice is a quite undefinable institution. Merchants + transact their business there, and lawyers meet to talk over their most + difficult cases. Florian’s is at once an Exchange, a green-room, a + newspaper office, a club, a confessional,—and it is so well adapted + to the needs of the place that some Venetian women never know what their + husband’s business may be, for, if they have a letter to write, they go to + write it there. + </p> + <p> + Spies, of course, abound at Florian’s; but their presence only sharpens + Venetian wits, which may here exercise the discretion once so famous. A + great many persons spend the whole day at Florian’s; in fact, to some men + Florian’s is so much a matter of necessity, that between the acts of an + opera they leave the ladies in their boxes and take a turn to hear what is + going on there. + </p> + <p> + While the two friends were walking in the narrow streets of the Merceria + they did not speak, for there were too many people; but as they turned + into the Piazzi di San Marco, the Prince said: + </p> + <p> + “Do not go at once to the cafe. Let us walk about; I want to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + He related his adventure with Clarina and explained his position. To + Vendramin Emilio’s despair seemed so nearly allied to madness that he + promised to cure him completely if only he would give him <i>carte blanche</i> + to deal with Massimilla. This ray of hope came just in time to save Emilio + from drowning himself that night; for, indeed, as he remembered the + singer, he felt a horrible wish to go back to her. + </p> + <p> + The two friends then went to an inner room at Florian’s, where they + listened to the conversation of some of the superior men of the town, who + discoursed the subjects of the day. The most interesting of these were, in + the first place, the eccentricities of Lord Byron, of whom the Venetians + made great sport; then Cataneo’s attachment for la Tinti, for which no + reason could be assigned after twenty different causes had been suggested; + then Genovese’s debut; finally, the tilting match between the Duchess and + the French doctor. Just as the discussion became vehemently musical, Duke + Cataneo made his appearance. He bowed very courteously to Emilio, which + seemed so natural that no one noticed it, and Emilio bowed gravely in + return. Cataneo looked round to see if there was anybody he knew, + recognized Vendramin and greeted him, bowed to his banker, a rich + patrician, and finally to the man who happened to be speaking,—a + celebrated musical fanatic, a friend of the Comtesse Albrizzi. Like some + others who frequented Florian’s, his mode of life was absolutely unknown, + so carefully did he conceal it. Nothing was known about him but what he + chose to tell. + </p> + <p> + This was Capraja, the nobleman whom the Duchess had mentioned to the + French doctor. This Venetian was one of a class of dreamers whose powerful + minds divine everything. He was an eccentric theorist, and cared no more + for celebrity than for a broken pipe. + </p> + <p> + His life was in accordance with his ideas. Capraja made his appearance at + about ten every morning under the <i>Procuratie</i>, without anyone + knowing whence he came. He lounged about Venice, smoking cigars. He + regularly went to the Fenice, sitting in the pit-stalls, and between the + acts went round to Florian’s, where he took three or four cups of coffee a + day; and he ended the evening at the cafe, never leaving it till about two + in the morning. Twelve hundred francs a year paid all his expenses; he ate + but one meal a day at an eating-house in the Merceria, where the cook had + his dinner ready for him at a fixed hour, on a little table at the back of + the shop; the pastry-cook’s daughter herself prepared his stuffed oysters, + provided him with cigars, and took care of his money. By his advice, this + girl, though she was very handsome, would never countenance a lover, lived + very steadily, and still wore the old Venetian costume. This purely-bred + Venetian girl was twelve years old when Capraja first took an interest in + her, and six-and-twenty when he died. She was very fond of him, though he + had never even kissed her hand or her brow, and she knew nothing whatever + of the poor old nobleman’s intentions with regard to her. The girl had at + last as complete control of the old gentleman as a mother has of her + child; she would tell him when he wanted clean linen; next day he would + come without a shirt, and she would give him a clean one to put on in the + morning. + </p> + <p> + He never looked at a woman either in the theatre or out walking. Though he + was the descendant of an old patrician family he never thought his rank + worth mentioning. But at night, after twelve, he awoke from his apathy, + talked, and showed that he had seen and heard everything. This peaceful + Diogenes, quite incapable of explaining his tenets, half a Turk, half a + Venetian, was thick-set, short, and fat; he had a Doge’s sharp nose, an + inquisitive, satirical eye, and a discreet though smiling mouth. + </p> + <p> + When he died, it became known that he had lived in a little den near San + Benedetto. He had two million francs invested in the funds of various + countries of Europe, and had left the interest untouched ever since he had + first bought the securities in 1814, so the sum was now enormous, alike + from the increased value of the capital and the accumulated interest. All + this money was left to the pastry-cook’s daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Genovese,” he was saying, “will do wonders. Whether he really understands + the great end of music, or acts only on instinct, I know not; but he is + the first singer who ever satisfied me. I shall not die without hearing a + <i>cadenza</i> executed as I have heard them in my dreams, waking with a + feeling as though the sounds were floating in the air. The clear <i>cadenza</i> + is the highest achievement of art; it is the arabesque, decorating the + finest room in the house; a shade too little and it is nothing, a touch + too much and all is confusion. Its task is to awake in the soul a thousand + dormant ideas; it flies up and sweeps through space, scattering seeds in + the air to be taken in by our ears and blossom in our heart. Believe me, + in painting his Saint-Cecilia, Raphael gave the preference to music over + poetry. And he was right; music appeals to the heart, whereas writing is + addressed to the intellect; it communicates ideas directly, like a + perfume. The singer’s voice impinges not on the mind, not on the memory of + happiness, but on the first principle of thought; it stirs the elements of + sensation. + </p> + <p> + “It is a grievous thing that the populace should have compelled musicians + to adapt their expression to words, to factitious emotions; but then they + were not otherwise intelligible to the vulgar. Thus the <i>cadenza</i> is + the only thing left to the lovers of pure music, the devotees of + unfettered art. To-night, as I listened to that last <i>cavatina</i>, I + felt as if I were beckoned by a fair creature whose look alone had made me + young again. The enchantress placed a crown on my brow, and led me to the + ivory door through which we pass to the mysterious land of day-dreams. I + owe it to Genovese that I escaped for a few minutes from this old husk—minutes, + short no doubt by the clock, but very long by the record of sensation. For + a brief spring-time, scented with roses, I was young again—and + beloved!” + </p> + <p> + “But you are mistaken, <i>caro</i> Capraja,” said the Duke. “There is in + music an effect yet more magical than that of the <i>cadenza</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” asked Capraja. + </p> + <p> + “The unison of two voices, or of a voice and a violin,—the + instrument which has tones most nearly resembling those of the human + voice,” replied Cataneo. “This perfect concord bears us on to the very + heart of life, on the tide of elements which can resuscitate rapture and + carry man up to the centre of the luminous sphere where his mind can + command the whole universe. You still need a <i>thema</i>, Capraja, but + the pure element is enough for me. You need that the current should flow + through the myriad canals of the machine to fall in dazzling cascades, + while I am content with the pure tranquil pool. My eye gazes across a lake + without a ripple. I can embrace the infinite.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak no more, Cataneo,” said Capraja, haughtily. “What! Do you fail to + see the fairy, who, in her swift rush through the sparkling atmosphere, + collects and binds with the golden thread of harmony, the gems of melody + she smilingly sheds on us? Have you ever felt the touch of her wand, as + she says to Curiosity, ‘Awake!’ The divinity rises up radiant from the + depths of the brain; she flies to her store of wonders and fingers them + lightly as an organist touches the keys. Suddenly, up starts Memory, + bringing us the roses of the past, divinely preserved and still fresh. The + mistress of our youth revives, and strokes the young man’s hair. Our + heart, too full, overflows; we see the flowery banks of the torrent of + love. Every burning bush we ever knew blazes afresh, and repeats the + heavenly words we once heard and understood. The voice rolls on; it + embraces in its rapid turns those fugitive horizons, and they shrink away; + they vanish, eclipsed by newer and deeper joys—those of an + unrevealed future, to which the fairy points as she returns to the blue + heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “And you,” retorted Cataneo, “have you never seen the direct ray of a star + opening the vistas above; have you never mounted on that beam which guides + you to the sky, to the heart of the first causes which move the worlds?” + </p> + <p> + To their hearers, the Duke and Capraja were playing a game of which the + premises were unknown. + </p> + <p> + “Genovese’s voice thrills through every fibre,” said Capraja. + </p> + <p> + “And la Tinti’s fires the blood,” replied the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “What a paraphrase of happy love is that <i>cavatina</i>!” Capraja went + on. “Ah! Rossini was young when he wrote that interpretation of + effervescent ecstasy. My heart filled with renewed blood, a thousand + cravings tingled in my veins. Never have sounds more angelic delivered me + more completely from my earthly bonds! Never did the fairy wave more + beautiful arms, smile more invitingly, lift her tunic more cunningly to + display an ankle, raising the curtain that hides my other life!” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, my old friend,” replied Cataneo, “you shall ride on the back + of a dazzling, white swan, who will show you the loveliest land there is; + you shall see the spring-time as children see it. Your heart shall open to + the radiance of a new sun; you shall sleep on crimson silk, under the gaze + of a Madonna; you shall feel like a happy lover gently kissed by a nymph + whose bare feet you still may see, but who is about to vanish. That swan + will be the voice of Genovese, if he can unite it to its Leda, the voice + of Clarina. To-morrow night we are to hear <i>Mose</i>, the grandest opera + produced by Italy’s greatest genius.” + </p> + <p> + All present left the conversation to the Duke and Capraja, not wishing to + be the victims of mystification. Only Vendramin and the French doctor + listened to them for a few minutes. The opium-smoker understood these + poetic flights; he had the key of the palace where those two sensuous + imaginations were wandering. The doctor, too, tried to understand, and he + understood, for he was one of the Pleiades of genius belonging to the + Paris school of medicine, from which a true physician comes out as much a + metaphysician as an accomplished analyst. + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand them?” said Emilio to Vendramin as they left the cafe + at two in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear boy,” said Vendramin, taking Emilio home with him. “Those + two men are of the legion of unearthly spirits to whom it is given here + below to escape from the wrappings of the flesh, who can fly on the + shoulders of the queen of witchcraft up to the blue empyrean where the + sublime marvels are wrought of the intellectual life; they, by the power + of art, can soar whither your immense love carries you, whither opium + transports me. Then none can understand them but those who are like them. + </p> + <p> + “I, who can inspire my soul by such base means, who can pack a hundred + years of life into a single night, I can understand those lofty spirits + when they talk of that glorious land, deemed a realm of chimeras by some + who think themselves wise; but the realm of reality to us whom they think + mad. Well, the Duke and Capraja, who were acquainted at Naples,—where + Cataneo was born,—are mad about music.