Woman of Venice

Looking back now, after so many years, it seems that everything that happened afterward had its beginnings when I found those pages, tucked away in Father’s book. If I hadn’t, would I still be in the convent? Would Giovanni have helped me?  Would I even be alive? But if you believe in destiny, then I was meant to find them, to repeat the incantations, to make the magic happen. Or maybe Father had made an agreement with the Procurator years earlier, and the spell had nothing to do with it.

Whether the “spell” had any effect or not, I know that when I repeated those words, I wanted the Procurator to save me. I thought that if I left with him I could keep my honor, and find a husband and home of my own. Things didn’t turn out the way I expected. But in a strange way maybe he really was my savior.

I can still clearly remember when the Abbess called me in.

“An offer has come for you. That good friend of our convent, the Procurator Jacopo Contarini, would like you to act as music tutor to his children. He will provide for you and keep you as his own spiritual daughter.”

She stopped speaking, and I tried to make sense of her words,

“However,” she went on, “if you would prefer to remain here and take your vows, no one can force you to leave. Your stepmother is bound to provide you with a dowry so that you can live here as a full and lifelong member. And in fact, because of your musical abilities, we would even wave the dowry requirement. I would like you to stay, not only because I believe the cloistered life to be the best life for a woman, but also because we’ll miss your music. But I cannot think of myself in this matter.

“Whatever you decide, you have my blessing. But remember—Procurator Contarini has been very generous with us here at Le Vergini and has persuaded others to do the same. It is our moral duty to keep him happy.” Then she leaned over her desk and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “You must know how powerful the Contarini are. Their authority goes beyond the letter of the law.” She straightened up again, clasping her hands under her chin. “Go and pray. When you are ready, give me your answer.”

Part I

June 1562

We faced a solid, black iron gate, beyond which lay the Convent of Santa Maria delle Vergini. I studied the diamond-shaped designs covering this tall barrier and squeezed Father’s hand. When I glanced back once more at our gondola resting on the rio, Piero, one of our drivers, waved and tipped his feathered cap. His eye twitched, as it always did, making it look as if he were winking and smiling at the same time. Father was leaving me here today, and I didn’t know if I’d ever see Piero, or my home, again.

The gate creaked open and a small old nun peeked out. She was smiling, a pink-gummed toothless smile. As she pulled open the heavy gate, and I stepped into the campo, it seemed I had entered not just another place in Venice, around the corner, across a canal, but another country, another world.

My aunts Vittoria and Celestina stood waiting for us in the garden. Their faces looked too pale to be out in the sunlight, and with their white nuns’ habits they seemed almost like ghosts. Father dropped my hand and stepped away. Suddenly I felt dizzy, as if I were falling backwards. He put his hands on my shoulders to steady me.

Vittoria was just as tall as Father and he was tall for a Venetian. Her skin draped itself thinly over her sharp cheekbones, brows arched high above her eyes. She turned her gaze toward me, but the smile that played around her lips looked forced and uncertain.

Celestina, smaller and rounder than Vittoria, stood a few steps behind. Keeping her head bowed, she peered at me from beneath hooded eyes. She held herself in a meek yet stiff way, and her full, sensuous eyebrows were so different from her square jaw.

“Welcome, child,” intoned Vittoria, brushing her arm up into the air, the sleeve billowing out. Vittoria’s long neck and regal head followed the direction of her arm, which pointed to the white blossom-covered apple trees with a few little sacks hanging loosely on the limbs. “See how happy we all are that you’ve come, and how happy you’ll be here?”

I’d only seen my aunts a few times in my life, and now Father was turning me over to them to be my guardians. I looked up at him, but his eyes caught mine for only an instant before they glanced away and down. Vittoria shook one of the apple trees and a sack fell to the earth. She motioned for me to go to it. I looked at Father again and he nodded. Then Vittoria came over and stood next to Father and I went and took the package of pink silk, tied with a red ribbon. Inside I found almonds coated with sugar. Turning around, I saw Father give a small purse to Vittoria. He whispered something in her ear, and she smiled.

Two thickset nuns, looking drab in their gray habits compared with Vittoria’s and Celestina’s elegant white ones, appeared and took hold of my cassa, which carried all the things I’d brought from home. These women were converse, uncloistered nuns. I’d seen some of them before. Since Vittoria and Celestina could never leave the premises, these women brought letters, and gifts of bread and biscuits from my aunts to Father. Then he would send letters and fruits or other things my aunts had requested back to the convent.

I ran over to Father and hugged him. It was too late to beg him to take me with him, although that was what I yearned to do. I was so overcome with grief that I couldn’t speak.

“Don’t worry, dear,” said Father, stroking my hair. “I’ll come and see you very soon. Do what your aunts tell you to do. I know you will. You’ll learn so much here you’ll be able to teach me some things when you come out.”

In the morning light, his handsome features took on an air of youth, and a kind of gentle glow encompassed him. It was too early for him to have any wine yet, and his eyes were bright and clear. He bent over and kissed me on the forehead. I threw my arms around his neck and clung to him. It seemed impossible that he was about to leave me here.

You will write to me and come visit, won’t you?” I managed to whisper.

“Yes, of course. I just said I would.”

He’d said so many things, though, that hadn’t come true—that he would teach me until I was grown, that we would get a house on the mainland, that he always wanted me near him.

Now he tried to peel me off of him, but I held fast. Finally, Vittoria grabbed my arms and pulled me away.

“Father!” I cried out, squeezing the silk bag. They thought they had fooled me with their tricks. I kept my head turned to watch him as my aunts and I walked across the courtyard. “Come see me!” He waved and turned away, heading out of the gate. The old nun slammed it closed behind him.

