Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

26 March, morning

I found the courage to ask her. Smiling, she spoke these words which I’m writing down in order to try to understand them, like she does with poems. What she said was: ‘Well, Beatrice, that house is just like a church, filled with frescos of madonnas and saints! But as Jacopo used to say, it’s best to keep away from churches after you’ve admired the masterpieces.’ I really don’t understand, talking about that house as if it were a church. To me it seemed downright filthy. And frescos? Sure, there were some paintings, but … sometimes Modesta is truly a mystery. Or was she perhaps joking?

30 March 1921

Just a few lines, dear diary, because I am so happy my hands are shaking. Carlo is in Catania and is coming to dinner tonight. I’ll leave you now. I have so many things to do and I’m also very fearful. I don’t know why, but my forehead has been burning up since this morning and I’ve got the chills. I didn’t take my temperature; I’m afraid I have a fever. Just now, of all times! And that’s not all I’m afraid of. Recently I’ve thought and thought about what Argentovivo, in her impertinent way, told me that night. It can’t be true! But she’s been in love and knows more about it than I do. And if it were true? It’s terrible but I’m afraid, dear diary, that Argentovivo may be right. If only I could ask Modesta! She’s so intelligent, she knows so many things. But how can I? She might get jealous again and … I can’t bear to think about it. I mustn’t think about it. Because never, ever, would I leave Modesta, even if this misfortune were true. I swore to myself I wouldn’t. What would she do without me looking after her and taking care of the house? She, who is always busy working with all those lawyers and notaries and who, like all intelligent people, is so distracted and impractical? Even yesterday, if I hadn’t been here, she would have skipped breakfast, and she’s gotten so thin lately! I will never, ever leave her; among other things, it would offend the sacred memory of my grandmother. I will stifle this love inside me, so I can at least go on seeing him with Modesta and we can be happy together, for ever.

‘When I saw you two racing down the stairs like — if I may say so, Princess — a couple of real hoydens, I nearly fled for fear of hearing that muffled gallop over my head just like…’

‘Nonna Valentina’s marching?’

‘Well, unfortunately no, Beatrice! Nonna Valentina would certainly have been preferable to the charges of the royal guard. Damn Turin, built purposely so that a few carabinieri on horseback or a well-aimed cannon can keep an entire district under control. Ungrateful Turin, or ungrateful continent, as you call it. How I missed this tranquil, relaxing parlour and Catania’s safe streets!’

‘Why do you say that Carlo? You’re scaring me! Were there cannons?’

‘Cannons, no, at least not for the moment. It’s just that, having been gone for so long, I was able to see Turin in all its cold-blooded ruthlessness. That, however, is one of the benefits of travelling. One must periodically move away from any place where familiarity has killed objectivity. This is true of languages as well. After being forced to speak another language for many months, as I was, when you go back to your own you realize that being away from it has enabled you to rediscover its essential soul. One could coin an amusing slogan: “Study English, French, German to … learn Italian.” And so with these pedantic, futile notions, here I am expressing my joy to be with you again, and also … oh, yes, the fact that by virtue of my long stay in this island’s sun I have ripened into a respectable, indolent terrone , a true peasant. Oh! And I have also understood why those in the north are so scornful of the south: it’s because they’re envious, mark my words!’

‘You’re sad, Carlo. You’re joking, but you’re sad.’

‘Well, let’s say that the overall situation is not very reassuring.’

‘Because of Mussolini? But everyone says he’s just a ridiculous buffoon, isn’t that right, Modesta? Didn’t you hear that too, down in Catania?’

‘Yes, but I also saw some broken heads that didn’t seem to be at all a laughing matter.’

‘How happy I am that you at least have understood, Princess, and that you haven’t been swayed by the widespread tendency to belittle the adversary. As Gramsci says, “It seems to me that exhibiting this tendency is itself proof of one’s inferiority. Belittling one’s enemy is in fact an effort to enable oneself to believe that he can be vanquished…” 40But enough, I’m becoming a bore. My stay in the north made me lose what little sense of humour I had. Enough, I’ve said too much! And you, Princess, how are you? In Catania, the comrades told me that you weren’t well. But I see you are fine, I’m glad. I’m very curious, however…’

‘Don’t bother to be. With “them”, I blamed my absence on illness so I wouldn’t have to give unnecessary explanations.’

‘Given that I have obtained your permission to be indiscreet, would you also tell me why, or am I asking too much?’

‘Because of everything you’ve told us. There too, even if they don’t exactly say “be good, be saintly, be cowards” 41they say things very similar to that and … I got discouraged.’

‘Still, I know you continue to send money to the newspaper. I don’t understand.’

‘That’s another matter … but I’m afraid, Doctor, that we must try to draw Beatrice out of the silence into which she’s retreated in order to please me. Come, Beatrice, open your eyes and we’ll stop these serious discussions.’

‘Oh God, Princess, our poor little one has fallen asleep!’

‘She’s burning up, Doctor! Feel her, she’s feverish.’

‘So it wasn’t simply a justifiable, blessed sleep induced by the tedium of our conversation, but a fever! A very high fever, I would say. We must put her to bed right away.’

‘I’ll call Argentovivo.’

‘No, no, Nonna, please! I don’t want to go to boarding school, let me stay here with Modesta.’

‘What’s wrong, Doctor, what is it?’

‘It’s nothing, Princess. Don’t blanch so! There’s nothing alarming either in her chest or in her heart. It’s just a fever.’

‘Modesta, Modesta, don’t leave me! I don’t want to go away, I don’t want to!’

‘Come closer, Princess, hug her. Your being near her may soothe her.’

‘Oh, you’re here! Don’t go away, please. I know I’ve been bad, but I won’t do it again, ever!’

* * *

‘One more look at our little patient and then we’ll all go to bed. It’s almost dawn. It’s nothing serious, Princess; the salicylate has had its effect. Her fever is down. But you must exercise all your authority with Beatrice. The little one is not exactly what one would call a colossus. I would advise the utmost care. And now, if I may, I order you to go to bed as well. Come, I will accompany you to your room. You haven’t slept a wink, and it shows!’

‘You haven’t slept either.’

‘I’m used to it; it comes with my job. Come, off to bed! I really must be stern. You’re awfully pale. You off to bed and me off to Catania. I have an important house call at eight, but I’ll be back as soon as I’m free. Forgive me, Princess, but which grandmother was Beatrice talking about in her delirium? I shouldn’t ask, but it wrung my heart to hear her imploring that way. She honestly seemed desperate.’

‘You must have understood more or less, Doctor, a dreadful grandmother like your Nonna Valentina. Beatrice, however, did not have a mother like Bambolina from whom she could seek solace.’