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is that strange system that Capraja was eager to explain to the + Duke? Did you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Vendramin. “Capraja’s great friend is a musician from + Cremona, lodging in the Capello palace, who has a theory that sounds meet + with an element in man, analogous to that which produces ideas. According + to him, man has within him keys acted on by sound, and corresponding to + his nerve-centres, where ideas and sensations take their rise. Capraja, + who regards the arts as an assemblage of means by which he can harmonize, + in himself, all external nature with another mysterious nature that he + calls the inner life, shares all ideas of this instrument-maker, who at + this moment is composing an opera. + </p> + <p> + “Conceive of a sublime creation, wherein the marvels of the visible + universe are reproduced with immeasurable grandeur, lightness, swiftness, + and extension; wherein sensation is infinite, and whither certain + privileged natures, possessed of divine powers, are able to penetrate, and + you will have some notion of the ecstatic joys of which Cataneo and + Capraja were speaking; both poets, each for himself alone. Only, in + matters of the intellect, as soon as a man can rise above the sphere where + plastic art is produced by a process of imitation, and enter into that + transcendental sphere of abstractions where everything is understood as an + elementary principle, and seen in the omnipotence of results, that man is + no longer intelligible to ordinary minds.” + </p> + <p> + “You have thus explained my love for Massimilla,” said Emilio. “There is + in me, my friend, a force which awakes under the fire of her look, at her + lightest touch, and wafts me to a world of light where effects are + produced of which I dare not speak. It has seemed to me often that the + delicate tissue of her skin has stamped flowers on mine as her hand lies + on my hand. Her words play on those inner keys in me, of which you spoke. + Desire excites my brain, stirring that invisible world, instead of + exciting my passive flesh; the air seems red and sparkling, unknown + perfumes of indescribable strength relax my sinews, roses wreathe my + temples, and I feel as though my blood were escaping through opened + arteries, so complete is my inanition.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the effect on me of smoking opium,” replied Vendramin. + </p> + <p> + “Then do you wish to die?” cried Emilio, in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “With Venice!” said Vendramin, waving his hand in the direction of San + Marco. “Can you see a single pinnacle or spire that stands straight? Do + you not perceive that the sea is claiming its prey?” + </p> + <p> + The Prince bent his head; he dared no more speak to his friend of love. + </p> + <p> + To know what a free country means, you must have traveled in a conquered + land. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the Palazzo Vendramin, they saw a gondola moored at the + water-gate. The Prince put his arm round Vendramin and clasped him + affectionately, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Good-night to you, my dear fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “What! a woman? for me, whose only love is Venice?” exclaimed Marco. + </p> + <p> + At this instant the gondolier, who was leaning against a column, + recognizing the man he was to look out for, murmured in Emilio’s ear: + </p> + <p> + “The Duchess, monseigneur.” + </p> + <p> + Emilio sprang into the gondola, where he was seized in a pair of soft arms—an + embrace of iron—and dragged down on to the cushions, where he felt + the heaving bosom of an ardent woman. And then he was no more Emilio, but + Clarina’s lover; for his ideas and feelings were so bewildering that he + yielded as if stupefied by her first kiss. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive this trick, my beloved,” said the Sicilian. “I shall die if you + do not come with me.” + </p> + <p> + And the gondola flew over the secret water. + </p> + <p> + At half-past seven on the following evening, the spectators were again in + their places in the theatre, excepting that those in the pit always took + their chances of where they might sit. Old Capraja was in Cataneo’s box. + </p> + <p> + Before the overture the Duke paid a call on the Duchess; he made a point + of standing behind her and leaving the front seat to Emilio next the + Duchess. He made a few trivial remarks, without sarcasm or bitterness, and + with as polite a manner as if he were visiting a stranger. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of his efforts to seem amiable and natural, the Prince could + not control his expression, which was deeply anxious. Bystanders would + have ascribed such a change in his usually placid features to jealousy. + The Duchess no doubt shared Emilio’s feelings; she looked gloomy and was + evidently depressed. The Duke, uncomfortable enough between two sulky + people, took advantage of the French doctor’s entrance to slip away. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Cataneo to his physician before dropping the curtain over + the entrance to the box, “you will hear to-night a grand musical poem, not + easy of comprehension at a first hearing. But in leaving you with the + Duchess I know that you can have no more competent interpreter, for she is + my pupil.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, like the Duke, was struck by the expression stamped on the + faces of the lovers, a look of pining despair. + </p> + <p> + “Then does an Italian opera need a guide to it?” he asked Massimilla, with + a smile. + </p> + <p> + Recalled by this question to her duties as mistress of the box, the + Duchess tried to chase away the clouds that darkened her brow, and + replied, with eager haste, to open a conversation in which she might vent + her irritation:— + </p> + <p> + “This is not so much an opera, monsieur,” said she, “as an oratorio—a + work which is in fact not unlike a most magnificent edifice, and I shall + with pleasure be your guide. Believe me, it will not be too much to give + all your mind to our great Rossini, for you need to be at once a poet and + a musician to appreciate the whole bearing of such a work. + </p> + <p> + “You belong to a race whose language and genius are too practical for it + to enter into music without an effort; but France is too intellectual not + to learn to love it and cultivate it, and to succeed in that as in + everything else. Also, it must be acknowledged that music, as created by + Lulli, Rameau, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Cimarosa, Paisiello, and Rossini, + and as it will be carried on by the great geniuses of the future, is a new + art, unknown to former generations; they had indeed no such variety of + instruments on which the flowers of melody now blossom as on some rich + soil. + </p> + <p> + “So novel an art demands study in the public, study of a kind that may + develop the feelings to which music appeals. That sentiment hardly exists + as yet among you—a nation given up to philosophical theories, to + analysis and discussion, and always torn by civil disturbances. Modern + music demands perfect peace; it is the language of loving and sentimental + souls, inclined to lofty emotional aspiration. + </p> + <p> + “That language, a thousand times fuller than the language of words, is to + speech and ideas what the thought is to its utterance; it arouses + sensations and ideas in their primitive form, in that part of us where + sensations and ideas have their birth, but leaves them as they are in each + of us. That power over our inmost being is one of the grandest facts in + music. All other arts present to the mind a definite creation; those of + music are indefinite—infinite. We are compelled to accept the ideas + of the poet, the painter’s picture, the sculptor’s statue; but music each + one can interpret at the will of his sorrow or his gladness, his hope or + his despair. While other arts restrict our mind by fixing it on a + predestined object, music frees it to roam over all nature which it alone + has the power of expressing. You shall hear how I interpret Rossini’s <i>Mose</i>.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned across to the Frenchman to speak to him, without being + overheard. + </p> + <p> + “Moses is the liberator of an enslaved race!” said she. “Remember that, + and you will see with what religious hope the whole house will listen to + the prayer of the rescued Hebrews, with what a thunder of applause it will + respond!” + </p> + <p> + As the leader raised his bow, Emilio flung himself into a back seat. The + Duchess pointed out the place he had left, for the physician to take it. + But the Frenchman was far more curious to know what had gone wrong between + the lovers than to enter the halls of music built up by the man whom all + Italy was applauding—for it was the day of Rossini’s triumph in his + own country. He was watching the Duchess, and she was talking with a + feverish excitement. She reminded him of the Niobe he had admired at + Florence: the same dignity in woe, the same physical control; and yet her + soul shone though, in the warm flush of her cheeks; and her eyes, where + anxiety was disguised under a flash of pride, seemed to scorch the tears + away by their fire. Her suppressed grief seemed calmer when she looked at + Emilio, who never took his eyes off her; it was easy to see that she was + trying to mollify some fierce despair. The state of her feelings gave a + certain loftiness to her mind. + </p> + <p> + Like most women when under the stress of some unusual agitation, she + overstepped her ordinary limitations and assumed something of the + Pythoness, though still remaining calm and beautiful; for it was the form + of her thoughts that was wrung with desperation, not the features of her + face. And perhaps she wanted to shine with all her wit to lend some charm + to life and detain her lover from death. + </p> + <p> + When the orchestra had given out the three chords in C major, placed at + the opening by the composer to announce that the overture will be sung—for + the real overture is the great movement beginning with this stern attack, + and ending only when light appears at the command of Moses—the + Duchess could not control a little spasmodic start, that showed how + entirely the music was in accordance with her concealed distress. + </p> + <p> + “Those three chords freeze the blood,” said she. “They announce trouble. + Listen attentively to this introduction; the terrible lament of a nation + stricken by the hand of God. What wailing! The King, the Queen, their + first-born son, all the dignitaries of the kingdom are sighing; they are + wounded in their pride, in their conquests; checked in their avarice. Dear + Rossini! you have done well to throw this bone to gnaw to the <i>Tedeschi</i>, + who declared we had no harmony, no science! + </p> + <p> + “Now you will hear the ominous melody the maestro has engrafted on to this + profound harmonic composition, worthy to compare with the most elaborate + structures of the Germans, but never fatiguing or tiresome. + </p> + <p> + “You French, who carried through such a bloodthirsty revolution, who + crushed your aristocracy under the paw of the lion mob, on the day when + this oratorio is performed in your capital, you will understand this + glorious dirge of the victims on whom God is avenging his chosen people. + None but an Italian could have written this pregnant and inexhaustible + theme—truly Dantesque. Do you think that it is nothing to have such + a dream of vengeance, even for a moment? Handel, Sebastian Bach, all you + old German masters, nay, even you, great Beethoven, on your knees! Here is + the queen of arts, Italy triumphant!” