Giovanni Battista Piccini

“ Farewell for the present, Michelangelo Lavoratori!"
"I tell you that he is your brother!" repeated the princess, earnestly; "your father's son and not Pier-Angelo's; the son of a woman whom you cannot insult by your contempt, and who could not have listened to you without committing a crime and an act of madness. Do you not understand me?"
"No, signora," said the Piccinino, with a shrug; "I cannot understand the fables that come to your mind at this moment to save your lover's life. If this poor boy is my father's son, so much the worse for him ”

“ But when they had quitted the ravine, and had left the Destatore's Cross behind them, the Piccinino began to hum, in a voice as sweet and pure as the breath of the night, a ballad in the Sicilian dialect, of which the refrain was:
"Wine makes madness, love makes folly; my nectar is the blood of cowards, my mistress is my rifle."
After this outburst of bravado, addressed to himself as well as to the ears of any Neapolitan police who might happen to be within hearing, the Piccinino began to talk with Michel in a remarkably self-possessed and tranquil strain. ”

“ Naturally amiable and modest, Piccini was the last man in the world to engage of his own free will in this miserable war, which would doubtless have speedily ceased, had it not been for the conduct of the philosophers and men of letters, many of whom knew scarcely anything of music and cared even less, but who, infected by the mania for disputation so prevalent in the eighteenth century, rushed into the contest with a violence as ridiculous as it was disastrous to the interests of Art, and envenomed it by their epigrams and recriminations. ”

“ Do not think that the Piccinino is worse than other men. He was born calm and long-suffering; but there are virtues which would become vices in us Sicilians, if we should cling to them. Reason and a sense of justice taught him to be a scourge at need. But you see that his heart is sound at bottom. He is very angry with your mother, you told me, and you dreaded his vengeance. You see that he absolves her from the crime which certainly never occurred to that saint-like woman's mind; you see that he does homage to truth, even in the heat of his anger ”

“ He held several consultations on agriculture and general affairs with men of sense who appreciated his intelligence and his extensive knowledge. As he left the village he fell in with an officer of campieri, with whom he walked for some distance, and who informed him that the Piccinino still succeeded in eluding the pursuit of the police and the municipal brigade.
Mila, eager to tell all her secrets to the princess, and to avail herself of the mysterious prince's permission to ascertain their meaning, travelled as quickly as Bianca was able to descend those steep and dangerous slopes. ”

“ No one seems to have expected this opera to succeed. The composer himself believed its failure inevitable. The evening of the first representation, when he was about to start for the theatre, his family refused to accompany him, and, aware of his extremely sensitive nature used every persuasion to induce him to remain at home. His wife, his children, his friends were in tears. “One would have imagined that he was on his way to the scaffold.”
Piccini endeavoured to reassure them. “My children,” said he, “we are not in the midst of barbarians, but of the politest people in the world. ”

“ He concluded that the nobility could not do without wealth: a marvellous discovery which fatigued him much.
At that moment, as the beak of a great pelican of gilded wood, which did duty as hour hand on a monumental clock in the gallery of the Della Serra palace, marked four o'clock in the afternoon, the Piccinino was thinking that his five or six repeating watches must be slow, so impatiently did he await Mila's arrival. ”

“ Niccolo Piccini, who was not less than fifty years of age when he left Naples for the purpose of outrivaling Gluck, was born at Bari, in the kingdom of Naples, in 1728. His father, also a musician, had destined him for holy orders, but Nature made him an artist. ”

“ At the end of the ventilating corridor, which ran from end to end of the upper floor, he opened a double door, the inner one being bound with iron, and ushered Mila into the truncated tower which he had incorporated into his house, so to speak, and where he had fitted up a dainty and mysterious boudoir.
No princess ever possessed one more sumptuous, more sweetly perfumed or adorned with rarer objects. But no artisan had ever put his hand to it. The Piccinino himself had concealed the walls beneath hangings of Oriental silk stitched with gold and silver. ”

“ In talk with Pico he set forth his intent, elaborating what already he had told the Cardinal Vice-Chancellor.
“He is a father—this Father of Fathers,” he said once. “A tender, loving father whose life is in his children, who lives through them and for them. Deprive him of them, and his life would become empty, worthless, a living death. There is Giovanni, who is as the apple of his eye, whom he has created Duke of Gandia, Duke of Benevento, Prince of Sessa, Lord of Teano, and more besides. ”

“ The Piccinino turned slowly toward Michel, and stared at him as if he had not previously seen him; then, taking from his belt a richly-mounted stiletto, he presented it to him with an almost imperceptible smile of irony and contempt, as if to say: "You are old enough and strong enough to defend yourself."
Michel, annoyed at being placed in such a position, was about to make a sharp retort, when Fra Angelo cut him short, placing his iron hand on his shoulder. ”

“ Your father did thirty leagues without thinking of having the one extracted that he received in the thigh at Leon-Forte; but the young men of to-day need a year to be cured of a bruise."
Michel thought that his uncle had gone a little too far, for the Piccinino resumed his recumbent attitude with a gesture of profound indignation, stretched himself on his back, puffed away at his cigarette, and maliciously left to the good priest the embarrassing necessity of continuing the conversation. ”

“ In all times, alas! the sparrow has yielded to the fascination of the vulture.
In all this the Piccinino gave way to an inborn passion for increasing the difficulties of an adventure to his profit, or simply for amusement. To be sure, he had no better way of enticing Abbé Ninfo to his house than by offering a bait to his lust. But he might well have chosen some other woman than the innocent Mila to play, with the aid of some slight resemblance or of a similar costume, the part of the person who was to appear in his garden. ”

