The Viceroys (79 page)

The duke and his reactionary friends, stubbornly supporting the Right and awaiting the return of Sella and Minghetti like that of Our Saviour, had created a Constitutional Association,
of which, however, the Honourable Deputy himself refused to be head. He too in his heart now realised that it was a cul-de-sac; but he was now nearing seventy, he was tired, he had nothing more to do. In under twenty years he had put together a fortune of some millions, the administration of which would absorb the whole of his remaining activity. Though he had now decided to withdraw from public life he had one last ambition, to be named senator. So in order to keep in with public opinion, till the end, he considered it best not to abandon brusquely the Party to which he had linked himself ever more closely since 1876, and not to come out too openly against the Left Wing from which he expected to receive a seat at Palazzo Madama. So he had Benedetto Giulente made president of the Constitutional Association, with himself as only a simple member.

Meanwhile, in opposition to this there had been formed a Progressive Association, of which Consalvo became a member. ‘Uncle and nephew in opposite camps? Youth rebelling against age?' they said in the squares. But the usual malicious tongues hinted that it was in friendly agreement, that the duke was pleased at his nephew being in the opposite camp, just as the young prince took advantage of his uncle's credit with the Conservatives. Anyway, although a member of the Progressives, he declared to them that the Left had not yet any ‘financier of Sella's calibre' or as ‘eloquent an orator as Minghetti'. But to those who showed their disillusionment with the Constitutional régime he freely declared that ‘the mistake was ever to think it could yield good results. Flocks have always needed shepherds, sticks and sheepdogs …' He even agreed with the few who regretted the old days of Sicilian autonomy. ‘Let's say it frankly between ourselves; maybe we'd be better off today.' He would have had no difficulty in conceding to his aunt Ferdinanda that the Bourbon Government was the only decent one, but as the old woman could be of no use to him he let her talk on. In fact he made use of her opposition as well as of the break with his father. He knew that many were laughing incredulously at his proclamation of democratic faith, and exclaiming, ‘He, Prince of Mirabella, future Prince of Francalanza, descendant of the Viceroys? Oh, come off it!…' So he would affirm, ‘For this faith and these principles of mine I have quarrelled with my
father, renounced my aunt's inheritance, and would endure even greater adversity!'

In the Council a quarrel would sometimes break out between aristocratic conservatives and progressive radicals. Then he would exclaim, ‘We mustn't talk politics here …' But once when the discussion became too lively, he was dragged in. Rizzoni, an extreme radical, cried:

‘Let us ask the young prince if the future is not ours, if he isn't a democrat too …'

‘My nephew?…' replied Benedetto Giulente, ‘Aristocracy incarnate?…'

When forced to reply, he smiled, stroked his moustaches, and said:

‘The ideal of democracy is aristocratic'

‘What's that? Listen to this!… Really new!… What the devil!…' all exclaimed.

He let them have their say, then repeated:

‘What, in fact, does “democracy” mean? That all men are equal! But equal in what? In poverty and subjection maybe? Equal in their duties, in their strength, in their power …' And as after a second of amazement exclamations broke out again, he quickly changed the subject by saying, ‘Now we can move on to the next item on the agenda: a petition to the Government for the construction of a dry-dock …'

Nowadays Consalvo paid occasional visits to his father. He no longer felt any aversion to him; the zeal, the enthusiasm with which he busied himself with public affairs, the concentration of all his energies on achieving his new aim, left no place for any other feeling either of hatred or love. As for the prince, his son's visits made him quiver with terror, and as soon as he heard him announced by the new major-domo (for Baldassarre, stubborn as a true Uzeda, really had left) he would plunge his left hand into his pocket and only draw it out to spread it open in the sign against the Evil Eye behind his son's back as the latter was leaving. Their talk was always of indifferent matters, as between strangers. The prince pretended not to know that Consalvo was the highest civic magistrate. But on the whole now they were behaving civilly to each other.