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess had spoken while the curtain was being raised. And now the + physician heard the sublime symphony with which the composer introduces + the great Biblical drama. It is to express the sufferings of a whole + nation. Suffering is uniform in its expression, especially physical + suffering. Thus, having instinctively felt, like all men of genius, that + here there must be no variety of idea, the musician, having hit on his + leading phrase, has worked it out in various keys, grouping the masses and + the dramatis personae to take up the theme through modulations and + cadences of admirable structure. In such simplicity is power. + </p> + <p> + “The effect of this strain, depicting the sensations of night and cold in + a people accustomed to live in the bright rays of the sun, and sung by the + people and their princes, is most impressive. There is something + relentless in that slow phrase of music; it is cold and sinister, like an + iron bar wielded by some celestial executioner, and dropping in regular + rhythm on the limbs of all his victims. As we hear it passing from C minor + into G minor, returning to C and again to the dominant G, starting afresh + and <i>fortissimo</i> on the tonic B flat, drifting into F major and back + to C minor, and in each key in turn more ominously terrible, chill, and + dark, we are compelled at last to enter into the impression intended by + the composer.” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman was, in fact, deeply moved when all this united sorrow + exploded in the cry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O Nume d’Israel, + Se brami in liberta + Il popol tuo fedel, + Di lui di noi pieta!” + </pre> + <p> + (O God of Israel, if thou wouldst see thy faithful people free, have mercy + on them, and on us.) + </p> + <p> + “Never was a grander synthesis composed of natural effects or a more + perfect idealization of nature. In a great national disaster, each one for + a long time bewails himself alone; then, from out of the mass, rises up, + here and there, a more emphatic and vehement cry of anguish; finally, when + the misery has fallen on all, it bursts forth like a tempest. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as they all recognize a common grievance, the dull murmurs of the + people become cries of impatience. Rossini has proceeded on this + hypothesis. After the outcry in C major, Pharoah sings his grand + recitative: <i>Mano ultrice di un Dio</i> (Avenging hand of God), after + which the original subject is repeated with more vehement expression. All + Egypt appeals to Moses for help.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess had taken advantage of the pause for the entrance of Moses and + Aaron to give this interpretation of that fine introduction. + </p> + <p> + “Let them weep!” she added passionately. “They have done much ill. Expiate + your sins, Egyptians, expiate the crimes of your maddened Court! With what + amazing skill has this great painter made use of all the gloomy tones of + music, of all that is saddest on the musical palette! What creepy + darkness! what a mist! Is not your very spirit in mourning? Are you not + convinced of the reality of the blackness that lies over the land? Do you + not feel that Nature is wrapped in the deepest shades? There are no + palm-trees, no Egyptian palaces, no landscape. And what a healing to your + soul will the deeply religious strain be of the heaven-sent Healer who + will stay this cruel plague! How skilfully is everything wrought up to end + in that glorious invocation of Moses to God. + </p> + <p> + “By a learned elaboration, which Capraja could explain to you, this appeal + to heaven is accompanied by brass instruments only; it is that which gives + it such a solemn, religious cast. And not merely is the artifice fine in + its place; note how fertile in resource is genius. Rossini has derived + fresh beauty from the difficulty he himself created. He has the strings in + reserve to express daylight when it succeeds to the darkness, and thus + produces one of the greatest effects ever achieved in music. + </p> + <p> + “Till this inimitable genius showed the way never was such a result + obtained with mere <i>recitative</i>. We have not, so far, had an air or a + duet. The poet has relied on the strength of the idea, on the vividness of + his imagery, and the realism of the declamatory passages. This scene of + despair, this darkness that may be felt, these cries of anguish,—the + whole musical picture is as fine as your great Poussin’s <i>Deluge</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Moses waved his staff, and it was light. + </p> + <p> + “Here, monsieur, does not the music vie with the sun, whose splendor it + has borrowed, with nature, whose phenomena it expresses in every detail?” + the Duchess went on, in an undertone. “Art here reaches its climax; no + musician can get beyond this. Do not you hear Egypt waking up after its + long torpor? Joy comes in with the day. In what composition, ancient or + modern, will you find so grand a passage? The greatest gladness in + contrast to the deepest woe! What exclamations! What gleeful notes! The + oppressed spirit breathes again. What delirium in the <i>tremolo</i> of + the orchestra! What a noble <i>tutti</i>! This is the rejoicing of a + delivered nation. Are you not thrilled with joy?” + </p> + <p> + The physician, startled by the contrast, was, in fact, clapping his hands, + carried away by admiration for one of the finest compositions of modern + music. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Brava la Doni!</i>” said Vendramin, who had heard the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + “Now the introduction is ended,” said she. “You have gone through a great + sensation,” she added, turning to the Frenchman. “Your heart is beating; + in the depths of your imagination you have a splendid sunrise, flooding + with light a whole country that before was cold and dark. Now, would you + know the means by which the musician has worked, so as to admire him + to-morrow for the secrets of his craft after enjoying the results + to-night? What do you suppose produces this effect of daylight—so + sudden, so complicated, and so complete? It consists of a simple chord of + C, constantly reiterated, varied only by the chord of 4-6. This reveals + the magic of his touch. To show you the glory of light he has worked by + the same means that he used to represent darkness and sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “This dawn in imagery is, in fact, absolutely the same as the natural + dawn; for light is one and the same thing everywhere, always alike in + itself, the effects varying only with the objects it falls on. Is it not + so? Well, the musician has taken for the fundamental basis of his music, + for its sole <i>motif</i>, a simple chord in C. The sun first sheds its + light on the mountain-tops and then in the valleys. In the same way the + chord is first heard on the treble string of the violins with boreal + mildness; it spreads through the orchestra, it awakes the instruments one + by one, and flows among them. Just as light glides from one thing to the + next, giving them color, the music moves on, calling out each rill of + harmony till all flow together in the <i>tutti</i>. + </p> + <p> + “The violins, silent until now, give the signal with their tender <i>tremolo</i>, + softly <i>agitato</i> like the first rays of morning. That light, cheerful + movement, which caresses the soul, is cleverly supported by chords in the + bass, and by a vague <i>fanfare</i> on the trumpets, restricted to their + lowest notes, so as to give a vivid idea of the last cool shadows that + linger in the valleys while the first warm rays touch the heights. Then + all the wind is gradually added to strengthen the general harmony. The + voices come in with sighs of delight and surprise. At last the brass + breaks out, the trumpets sound. Light, the source of all harmony, + inundates all nature; every musical resource is produced with a + turbulence, a splendor, to compare with that of the Eastern sun. Even the + triangle, with its reiterated C, reminds us by its shrill accent and + playful rhythm of the song of early birds. + </p> + <p> + “Thus the same key, freshly treated by the master’s hand, expresses the + joy of all nature, while it soothes the grief it uttered before. + </p> + <p> + “There is the hall-mark of the great genius: Unity. It is the same but + different. In one and the same phrase we find a thousand various feelings + of woe, the misery of a nation. In one and the same chord we have all the + various incidents of awakening nature, every expression of the nation’s + joy. These two tremendous passages are soldered into one by the prayer to + an ever-living God, author of all things, of that woe and that gladness + alike. Now is not that introduction by itself a grand poem?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed,” said the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “Next comes a quintette such as Rossini can give us. If he was ever + justified in giving vent to that flowery, voluptuous grace for which + Italian music is blamed, is it not in this charming movement in which each + person expresses joy? The enslaved people are delivered, and yet a passion + in peril is fain to moan. Pharaoh’s son loves a Hebrew woman, and she must + leave him. What gives its ravishing charm to this quintette is the return + to the homelier feelings of life after the grandiose picture of two + stupendous and national emotions:—general misery, general joy, + expressed with the magic force stamped on them by divine vengeance and + with the miraculous atmosphere of the Bible narrative. Now, was not I + right?” added Massimilla, as the noble <i>sretto</i> came to a close. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Voci di giubilo, + D’ in’orno eccheggino, + Di pace l’ Iride + Per noi spunto.” + </pre> + <p> + (Cries of joy sound about us. The rainbow of peace dawns upon us.) + </p> + <p> + “How ingeniously the composer has constructed this passage!” she went on, + after waiting for a reply. “He begins with a solo on the horn, of divine + sweetness, supported by <i>arpeggios</i> on the harps; for the first + voices to be heard in this grand concerted piece are those of Moses and + Aaron returning thanks to the true God. Their strain, soft and solemn, + reverts to the sublime ideas of the invocation, and mingles, nevertheless, + with the joy of the heathen people. This transition combines the heavenly + and the earthly in a way which genius alone could invent, giving the <i>andante</i> + of this quintette a glow of color that I can only compare to the light + thrown by Titian on his Divine Persons. Did you observe the exquisite + interweaving of the voices? the clever entrances by which the composer has + grouped them round the main idea given out by the orchestra? the learned + progressions that prepare us for the festal <i>allegro</i>? Did you not + get a glimpse, as it were, of dancing groups, the dizzy round of a whole + nation escaped from danger? And when the clarionet gives the signal for + the <i>stretto</i>,—‘<i>Voci di giubilo</i>,’—so brilliant and + gay, was not your soul filled with the sacred pyrrhic joy of which David + speaks in the Psalms, ascribing it to the hills?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it would make a delightful dance tune,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “French! French! always French!” exclaimed the Duchess, checked in her + exultant mood by this sharp thrust. “Yes; you would be capable of taking + that wonderful burst of noble and dainty rejoicing and turning it into a + rigadoon. Sublime poetry finds no mercy in your eyes. The highest genius,—saints, + kings, disasters,—all that is most sacred must pass under the rods + of caricature. And the vulgarizing of great music by turning it into a + dance tune is to caricature it. With you, wit kills soul, as argument + kills reason.” + </p> + <p> + They all sat in silence through the <i>recitative</i> of Osiride and + Membrea, who plot to annul the order given by Pharaoh for the departure of + the Hebrews. + </p> + <p> + “Have I vexed you?” asked the physician to the Duchess. “I should be in + despair. Your words are like a magic wand. They unlock the pigeon-holes of + my brain, and let out new ideas, vivified by this sublime music.