A Modern Antique: A Florentine Story

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Contents

PABT FIBST.^FLOBENCK

CHAP.

I. A DBBT or HOVOUB

Part Third.— New York

I. TERRA INCOGNITA .

II. A RIVERSIDE CALL .

m. DINBB EN FAMILLB .

IV. AFTER THE STORM .

V. HELEN

VI. AT THE WALDORF-ASTORIA Vn. ETTORE RUBELLI Vm. THE TENTACLES OF THE OCTOPUS UL THE LAMB AND THE LION .

CHARACTERS.

Gaspero Bandini, AntiqoariaiL

Oddo Palmieri, a Florentine.

Count Alberto Saoobtti.

Ettorb Rubblli, Bandini's cUter ego,

Mr John Qrahamb, collector of antiques.

Mrs Grahamb.

Miss Helen Grahamb.

Mr^.WADE, bric-^-brac hunter.

Mr Bartlbtt, collector of objects of virtu.

Mr MiTCHBLL, connoisseur and art-critic.

Mr Bowler, art-critic.

Prince Tosinghi.

Princess Isidora Tosinohi.

Lieutenant Guardafossi.

Cavauere Santacroce.

Don Gaetano Tbgoli, a country priest.

I I

PAET FIRST

PAET FIRST

Chapter I. A Dkbt Of Honour

The postman had delivered three letters at the "Villa degU Olmi."

Oddo Palmieri laid them on his desk, all in a line, and, impelled by a certain spirit of speculation peculiar to his character, was puzzling over the possibility of the three missives representing three nuisances.

After a moment of thought he observed, '' Strange how even letters hidden in plain envelopes have a certain physiognomy."

And no doubt the three pieces of white paper scribbled with the address had different characters.

The first envelope, for instance, was small, and the stamp, placed on the reverse side where the missive is sealed, seemed to mount guard over the inviolability of the secret.

Palmieri picked the letter up, looked at the address, which was scribbled as if a stormy wind had disarranged the regular slant of the words, put the letter to his nose, and said, "This is from my old nurse.

asking for the usual five francs. Her husband has posted it, — I know by the smell of the tobacco from his pipe."

"What can Princess Isidora want?" he asked himself, recognising the handwriting of the second letter and the unmistakable perfume his cousin Donna Isidora Tosinghi used. "Perhaps one of the usual charity fairs, which means at least fifty francs out of my pocket. But — no, it is an invitation to the mi'Car6me balL What a bother ! I suppose I must go, or she will be cross, and a cross cousin isn't desirable. Well, I'll have to sport that evening suit again. I really had hoped to live a quiet life for a while."

The third letter, even for an expert like Palmieri, proved to be a poser. He had never seen the handwriting before : it was an incognito ; and an incognito rarely brings pleasant surprises. The letter appeared to him like an intruder, a strange unknown voice, which might break the silence of his "Villa degli Olini" and the peace of his studies.

Putting the ivory knife inside the envelope, with a decided stroke he cut it open, and unfolding the letter, looked at the signature.

" Alberto ! " he exclaimed.

" What on earth has he to tell in such a long story ? "

The letter was from his cousin. Count Alberto Saccetti, a well-known scamp of Florentine society, a confirmed gambler, and an inveterate night-hawk of shady places. However, he was not considered a bad character: it was known that his heart was better

A DEBT OF HONOUB 5

than his head. But he was one of those so-called good fellows who do no end of bad things.

" Knowing that this letter might fall into the hands of my inquisitive aunt/' wrote Saccetti, " I have asked Fanny to address it."

Panny Delmar was a ballet-girl only too well known to Florentine scandals, who, like a wise one of her class, after several risky adventures, sought and obtained the protection of a paladin — Count Alberto Saccetti.

" I had vowed," wrote Saccetti, ** never to enter the Club again; so, passing through Via Tornabuoni, I quickened my steps that I might get beyond the terrible influence of the green table and not again yield to temptation.