Teresa, now Duchess Radalì, saw this as the compensation of her own sacrifice. Except for the very first period, when the memory of Giovannino was not quite dead in her heart and his superiority over his brother seemed greater to her than ever, she had not suffered as much as she had feared. The duke Michele not only treated her well and left her full liberty, but showed her in his own rather gross way a lively and sincere affection. His mother too, from pleasure at seeing her own plans fulfilled, made a great fuss of her and even let her take part in the running of the house. The baron was at Augusta, busy with rustic pursuits, and wrote two or three times a month to his brother or mother, ending his letters with ‘greetings to my sister-in-law'.

The calm reigning at her new home, the peace re-established in her old one, her husband's affection, Consalvo's triumphs, the praises gathered by herself—for she had at once taken first place among the young matrons of the town—made smiles come more and more readily to her lips. It was true she no longer felt like composing music or poetry, but she still often sat at her piano for exercise, and maybe took even more trouble about her appearance than she had before.

Now she was free to read the books she liked most, and when she had nothing to do, devoured novels, plays and poetry. But the stimulant of this reading never prevented her from attending to her religious devotions with zeal and fervour. To the Radalì palace came Monsignor the Bishop himself, the Vicar-General and the same prelates who frequented the prince's; all pointed to the young duchess as a model of domestic and Christian virtues.

Soon pregnancy made her entirely forget her past dreams and drew her closer to present reality. She suffered little discomfort, and time flew by fast amid all her many cares and thoughts. The birth went off well; all expected a son and a son was born, a big, florid baby who might have been a year old. ‘How could it be otherwise?' said everyone. ‘With a daughter and wife as good as her, protected by a Saint in heaven?…' Preparations for baptism were sumptuous. The duke wanted his brother to be godfather. His mother approved; Teresa, on her nuptial bed, where she stayed more from contented indolence than from any need, said that of course there could be no better choice.
Giovannino was rather tardy in replying, but when begged by the duke in the name of his mother and also of his wife, arrived on the eve of the ceremony.

He seemed a different man; he had become stronger, the sun had bronzed him, his beard gave him a more manly air, as attractive as his old one but in a different way. He shook his sister-in-law's hand, asked most solicitously for news of her health, and wanted to see his little nephew, whom he found a darling and kept on kissing again and again. She, even calmer and more serene than he, greeted him like a friend whom she had not seen for a long time. After the ceremony of baptism, to which were invited all relations close and distant, all acquaintances, half the city, Giovannino announced that he was going back. They all did their best to hold him, but he declared that there was a great deal for him to do in the country and went off promising to return soon and see his little godson again.

At the baptism, many of the guests who had not frequented the Uzeda before asked about a haggard flabby-looking old man in a brand-new suit, worn-out shoes, a filthy old hat and with silver-knobbed cane.

It was the Cavaliere Don Eugenio. The printing of the
New Herald
, a supplement, had brought him another moment of prosperity. He had spent money wildly and still had a little left. But the scandal he had made was appalling, for he had attributed titles of nobility and coats-of-arms and coronets to whoever paid him; grocers, shoemakers, barbers were making great show in their shops of gilt-framed pictures with, beneath crowns, helmets and multi-coloured draperies, shields containing lions, eagles, snakes, cats, hares, rabbits and every kind of beast and bird; and also castles, towers, pillars, mountains; and stars of all sizes, and silver moons, full and crescent; golden suns and comets; all the colours of the spectrum, all the metals, all the mantles. No scruples or difficulties had stopped him; one with a name meaning ‘baker' was given a blazing oven ‘on a field
or
' one meaning ‘cauliflower' a big bunch of greenery ‘on a field
argent
.' And so his enterprise brought him in quite a good sum, but, as at other times, most of this had gone on the way. He had however bought back the edition of the first
Herald
which
the printer had sequestrated, and had returned to his home town with a thousand copies of this to sell and live by.

