A little consideration having considerably calmed my feelings, everybody
remarked my new countenance during dinner; and the old count, who was
very fond of a joke, expressed loudly his opinion that such quiet
demeanour on my part announced the complete success of my campaign.
Considering such a remark to be favourable to me, I took care to spew my
cruel devotee that such was the way the world would judge, but all this
was lost labour. Luck, however, stood me in good stead, and my efforts
were crowned with success in the following manner.
On Ascension Day, we all went to pay a visit to Madame Bergali, a
celebrated Italian poetess. On my return to Pasean the same evening, my
pretty mistress wished to get into a carriage for four persons in which
her husband and sister were already seated, while I was alone in a two-
wheeled chaise. I exclaimed at this, saying that such a mark of distrust
was indeed too pointed, and everybody remonstrated with her, saying that
she ought not to insult me so cruelly. She was compelled to come with
me, and having told the postillion that I wanted to go by the nearest
road, he left the other carriages, and took the way through the forest
of Cequini. The sky was clear and cloudless when we left, but in less
than half-an-hour we were visited by one of those storms so frequent in
the south, which appear likely to overthrow heaven and earth, and which
end rapidly, leaving behind them a bright sky and a cool atmosphere, so
that they do more good than harm.
"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed my companion, "we shall have a storm."
"Yes," I say, "and although the chaise is covered, the rain will spoil
your pretty dress. I am very sorry."
"I do not mind the dress; but the thunder frightens me so!"
"Close your ears."
"And the lightning?"
"Postillion, let us go somewhere for shelter."
"There is not a house, sir, for a league, and before we come to it, the
storm will have passed off."
He quietly keeps on his way, and the lightning flashes, the thunder
sends forth its mighty voice, and the lady shudders with fright. The
rain comes down in torrents, I take off my cloak to shelter us in front,
at the same moment we are blinded by a flash of lightning, and the
electric fluid strikes the earth within one hundred yards of us. The
horses plunge and prance with fear, and my companion falls in spasmodic
convulsions. She throws herself upon me, and folds me in her arms. The
cloak had gone down, I stoop to place it around us, and improving my
opportunity I take up her clothes. She tries to pull them down, but
another clap of thunder deprives her of every particle of strength.
Covering her with the cloak, I draw her towards me, and the motion of
the chaise coming to my assistance, she falls over me in the most
favourable position. I lose no time, and under pretence of arranging my
watch in my fob, I prepare myself for the assault. On her side,
conscious that, unless she stops me at once, all is lost, she makes a
great effort; but I hold her tightly, saying that if she does not feign
a fainting fit, the post-boy will turn round and see everything; I let
her enjoy the pleasure of calling me an infidel, a monster, anything she
likes, but my victory is the most complete that ever a champion
achieved.
The rain, however, was falling, the wind, which was very high, blew in
our faces, and, compelled to stay where she was, she said I would ruin
her reputation, as the postillion could see everything.
"I keep my eye upon him," I answered, "he is not thinking of us, and
even if he should turn his head, the cloak shelters us from him. Be
quiet, and pretend to have fainted, for I will not let you go."
She seems resigned, and asks how I can thus set the storm at defiance.
"The storm, dear one, is my best friend to-day."
She almost seems to believe me, her fear vanishes, and feeling my
rapture, she enquires whether I have done. I smile and answer in the
negative, stating that I cannot let her go till the storm is over.
"Consent to everything, or I let the cloak drop," I say to her.
"Well, you dreadful man, are you satisfied, now that you have insured my
misery for the remainder of my life?"
"No, not yet."
"What more do you want?"
"A shower of kisses."
"How unhappy I am! Well! here they are."
"Tell me you forgive me, and confess that you have shared all my
pleasure."
"You know I did. Yes, I forgive you."
Then I give her her liberty, and treating her to some very pleasant
caresses, I ask her to have the same kindness for me, and she goes to
work with a smile on her pretty lips.
"Tell me you love me," I say to her.
"No, I do not, for you are an atheist, and hell awaits you."
The weather was fine again, and the elements calm; I kissed her hands
and told her that the postillion had certainly not seen anything, and
that I was sure I had cured her of her dread of thunder, but that she
was not likely to reveal the secret of my remedy. She answered that one
thing at least was certain, namely that no other woman had ever been
cured by the same prescription.
"Why," I said, "the same remedy has very likely been applied a million
of times within the last thousand years. To tell you the truth, I had
somewhat depended upon it, when we entered the chaise together, for I
did not know any other way of obtaining the happiness of possessing you.
But console yourself with the belief that, placed in the same position,
no frightened woman could have resisted."