“ Michel saw that the Capuchin had touched the right chord at last; for when he was appealed to as the son of the Prince of Castro-Reale, a title which nobody dared or chose to give him openly, the Piccinino started, sat up and sprang to his feet as if he were ready to start at once. But suddenly he put his hand to his leg and fell back on the couch.
"It is impossible," he said, "I am in too much pain."
"What is the matter?" asked Fra Angelo. "Are you wounded? Is that spent ball of last year still troubling you? In the old days we used to march with bullets in our bodies. ”

“ No, no, Carmelo is no dastard!"
Michel was of the monk's opinion, but he held his peace; it would require a mighty effort on his part to fraternize with the gloomy mind of that civilized savage whom men called the Piccinino. He readily detected the monk's secret predilection for the brigand. In Fra Angelo's eyes the bastard rather than the prince was the Destatore's son and the heir of his strong nature. ”

“ These words were at once harsh and flattering to the Piccinino's sensitive self-love. The criticism of his past life cut him to the quick, but the favorable judgment concerning his capacity for usefulness in the future healed the wound. He blushed, turned pale, reflected and understood. He was too intelligent to contend against the truth. Agatha and Michel affectionately took his hands, and begged him on their knees to accept half of a fortune the whole of which they owed to him. Tears of pride, hope, joy, and perhaps of gratitude as well, started from his glistening eyes, and he accepted. ”

“ Lord God! you will die of the heat. Our roads are so rough! Come to the house; I will pour the first glass for you, and then I will go, as your lordship kindly permits me to do so."
"My cousin will not go away until you are in the house," said Mila, in obedience to a meaning glance from the Piccinino.
The abbé, seeing that he could not get rid of his obsequious host except by complying with his wish, passed through the arbor without an opportunity to address a word or a glance to Mila; for the Piccinino, still playing the part of a respectful peasant and zealous host, walked between them. ”

“ Could so young a maid risk a tête-à-tête of this sort without a moment of fear or embarrassment?
The Piccinino, observing that she had a very beautiful ring on her finger, and thinking that he could follow the thread of her thoughts by following the direction of her glances, said to her, with a smile: "You love jewels, my dear Mila, and, like all girls, you think more of personal adornment than of anything else in this world. My mother left me a few trinkets of some value, which are in that lapis lazuli casket by your side. ”

“ I am surprised to find nothing against your father, Mila. Ah! yes, here it is! The signor abbé's measures were all taken to strike his great blow. This evening Pier-Angelo Lavoratori and—Fra Angelo too!—Ah! you reckoned without your host, my friend! You did not know that the Piccinino will never allow a finger to be laid on that shaven head! How ill-informed you were! Why, Mila, this man, whom people look upon as a monster of iniquity, is nothing but an idiot, upon my word! ”

“ I talked to him during the ball, on the main staircase, and the Marquis della Serra, who was escorting me, complimented him, as I did myself, upon his paintings. From that moment down to this very evening Michel had never seen me; ask himself! You are not a man whom one can deceive, captain; use your perspicacity, and I will trust it."
The Piccinino quivered with pleasure at this concise declaration, made with the assurance which truth alone can give, and he pressed Agatha's hand against his breast with such force that she detected his sentiments at last. ”

“ Poor old Piccinni died in 1800 at the age of seventy-two, and his tomb said that he was "Cher aux Arts et à l'Amitie." He left to his widow and six children no property but the memory of his genius. Madame Piccinni was given a pension, but she proudly declined to accept it purely as a charity, and asked that four pupils of the Conservatoire be assigned to her for instruction, which was done. Piccinni left two sons; the younger had some success as an opera writer, and the elder had a natural son, who was quite successful as a composer of operas. ”

“ But the real Piccinino, the one who styles himself the justicier d'aventure, and who directs all the operations of the brigands of the mountain; the man whom nobody knows and as to whom, if he should be captured, it would be impossible to prove that he had ever been the leader or a member of the band, is a handsome, well-educated, eloquent, dissipated and cunning young man; the same Carmelo Tomabene with whom you talked at the fountain."
Mila was so thunderstruck that she almost determined not to go on with her story. ”

“ The Piccinino had never seen a beautiful woman without being disturbed and restless until he had examined her carefully, in order that he might cease to think of her if her beauty was imperfect, or cast his net over her if her style of beauty succeeded in inflaming his disdainful heart, a strange compound of love and indolence, energy and torpor. Few men of twenty-five have lived so chaste and self-restrained a life as the bandit of Ætna ”

“ But the other half is not simply difficult; it is impossible. I could never make her desire to struggle with me; it would never occur to her to yield in order to obtain. If she were mine, I would dress her as a boy and take her with me hunting. At need she would hunt the Neapolitan as she has hunted the abbé to-day. She would soon be hardened. I should love her as a page; I should not look upon her as a woman at all."
"Well, monsignor," said Mila, a little annoyed by her host's long silence, "are you waiting for the Piccinino to come? ”

“ I cannot see you any more," said Magnani, feeling for his friend with trembling hands. "We are safe here, aren't we? at the gates of Catania, of course? You will soon embrace your mother! Ah! yes, I hear the murmur of the naiad; the sound revives me; the water flows into my wound—cold as ice, but very soothing."
"Live to see my mother and sister!" cried Michel. "Ah! you shall live, we will never part!"
"Alas! I know what that smile means," said the Piccinino in an undertone, examining Magnani's blue distorted lips; "do not let him talk any more." ”

“ The divinity of man is honor; your gods are selfishness—vanity—envy—cowardly malice! Such as you deserve no sympathy—away!” And gnashing his teeth with spite and impotent rage, Elias Hegrin left Piccini’s house.
Piccini’s opera was greatly admired, but that of his adversary obtained a complete victory, and awakened an enthusiasm till then unknown even in Paris.
Followed by the acclamations of the enraptured multitude, after the third representation of his work, Gluck left the opera-house on his way to his quiet home. ”