** But destiny, worst enemy of my life, decided otherwise. I was fated to meet Count Scartabelli the other night. As I passed the door of the Club he happened to be coming out to mail a letter. We shook hands, and his fingers, fresh from the contact of cards, gave me a shock ; the very air around him smelt of the gambling-table, just as the fresh air of the outside world seems to follow a person who suddenly enters a room.

"But I will not annoy you with my comparisons that — only a gambler can understand. The end of the matter was that I accompanied Scartabelli to mail his letter, and a few minutes later I was making my triumphal entry into the Club, arm-in-arm with my friend."

The tragic description of his loss then followed, embellished with endless terms of justification. But all his arguments, of which the chief was bad luck, could not disguise the sad truth that Saccetti had given his I.O.U. for five thousand liras.

Leaving the Club disgusted, he had ended his evening at the caf^ with a packet of cigarettes and several glasses of cognac, till he felt it was time for bed.

" Night gives advice," says an Italian proverb, and with this axiom Saccetti had cynically gone to bed,

" You know, my dear cousin, that people of our class invariably pay debts of honour, so "

" So Count Saccetti is asking me for a loan," observed the reader, turning the page over with the peculiar chilly sensation felt by a man studying the easiest way to get out of a diflBculty.

" But," Saccetti added, " I have paid the last cent, vowing to myself never to touch a card again.

" It may interest you to know how I got square with my creditors before the twenty-four hours had elapsed. The next morning, as you can imagine, I woke up very late, with a terrible headache, my brain confused. I believe that I should have forgot everything, even to the calamity of the evening before, but for my empty pockets, which made me realise that the five thousand must be paid as soon as possible.

" But how ?

" To go to my lawyer Tarocchi and ask him to find the sum on the already mortgaged Palazzo Saccetti would have been enough to make him laugh, so I dismissed the idea at once.

" Let me see, I thought, if there is anything left

A DEBT OF HONOUR 7

worth selling in the dreary rooms of mj pftlaoe. Surely everything was not sold at my fathet^s death.

"It was at that moment I decided to call in the antiquarian Gaspero Bandini, the man you detest, but, after all, the only person who could help me under the circumstances.

'' Though not a connoisseur, as you are, I am to some little extent a judge of antiquities. So, armed with pencil and paper, I proceeded to note what I might get from a gleaning among the remains left after the great cyclone that, as you will bear in mind, occurred after the death of my father, the last of the Saccetti who could make some decent debts.

*' The four tapestries in the dining-room — ^you will remember them — are of a rather late epoch. That scoundrel, Bandini, refused to buy them at the time he came to ransack the house ; but they are laige, and with pleasant subjects as designs. Considering that times have changed for the better, they are certainly worth five hundred francs apiece.

'* The large Sevres clock, that Bandini also refused because of it being of the eighteenth century — just as if he expected to have a Sevres of Francois I. ! — is certainly, to estimate it at low value, worth five hundred francs.

'' The Empire fan of Grandmother Isabella, a gift to her from the great Napoleon, might be valuable for its miniatures, though not for the historical association. Antiquarians and traders are, as a rule, great despisers of historical and family souvenirs.

" So I jotted down another hundred francs for the fan, plus ten for the souvenir of the great Napoleon.

"Then came the painting of Ribera; I know you used to say that the subject was terrible, that no one would hang it in a room, — a man flayed by the most atrocious-looking Turks, — yet Spagnoletto was an artist who understood his work. So, to be brief, putting this canvas together with all the small things I could find, I saw plainly that I could demand my five thousand francs.

" All these calculations finished, I went to Bandini's house, in Via Valfonda, rang the bell, and a minute later disappeared in that mysterious den.

" In your antipathy for Gaspero Bandini you have never tried to see his house, and there you are wroi^ \ For I can assure you that, from a certain point of view, it is a most striking building, and a most interesting one, — so much so that it would be a pity if the aldermen of our commune got it into their heads to widen Via Valfonda. No ; posterity ought not to be robbed of such a curiosity. If a man had been a professional thief, and in later years had turned — why not ? — to architecture, he might have been inspired to construct such a labyrinth. You can hardly have an idea of it : big doors, small doors that are hardly seen in the wall, trap -doors and winding staircases, concealed closets and darker places of abode where people appear and disappear like spectrea There is no shaking off the queer sensation you have within those walls.