"I believe you; but for the future I will travel only with my husband."
"You would be wrong, for your husband would not have been clever enough
to cure your fright in the way I have done."
"True, again. One learns some curious things in your company; but we
shall not travel tete-a-tete again."
We reached Pasean an hour before our friends. We get out of the chaise,
and my fair mistress ran off to her chamber, while I was looking for a
crown for the postillion. I saw that he was grinning.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Oh! you know."
"Here, take this ducat and keep a quiet tongue in your head."
CHAPTER VI
My Grandmother's Death and Its Consequences I Lose M. de Malipiero's
Friendship--I Have No Longer a Home--La Tintoretta--I Am Sent to a
Clerical Seminary--I Am Expelled From It, and Confined in a Fortress
During supper the conversation turned altogether upon the storm, and the
official, who knew the weakness of his wife, told me that he was quite
certain I would never travel with her again. "Nor I with him," his wife
remarked, "for, in his fearful impiety, he exorcised the lightning with
jokes."
Henceforth she avoided me so skilfully that I never could contrive
another interview with her.
When I returned to Venice I found my grandmother ill, and I had to
change all my habits, for I loved her too dearly not to surround her
with every care and attention; I never left her until she had breathed
her last. She was unable to leave me anything, for during her life she
had given me all she could, and her death compelled me to adopt an
entirely different mode of life.
A month after her death, I received a letter from my mother informing me
that, as there was no probability of her return to Venice, she had
determined to give up the house, the rent of which she was still paying,
that she had communicated her intention to the Abbe Grimani, and that I
was to be guided entirely by his advice.
He was instructed to sell the furniture, and to place me, as well as my
brothers and my sister, in a good boarding-house. I called upon Grimani
to assure him of my perfect disposition to obey his commands.
The rent of the house had been paid until the end of the year; but, as I
was aware that the furniture would be sold on the expiration of the
term, I placed my wants under no restraint. I had already sold some
linen, most of the china, and several tapestries; I now began to dispose
of the mirrors, beds, etc. I had no doubt that my conduct would be
severely blamed, but I knew likewise that it was my father's
inheritance, to which my mother had no claim whatever, and, as to my
brothers, there was plenty of time before any explanation could take
place between us.
Four months afterwards I had a second letter from my mother, dated from
Warsaw, and enclosing another. Here is the translation of my mother's
letter:
"My dear son, I have made here the acquaintance of a learned Minim
friar, a Calabrian by birth, whose great qualities have made me think of
you every time he has honoured me with a visit. A year ago I told him
that I had a son who was preparing himself for the Church, but that I
had not the means of keeping him during his studies, and he promised
that my son would become his own child, if I could obtain for him from
the queen a bishopric in his native country, and he added that it would
be very easy to succeed if I could induce the sovereign to recommend him
to her daughter, the queen of Naples.
"Full of trust in the Almighty, I threw myself at the feet of her
majesty, who granted me her gracious protection. She wrote to her
daughter, and the worthy friar has been appointed by the Pope to the
bishopric of Monterano. Faithful to his promise, the good bishop will
take you with him about the middle of next year, as he passes through
Venice to reach Calabria. He informs you himself of his intentions in
the enclosed letter. Answer him immediately, my dear son, and forward
your letter to me; I will deliver it to the bishop. He will pave your
way to the highest dignities of the Church, and you may imagine my
consolation if, in some twenty or thirty years, I had the happiness of
seeing you a bishop, at least! Until his arrival, M. Grimani will take
care of you. I give you my blessing, and I am, my dear child, etc.,
etc."
The bishop's letter was written in Latin, and was only a repetition of
my mother's. It was full of unction, and informed me that he would tarry
but three days in Venice.
I answered according to my mother's wishes, but those two letters had
turned my brain. I looked upon my fortune as made. I longed to enter the
road which was to lead me to it, and I congratulated myself that I could
leave my country without any regret. Farewell, Venice, I exclaimed; the
days for vanity are gone by, and in the future I will only think of a
great, of a substantial career! M. Grimani congratulated me warmly on my
good luck, and promised all his friendly care to secure a good boarding-
house, to which I would go at the beginning of the year, and where I
would wait for the bishop's arrival.
M. de Malipiero, who in his own way had great wisdom, and who saw that
in Venice I was plunging headlong into pleasures and dissipation, and
was only wasting a precious time, was delighted to see me on the eve of
going somewhere else to fulfil my destiny, and much pleased with my
ready acceptance of those new circumstances in my life. He read me a
lesson which I have never forgotten. "The famous precept of the Stoic
philosophers," he said to me, "'Sequere Deum', can be perfectly
explained by these words: 'Give yourself up to whatever fate offers to
you, provided you do not feel an invincible repugnance to accept it.'"
