Tales of My Native Town

by Gabriele D'Annunzio

XII THE VIRGIN ANNA

I

Luca Minella, born in the year 1789 at Ortona in one of the houses of Porta Caldara, was a seaman. In early youth he sailed for some time on the brigantine Santa Liberata, from the bay of Ortona to the ports of Dalmatia, loaded with varieties of wood, fresh and dried fruit. Later, because of a whim to change masters, he entered the service of Don Rocco Panzavacante, and upon a new skiff made many voyages for the purpose of trading in lemons, to the promontory of Roto, which is a large and agreeable elevation on the Italian coast, wholly covered with orchards of oranges and lemons.

In his twenty-seventh year he kindled with love for Francesca Nobile, and after several months they were married. Luca, a man of short and very strong build, had a soft blond beard upon his flushed visage, and, like a woman, wore two circles of gold in his ears. He loved wine and tobacco; professed an ardent devotion for the holy Apostle Saint Thomas; and, in that he was of a superstitious nature and given to trances, he recounted singular and marvellous adventures of those foreign countries and told stories of the Dalmatian people and the islands of the Adriatic as if they were tribes and countries in the proximity of the poles. Francesca, a woman whose youth was on the wane, had the florid complexion and mobile features of the Ortonesian girl. She loved the church, the religious functions, the sacred pomp, the music of the organ; she lived in great simplicity; and, since she was somewhat stunted in intelligence, believed the most incredible things and praised her Lord in His every deed.

Of this union Anna was born in the month of June of the year 1817. Inasmuch as the confinement was severe, and they feared some misfortune, the sacrament of baptism was administered before the birth of the child. After much travail the birth took place. The little creature drank nourishment from its mother and grew in health and happiness. Toward evening Francesca went down to the seacoast, with the nursing baby in her arms, whenever she expected the skiff to return loaded from Roto, and Luca on coming ashore wore a shirt all scented with the southern fruits. When mounting together to their home above, they always stopped a moment at the church and knelt in prayer. In the chapels the votive lamps were burning, and in the background, behind the seven bronzes, the statue of the Apostle sparkled like a treasure. Their prayers asked for celestial benediction to fall upon their daughter. On going out, when the mother bathed Anna’s forehead in holy water, her infantile screams echoed the length of the naves.

The infancy of Anna passed smoothly, without any noteworthy event. In May of 1823 she was dressed as a cherub, with a crown of roses and a white veil; and, in the midst of an angelical company, confusedly followed a procession, holding in her hand a thin taper. In the church her mother wished to lift her in her arms and have her kiss her protecting Saint. But, as other mothers lifting other cherubs pushed through the crowd, the flame of one of the tapers caught Anna’s veil and suddenly a flame enveloped her tender body. A contagion of fear spread among the people and each one strove to be the first to escape. Francesca, for all that her hands were almost rendered useless by terror, succeeded in tearing off the burning garments, strained the nude and unconscious child to her heart, threw herself down behind the fugitives, and invoked her Lord with loud cries.

From the burns Anna was ill and in peril for a long time. She lay upon her bed with thin, bloodless face and without speech as if she had become mute, while her eyes, open and fixed, held an expression of forgetful stupor rather than of pain. In the autumn she recovered and went to take her vow.

When the weather was mild the family descended to the boat for their evening meal. Under the awning Francesca lit the fire and placed the fish upon it; the hospitable odour of the food spread the length of the harbour, blending with the perfume from the foliage of the Villa Onofria. The sea lay so tranquilly that one scarcely heard between the rocks the rustling of the water, and the air was so limpid that one saw the steeple of San Vito emerge in the distance amid the surrounding houses. Luca and the other men fell to singing, while Anna tried to help her mother. After the meal, as the moon mounted in the sky, the sailors prepared the skiff for weighing anchor. Meanwhile Luca, under the stimulation of the wine and food, seized with his habitual avidity for miraculous stories, commenced to tell of distant shores. “There was, further up than Roto, a mountain all inhabited by monkeys and men from India; it was very high, with plants that produced precious stones.” His wife and daughter listened in silent astonishment. Then, the sails unfolded along the masts, sails all covered with black figures and Catholic symbols, like the ancient flags of a country. Thus Luca departed.

In February of 1826 Francesca gave birth to a dead child. In the spring of 1830 Luca wished to take Anna to the promontory. Anna was then on the threshold of girlhood. The voyage was a happy one. On the high seas they encountered a merchant vessel, a large ship borne along by means of its enormous white sails. The dolphins swam in the foam; the water moved gently around, scintillating, and seeming to carry upon its surface a covering of peacock feathers. Anna gazed from the ship into the distance with eyes never satiated. Then a kind of blue cloud rose from the line of horizon; it was the fruit covered mountain.

The coast of Puglia came into view little by little under the sunlight. The perfume of the lemons permeated the morning air. When Anna descended to the shore, she was overcome by a sense of gladness as she examined curiously the plantations and the men native to the place. Her father took her to the house of a woman no longer young, who spoke with a slight stutter.