" I believe it is not an easy matter for a stranger to

A DEBT OF HONOUR 9

see the saspicious Signor Gaspero. Indeed, I believe that to surmount the seven walls of Mecca would be child's play to threading the twisted corridors of that house.

'' But the colossal booty that Bandini secured after the death of my father gives me the right of feeling no stranger in Via Valfonda.

"After I had replied to an ogre -like voice that asked me, from a secure comer, what I wanted, I was admitted within the second precincts, where Rubelli — ^I behave an alter ego of the Antiquarian — ^i me with a smiling face and delivered a pack of excuses about his master.

" I handed my card, and repeated the same old story to this Cerberus of the second gate.

" Five minutes later Bubelli accompanied me to the reception-room with its yellow hangings and gaudy furniture.

"Just in front of the chair where I had seated myself there stood two statues on pedestals — one of a Eoman senator with a nose too long even for an edile, and an expression as if he were about to sneeze, — an expression fully justified in that cold room with a fine chimney -place but no fire. The other bust was a satyr with a sarcastic grimace that seemed to advise me to go away, as I was no man to cope with his padrone. I don't know why I speak to you of those busts that made such an impression upon me, unless it is because they kept me company while I was shivering m the room.

"In about an hour Oaspero Bandini appeared. I noticed that his mouth is wider than that of his alter ego, Bubelli, and his grin therefore broader. Really the satyr that was so good as to help me to -pass that dreary hour is not so much of a satyr when compared with his master.

*' However, after a cordial good morning, he cheerfully inquired —

••' Again in debt ? '

" I wonder who had informed him.

'' After I had explained the purpose of my call, he answered in a way to make me believe there was nothing left in my palace worthy of a visit, or, rather, of taking up his time. But after having delivered a lengthy speech about his great friendship with my poor father, he agreed, in consideration of his friendship, to come at three o'clock.

*Have you ever seen Bandini close? He looks like an eagle that has been compelled to fast through Lent. His eyes are as shiny as the heads of two nails fixed in his skull to hold a disproportionate hooked nose.

'-'The man has an expression which really makes one fear, and you may believe that I am not so easily frightened.

(" Yes, I admit that," observed Palmieri.)

''There is one merit that cannot be denied to Bandini; he is punctual to a minute. The Sevres clock was striking three — alas! for the last time — when he ascended the staircase of my palace.

" Of course I was prepared for his opening speech : ^Bad business nowadays; not like it was in olden

A DEBT OF HONOUR 11

times.' All served with the satiee ptguanie of friendship. He called to memory my poor father, spoke of his great esteem for hiiq^ and said how unfortnnate that the Saccetti were compelled to part with such a fine collection.

" After a long, keen examination he offered me three thousand francs.

" • No more ? ' I asked.

"'Not one penny/ was his answer. 'I have al» ready set a fancy price, in memory of your worthy father.'

" Sycophant ! I thought. But as he had made up his mind to that sum, I accepted, wondering where I should find the other two thousand francs.

'' But to conclude : I was signing the receipt when I happened to notice that Bandini was looking at the bust you made and sent hera

'' That clay bust seemed to have a real fascination for him. He put on his eye-glasses, and looked at it intensely as if he wished to grasp from the clay countenance the secret of its existence.

"After closer examination he said, 'The lines are hard, but it is not bad/ I thought to myself, 'he believes the bust antique,' and a devilish idea entered my head.

" ' It is not bad,' I suggested. ' I didn't offer it to you because it is half promised to Count de Bose, who is coming to Florence for mi-carime.'

" At this statement he appeared to be very indifferent; and taking the receipt from me, which, after examining the signature, he folded with care and put it into his pocket. Then he looked again at the bust and remarked —

" ' I am sorry you have sold that bust/

" ' It is not actually disposed of/ I answered.