He added that it was the genius of Socrates, 'saepe revocans, raro
impellens'; and that it was the origin of the 'fata viam inveniunt' of
the same philosophers.
M. de Malipiero's science was embodied in that very lesson, for he had
obtained his knowledge by the study of only one book--the book of man.
However, as if it were to give me the proof that perfection does not
exist, and that there is a bad side as well as a good one to everything,
a certain adventure happened to me a month afterwards which, although I
was following his own maxims, cost me the loss of his friendship, and
which certainly did not teach me anything.
The senator fancied that he could trace upon the physiognomy of young
people certain signs which marked them out as the special favourites of
fortune. When he imagined that he had discovered those signs upon any
individual, he would take him in hand and instruct him how to assist
fortune by good and wise principles; and he used to say, with a great
deal of truth, that a good remedy would turn into poison in the hands of
a fool, but that poison is a good remedy when administered by a learned
man. He had, in my time, three favourites in whose education he took
great pains. They were, besides myself, Therese Imer, with whom the
reader has a slight acquaintance already, and the third was the daughter
of the boatman Gardela, a girl three years younger than I, who had the
prettiest and most fascinating countenance. The speculative old man, in
order to assist fortune in her particular case, made her learn dancing,
for, he would say, the ball cannot reach the pocket unless someone
pushes it. This girl made a great reputation at Stuttgard under the name
of Augusta. She was the favourite mistress of the Duke of Wurtemburg in
1757. She was a most charming woman. The last time I saw her she was in
Venice, and she died two years afterwards. Her husband, Michel de
l'Agata, poisoned himself a short time after her death.
One day we had all three dined with him, and after dinner the senator
left us, as was his wont, to enjoy his siesta; the little Gardela,
having a dancing lesson to take, went away soon after him, and I found
myself alone with Therese, whom I rather admired, although I had never
made love to her. We were sitting down at a table very near each other,
with our backs to the door of the room in which we thought our patron
fast asleep, and somehow or other we took a fancy to examine into the
difference of conformation between a girl and a boy; but at the most
interesting part of our study a violent blow on my shoulders from a
stick, followed by another, and which would have been itself followed by
many more if I had not ran away, compelled us to abandon our interesting
investigation unfinished. I got off without hat or cloak, and went home;
but in less than a quarter of an hour the old housekeeper of the senator
brought my clothes with a letter which contained a command never to
present myself again at the mansion of his excellency. I immediately
wrote him an answer in the following terms: "You have struck me while
you were the slave of your anger; you cannot therefore boast of having
given me a lesson, and I have not learned anything. To forgive you I
must forget that you are a man of great wisdom, and I can never forget
it."
This nobleman was perhaps quite right not to be pleased with the sight
we gave him; yet, with all his prudence, he proved himself very unwise,
for all the servants were acquainted with the cause of my exile, and, of
course, the adventure was soon known through the city, and was received
with great merriment. He dared not address any reproaches to Therese, as
I heard from her soon after, but she could not venture to entreat him to
pardon me.
The time to leave my father's house was drawing near, and one fine
morning I received the visit of a man about forty years old, with a
black wig, a scarlet cloak, and a very swarthy complexion, who handed me
a letter from M. Grimani, ordering me to consign to the bearer all the
furniture of the house according to the inventory, a copy of which was
in my possession. Taking the inventory in my hand, I pointed out every
article marked down, except when the said article, having through my
instrumentality taken an airing out of the house, happened to be
missing, and whenever any article was absent I said that I had not the
slightest idea where it might be. But the uncouth fellow, taking a very
high tone, said loudly that he must know what I had done with the
furniture. His manner being very disagreeable to me, I answered that I
had nothing to do with him, and as he still raised his voice I advised
him to take himself off as quickly as possible, and I gave him that
piece of advice in such a way as to prove to him that, at home, I knew I
was the more powerful of the two.
Feeling it my duty to give information to M. Grimani of what had just
taken place, I called upon him as soon as he was up, but I found that my
man was already there, and that he had given his own account of the
affair. The abbe, after a very severe lecture to which I had to listen
in silence, ordered me to render an account of all the missing articles.
I answered that I had found myself under the necessity of selling them
to avoid running into debt. This confession threw him in a violent
passion; he called me a rascal, said that those things did not belong to
me, that he knew what he had to do, and he commanded me to leave his
house on the very instant.