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied she, “you have praised our great composer after your own + fashion. Rossini will be a success with you, for the sake of his witty and + sensual gifts. Let us hope that he may find some noble souls, in love with + the ideal—which must exist in your fruitful land,—to + appreciate the sublimity, the loftiness, of such music. Ah, now we have + the famous duet, between Elcia and Osiride!” she exclaimed, and she went + on, taking advantage of the triple salvo of applause which hailed la + Tinti, as she made her first appearance on the stage. + </p> + <p> + “If la Tinti has fully understood the part of Elcia, you will hear the + frenzied song of a woman torn by her love for her people, and her passion + for one of their oppressors, while Osiride, full of mad adoration for his + beautiful vassal, tries to detain her. The opera is built up as much on + that grand idea as on that of Pharaoh’s resistance to the power of God and + of liberty; you must enter into it thoroughly or you will not understand + this stupendous work. + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding the disfavor you show to the dramas invented by our <i>libretto</i> + writers, you must allow me to point out the skill with which this one is + constructed. The antithesis required in every fine work, and eminently + favorable to music, is well worked out. What can be finer than a whole + nation demanding liberty, held in bondage by bad faith, upheld by God, and + piling marvel on marvel to gain freedom? What more dramatic than the + Prince’s love for a Hebrew woman, almost justifying treason to the + oppressor’s power? + </p> + <p> + “And this is what is expressed in this bold and stupendous musical poem; + Rossini has stamped each nation with its fantastic individuality, for we + have attributed to them a certain historic grandeur to which every + imagination subscribes. The songs of the Hebrews, and their trust in God, + are perpetually contrasted with Pharaoh’s shrieks of rage and vain + efforts, represented with a strong hand. + </p> + <p> + “At this moment Osiride, thinking only of love, hopes to detain his + mistress by the memories of their joys as lovers; he wants to conquer the + attractions of her feeling for her people. Here, then, you will find + delicious languor, the glowing sweetness, the voluptuous suggestions of + Oriental love, in the air ‘<i>Ah! se puoi cosi lasciarmi</i>,’ sung by + Osiride, and in Elcia’s reply, ‘<i>Ma perche cosi straziarmi?</i>’ No; two + hearts in such melodious unison could never part,” she went on, looking at + the Prince. + </p> + <p> + “But the lovers are suddenly interrupted by the exultant voice of the + Hebrew people in the distance, which recalls Elcia. What a delightful and + inspiriting <i>allegro</i> is the theme of this march, as the Israelites + set out for the desert! No one but Rossini can make wind instruments and + trumpets say so much. And is not the art which can express in two phrases + all that is meant by the ‘native land’ certainly nearer to heaven than the + others? This clarion-call always moves me so deeply that I cannot find + words to tell you how cruel it is to an enslaved people to see those who + are free march away!” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess’ eyes filled with tears as she listened to the grand movement, + which in fact crowns the opera. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dov’ e mai quel core amante</i>,” she murmured in Italian, as la Tinti + began the delightful <i>aria</i> of the <i>stretto</i> in which she + implores pity for her grief. “But what is the matter? The pit are + dissatisfied—” + </p> + <p> + “Genovese is braying like a stage,” replied the Prince. + </p> + <p> + In point of fact, this first duet with la Tinti was spoilt by Genovese’s + utter breakdown. His excellent method, recalling that of Crescentini and + Veluti, seemed to desert him completely. A <i>sostenuto</i> in the wrong + place, an embellishment carried to excess, spoilt the effect; or again a + loud climax with no due <i>crescendo</i>, an outburst of sound like water + tumbling through a suddenly opened sluice, showed complete and wilful + neglect of the laws of good taste. + </p> + <p> + The pit was in the greatest excitement. The Venetian public believed there + was a deliberate plot between Genovese and his friends. La Tinti was + recalled and applauded with frenzy while Genovese had a hint or two + warning him of the hostile feeling of the audience. During this scene, + highly amusing to a Frenchman, while la Tinti was recalled eleven times to + receive alone the frantic acclamations of the house,—Genovese, who + was all but hissed, not daring to offer her his hand,—the doctor + made a remark to the Duchess as to the <i>stretto</i> of the duet. + </p> + <p> + “In this place,” said he, “Rossini ought to have expressed the deepest + grief, and I find on the contrary an airy movement, a tone of ill-timed + cheerfulness.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said she. “This mistake is the result of a tyrannous + custom which composers are expected to obey. He was thinking more of his + prima donna than of Elcia when he wrote that <i>stretto</i>. But this + evening, even if la Tinti had been more brilliant than ever, I could throw + myself so completely into the situation, that the passage, lively as it + is, is to me full of sadness.” + </p> + <p> + The physician looked attentively from the Prince to the Duchess, but could + not guess the reason that held them apart, and that made this duet seem to + them so heartrending. + </p> + <p> + “Now comes a magnificent thing, the scheming of Pharaoh against the + Hebrews. The great <i>aria ‘A rispettarmi apprenda’’</i> (Learn to respect + me) is a triumph for Carthagenova, who will express superbly the offended + pride and the duplicity of a sovereign. The Throne will speak. He will + withdraw the concessions that have been made, he arms himself in wrath. + Pharaoh rises to his feet to clutch the prey that is escaping. + </p> + <p> + “Rossini never wrote anything grander in style, or stamped with more + living and irresistible energy. It is a consummate work, supported by an + accompaniment of marvelous orchestration, as indeed is every portion of + this opera. The vigor of youth illumines the smallest details.” + </p> + <p> + The whole house applauded this noble movement, which was admirably + rendered by the singer, and thoroughly appreciated by the Venetians. + </p> + <p> + “In the <i>finale</i>,” said the Duchess, “you hear a repetition of the + march, expressive of the joy of deliverance and of faith in God, who + allows His people to rush off gleefully to wander in the Desert! What + lungs but would be refreshed by the aspirations of a whole nation freed + from slavery. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, beloved and living melodies! Glory to the great genius who has known + how to give utterance to such feelings! There is something essentially + warlike in that march, proclaiming that the God of armies is on the side + of these people. How full of feeling are these strains of thanksgiving! + The imagery of the Bible rises up in our mind; this glorious musical <i>scena</i> + enables us to realize one of the grandest dramas of that ancient and + solemn world. The religious form given to some of the voice parts, and the + way in which they come in, one by one, to group with the others, express + all we have ever imagined of the sacred marvels of that early age of + humanity. + </p> + <p> + “And yet this fine concerted piece is no more than a development of the + theme of the march into all its musical outcome. That theme is the + inspiring element alike for the orchestra and the voices, for the air, and + for the brilliant instrumentation that supports it. + </p> + <p> + “Elcia now comes to join the crowd; and to give shade to the rejoicing + spirit of this number, Rossini has made her utter her regrets. Listen to + her <i>duettino</i> with Amenofi. Did blighted love ever express itself in + lovelier song? It is full of the grace of a <i>notturno</i>, of the secret + grief of hopeless love. How sad! how sad! The Desert will indeed be a + desert to her! + </p> + <p> + “After this comes the fierce conflict of the Egyptians and the Hebrews. + All their joy is spoiled, their march stopped by the arrival of the + Egyptians. Pharaoh’s edict is proclaimed in a musical phrase, hollow and + dread, which is the leading <i>motif</i> of the <i>finale</i>; we could + fancy that we hear the tramp of the great Egyptian army, surrounding the + sacred phalanx of the true God, curling round it, like a long African + serpent enveloping its prey. But how beautiful is the lament of the duped + and disappointed Hebrews! Though, in truth, it is more Italian than + Hebrew. What a superb passage introduces Pharaoh’s arrival, when his + presence brings the two leaders face to face, and all the moving passions + of the drama. The conflict of sentiments in that sublime <i>ottetto</i>, + where the wrath of Moses meets that of the two Pharaohs, is admirable. + What a medley of voices and of unchained furies! + </p> + <p> + “No grander subject was ever wrought out by a composer. The famous <i>finale</i> + of <i>Don Giovanni</i>, after all, only shows us a libertine at odds with + his victims, who invoke the vengeance of Heaven; while here earth and its + dominions try to defeat God. Two nations are here face to face. And + Rossini, having every means at his command, has made wonderful use of + them. He has succeeded in expressing the turmoil of a tremendous storm as + a background to the most terrible imprecations, without making it + ridiculous. He has achieved it by the use of chords repeated in triple + time—a monotonous rhythm of gloomy musical emphasis—and so + persistent as to be quite overpowering. The horror of the Egyptians at the + torrent of fire, the cries of vengeance from the Hebrews, needed a + delicate balance of masses; so note how he has made the development of the + orchestral parts follow that of the chorus. The <i>allegro assai</i> in C + minor is terrible in the midst of that deluge of fire. + </p> + <p> + “Confess now,” said Massimilla, at the moment when Moses, lifting his rod, + brings down the rain of fire, and when the composer puts forth all his + powers in the orchestra and on the stage, “that no music ever more + perfectly expressed the idea of distress and confusion.” + </p> + <p> + “They have spread to the pit,” remarked the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “What is it now? The pit is certainly in great excitement,” said the + Duchess. + </p> + <p> + In the <i>finale</i>, Genovese, his eyes fixed on la Tinti, had launched + into such preposterous flourishes, that the pit, indignant at this + interference with their enjoyment, were at a height of uproar. Nothing + could be more exasperating to Italian ears than this contrast of good and + bad singing. The manager went so far as to appear on the stage, to say + that in reply to his remarks to his leading singer, Signor Genovese had + replied that he knew not how or by what offence he had lost the + countenance of the public, at the very moment when he was endeavoring to + achieve perfection in his art. + </p> + <p> + “Let him be as bad as he was yesterday—that was good enough for us!” + roared Capraja, in a rage. + </p> + <p> + This suggestion put the house into a good humor again. + </p> + <p> + Contrary to Italian custom, the ballet was not much attended to. In every + box the only subject of conversation was Genovese’s strange behavior, and + the luckless manager’s speech. Those who were admitted behind the scenes + went off at once to inquire into the mystery of this performance, and it + was presently rumored that la Tinti had treated her colleague Genovese to + a dreadful scene, in which she had accused the tenor of