"'Well, the bust is hard, not a chef-d'crnvre ; but the matter of fact is, that I have a portrait in clay of a gentleman of the same epoch, and I should like to make the pair. How much do you ask ? '

" ' Five thousand francs.'

" * I see you are inclined to joke. Look here ; as I am in a hurry and have no time to haggle over this business, there are two thousand francs/ and with these words he took from his pocket-book two crisp one-thousand-franc notes.

" You know I am no Spartan. I really have had a strong antipathy for these people since we studied our Greek. Just fancy, what kind of furniture the Spartans used in their houses with Lycurgus laws only allowing carpenters to use the axe and the saw.

"However, those two thousand - franc notes had a very comprehensible eloquence, and in no time Bandini was carefully pocketing another receipt and was off with the bust.

" Naturally, I consider myself your debtor for the two thousand francs, and will do my best to repay you some time. As for the bust, you can make another : it cost you about three days' work. So I have already written your man that he can come here in a fortnight. There is even time to bake the bust if you dry the clay near the chimney.

" Vale, my preserver ! — Your cousin,

"Alberto."

A DEBT OF H0N0X7R IS

A string of profanity followed the reading of this letter.

** Eascal ! *' ejaculated Palmieri ; " I yonr creditor ? [Fancy, such a debtor. ' Yon can make another boat.' The idea ! as if making a work of art, good or bad, were as simple as writing this letter of yonrt."

The first impression over, another sentiment arose— a rather flattering one. If the work itself, apart from any suggestion of the place, had deceived Bandini's keen eye, it must be good. To cheat Bandini was not an easy task.

The word " cheat" came hard to his mind.

Yes, it was a case of cheating, and Alberto was guilty.

"Curse gambling!" said Palmieri; and, going to the table, he took his pen and wrote a letter to his cousin Saccetti.

CHAPTER 11.

THE RESULT OF A DISCUSSION.

Oddo Palmieri was a rare type of manhood, tall and slender, with brown eyes and hair that harmonised with his clear olive complexion. He certainly had an original character. Born either too early or too late, as somebody had said, he had not the same ideas as his fellows, nor was he disposed to see things in the light of his surroundings.

At the death of his father he found himself involved in debts, but, contrary to the general rule, he made the Spartan resolve to pay them. Nobody understood whac H. sacrifice of pride the decision cost him, nor could any one imagine his feelings when the historical palace, in possession of his family for centuries, fell into the hands of his father's creditors.

When every debt had been paid, Palmieri was not left penniless : a large farm in Chianti and a possession in Mugello were rescued from the financial disaster, as well as the beautiful " Villa degli Olmi," near San Domenico, on the lovely hill of Fiesole. In this villa he took up his abode with his mother

THE RESULT OF A DISeUSSION 16

when it became necessary to leave the palace in Florence.

In that cheerful retreat, lolled hy his dreams oi art and study, Palmieri seldom left his seclosion to appear in society. But an echo of the familiar gossip reached him through his mother, Donna Giulia, who, chinking it too late to change her style of life, had kept up with her old acquaintance and invariably attended her friends' receptions.

If anything disturbed the humour of Donna Giulia, it was the passion that her son had lor learning. To spend days and weeks among books and paintings !

Certainly it was not becoming of a Palmieri, the son of Donna Giulia, born of a princely ftoman family.

Her dream was for Oddo to be a grand Signore, which in Italy means to be an idler, and to be faithful to the so-called Iv/ma sodetd.

''At least in society," Donna Giulia used to say, " Oddo might have met an American girl, lined with dollars."

Donna Giulia knew that more than one foreign goose had laid the golden egg that had saved a Florentine family just at the time the household conclave decreed it necessary to reduce the pariglia to one horse and dispense with the golden braid of the livery, or to be driven so far as to control with Argus eye the extravagances of the cook.