Mad with rage, I ran for a Jew, to whom I wanted to sell what remained
of the furniture, but when I returned to my house I found a bailiff
waiting at the door, and he handed me a summons. I looked over it and
perceived that it was issued at the instance of Antonio Razetta. It was
the name of the fellow with the swarthy countenance. The seals were
already affixed on all the doors, and I was not even allowed to go to my
room, for a keeper had been left there by the bailiff. I lost no time,
and called upon M. Rosa, to whom I related all the circumstances. After
reading the summons he said,
"The seals shall be removed to-morrow morning, and in the meantime I
shall summon Razetta before the avogador. But to-night, my dear friend,"
he added, "you must beg the hospitality of some one of your
acquaintances. It has been a violent proceeding, but you shall be paid
handsomely for it; the man is evidently acting under M. Grimani's
orders."
"Well, that is their business."
I spent the night with Nanette and Marton, and on the following morning,
the seals having been taken off, I took possession of my dwelling.
Razetta did not appear before the 'avogador', and M. Rosa summoned him
in my name before the criminal court, and obtained against him a writ of
'capias' in case he should not obey the second summons. On the third day
M. Grimani wrote to me, commanding me to call upon him. I went
immediately. As soon as I was in his presence he enquired abruptly what
my intentions were.
"I intend to shield myself from your violent proceedings under the
protection of the law, and to defend myself against a man with whom I
ought never to have had any connection, and who has compelled me to pass
the night in a disreputable place."
"In a disreputable place?"
"Of course. Why was I, against all right and justice, prevented from
entering my own dwelling?"
"You have possession of it now. But you must go to your lawyer and tell
him to suspend all proceedings against Razetta, who has done nothing but
under my instructions. I suspected that your intention was to sell the
rest of the furniture; I have prevented it. There is a room at your
disposal at St. Chrysostom's, in a house of mine, the first floor of
which is occupied by La Tintoretta, our first opera dancer. Send all
your things there, and come and dine with me every day. Your sister and
your brothers have been provided with a comfortable home; therefore,
everything is now arranged for the best."
I called at once upon M. Rosa, to whom I explained all that had taken
place, and his advice being to give way to M. Grimani's wishes, I
determined to follow it. Besides, the arrangement offered the best
satisfaction I could obtain, as to be a guest at his dinner table was an
honour for me. I was likewise full of curiosity respecting my new
lodging under the same roof with La Tintoretta, who was much talked of,
owing to a certain Prince of Waldeck who was extravagantly generous with
her.
The bishop was expected in the course of the summer; I had, therefore,
only six months more to wait in Venice before taking the road which
would lead me, perhaps, to the throne of Saint Peter: everything in the
future assumed in my eyes the brightest hue, and my imagination revelled
amongst the most radiant beams of sunshine; my castles in the air were
indeed most beautiful.
I dined the same day with M. Grimani, and I found myself seated next to
Razetta--an unpleasant neighbour, but I took no notice of him. When the
meal was over, I paid a last visit to my beautiful house in Saint-
Samuel's parish, and sent all I possessed in a gondola to my new
lodging.
I did not know Signora Tintoretta, but I was well acquainted with her
reputation, character and manners. She was but a poor dancer, neither
handsome nor plain, but a woman of wit and intellect. Prince Waldeck
spent a great deal for her, and yet he did not prevent her from
retaining the titulary protection of a noble Venetian of the Lin family,
now extinct, a man about sixty years of age, who was her visitor at
every hour of the day. This nobleman, who knew me, came to my room
towards the evening, with the compliments of the lady, who, he added,
was delighted to have me in her house, and would be pleased to receive
me in her intimate circle.
To excuse myself for not having been the first to pay my respects to the
signora, I told M. Lin that I did not know she was my neighbour, that M.
Grimani had not mentioned the circumstance, otherwise I would have paid
my duties to her before taking possession of my lodging. After this
apology I followed the ambassador, he presented me to his mistress, and
the acquaintance was made.
She received me like a princess, took off her glove before giving me her
hand to kiss, mentioned my name before five or six strangers who were
present, and whose names she gave me, and invited me to take a seat near
her. As she was a native of Venice, I thought it was absurd for her to
speak French to me, and I told her that I was not acquainted with that
language, and would feel grateful if she would converse in Italian. She
was surprised at my not speaking French, and said I would cut but a poor
figure in her drawing-room, as they seldom spoke any other language
there, because she received a great many foreigners. I promised to learn
French. Prince Waldeck came in during the evening; I was introduced to
him, and he gave me a very friendly welcome. He could speak Italian very
well, and during the carnival he shewed me great kindness. He presented
me with a gold snuffbox as a reward for a very poor sonnet which I had
written for his dear Grizellini. This was her family name; she was
called Tintoretta because her father had been a dyer.