But he made his calculations without the prince. The latter, once the law case was settled, had regretted their agreement and complained of being defrauded, of being left empty-handed while Don Blasco's inheritance should all have gone to him. The ill-humour, the lack of appetite, the weakness he had suffered from before, began tormenting him again. In dumb irritation, unable to say he was ill from a superstitious fear of his ills growing by admitting them, he blamed his daughter for imposing the transaction on him and declared he had been stripped like a piece of wood. As soon as he saw his uncle Don Eugenio return and heard that he had a little money, he asked him forthwith for the repayment of his loan. When Don Eugenio mentioned his renunciation of rights on Don Blasco's Will, he shouted:

‘What rights, what wrongs? I've been stripped! Everything! I gave you money; give me it back now that you have some.'

Seeing things look bad, Don Eugenio confided:

‘I haven't any! I swear to you I haven't any! Just a few cents to live on; if I give you two thousand five hundred lire, how do I eat?'

‘Give me the copies then,' replied Giacomo promptly.

‘But they're my only revenue! If you take them away where can I lay my head? What does a bit of dirty paper matter to you?… You who are so rich. It's bread and butter to me … I'll sell them off gradually and so just manage to rub along.'

Inflexible, the prince insisted on having the whole edition of the
Sicilian Herald
and of the
Supplement
as security for his loan.

Although half Sicily was flooded with this publication, Don Eugenio would often manage to place a copy or two, whereupon he went and fetched them from the palace, promising the prince to bring him back the money and divide it. But no money ever came, and one day the nephew lost patience and declared:

‘The joke seems to me to have gone on long enough. From now on, if you want more copies you'll pay for them beforehand.'

So when the money brought from Palermo came to an end, the ex-Gentleman of the Bedchamber's difficulties began once more. Like a bookshop tout he climbed up and down stairs, his feet swollen with gout, dragging himself painfully, to offer his
Herald
and show specimen pages; and when he managed to find a buyer he ran and begged the prince to hand him over a copy, swearing and forswearing himself that he would return at once with the money. But the prince would say harshly, ‘Bring the money beforehand!' Not knowing where to turn, the old man stopped relations and mere acquaintances in the street to lend him the thirty lire required. Having scraped these together, he took them to his nephew, who let the copy go only after having pocketed the money. But, once handed the price from the buyer, Don Eugenio forgot to pay off the debts, so that the operation became more difficult every time. Recently too the cavaliere had found the market much harder; people to whom he had never suggested the
Herald
now replied, ‘What, again? I've got it already!' Were they saying that to send him away?… One day, just to make sure, he asked one of these how he had got it! ‘How d'you think? I bought it, of course! Someone came on behalf of your family; aren't you the prince's uncle?'

The old man banged his forehead. That rascal Giacomo!… Not content with taking nine thousand lire's worth of property off him in exchange for the two thousand five hundred of the loan, not content with having made his own sales impossible by demanding the price beforehand, he was now selling copies on his own account! ‘Ah, thief!… Ah, the thief!…' But composing his features into his usual look of amiability, he hurried to the palace.

‘If you've sold copies too, let's make up our accounts,' he said to the prince.

‘What accounts?' replied the latter, as if in amazement.

‘You've been selling the book! By now my debt must be paid off!'

‘If only it were! We'll do our accounts when I've time.'

Don Eugenio returned assiduously, but his nephew either said that he was busy or had a headache or was just going out. His uncle did not lose patience; he came back every day to remind
him of his promise. Then one bad morning, flinging himself on a chair, he said:

‘Listen, we can make up our accounts at your convenience, but today I've nothing in my pocket and am tired out. Lend me something.'

‘What? You want change?' exclaimed the prince, going pale. ‘D'you think we're quits? Half a dozen copies or so have been sold! And you have the face to ask for more money?'

‘I don't know what to do!' confided the cavaliere, looking famished and staring him straight in the eyes.

‘And you come to me? What right have you? Why should I give you money to eat? Why have you spent everything? Why haven't you ever thought of the future?'

‘I need something to eat, d'you understand?' repeated the cavaliere in the same tone of voice, and his eyes seemed to be eating his nephew up.