A rich American would settle the whole business. Donna Giulia had thought more than once. Oddo could buy back the peJace and live like a prince.

Visions of the past floated before her, and in her dream she saw herself as in times gone by.

But when thinking of Oddo's character all her projects vanished. Oddo was always in the company of his books, and certainly it was not possible to find an heiress between the leaves of his volumes. " No, with his ideas my son will always be a nobody," was the invariable refrain of Donna Giulia.

Oddo was willing to accept this horoscope, if it meant his being left alone.

Society women found Palmieri a little too serious, but invariably remarked that he was awfully goodlooking.

At the Club of the Nobility it had always been a question why he had refused to be a member. This refusal met the approbation of many rich bourgeois who had had no end of " black-balls " on their nomination to the Club. Indeed, these would-be members looked at the Club door of Via Tornabuoni with most envious eye. To be admitted they would have accepted a kick at each step of the staircase leading to the Club of the Nobility. The experiment might have proved painful, but after a certain number of kicks they were certain to reach the coveted Olympus.

Cavaliere Santacroce, one of Mrs Grundy's principal gossip-worshippers, had said of Palmieri —

'' That young man has mistaken his career ; he ought to have been a dealer in pictures. Were I in his place I should become a Director of some Museum. The thing might be easy enough through his cousin Alti, who is an influential man at the Ministero dell

THE RESULT OP A DISCUSSION 17

Istrusdone. The idea to be bom a gentleman and waste his days scraping old pictures ! In my time a gentleman was a gentleman, and that was enougL" Nobody ever took the trouble to ask Cavaliere Santacroce to what epoch the time he alluded to belonged, or learn the secret so jealously guarded under the impenetrable artificial black of his moustache ; but more than one had hinted that the season of Santacroce belonged to the prehistoric era.

That Oddo Palmieri had a preference for the company of artists and those who were in some way connected with art was true. One of his friends asked him almost in a tone of reproof how he could associate with dealers in art. "Don't you know," said he, "they are a serious damage to our country? They disperse our artistic patrimony among foreigners."

" Yes, I do understand it," was the reply. " They may be professional, and earn their livelihood by trade, but you have sold them your Andrea del Sarto to buy an automobile and to encourage the ballet-dancer of the Alhambra."

But the one who could not resign herself to Oddo's fancies was Donna Giulia ; and one day she went to consult with the old Marchese Ajazzi about her son. Marchese Ajazzi was a nice old nobleman, who owed his reputation of being an oracle of wisdom chiefly to his white beard, his eyes like those of a prophet of the Bible, and a pair of bushy eyebrows that might have been envied by Charon himself. Ajazzi was the secular confessor of all the ladies who had admitted to having attained their fortieth year.

B

So Donna Giulia poured out her trouble into the bosom of the wise old Marquis.

" I must beg your pardon," said Ajazzi, " but your poor husband made a great mistake in Oddo's education. The idea of sending him to Paris to study sculpture, when he could have done the same thing here and soon got tired of it."

" But, dear Marchese," repeated Donna Giulia, shrugging her shoulders, "you don't know Oddo when he gets an idea into his head. My poor husband, as you're aware, was not of a strong character, and he gave in to Oddo's persuasion."

The Marchese began to stroke his silvery beard as if expecting that some idea would drop from its flowing folds. " Well, Donna Giulia, the Latin quarter is the Latin quarter, and one cannot live there three or four years, as Oddo did, without acquiring plebeian notions. I know Paris" — the Marquis had been an attache under some petty Italian legation at the time of Louis Philippe — " I know Paris, and I know what I am talking about. When Oddo went to Paris I gave him a letter to the Italian Ambassador, the Marquis of Valdore. Madame receives every Saturday, and that was sufficient to oblige Oddo to go into society occasionally. But, would you believe it, he never presented the letter. The Ambassador wrote me that they had not seen him." Two or three more strokes to his beard accentuated the Marquis's indignation at such a fact.

