Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

‘Come in, come in, Mody. Please, close the door softly. I can’t stand the slamming of doors. Why are you standing there frozen? Come, sit down. Carmine and I have a couple of little things to make clear to you … Have you met her, Carmine?’

I sat down just in time because my legs were no longer working. The man was staring at me with a blue gaze as opaque as majolica.

‘I haven’t yet had the honour of meeting Signorina Modesta.’

‘Mody, Carmine, Mody!’

‘ Voscenza will pardon me, Princess, but I don’t like these foreign names.’

‘And yet, in my presence at least, you’ll have to get used to it.’

‘With all due respect, what nationality would this “Mody” be?’

‘English. First I thought of Modesty, but it’s almost as ugly as the Italian, so I shortened it to suit me. I have no idea if it’s correct. But the British, a grand people, are very permissive when it comes to names. Do you know what the mother of my consort, the Prince, God rest his soul, used to say, Mody? Yes, that bourgeoise commoner whom we robbed. And don’t blush, of course that chatterbox Beatrice must have told you all about it! The Englishwoman used to say that to keep a horse happy all you have to do is tie him with a longer rope. So the British are firmly tied but with a rope so long they’re not even aware of it and think they’re free. Oh, yes, I learned quite a few things from that bourgeoise lady. She was clever! She read, instead of wearing herself out by having babies. But why are you letting me go on! This isn’t why we’re here. Listen, Carmine, to finish our discussion I’m telling you that this girl is skilful and gifted. For two months now she’s been keeping all the household accounts, and never one mistake. Everything balances better than when I kept them, and she’s even saved me some money.’

‘I don’t doubt it. But the house is one thing, it’s another thing to…’

‘And what about me? It seems to me I’ve been taking care of everything for ten years, haven’t I?’

‘Forgive me for what may seem like an impropriety, but Voscenza , Princess, are an exception: you were born to be a man!’

‘And I’m telling you that Mody is like me! I’ve been watching her for months! Besides I can use a hand; my eyesight is worsening. I have to train someone who will be able to look after things when I am gone. Leonora of course was impetuous like Beatrice, but she had good taste and intelligence. It’s as if she found the girl and raised her just to relieve me during these final years. Yes, I admit it: I’m tired, and someone must take my place.’

‘But…’

‘We’ve talked too much about it today. Mody is here. Leonora sent her to us and starting tomorrow, 3 November 1917, she will meet with us every Monday to learn to manage everything. You see her speechless because she’s afraid of me, but the tutor told me that she has quite a glib tongue! I will teach her to deal with those thieving attorneys and notaries and you will instruct her about the lands and the tenants. Understood?’

‘But, if I may say so, the signorina is young.’

‘Young or not, that’s my decision … You don’t agree?’

‘I’d rather not answer that.’

‘You — when you were a boy, who taught you?’

‘The Prince, God rest his soul, and Voscenza , Princess.’

‘So then, why won’t you respond about the girl?’

‘Because, with your permission, I prefer not to.’

‘Don’t respond then, given how obstinate you are. But starting today, here, in my presence, you must call her Padrona . Understood, Carmine? Mistress. Say it.’

‘I have to call the signorina Mistress?’

‘Mistress.’

‘Since Voscenza insists, but given that she’s just a little slip of a girl, ’na scazzidda di carusa , can I at least call her Padroncina ?’

‘Oh, all right. Now go. I’m tired. And you, girl, why are you still standing there? I said you may go, didn’t I? I’m sure you understood everything. And try to command the respect of that man of honour.’ 22

And to command his respect I began poring over maps of the property to study the boundaries, lands and dividing walls of those immense estates. There was always some legal action underway. The princess had given me the civil code, saying: ‘Study it. It’s the only way to avoid being seriously robbed by lawyers, brokers and notaries.’

Every Monday I listened to Carmine report on the new crops, the harvest … Labour was in short supply because of the general mobilization … The sovrastanti , his trusted men, and the braccianti , the farm hands, were demanding more and more … In Licata, a lamb had been found in the fields with its legs broken. It was a warning: we must negotiate with them or all the livestock would end up in the woods of Ficuzza — who could set foot in those woodlands? — and there become tinned food for the front. South of the Valle del Bove, a lava flow had destroyed acres and acres of olive groves. Nothing got through from the north anymore. Strikes at Fiat had blocked everything and prices were rising sky-high: bread which in 1915 cost 53 cents a pound had risen to 56 cents a pound, pasta from 71 cents to 95. And to make matters worse, in August, on the continent — specifically in Turin — there had been a bread riot.

‘Here too, believe me, Voscenza , discontent is growing. At the front the soldiers are full of these rebellious ideas. And sooner or later they’ll come back … the senzadio , those godless atheists, can rear their heads here too. Let’s not forget 1893. Today there isn’t a man like Crispi on the island. Keep in mind that in Turin they also looted and burned the church of San Bernardino…’

Now I knew who those wretched senzadio were. And I also knew that Crispi had stopped the revolution with bloodshed. I had learned it from Jacopo. In a book by Voltaire, in the margin, there was a box with a black border where he had written:

‘I should rejoice over Crispi’s bloody victory, but the general jubilation finds no echo in my heart. I know all too well that we are a class that’s done for, but I would rather we died at the hands of the peasants than be bled dry by the gabellotti . Because that will be our end.’

I had known I could find information in his room, but I would never have imagined the treasures contained in that small library. I had to study, to prepare myself for when I met them, those socialists. They also said that women were equal to men. In the margin of a book by Augusto Bebel, Jacopo’s clear handwriting read:

‘October 21, 1913. How I have tried to instil at least some of these ideas in Beatrice! But it’s difficult to uproot her from this barbaric setting that surrounds her. It will take a century before women can hear your voice, old Augusto!’

I soaked up those faint lines, erased by time in some places, as though I were Beatrice … I stole her place. I could hear Jacopo’s voice from those pages, instructing me not to read chaotically, as he put it, but systematically, his method. At the end of Candide a note said: ‘reread Diderot’s Interpretation of Nature ’. 23When I opened the book, the words ‘Young man, open this book and read on’ grabbed me by the throat, but the postscript especially moved me: ‘One more word before I take my leave. Always bear in mind that nature is not God , that a man is not a machine and that a hypothesis is not a fact ; you may be sure that if you think you have found something here which conflicts with these principles, you will have failed to understand me.’