being jealous of + her success, of having hindered it by his ridiculous behavior, and even of + trying to spoil her performance by acting passionate devotion. The lady + was shedding bitter tears over this catastrophe. She had been hoping, she + said, to charm her lover, who was somewhere in the house, though she had + failed to discover him. + </p> + <p> + Without knowing the peaceful course of daily life in Venice at the present + day, so devoid of incident that a slight altercation between two lovers, + or the transient huskiness of a singer’s voice becomes a subject of + discussion, regarded of as much importance as politics in England, it is + impossible to conceive of the excitement in the theatre and at the Cafe + Florian. La Tinti was in love; la Tinti had been hindered in her + performance; Genovese was mad or purposely malignant, inspired by the + artist’s jealousy so familiar to Italians! What a mine of matter for eager + discussion! + </p> + <p> + The whole pit was talking as men talk at the Bourse, and the result was + such a clamor as could not fail to amaze a Frenchman accustomed to the + quiet of the Paris theatres. The boxes were in a ferment like the stir of + swarming bees. + </p> + <p> + One man alone remained passive in the turmoil. Emilio Memmi, with his back + to the stage and his eyes fixed on Massimilla with a melancholy + expression, seemed to live in her gaze; he had not once looked round at + the prima donna. + </p> + <p> + “I need not ask you, <i>caro carino</i>, what was the result of my + negotiation,” said Vendramin to Emilio. “Your pure and pious Massimilla + has been supremely kind—in short, she has been la Tinti?” + </p> + <p> + The Prince’s reply was a shake of his head, full of the deepest + melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “Your love has not descended from the ethereal spaces where you soar,” + said Vendramin, excited by opium. “It is not yet materialized. This + morning, as every day for six months—you felt flowers opening their + scented cups under the dome of your skull that had expanded to vast + proportions. All your blood moved to your swelling heart that rose to + choke your throat. There, in there,”—and he laid his hand on + Emilio’s breast,—“you felt rapturous emotions. Massimilla’s voice + fell on your soul in waves of light; her touch released a thousand + imprisoned joys which emerged from the convolutions of your brain to + gather about you in clouds, to waft your etherealized body through the + blue air to a purple glow far above the snowy heights, to where the pure + love of angels dwells. The smile, the kisses of her lips wrapped you in a + poisoned robe which burnt up the last vestiges of your earthly nature. Her + eyes were twin stars that turned you into shadowless light. You knelt + together on the palm-branches of heaven, waiting for the gates of Paradise + to be opened; but they turned heavily on their hinges, and in your + impatience you struck at them, but could not reach them. Your hand touched + nothing but clouds more nimble than your desires. Your radiant companion, + crowned with white roses like a bride of Heaven, wept at your anguish. + Perhaps she was murmuring melodious litanies to the Virgin, while the + demoniacal cravings of the flesh were haunting you with their shameless + clamor, and you disdained the divine fruits of that ecstasy in which I + live, though shortening my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Your exaltation, my dear Vendramin,” replied Emilio, calmly, “is still + beneath reality. Who can describe that purely physical exhaustion in which + we are left by the abuse of a dream of pleasure, leaving the soul still + eternally craving, and the spirit in clear possession of its faculties? + </p> + <p> + “But I am weary of this torment, which is that of Tantalus. This is my + last night on earth. After one final effort, our Mother shall have her + child again—the Adriatic will silence my last sigh—” + </p> + <p> + “Are you idiotic?” cried Vendramin. “No; you are mad; for madness, the + crisis we despise, is the memory of an antecedent condition acting on our + present state of being. The genius of my dreams has taught me that, and + much else! You want to make one of the Duchess and la Tinti; nay, dear + Emilio, take them separately; it will be far wiser. Raphael alone ever + united form and idea. You want to be the Raphael of love; but chance + cannot be commanded. Raphael was a ‘fluke’ of God’s creation, for He + foreordained that form and idea should be antagonistic; otherwise nothing + could live. When the first cause is more potent than the outcome, nothing + comes of it. We must live either on earth or in the skies. Remain in the + skies; it is always too soon to come down to earth.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take the Duchess home,” said the Prince, “and make a last attempt—afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + “Afterwards,” cried Vendramin, anxiously, “promise to call for me at + Florian’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + This dialogue, in modern Greek, with which Vendramin and Emilio were + familiar, as many Venetians are, was unintelligible to the Duchess and to + the Frenchman. Although he was quite outside the little circle that held + the Duchess, Emilio and Vendramin together—for these three + understood each other by means of Italian glances, by turns arch and keen, + or veiled and sidelong—the physician at last discerned part of the + truth. An earnest entreaty from the Duchess had prompted Vendramin’s + suggestion to Emilio, for Massimilla had begun to suspect the misery + endured by her lover in that cold empyrean where he was wandering, though + she had no suspicions of la Tinti. + </p> + <p> + “These two young men are mad!” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “As to the Prince,” said the Duchess, “trust me to cure him. As to + Vendramin, if he cannot understand this sublime music, he is perhaps + incurable.” + </p> + <p> + “If you would but tell me the cause of their madness, I could cure them,” + said the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “And since when have great physicians ceased to read men’s minds?” said + she, jestingly. + </p> + <p> + The ballet was long since ended; the second act of <i>Mose</i> was + beginning. The pit was perfectly attentive. A rumor had got abroad that + Duke Cataneo had lectured Genovese, representing to him what injury he was + doing to Clarina, the <i>diva</i> of the day. The second act would + certainly be magnificent. + </p> + <p> + “The Egyptian Prince and his father are on the stage,” said the Duchess. + “They have yielded once more, though insulting the Hebrews, but they are + trembling with rage. The father congratulates himself on his son’s + approaching marriage, and the son is in despair at this fresh obstacle, + though it only increases his love, to which everything is opposed. + Genovese and Carthagenova are singing admirably. As you see, the tenor is + making his peace with the house. How well he brings out the beauty of the + music! The phrase given out by the son on the tonic, and repeated by the + father on the dominant, is all in character with the simple, serious + scheme which prevails throughout the score; the sobriety of it makes the + endless variety of the music all the more wonderful. All Egypt is there. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe that there is in modern music a composition more + perfectly noble. The solemn and majestic paternity of a king is fully + expressed in that magnificent theme, in harmony with the grand style that + stamps the opera throughout. The idea of a Pharaoh’s son pouring out his + sorrows on his father’s bosom could surely not be more admirably + represented than in this grand imagery. Do you not feel a sense of the + splendor we are wont to attribute to that monarch of antiquity?” + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed sublime music,” said the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “The air <i>Pace mia smarrita</i>, which the Queen will now sing, is one + of those <i>bravura</i> songs which every composer is compelled to + introduce, though they mar the general scheme of the work; but an opera + would as often as not never see the light, if the prima donna’s vanity + were not duly flattered. Still, this musical ‘sop’ is so fine in itself + that it is performed as written, on every stage; it is so brilliant that + the leading lady does not substitute her favorite show piece, as is very + commonly done in operas. + </p> + <p> + “And now comes the most striking movement in the score: the duet between + Osiride and Elcia in the subterranean chamber where he has hidden her to + keep her from the departing Israelites, and to fly with her himself from + Egypt. The lovers are then intruded on by Aaron, who has been to warn + Amalthea, and we get the grandest of all quartettes: <i>Mi manca la voce, + mi sento morire</i>. This is one of those masterpieces that will survive + in spite of time, that destroyer of fashion in music, for it speaks the + language of the soul which can never change. Mozart holds his own by the + famous <i>finale</i> to <i>Don Giovanni</i>; Marcello, by his psalm, <i>Coeli + enarrant gloriam Dei</i>; Cimarosa, by the air <i>Pria che spunti</i>; + Beethoven by his C minor symphony; Pergolesi, by his <i>Stabat Mater</i>; + Rossini will live by <i>Mi manca la voce</i>. What is most to be admired + in Rossini is his command of variety to form; to produce the effect here + required, he has had recourse to the old structure of the canon in unison, + to bring the voices in, and merge them in the same melody. As the form of + these sublime melodies was new, he set them in an old frame; and to give + it the more relief he has silenced the orchestra, accompanying the voices + with the harps alone. It is impossible to show greater ingenuity of + detail, or to produce a grander general effect.—Dear me! again an + outbreak!” said the Duchess. + </p> + <p> + Genovese, who had sung his duet with Carthagenova so well, was + caricaturing himself now that la Tinti was on the stage. From a great + singer he sank to the level of the most worthless chorus singer. + </p> + <p> + The most formidable uproar arose that had ever echoed to the roof of the + <i>Fenice</i>. The commotion only yielded to Clarina, and she, furious at + the difficulties raised by Genovese’s obstinacy, sang <i>Mi manca la voce</i> + as it will never be sung again. The enthusiasm was tremendous; the + audience forgot their indignation and rage in pleasure that was really + acute. + </p> + <p> + “She floods my soul with purple glow!” said Capraja, waving his hand in + benediction at la <i>Diva</i> Tinti. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven send all its blessings on your head!” cried a gondolier. + </p> + <p> + “Pharaoh will now revoke his commands,” said the Duchess, while the + commotion in the pit was calming down. “Moses will overwhelm him, even on + his throne, by declaring the death of every first-born son in Egypt, + singing that strain of vengeance which augurs thunders from heaven, while + above it the Hebrew clarions ring out. But you must clearly understand + that this air is by Pacini; Carthagenova introduces it instead of that by + Rossini. This air, <i>Paventa</i>, will no doubt hold its place in the + score; it gives a bass too good an opportunity for displaying the quality + of his voice, and expression here will carry the day rather than science. + However, the air is full of magnificent menace, and it is possible that we + may not be long allowed to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + A thunder of clapping and <i>bravos</i> hailed the song, followed by deep + and cautious silence; nothing could be more significant or more thoroughly + Venetian than the outbreak and its sudden suppression. + </p> + <p> + “I need say nothing of the coronation march announcing the enthronement of + Osiride, intended by the King as a challenge to Moses; to hear it is + enough. Their famous Beethoven has written nothing grander. And this + march, full of earthly pomp, contrasts finely with the march of the + Israelites. Compare them, and you will see that the music is full of + purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Elcia declares her love in the presence of the two Hebrew leaders, and + then renounces it in the fine <i>aria</i>, <i>Porge la destra amata</i>. + (Place your beloved hand.) Ah! What anguish! Only look at the house!” + </p> + <p> + The pit was shouting <i>bravo</i>, when Genovese left the stage. + </p> + <p> + “Now, free from her deplorable lover, we shall hear Tinti sing, <i>O + desolata Elcia</i>—the tremendous <i>cavatina</i> expressive of love + disapproved by God.” + </p> + <p> + “Where art thou, Rossini?” cried Cataneo. “If he could but hear the music + created by his genius so magnificently performed,” he went on. “Is not + Clarina worthy of him?” he asked Capraja. “To give life to those notes by + such gusts of flame, starting from the lungs and feeding in the air on + some unknown matter which our ears inhale, and which bears us heavenwards + in a rapture of love, she must be divine!” + </p> + <p> + “She is like the gorgeous Indian plant, which deserting the earth absorbs + invisible nourishment from the atmosphere, and sheds from its spiral white + blossom such fragrant vapors as fill the brain with dreams,” replied + Capraja. + </p> + <p> + On being recalled, la Tinti appeared alone. She was received with a storm + of applause; a thousand kisses were blown to her from finger-tips; she was + pelted with roses, and a wreath was made of the flowers snatched from the + ladies’ caps, almost all sent out from Paris. + </p> + <p> + The <i>cavatina</i> was encored. + </p> + <p> + “How eagerly Capraja, with his passion for embellishments, must have + looked forward to this air, which derives all its value from execution,” + remarked Massimilla. “Here Rossini has, so to speak, given the reins over + to the singer’s fancy. Her <i>cadenzas</i> and her feeling are everything. + With a poor voice or inferior execution, it would be nothing—the + throat is responsible for the effects of this <i>aria</i>. + </p> + <p> + “The singer has to express the most intense anguish,—that of a woman + who sees her lover dying before her very eyes. La Tinti makes the house + ring with her highest notes; and Rossini, to leave pure singing free to do + its utmost, has written it in the simplest, clearest style. Then, as a + crowning effort, he has composed those heartrending musical cries: <i>Tormenti! + Affanni! Smanie!</i> What grief, what anguish, in those runs. And la + Tinti, you see, has quite carried the house off its feet.” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman, bewildered by this adoring admiration throughout a vast + theatre for the source of its delight, here had a glimpse of genuine + Italian nature. But neither the Duchess nor the two young men paid any + attention to the ovation. Clarina began again. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess feared that she was seeing her Emilio for the last time. As to + the Prince: in the presence of the Duchess, the sovereign divinity who + lifted him to the skies, he had forgotten where he was, he no longer heard + the voice of the woman who had initiated him into the mysteries of earthly + pleasure, for deep dejection made his ears tingle with a chorus of + plaintive voices, half-drowned in a rushing noise as of pouring rain. + </p> + <p> + Vendramin saw himself in an ancient Venetian costume, looking on at the + ceremony of the <i>Bucentaur</i>. The Frenchman, who plainly discerned + that some strange and painful mystery stood between the Prince and the + Duchess, was racking his brain with shrewd conjecture to discover what it + could be. + </p> + <p> + The scene had changed. In front of a fine picture, representing the Desert + and the Red Sea, the Egyptians and Hebrews marched and countermarched + without any effect on the feelings of the four persons in the Duchess’ + box. But when the first chords on the harps preluded the hymn of the + delivered Israelites, the Prince and Vendramin rose and stood leaning + against the opposite sides of the box, and the Duchess, resting her elbow + on the velvet ledge, supported her head on her left hand. + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman, understanding from this little stir, how important this + justly famous chorus was in the opinion of the house, listened with devout + attention. + </p> + <p> + The audience, with one accord, shouted for its repetition. + </p> + <p> + “I feel as if I were celebrating the liberation of Italy,” thought a + Milanese. + </p> + <p> + “Such music lifts up bowed heads, and revives hope in the most torpid,” + said a man from the Romagna. + </p> + <p> + “In this scene,” said Massimilla, whose emotion was evident, “science is + set aside. Inspiration, alone, dictated this masterpiece; it rose from the + composer’s soul like a cry of love! As to the accompaniment, it consists + of the harps; the orchestra appears only at the last repetition of that + heavenly strain. Rossini can never rise higher than in this prayer; he + will do as good work, no doubt, but never better: the sublime is always + equal to itself; but this hymn is one of the things that will always be + sublime. The only match for such a conception might be found in the psalms + of the great Marcello, a noble Venetian, who was to music what Giotto was + to painting. The majesty of the phrase, unfolding itself with episodes of + inexhaustible melody, is comparable with the finest things ever invented + by religious writers. + </p> + <p> + “How simple is the structure! Moses opens the attack in G minor, ending in + a cadenza in B flat which allows the chorus to come in, <i>pianissimo</i> + at first, in B flat, returning by modulations to G minor. This splendid + treatment of the voices, recurring three times, ends in the last strophe + with a <i>stretto</i> in G major of absolutely overpowering effect. We + feel as though this hymn of a nation released from slavery, as it mounts + to heaven, were met by kindred strains falling from the higher spheres. + The stars respond with joy to the ecstasy of liberated mortals. The + rounded fulness of the rhythm, the deliberate dignity of the graduations + leading up to the outbursts of thanksgiving, and its slow return raise + heavenly images in the soul. Could you not fancy that you saw heaven open, + angels holding sistrums of gold, prostrate seraphs swinging their fragrant + censers, and the archangels leaning on the flaming swords with which they + have vanquished the heathen? + </p> + <p> + “The secret of this music and its refreshing effect on the soul is, I + believe, that of a very few works of human genius: it carries us for the + moment into the infinite; we feel it within us; we see it, in those + melodies as boundless as the hymns sung round the throne of God. Rossini’s + genius carries us up to prodigious heights, whence we look down on a + promised land, and our eyes, charmed by heavenly light, gaze into + limitless space. Elcia’s last strain, having almost recovered from her + grief, brings a feeling of earth-born passions into this hymn of + thanksgiving. This, again, is a touch of genius. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sing!” exclaimed the Duchess, as she listened to the last stanza with + the same gloomy enthusiasm as the singers threw into it. “Sing! You are + free!” + </p> + <p> + The words were spoken in a voice that startled the physician. To divert + Massimilla from her bitter reflections, while the excitement of recalling + la Tinti was at its height, he engaged her in one of the arguments in + which the French excel. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said he, “in explaining this grand work—which I shall come + to hear again to-morrow with a fuller comprehension, thanks to you, of its + structure and its effect—you have frequently spoken of the color of + the music, and of the ideas it depicts; now I, as an analyst, a + materialist, must confess that I have always rebelled against the + affectation of certain enthusiasts, who try to make us believe that music + paints with tones. Would it not be the same thing if Raphael’s admirers + spoke of his singing with colors?” + </p> + <p> + “In the language of musicians,” replied the Duchess, “<i>painting</i> is + arousing certain associations in our souls, or certain images in our + brain; and these memories and images have a color of their own; they are + sad or cheerful. You are battling for a word, that is all. According to + Capraja, each instrument has its task, its mission, and appeals to certain + feelings in our souls. Does a pattern in gold on a blue ground produce the + same sensations in you as a red pattern on black or green? In these, as in + music, there are no figures, no expression of feeling; they are purely + artistic, and yet no one looks at them with indifference. Has not the oboe + the peculiar tone that we associate with the open country, in common with + most wind instruments? The brass suggests martial ideas, and rouses us to + vehement or even somewhat furious feelings. The strings, for which the + material is derived from the organic world, seem to appeal to the subtlest + fibres of our nature; they go to the very depths of the heart. When I + spoke of the gloomy hue, and the coldness of the tones in the introduction + to <i>Mose</i>, was I not fully as much justified as your critics are when + they speak of the ‘color’ in a writer’s language? Do you not acknowledge + that there is a nervous style, a pallid style, a lively, and a + highly-colored style? Art can paint with words, sounds, colors, lines, + form; the means are many; the result is one. + </p> + <p> + “An Italian architect might give us the same sensation that is produced in + us by the introduction to <i>Mose</i>, by constructing a walk through + dark, damp avenues of tall, thick trees, and bringing us out suddenly in a + valley full of streams, flowers, and mills, and basking in the sunshine. + In their greatest moments the arts are but the expression of the grand + scenes of nature. + </p> + <p> + “I am not learned enough to enlarge on the philosophy of music; go and + talk to Capraja; you will be amazed at what he can tell you. He will say + that every instrument that depends on the touch or breath of man for its + expression and length of note, is superior as a vehicle of expression to + color, which remains fixed, or speech, which has its limits. The language + of music is infinite; it includes everything; it can express all things. + </p> + <p> + “Now do you see wherein lies the pre-eminence of the work you have just + heard? I can explain it in a few words. There are two kinds of music: one, + petty, poor, second-rate, always the same, based on a hundred or so of + phrases which every musician has at his command, a more or less agreeable + form of babble which most composers live in. We listen to their strains, + their would-be melodies, with more or less satisfaction, but absolutely + nothing is left in our mind; by the end of the century they are forgotten. + But the nations, from the beginning of time till our own day, have + cherished as a precious treasure certain strains which epitomize their + instincts and habits; I might almost say their history. Listen to one of + these primitive tones,—the Gregorian chant, for instance, is, in + sacred song, the inheritance of the earliest peoples,—and you will + lose yourself in deep dreaming. Strange and immense conceptions will + unfold within you, in spite of the extreme simplicity of these rudimentary + relics. And once or twice in a century—not oftener, there arises a + Homer of music, to whom God grants the gift of being ahead of his age; men + who can compact melodies full of accomplished facts, pregnant with mighty + poetry. Think of this; remember it. The thought, repeated by you, will + prove fruitful; it is melody, not harmony, that can survive the shocks of + time. + </p> + <p> + “The music of this oratorio contains a whole world of great and sacred + things. A work which begins with that introduction and ends with that + prayer is immortal—as immortal as the Easter hymn, <i>O filii et + filioe</i>, as the <i>Dies iroe</i> of the dead, as all the songs which in + every land have outlived its splendor, its happiness, and its ruined + prosperity.” + </p> + <p> + The tears the Duchess wiped away as she quitted her box showed plainly + that she was thinking of the Venice that is no more; and Vendramin kissed + her hand. + </p> + <p> + The performance ended with the most extraordinary chaos of noises: abuse + and hisses hurled at Genovese and a fit of frenzy in praise of la Tinti. + It was a long time since the Venetians had had so lively an evening. They + were warmed and revived by that antagonism which is never lacking in + Italy, where the smallest towns always throve on the antagonistic + interests of two factions: the Geulphs and Ghibellines everywhere; the + Capulets and the Montagues at Verona; the Geremei and the Lomelli at + Bologna; the Fieschi and the Doria at Genoa; the patricians and the + populace, the Senate and tribunes of the Roman republic; the Pazzi and the + Medici at Florence; the Sforza and the Visconti at Milan; the Orsini and + the Colonna at Rome,—in short, everywhere and on every occasion + there has been the same impulse. + </p> + <p> + Out in the streets there were already <i>Genovists</i> and <i>Tintists</i>. + </p> + <p> + The Prince escorted the Duchess, more depressed than ever by the loves of + Osiride; she feared some similar disaster to her own, and could only cling + to Emilio, as if to keep him next her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Remember your promise,” said Vendramin. “I will wait for you in the + square.” + </p> + <p> + Vendramin took the Frenchman’s arm, proposing that they should walk + together on the Piazza San Marco while awaiting the Prince. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be only too glad if he should not come,” he added. + </p> + <p> + This was the text for a conversation between the two, Vendramin regarding + it as a favorable opportunity for consulting the physician, and telling + him the singular position Emilio had placed himself in. + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman did as every Frenchman does on all occasions: he laughed. + Vendramin, who took the matter very seriously, was angry; but he was + mollified when the disciple of Majendie, of Cuvier, of Dupuytren, and of + Brossais assured him that he believed he could cure the Prince of his + high-flown raptures, and dispel the heavenly poetry in which he shrouded + Massimilla as in a cloud. + </p> + <p> + “A happy form of misfortune!” said he. “The ancients, who were not such + fools as might be inferred from their crystal heaven and their ideas on + physics, symbolized in the fable of Ixion the power which nullifies the + body and makes the spirit lord of all.” + </p> + <p> + Vendramin and the doctor presently met Genovese, and with him the + fantastic Capraja. The melomaniac was anxious to learn the real cause of + the tenor’s <i>fiasco</i>. Genovese, the question being put to him, talked + fast, like all men who can intoxicate themselves by the ebullition of + ideas suggested to them by a passion. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, signori, I love her, I worship her with a frenzy of which I never + believed myself capable, now that I am tired of women. Women play the + mischief with art. Pleasure and work cannot be carried on together. Clara + fancies that I was jealous of her success, that I wanted to hinder her + triumph at Venice; but I was clapping in the side-scenes, and shouted <i>Diva</i> + louder than any one in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “But even that,” said Cataneo, joining them, “does not explain why, from + being a divine singer, you should have become one of the most execrable + performers who ever piped air through his larynx, giving none of the charm + even which enchants and bewitches us.” + </p> + <p> + “I!” said the singer. “I a bad singer! I who am the equal of the greatest + performers!” + </p> + <p> + By this time, the doctor and Vendramin, Capraja, Cataneo, and Genovese had + made their way to the piazzetta. It was midnight. The glittering bay, + outlined by the churches of San Giorgio and San Paulo at the end of the + Giudecca, and the beginning of the Grand Canal, that opens so mysteriously + under the <i>Dogana</i> and the church of Santa Maria della Salute, lay + glorious and still. The moon shone on the barques along the Riva de’ + Schiavoni. The waters of Venice, where there is no tide, looked as if they + were alive, dancing with a myriad spangles. Never had a singer a more + splendid stage. + </p> + <p> + Genovese, with an emphatic flourish, seemed to call Heaven and Earth to + witness; and then, with no accompaniment but the lapping waves, he sang <i>Ombra + adorata</i>, Crescentini’s great air. The song, rising up between the + statues of San Teodoro and San Giorgio, in the heart of sleeping Venice + lighted by the moon, the words, in such strange harmony with the scene, + and the melancholy passion of the singer, held the Italians and the + Frenchman spellbound. + </p> + <p> + At the very first notes, Vendramin’s face was wet with tears. Capraja + stood as motionless as one of the statues in the ducal palace. Cataneo + seemed moved to some feeling. The Frenchman, taken by surprise, was + meditative, like a man of science in the presence of a phenomenon that + upsets all his fundamental axioms. These four minds, all so different, + whose hopes were so small, who believed in nothing for themselves or after + themselves, who regarded their own existence as that of a transient and a + fortuitous being,—like the little life of a plant or a beetle,—had + a glimpse of Heaven. Never did music more truly merit the epithet divine. + The consoling notes, as they were poured out, enveloped their souls in + soft and soothing airs. On these vapors, almost visible, as it seemed to + the listeners, like the marble shapes about them in the silver moonlight, + angels sat whose wings, devoutly waving, expressed adoration and love. The + simple, artless melody penetrated to the soul as with a beam of light. It + was a holy passion! + </p> + <p> + But the singer’s vanity roused them from their emotion with a terrible + shock. + </p> + <p> + “Now, am I a bad singer?” he exclaimed, as he ended. + </p> + <p> + His audience only regretted that the instrument was not a thing of Heaven. + This angelic song was then no more than the outcome of a man’s offended + vanity! The singer felt nothing, thought nothing, of the pious sentiments + and divine images he could create in others,—no more, in fact, than + Paganini’s violin knows what the player makes it utter. What they had seen + in fancy was Venice lifting its shroud and singing—and it was merely + the result of a tenor’s <i>fiasco</i>! + </p> + <p> + “Can you guess the meaning of such a phenomenon?” the Frenchman asked of + Capraja, wishing to make him talk, as the Duchess had spoken of him as a + profound thinker. + </p> + <p> + “What phenomenon?” said Capraja. + </p> + <p> + “Genovese—who is admirable in the absence of la Tinti, and when he + sings with her is a braying ass.” + </p> + <p> + “He obeys an occult law of which one of your chemists might perhaps give + you the mathematical formula, and which the next century will no doubt + express in a statement full of <i>x</i>, <i>a</i>, and <i>b</i>, mixed up + with little algebraic signs, bars, and quirks that give me the colic; for + the finest conceptions of mathematics do not add much to the sum total of + our enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + “When an artist is so unfortunate as to be full of the passion he wishes + to express, he cannot depict it because he is the thing itself instead of + its image. Art is the work of the brain, not of the heart. When you are + possessed by a subject you are a slave, not a master; you are like a king + besieged by his people. Too keen a feeling, at the moment when you want to + represent that feeling, causes an insurrection of the senses against the + governing faculty.” + </p> + <p> + “Might we not convince ourselves of this by some further experiment?” said + the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Cataneo, you might bring your tenor and the prima donna together again,” + said Capraja to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen,” said the Duke, “come to sup with me. We ought to + reconcile the tenor and la Clarina; otherwise the season will be ruined in + Venice.” + </p> + <p> + The invitation was accepted. + </p> + <p> + “Gondoliers!” called Cataneo. + </p> + <p> + “One minute,” said Vendramin. “Memmi is waiting for me at Florian’s; I + cannot leave him to himself. We must make him tipsy to-night, or he will + kill himself to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Corpo santo!</i>” exclaimed the Duke. “I must keep that young fellow + alive, for the happiness and future prospects of my race. I will invite + him, too.” + </p> + <p> + They all went back to Florian’s, where the assembled crowd were holding an + eager and stormy discussion to which the tenor’s arrival put an end. In + one corner, near a window looking out on the colonnade, gloomy, with a + fixed gaze and rigid attitude, Emilio was a dismal image of despair. + </p> + <p> + “That crazy fellow,” said the physician, in French, to Vendramin, “does + not know what he wants. Here is a man who can make of a Massimilla Doni a + being apart from the rest of creation, possessing her in heaven, amid + ideal splendor such as no power on earth can make real. He can behold his + mistress for ever sublime and pure, can always hear within him what we + have just heard on the seashore; can always live in the light of a pair of + eyes which create for him the warm and golden glow that surrounds the + Virgin in Titian’s Assumption,—after Raphael had invented it or had + it revealed to him for the Transfiguration,—and this man only longs + to smirch the poem. + </p> + <p> + “By my advice he must needs combine his sensual joys and his heavenly + adoration in one woman. In short, like all the rest of us, he will have a + mistress. He had a divinity, and the wretched creature insists on her + being a female! I assure you, monsieur, he is resigning heaven. I will not + answer for it that he may not ultimately die of despair. + </p> + <p> + “O ye women’s faces, delicately outlined in a pure and radiant oval, + reminding us of those creations of art where it has most successfully + competed with nature! Divine feet that cannot walk, slender forms that an + earthly breeze would break, shapes too frail ever to conceive, virgins + that we dreamed of as we grew out of childhood, admired in secret, and + adored without hope, veiled in the beams of some unwearying desire,—maids + whom we may never see again, but whose smile remains supreme in our life, + what hog of Epicurus could insist on dragging you down to the mire of this + earth! + </p> + <p> + “The sun, monsieur, gives light and heat to the world, only because it is + at a distance of thirty-three millions of leagues. Get nearer to it, and + science warns you that it is not really hot or luminous,—for science + is of some use,” he added, looking at Capraja. + </p> + <p> + “Not so bad for a Frenchman and a doctor,” said Capraja, patting the + foreigner on the shoulder. “You have in those words explained the thing + which Europeans least understand in all Dante: his Beatrice. Yes, + Beatrice, that ideal figure, the queen of the poet’s fancies, chosen above + all the elect, consecrated with tears, deified by memory, and for ever + young in the presence of ineffectual desire!” + </p> + <p> + “Prince,” said the Duke to Emilio, “come and sup with me. You cannot + refuse the poor Neapolitan whom you have robbed both of his wife and of + his mistress.” + </p> + <p> + This broad Neapolitan jest, spoken with an aristocratic good manner, made + Emilio smile; he allowed the Duke to take his arm and lead him away. + </p> + <p> + Cataneo had already sent a messenger to his house from the cafe. + </p> + <p> + As the Palazzo Memmi was on the Grand Canal, not far from Santa Maria + della Salute, the way thither on foot was round by the Rialto, or it could + be reached in a gondola. The four guests would not separate and preferred + to walk; the Duke’s infirmities obliged him to get into his gondola. + </p> + <p> + At about two in the morning anybody passing the Memmi palace would have + seen light pouring out of every window across the Grand Canal, and have + heard the delightful overture to <i>Semiramide</i> performed at the foot + of the steps