"Now, if Oddo would be a sculptor," continued Donna Giulia, " I think he has sufficient talent. But he is always beginning things which he never

THE BESULT OF A DISCUSSION 19

finishes. It is a pity, because I believe he's clever. He has modelled a clay bust of his cousin Alti that seems really alive. Such a likeness! When I proposed his doing one of Countess Talli and Signorina Gattelli, two recognised beauties of our society, who would have been delighted with such an honour, Oddo refused on the ground that he was not a pro* fessional sculptor of official beauties. But if an antiquarian sends word that he has found a painting, or heaven knows what, he goes there as readily and eagerly as if a lady had given him a reTidez-vous. Every day he has calls at the Villa from these indescribable people. If it were for me they came, I should like to show them the door."

The Marchese attempted to speak, but Donna Giulia went on as swiftly as a windmill —

"Just fancy, only a few days ago, Professor Celli, the painter who is always mixed up with old things, was telling me what a capital restorer of paintings Oddo was. Misericordia ! Fancy ! A Palmieri becoming a patcher up of old paintings. Why, it is too ridiculous!"

By this time Marchese Ajazzi had really though of something, and said—

"Donna Giulia, I have an idea: have you ever tried to get him married?"

"Of course I have; but I can hardly repeat his answer, it is so ridiculous."

" What is it ? "

" He says he is already married to his art."

" Diavolo ! "

"That isn't all," said Donna Giulia, becoming warmer in the discussion. "He has a perfect mania for visiting museums. He is always going to the Ufisdi and the Bargello, where he stays until he is actually put out by the guardians. He would go to Naples simply to compare a painting with another, and spends money like water. His administrator, Scalchi, could tell you a good deal more than I know. When he went to Madrid he spent a month there only to study Velasquez, and, would you believe it, never went to a court ball."

" Santa Maria ! "

Donna Giulia, taking a matronly pose, and drawing her silk shawl closer about her person, added, with dignity, " It is fortunate I have my dowry and the legittima, otherwise I should be in constant fear that Oddo might sell the Mugello or the Ghianti farm to buy a painting that had caught his fancy."

At this speech even Marchese Ajazzi thought that Donna Giulia in. her excitement was going too far. "No, Donna Giulia, I cannot agree with you there; you see things in too dark a light. Oddo may be somewhat peculiar, but he is not a spendthrift. He has not a debt that I know of, and let me say that between Oddo and his cousin. Count Saccetti, there is a world of diflference."

"That's true," she rattled on; "but his cousin Saccetti never omits a ball or a reception, and some day he'll meet with an American girl who will pay off all his debts."

With Donna Giulia this American wife was a sort

THE RESULT OF A DISCUSSION 21

of mania. Columbus had discovered America for no other purpose, and from there the panacea that might heal the sorrow of Florentine nobility was bound to come.

The Marchese at this point motioned to Donna Giulia to stop talking as he wished to speak.

It was indeed the responso of the oracle.

" But — Donna Giulia," he said, " why don't you let him alone? If you let him alone this caprice may vanish easier than by annoying him. Let him meet a pair of fine eyes, a girl with one of those faces that would convert any impenitent bachelor, and you will see where this dream of art will go!"

Although Donna Giulia followed her friepd's advice, not to annoy her son with matrimonial projects, she was always watching and waiting to see if on some far horizon the girl predicted by Marchese Ajazzi would appear.

Meanwhile the "Villa degli Olmi" had been arranged to suit the various tastes of the inmates. Donna Giulia occupied the piano nohile; Oddo had been allotted the ground floor. The large salon was considered a sort of neutral ground, where Donna Giulia held her receptions, in which Oddo, as a compromise and for peace, had promised to take part.

Friends and acquaintances had finished by yielding to Oddo's whims. He was, after all, only an art critic, and rather a useful person at times.

The idea of trying to model a bust in antique style had several times come into Oddo Palmieri's mind.

The decision was finally reached through a petty circumstance. One night on entering the Artists' Club a discussion on the imitation of the antique was at its height. The opponents were Centofanti, an old sculptor, and Perelli, a painter.