The Tintoretta had greater claims than Juliette to the admiration of
sensible men. She loved poetry, and if it had not been that I was
expecting the bishop, I would have fallen in love with her. She was
herself smitten with a young physician of great merit, named Righelini,
who died in the prime of life, and whom I still regret. I shall have to
mention him in another part of my Memoirs.
Towards the end of the carnival, my mother wrote to M. Grimani that it
would be a great shame if the bishop found me under the roof of an opera
dancer, and he made up his mind to lodge me in a respectable and decent
place. He took the Abbe Tosello into consultation, and the two gentlemen
thought that the best thing they could do for me would be to send me to
a clerical seminary. They arranged everything unknown to me, and the
abbe undertook to inform me of their plan and to obtain from me a
gracious consent. But when I heard him speak with beautiful flowers of
rhetoric for the purpose of gilding the bitter pill, I could not help
bursting into a joyous laughter, and I astounded his reverence when I
expressed my readiness to go anywhere he might think right to send me.
The plan of the two worthy gentlemen was absurd, for at the age of
seventeen, and with a nature like mine, the idea of placing me in a
seminary ought never to have been entertained, but ever a faithful
disciple of Socrates, feeling no unconquerable reluctance, and the plan,
on the contrary, appearing to me rather a good joke, I not only gave a
ready consent, but I even longed to enter the seminary. I told M.
Grimani I was prepared to accept anything, provided Razetta had nothing
to do with it. He gave me his promise, but he did not keep it when I
left the seminary. I have never been able to decide whether this Grimani
was kind because he was a fool, or whether his stupidity was the result
of his kindness, but all his brothers were the same. The worst trick
that Dame Fortune can play upon an intelligent young man is to place him
under the dependence of a fool. A few days afterwards, having been
dressed as a pupil of a clerical seminary by the care of the abbe, I was
taken to Saint-Cyprian de Muran and introduced to the rector.
The patriarchal church of Saint-Cyprian is served by an order of the
monks, founded by the blessed Jerome Miani, a nobleman of Venice. The
rector received me with tender affection and great kindness. But in his
address (which was full of unction) I thought I could perceive a
suspicion on his part that my being sent to the seminary was a
punishment, or at least a way to put a stop to an irregular life, and,
feeling hurt in my dignity, I told him at once, "Reverend father, I do
not think that any one has the right of punishing me."
"No, no, my son," he answered, "I only meant that you would be very
happy with us."
We were then shewn three halls, in which we found at least one hundred
and fifty seminarists, ten or twelve schoolrooms, the refectory, the
dormitory, the gardens for play hours, and every pain was taken to make
me imagine life in such a place the happiest that could fall to the lot
of a young man, and to make me suppose that I would even regret the
arrival of the bishop. Yet they all tried to cheer me up by saying that
I would only remain there five or six months. Their eloquence amused me
greatly.
I entered the seminary at the beginning of March, and prepared myself
for my new life by passing the night between my two young friends,
Nanette and Marton, who bathed their pillows with tears; they could not
understand, and this was likewise the feeling of their aunt and of the
good M. Rosa, how a young man like myself could shew such obedience.
The day before going to the seminary, I had taken care to entrust all my
papers to Madame Manzoni. They made a large parcel, and I left it in her
hands for fifteen years. The worthy old lady is still alive, and with
her ninety years she enjoys good health and a cheerful temper. She
received me with a smile, and told me that I would not remain one month
in the seminary.
"I beg your pardon, madam, but I am very glad to go there, and intend to
remain until the arrival of the bishop."
"You do not know your own nature, and you do not know your bishop, with
whom you will not remain very long either."
The abbe accompanied me to the seminary in a gondola, but at Saint-
Michel he had to stop in consequence of a violent attack of vomiting
which seized me suddenly; the apothecary cured me with some mint-water.
I was indebted for this attack to the too frequent sacrifices which I
had been offering on the altar of love. Any lover who knows what his
feelings were when he found himself with the woman he adored and with
the fear that it was for the last time, will easily imagine my feelings
during the last hours that I expected ever to spend with my two charming
mistresses. I could not be induced to let the last offering be the last,
and I went on offering until there was no more incense left.
The priest committed me to the care of the rector, and my luggage was
carried to the dormitory, where I went myself to deposit my cloak and my
hat. I was not placed amongst the adults, because, notwithstanding my
size, I was not old enough. Besides, I would not shave myself, through
vanity, because I thought that the down on my face left no doubt of my
youth. It was ridiculous, of course; but when does man cease to be so?
