There are two phrases in the slang of the profession; one is miccheggiare, which means to cozen folk out of their money by wheedling; the other is gonzo, gull or cully, the foolish lover who believes himself an object of affection, and squanders all his fortune under the influence of this impression. I must declare that the women of Sacchi's company never put the arts which these words imply into practice. They made love by instinct, inclination, and hereditary tradition.
This does not mean that they were not eager to get lovers who could support them on the stage, or who would be likely to marry them, and withdraw them from a calling which they always professed, hypocritically I believe, to abhor.
In what concerned myself, I looked upon their love-intrigues as duels of wit and comic passages, which furnished me amusement. Closely related to each other, and ambitious for advancement in their art, they regarded me as a bright shining star, worshipped by the leading members of the troupe, and capable of securing them success upon the stage. Their mutual rivalry, which I made use of for their own advantage, the profit of the company, and the success of my dramatic works, turned their brains. They would have done anything to gain my heart. Possibly some matrimonial projects entered into their{149} calculations; but on this point I was always careful to disabuse them in the clearest terms. Meanwhile, their attentions, protests, fits of rage, jealousies, and tears on my account had all the scenic illusion of an overwhelming passion.
In the cities where they passed the spring and summer, the same comedy was re-enacted with a score of lovers. On their return to Venice, the correspondence which they carried on with these admirers, and which they vainly strove to hide from me, betrayed their inconstancy. By cross-examination and adroit suggestive questionings, I always brought them to make a clean breast of it, and their avowals furnished me with matter for exquisite amusement. They protested that the letters they received were written by young merchants or rich citizens, sometimes by gentlemen of the Lombard towns, who entertained the liveliest intentions of an honourable kind, and were only waiting for the death of an uncle or a father or a mother, all upon the point of dying of apoplexy or consumption or dropsy, to offer them their hands and fortunes. Finally, in order to reveal the sincerity of their hearts, when lying could no longer help them, they offered me these precious epistles. Probably they hoped to excite jealousy in my own breast. This opened a new chapter of diversion. I read the love-letters, and found that the vaunted admirers were either bombastic lady-killers or romancers or libertines, or{150} sometimes, to my astonishment, dull Lombard hypocrites upon the scent of goatish pleasure.
I enlightened them, so far as this was possible; advised them not to waste their time in such perilous fooleries, which distracted their attention from the serious concerns of their profession; bade them look out for young comedians of talent, with whom they might marry and propagate the breed of actors. They never failed to express that loathing for the trade which all actresses profess, remaining actresses, however, in the utterance of their repugnance. In order to open their eyes to the real state of the case, I then dictated answers to these lovers, affectionately urging them to declare themselves on the essential point. Cold replies came with the next post, and after a short exchange of letters the correspondence dropped. In this way, they were brought to see their error, remaining always ready to resume it on the next occasion.
Their sentiments for me, according to their own showing, were the most enduring and substantial; and my incredulous laughter wounded them. They bullied and maligned each other, complained, and accused their comrades at my judgment-seat. I pronounced sentence against them all; but the most persecuted were always the object of my heartiest protection. When I wrote parts adapted to their characters, they were lifted to the heavens. What obligations! What gratitude! What vows of love!{151} I cannot deny that in certain moments they were justified in thinking they had gained my affection. The next day they found me quite another man, indifferent and icy cold. Amour propre then made them fly into a rage, and grow the angrier the more they saw me laugh at their frenzies.
All things considered, it is very difficult to frequent the society of young actresses, who harbour in their breasts six books upon the art of love beside those of Ovid, to be their daily guide, philosopher, and friend, to make their fortunes in the theatre, and not to fall into some low matrimonial scrape, which would be called a solemn act of folly by the world. I use such terms as scrape, baseness, folly here, in order to adopt the language of people in general; although I am persuaded by personal observation, and by philosophical study of the current training given to girls, that it is easier to find a good wife on the stage than in private families. People in general are not philosophers enough to recognise and confess this truth; but the opinion of the general is always respectable.
My temperament, my abhorrence of ties, my partiality for study, the pity for human woes which I derived from knowledge of my neighbours, and the thirty-five years which I counted at the period in question, were my faithful counsellors. I have already written a chapter on my love-affairs, which sufficiently explains my sentiments.[31]
In the midst of these feminine intrigues and rivalries, it is impossible to distribute protection with perfect impartiality among all claimants. The girl who is most persecuted by her comrades, most looked down upon, and reckoned stupidest in her profession, will always be chosen out by me for support and advancement, without regard for hostile gossip bred by envy.