by the orchestra of the <i>Fenice</i>, as a serenade to la + Tinti. + </p> + <p> + The company were at supper in the second floor gallery. From the balcony + la Tinti in return sang Almavida’s <i>Buona sera</i> from <i>Il Barbiere</i>, + while the Duke’s steward distributed payment from his master to the poor + artists and bid them to dinner the next day, such civilities as are + expected of grand signors who protect singers, and of fine ladies who + protect tenors and basses. In these cases there is nothing for it but to + marry all the <i>corps de theatre</i>. + </p> + <p> + Cataneo did things handsomely; he was the manager’s banker, and this + season was costing him two thousand crowns. + </p> + <p> + He had had all the palace furnished, had imported a French cook, and wines + of all lands. So the supper was a regal entertainment. + </p> + <p> + The Prince, seated next la Tinti, was keenly alive, all through the meal, + to what poets in every language call the darts of love. The transcendental + vision of Massimilla was eclipsed, just as the idea of God is sometimes + hidden by clouds of doubt in the consciousness of solitary thinkers. + Clarina thought herself the happiest woman in the world as she perceived + Emilio was in love with her. Confident of retaining him, her joy was + reflected in her features, her beauty was so dazzling that the men, as + they lifted their glasses, could not resist bowing to her with instinctive + admiration. + </p> + <p> + “The Duchess is not to compare with la Tinti,” said the Frenchman, + forgetting his theory under the fire of the Sicilian’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + The tenor ate and drank languidly; he seemed to care only to identify + himself with the prima donna’s life, and had lost the hearty sense of + enjoyment which is characteristic of Italian men singers. + </p> + <p> + “Come, signorina,” said the Duke, with an imploring glance at Clarina, + “and you, <i>caro prima uomo</i>,” he added to Genovese, “unite your + voices in one perfect sound. Let us have the C of <i>Qual portento</i>, + when light appears in the oratorio we have just heard, to convince my old + friend Capraja of the superiority of unison to any embellishment.” + </p> + <p> + “I will carry her off from that Prince she is in love with; for she adores + him—it stares me in the face!” said Genovese to himself. + </p> + <p> + What was the amazement of the guests who had heard Genovese out of doors, + when he began to bray, to coo, mew, squeal, gargle, bellow, thunder, bark, + shriek, even produce sounds which could only be described as a hoarse + rattle,—in short, go through an incomprehensible farce, while his + face was transfigured with rapturous expression like that of a martyr, as + painted by Zurbaran or Murillo, Titian or Raphael. The general shout of + laughter changed to almost tragical gravity when they saw that Genovese + was in utter earnest. La Tinti understood that her companion was in love + with her, and had spoken the truth on the stage, the land of falsehood. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Poverino!</i>” she murmured, stroking the Prince’s hand under the + table. + </p> + <p> + “By all that is holy!” cried Capraja, “will you tell me what score you are + reading at this moment—murdering Rossini? Pray inform us what you + are thinking about, what demon is struggling in your throat.” + </p> + <p> + “A demon!” cried Genovese, “say rather the god of music. My eyes, like + those of Saint-Cecilia, can see angels, who, pointing with their fingers, + guide me along the lines of the score which is written in notes of fire, + and I am trying to keep up with them. PER DIO! do you not understand? The + feeling that inspires me has passed into my being; it fills my heart and + my lungs; my soul and throat have but one life. + </p> + <p> + “Have you never, in a dream, listened to the most glorious strains, the + ideas of unknown composers who have made use of pure sound as nature has + hidden it in all things,—sound which we call forth, more or less + perfectly, by the instruments we employ to produce masses of various + color; but which in those dream-concerts are heard free from the + imperfections of the performers who cannot be all feeling, all soul? And + I, I give you that perfection, and you abuse me! + </p> + <p> + “You are as mad at the pit of the <i>Fenice</i>, who hissed me! I scorned + the vulgar crowd for not being able to mount with me to the heights whence + we reign over art, and I appeal to men of mark, to a Frenchman—Why, + he is gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Half an hour ago,” said Vendramin. + </p> + <p> + “That is a pity. He, perhaps, would have understood me, since Italians, + lovers of art, do not—” + </p> + <p> + “On you go!” said Capraja, with a smile, and tapping lightly on the + tenor’s head. “Ride off on the divine Ariosto’s hippogriff; hunt down your + radiant chimera, musical visionary as you are!” + </p> + <p> + In point of fact, all the others, believing that Genovese was drunk, let + him talk without listening to him. Capraja alone had understood the case + put by the French physician. + </p> + <p> + While the wine of Cyprus was loosening every tongue, and each one was + prancing on his favorite hobby, the doctor, in a gondola, was waiting for + the Duchess, having sent her a note written by Vendramin. Massimilla + appeared in her night wrapper, so much had she been alarmed by the tone of + the Prince’s farewell, and so startled by the hopes held out by the + letter. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the Frenchman, as he placed her in a seat and desired the + gondoliers to start, “at this moment Prince Emilio’s life is in danger, + and you alone can save him.” + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Can you resign yourself to play a degrading part—in spite of + the noblest face to be seen in Italy? Can you drop from the blue sky where + you dwell, into the bed of a courtesan? In short, can you, an angel of + refinement, of pure and spotless beauty, condescend to imagine what the + love must be of a Tinti—in her room, and so effectually as to + deceive the ardor of Emilio, who is indeed too drunk to be very + clear-sighted?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” said she, with a smile that betrayed to the Frenchman a + side he had not as yet perceived of the delightful nature of an Italian + woman in love. “I will out-do la Tinti, if need be, to save my friend’s + life.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will thus fuse into one two kinds of love, which he sees as + distinct—divided by a mountain of poetic fancy, that will melt away + like the snow on a glacier under the beams of the midsummer sun.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be eternally your debtor,” said the Duchess, gravely. + </p> + <p> + When the French doctor returned to the gallery, where the orgy had by this + time assumed the stamp of Venetian frenzy, he had a look of satisfaction + which the Prince, absorbed by la Tinti, failed to observe; he was + promising himself a repetition of the intoxicating delights he had known. + La Tinti, a true Sicilian, was floating on the tide of a fantastic passion + on the point of being gratified. + </p> + <p> + The doctor whispered a few words to Vendramin, and la Tinti was uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “What are you plotting?” she inquired of the Prince’s friend. + </p> + <p> + “Are you kind-hearted?” said the doctor in her ear, with the sternness of + an operator. + </p> + <p> + The words pierced to her comprehension like a dagger-thrust to her heart. + </p> + <p> + “It is to save Emilio’s life,” added Vendramin. + </p> + <p> + “Come here,” said the doctor to Clarina. + </p> + <p> + The hapless singer rose and went to the other end of the table where, + between Vendramin and the Frenchman, she looked like a criminal between + the confessor and the executioner. + </p> + <p> + She struggled for a long time, but yielded at last for love of Emilio. + </p> + <p> + The doctor’s last words were: + </p> + <p> + “And you must cure Genovese!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke a word to the tenor as she went round the table. She returned to + the Prince, put her arm round his neck and kissed his hair with an + expression of despair which struck Vendramin and the Frenchman, the only + two who had their wits about them, then she vanished into her room. + Emilio, seeing Genovese leave the table, while Cataneo and Capraja were + absorbed in a long musical discussion, stole to the door of the bedroom, + lifted the curtain, and slipped in, like an eel into the mud. + </p> + <p> + “But you see, Cataneo,” said Capraja, “you have exacted the last drop of + physical enjoyment, and there you are, hanging on a wire like a cardboard + harlequin, patterned with scars, and never moving unless the string is + pulled of a perfect unison.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Capraja, who have squeezed ideas dry, are not you in the same + predicament? Do you not live riding the hobby of a <i>cadenza</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “I? I possess the whole world!” cried Capraja, with a sovereign gesture of + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “And I have devoured it!” replied the Duke. + </p> + <p> + They observed that the physician and Vendramin were gone, and that they + were alone. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, after a night of perfect happiness, the Prince’s sleep was + disturbed by a dream. He felt on his heart the trickle of pearls, dropped + there by an angel; he woke, and found himself bathed in the tears of + Massimilla Doni. He was lying in her arms, and she gazed at him as he + slept. + </p> + <p> + That evening, at the <i>Fenice</i>,—though la Tinti had not allowed + him to rise till two in the afternoon, which is said to be very bad for a + tenor voice,—Genovese sang divinely in his part in <i>Semiramide</i>. + He was recalled with la Tinti, fresh crowns were given, the pit was wild + with delight; the tenor no longer attempted to charm the prima donna by + angelic methods. + </p> + <p> + Vendramin was the only person whom the doctor could not cure. Love for a + country that has ceased to be is a love beyond curing. The young Venetian, + by dint of living in his thirteenth century republic, and in the arms of + that pernicious courtesan called opium, when he found himself in the + work-a-day world to which reaction brought him, succumbed, pitied and + regretted by his friends. + </p> + <p> + No, how shall the end of this adventure be told—for it is too + disastrously domestic. A word will be enough for the worshipers of the + ideal. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess was expecting an infant. + </p> + <p> + The Peris, the naiads, the fairies, the sylphs of ancient legend, the + Muses of Greece, the Marble Virgins of the Certosa at Pavia, the Day and + Night of Michael Angelo, the little Angels which Bellini was the first to + put at the foot of his Church pictures, and which Raphael painted so + divinely in his Virgin with the Donor, and the Madonna who shivers at + Dresden, the lovely Maidens by Orcagna in the Church of San-Michele, at + Florence, the celestial choir round the tomb in Saint-Sebaldus, at + Nuremberg, the Virgins of the Duomo, at Milan, the whole population of a + hundred Gothic Cathedrals, all the race of beings who burst their mould to + visit you, great imaginative artists—all these angelic and + disembodied maidens gathered round Massimilla’s bed, and wept! + </p> + <p> + PARIS, May 25th, 1839. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cane, Marco-Facino + Facino Cane + + Tinti, Clarina + Albert Savarus + + Varese, Emilio Memmi, Prince of + Gambara + + Varese, Princess of + Gambara + + Vendramini, Marco + Facino Cane + + Victorine + Lost Illusions + Letters of Two Brides + Gaudissart II +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Massimilla Doni, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASSIMILLA DONI *** + +***** This file should be named 1811-h.htm or 1811-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/1811/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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