We get rid of our vices more easily than of our follies. Tyranny has not
had sufficient power over me to compel me to shave myself; it is only in
that respect that I have found tyranny to be tolerant.
"To which school do you wish to belong?" asked the rector.
"To the dogmatic, reverend father; I wish to study the history of the
Church."
"I will introduce you to the father examiner."
"I am doctor in divinity, most reverend father, and do not want to be
examined."
"It is necessary, my dear son; come with me."
This necessity appeared to me an insult, and I felt very angry; but a
spirit of revenge quickly whispered to me the best way to mystify them,
and the idea made me very joyful. I answered so badly all the questions
propounded in Latin by the examiner, I made so many solecisms, that he
felt it his duty to send me to an inferior class of grammar, in which,
to my great delight, I found myself the companion of some twenty young
urchins of about ten years, who, hearing that I was doctor in divinity,
kept on saying: 'Accipiamus pecuniam, et mittamus asinum in patriam
suam'.
Our play hours afforded me great amusement; my companions of the
dormitory, who were all in the class of philosophy at least, looked down
upon me with great contempt, and when they spoke of their own sublime
discourses, they laughed if I appeared to be listening attentively to
their discussions which, as they thought, must have been perfect enigmas
to me. I did not intend to betray myself, but an accident, which I could
not avoid, forced me to throw off the mask.
Father Barbarigo, belonging to the Convent of the Salutation at Venice,
whose pupil I had been in physics, came to pay a visit to the rector,
and seeing me as we were coming from mass paid me his friendly
compliments. His first question was to enquire what science I was
studying, and he thought I was joking when I answered that I was
learning the grammar. The rector having joined us, I left them together,
and went to my class. An hour later, the rector sent for me.
"Why did you feign such ignorance at the examination?" he asked.
"Why," I answered, "were you unjust enough to compel me to the
degradation of an examination?"
He looked annoyed, and escorted me to the dogmatic school, where my
comrades of the dormitory received me with great astonishment, and in
the afternoon, at play time, they gathered around me and made me very
happy with their professions of friendship.
One of them, about fifteen years old, and who at the present time must,
if still alive, be a bishop, attracted my notice by his features as much
as by his talents. He inspired me with a very warm friendship, and
during recess, instead of playing skittles with the others, we always
walked together. We conversed upon poetry, and we both delighted in the
beautiful odes of Horace. We liked Ariosto better than Tasso, and
Petrarch had our whole admiration, while Tassoni and Muratori, who had
been his critics, were the special objects of our contempt. We were such
fast friends, after four days of acquaintance, that we were actually
jealous of each other, and to such an extent that if either of us walked
about with any seminarist, the other would be angry and sulk like a
disappointed lover.
The dormitory was placed under the supervision of a lay friar, and it
was his province to keep us in good order. After supper, accompanied by
this lay friar, who had the title of prefect, we all proceeded to the
dormitory. There, everyone had to go to his own bed, and to undress
quietly after having said his prayers in a low voice. When all the
pupils were in bed, the prefect would go to his own. A large lantern
lighted up the dormitory, which had the shape of a parallelogram eighty
yards by ten. The beds were placed at equal distances, and to each bed
there were a fold-stool, a chair, and room for the trunk of the
Seminarist. At one end was the washing place, and at the other the bed
of the prefect. The bed of my friend was opposite mine, and the lantern
was between us.
The principal duty of the prefect was to take care that no pupil should
go and sleep with one of his comrades, for such a visit was never
supposed an innocent one. It was a cardinal sin, and, bed being
accounted the place for sleep and not for conversation, it was admitted
that a pupil who slept out of his own bed, did so only for immoral
purposes. So long as he stopped in his own bed, he could do what he
liked; so much the worse for him if he gave himself up to bad practices.
It has been remarked in Germany that it is precisely in those
institutions for young men in which the directors have taken most pains
to prevent onanism that this vice is most prevalent.
Those who had framed the regulations in our seminary were stupid fools,
who had not the slightest knowledge of either morals or human nature.
Nature has wants which must be administered to, and Tissot is right only
as far as the abuse of nature is concerned, but this abuse would very
seldom occur if the directors exercised proper wisdom and prudence, and
if they did not make a point of forbidding it in a special and peculiar
manner; young people give way to dangerous excesses from a sheer delight
in disobedience,--a disposition very natural to humankind, since it
began with Adam and Eve.
I had been in the seminary for nine or ten days, when one night I felt
someone stealing very quietly in my bed; my hand was at once clutched,
and my name whispered. I could hardly restrain my laughter. It was my
friend, who, having chanced to wake up and finding that the lantern was
out, had taken a sudden fancy to pay me a visit. I very soon begged him
to go away for fear the prefect should be awake, for in such a case we
should have found ourselves in a very unpleasant dilemma, and most
likely would have been accused of some abominable offence. As I was
giving him that good advice we heard someone moving, and my friend made
his escape; but immediately after he had left me I heard the fall of
some person, and at the same time the hoarse voice of the prefect
exclaiming:
"Ah, villain! wait until to-morrow--until to-morrow!"
After which threat he lighted the lantern and retired to his couch.
The next morning, before the ringing of the bell for rising, the rector,
followed by the prefect, entered the dormitory, and said to us:
"Listen to me, all of you. You are aware of what has taken place this
last night. Two amongst you must be guilty; but I wish to forgive them,
and to save their honour I promise that their names shall not be made
public. I expect every one of you to come to me for confession before
recess."
He left the dormitory, and we dressed ourselves. In the afternoon, in
obedience to his orders, we all went to him and confessed, after which
ceremony we repaired to the garden, where my friend told me that, having
unfortunately met the prefect after he left me, he had thought that the
best way was to knock him down, in order to get time to reach his own
bed without being known.
"And now," I said, "you are certain of being forgiven, for, of course,
you have wisely confessed your error?"
"You are joking," answered my friend; "why, the good rector would not
have known any more than he knows at present, even if my visit to you
had been paid with a criminal intent."
"Then you must have made a false confession: you are at all events
guilty of disobedience?"
"That may be, but the rector is responsible for the guilt, as he used
compulsion."
"My dear friend, you argue in a very forcible way, and the very reverend
rector must by this time be satisfied that the inmates of our dormitory
are more learned than he is himself."
No more would have been said about the adventure if, a few nights after,
I had not in my turn taken a fancy to return the visit paid by my
friend. Towards midnight, having had occasion to get out of bed, and
hearing the loud snoring of the prefect, I quickly put out the lantern
and went to lie beside my friend. He knew me at once, and gladly
received me; but we both listened attentively to the snoring of our
keeper, and when it ceased, understanding our danger, I got up and
reached my own bed without losing a second, but the moment I got to it I
had a double surprise. In the first place I felt somebody lying in my
bed, and in the second I saw the prefect, with a candle in his hand,
coming along slowly and taking a survey of all the beds right and left.
I could understand the prefect suddenly lighting a candle, but how could
I realize what I saw--namely, one of my comrades sleeping soundly in my
bed, with his back turned to me? I immediately made up my mind to feign
sleep. After two or three shakings given by the prefect, I pretended to
wake up, and my bed-companion woke up in earnest. Astonished at finding
himself in my bed, he offered me an apology:
"I have made a mistake," he said, "as I returned from a certain place in
the dark, I found your bed empty, and mistook it for mine."
"Very likely," I answered; "I had to get up, too."
"Yes," remarked the prefect; "but how does it happen that you went to
bed without making any remark when, on your return, you found your bed
already tenanted? And how is it that, being in the dark, you did not
suppose that you were mistaken yourself?"
"I could not be mistaken, for I felt the pedestal of this crucifix of
mine, and I knew I was right; as to my companion here, I did not feel
him."
"It is all very unlikely," answered our Argus; and he went to the
lantern, the wick of which he found crushed down.
"The wick has been forced into the oil, gentlemen; it has not gone out
of itself; it has been the handiwork of one of you, but it will be seen
to in the morning."
My stupid companion went to his own bed, the prefect lighted the lamp
and retired to his rest, and after this scene, which had broken the
repose of every pupil, I quietly slept until the appearance of the
rector, who, at the dawn of day, came in great fury, escorted by his
satellite, the prefect.
The rector, after examining the localities and submitting to a lengthy
interrogatory first my accomplice, who very naturally was considered as
the most guilty, and then myself, whom nothing could convict of the
offence, ordered us to get up and go to church to attend mass. As soon
as we were dressed, he came back, and addressing us both, he said,
kindly:
"You stand both convicted of a scandalous connivance, and it is proved
by the fact of the lantern having been wilfully extinguished. I am
disposed to believe that the cause of all this disorder is, if not
entirely innocent, at least due only to extreme thoughtlessness; but the
scandal given to all your comrades, the outrage offered to the
discipline and to the established rules of the seminary, call loudly for
punishment. Leave the room."
We obeyed; but hardly were we between the double doors of the dormitory
than we were seized by four servants, who tied our hands behind us, and
led us to the class room, where they compelled us to kneel down before
the great crucifix. The rector told them to execute his orders, and, as
we were in that position, the wretches administered to each of us seven
or eight blows with a stick, or with a rope, which I received, as well
as my companion, without a murmur. But the moment my hands were free, I
asked the rector whether I could write two lines at the very foot of the
cross. He gave orders to bring ink and paper, and I traced the following
words:
"I solemnly swear by this God that I have never spoken to the seminarist
who was found in my bed. As an innocent person I must protest against
this shameful violence. I shall appeal to the justice of his lordship
the patriarch."
My comrade in misery signed this protest with me; after which,
addressing myself to all the pupils, I read it aloud, calling upon them
to speak the truth if any one could say the contrary of what I had
written. They, with one voice, immediately declared that we had never
been seen conversing together, and that no one knew who had put the lamp
out. The rector left the room in the midst of hisses and curses, but he
sent us to prison all the same at the top of the house and in separate
cells. An hour afterwards, I had my bed, my trunk and all my things, and
my meals were brought to me every day. On the fourth day, the Abbe
Tosello came for me with instructions to bring me to Venice. I asked him
whether he had sifted this unpleasant affair; he told me that he had
enquired into it, that he had seen the other seminarist, and that he
believed we were both innocent; but the rector would not confess himself
in the wrong, and he did not see what could be done.
I threw off my seminarist's habit, and dressed myself in the clothes I
used to wear in Venice, and, while my luggage was carried to a boat, I
accompanied the abbe to M. Grimani's gondola in which he had come, and
we took our departure. On our way, the abbe ordered the boatman to leave
my things at the Palace Grimani, adding that he was instructed by M.
Grimani to tell me that, if I had the audacity to present myself at his
mansion, his servants had received orders to turn me away.
He landed me near the convent of the Jesuits, without any money, and
with nothing but what I had on my back.
I went to beg a dinner from Madame Manzoni, who laughed heartily at the
realization of her prediction. After dinner I called upon M. Rosa to see
whether the law could protect me against the tyranny of my enemies, and
after he had been made acquainted with the circumstances of the case, he
promised to bring me the same evening, at Madame Orio's house, an extra-
judicial act. I repaired to the place of appointment to wait for him,
and to enjoy the pleasure of my two charming friends at my sudden
reappearance. It was indeed very great, and the recital of my adventures
did not astonish them less than my unexpected presence. M. Rosa came and
made me read the act which he had prepared; he had not had time to have
it engrossed by the notary, but he undertook to have it ready the next
day.
I left Madame Orio to take supper with my brother Francois, who resided
with a painter called Guardi; he was, like me, much oppressed by the
tyranny of Grimani, and I promised to deliver him. Towards midnight I
returned to the two amiable sisters who were expecting me with their
usual loving impatience, but, I am bound to confess it with all
humility, my sorrows were prejudicial to love in spite of the fortnight
of absence and of abstinence. They were themselves deeply affected to
see me so unhappy, and pitied me with all their hearts. I endeavoured to
console them, and assured them that all my misery would soon come to an
end, and that we would make up for lost time.
In the morning, having no money, and not knowing where to go, I went to
St. Mark's Library, where I remained until noon. I left it with the
intention of dining with Madame Manzoni, but I was suddenly accosted by
a soldier who informed me that someone wanted to speak to me in a
gondola to which he pointed. I answered that the person might as well
come out, but he quietly remarked that he had a friend at hand to
conduct me forcibly to the gondola, if necessary, and without any more
hesitation I went towards it. I had a great dislike to noise or to
anything like a public exhibition. I might have resisted, for the
soldiers were unarmed, and I would not have been taken up, this sort of
arrest not being legal in Venice, but I did not think of it. The
'sequere deum' was playing its part; I felt no reluctance. Besides,
there are moments in which a courageous man has no courage, or disdains
to shew it.
I enter the gondola, the curtain is drawn aside, and I see my evil
genius, Razetta, with an officer. The two soldiers sit down at the prow;
I recognize M. Grimani's own gondola, it leaves the landing and takes
the direction of the Lido. No one spoke to me, and I remained silent.
After half-an-hour's sailing, the gondola stopped before the small
entrance of the Fortress St. Andre, at the mouth of the Adriatic, on the
very spot where the Bucentaur stands, when, on Ascension Day, the doge
comes to espouse the sea.
The sentinel calls the corporal; we alight, the officer who accompanied
me introduces me to the major, and presents a letter to him. The major,
after reading its contents, gives orders to M. Zen, his adjutant, to
consign me to the guard-house. In another quarter of an hour my
conductors take their departure, and M. Zen brings me three livres and a
half, stating that I would receive the same amount every week. It was exactly the pay of a private. |
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