I.1 Changes

Everything in my life had changed the day Father brought a strange woman to the house by the name of Cornelia. She’d smiled sweetly and even tried to get me to sit on her lap—which was embarrassing since I was nearly twelve and tall for my age. She asked me what I liked to do and what I didn’t, and when I said I liked to read and study books with Father she laughed as if that were the funniest thing in the world. Father seemed excited, but in a nervous way. His feet tapped continuously on the floor and he kept a tight-lipped smile on his face. After Cornelia left, I asked him who she was, and he said that she was going to save us and that I had to be very kind to her. Soon after, he married her—and soon after that she had a baby boy named Massimo.

But once she had moved in and settled herself, she spoke very little to me and wanted to be alone with Father in the evenings, whereas before she came Father and I had read and talked and, when the weather was good, taken walks.

I never dreamed Father would marry so soon after Mamma died, and certainly not to a woman like Cornelia. I tried to be nice to her, even though it was hard when she told me to call her Mamma. But no matter what I did she didn’t seem to approve. Father said she’d brought a large dowry, and Marta, who looked after me, said that everyone knew citizen class women, if they were rich enough, could marry nobles. Father used to be a trader, but when his ships sank and he started gambling, he fell into debt. Now Cornelia had become nobility and Father had been able to pay his creditors.

But he hadn’t only been a merchant; he was a book collector and he would let me decide which book on which subject to look at next, and I would choose from among the leather bindings and gold titles. And he told me that one day some of these books would be mine. But with Cornelia’s arrival, he’d lost interest in those long hours we used to spend together. He seemed too preoccupied with keeping Cornelia happy.

Once Massimo was born, I liked to look at him and try to make him smile; but I didn’t get to be with him very often, as Cornelia didn’t like me to come near. So, due to these reasons, after she’d been with us for some time my soul would shrink whenever I’d see her coming toward me, as if a stone had lodged in my chest. She would put on a smile, but her eyes were cold.

One day, though, the wet nurse was alone with Massimo and I went to see if I could play with him. He was in a happy mood, laughing and shaking his little toy bells. The wet nurse even let me hold him, and just as I was kissing his cheek, Cornelia walked into the room and let out a shriek. She grabbed him in her arms, and with that he started wailing. She said I had made him cry, when in fact it was the opposite.

A few weeks later, I stood listening outside one of the small

chambers where Father and Cornelia liked to go after dinner. Recently, they’d started exchanging glances, nods, and smiles, and acting as if they had a secret, and I longed to find out what was going on. That night, after they thought I’d gone to bed, I came back and waited for a long time. Finally, Cornelia started speaking as if she were continuing an earlier conversation.

“Most noble girls are sent off to study in a convent as soon as they can eat, talk, and walk on their own. Bianca’s almost twelve!”

“I’ve been teaching her here, and she’s doing very well,” said Father.

“Yes, of course. But she needs to be with girls her own age.”

I knew they’d been hiding things from me, but I thought maybe Cornelia was going to have another baby, and they wanted me to move me from my large room in the front of the house to one in the back.

Then I heard footsteps, and the rustling of fabric. I got ready to flee.

“Once she’s gone, we can make a fresh start: you, me, and Massimo.”

I thought of Mamma and the baby that was supposed to have been my real brother. Mamma had lost other babies too, and now Cornelia had given Father a son, as well as her money. Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, staring blindly at the light in the keyhole of the closed door, I barely breathed. My chest was bursting. At last I heard Father say, “She’s sensitive. I don’t know how she’ll do in the convent. Now that her mother’s gone, she’s gotten more attached to me. I’m all she has. The rest of the family…want very little to do with me. Us, I mean. You’ve never met them. But even before….”

“That’s what I’m saying. Bianca will be with her two aunts in the convent,” said Cornelia in a tired, drawn-out way. “I’m a woman and I know what’s best. Trust me.”

I waited for Father to tell her he would never send me away, that I belonged with him. But there was only silence. I was trembling as I ran to my room. My dog Gemma was waiting for me by the door, her tail thumping, and I took her into bed with me. I lay awake for most of the night, wide-eyed and afraid, wishing I could go to Father, feel his arms around me. My body felt as if it weren’t whole, as if I were coming apart. I needed Father’s arms to hold me together, but I couldn’t go to him now.

***

The day I left for the convent, I awoke as usual to the sound of the Marangona as it tolled the hour, calling all the workers to their labors. A shock ran through my heart as the comfort of sleep vanished. Gazing around my room, windows and balcony overlooking the rio, writing desk and chair, paintings of golden angels on the walls, I again remembered I’d be leaving that day and sleeping in some strange bed that night. We lived in the sestiere of Castello—San Marco with its bell tower in one direction and the shipyard of the Arsenale, in the other. I’d be going to the very edge of Venice, beyond the Arsenale with its ship builders, to the Convent of Santa Maria delle Vergini.

Gemma sniffed and panted, showing off her pink tongue and letting out sharp, short barks. My stomach twisted into knots and I lay there clutching myself.

“Bianca!” Marta stood above a basin of freshly-heated water, her face appearing to shimmer in the rising steam. “Today you’re going away from us!” she cried in her clipped accent. Tiny strands of pale blonde hair had escaped from her bun and floated around her delicate head like a halo. And with those tremendous down-turned eyes, now filled with tears, she had the look of a pale Madonna. She’d come all alone from some German village and was very affectionate with me. I loved her dearly, and since Mamma died she’d made me feel protected and cared for. Now I would lose her, too. But there was nothing I could do. I had to face the future and all I could do was pray.

I kicked off the sheets and sat up, rubbing at the sand still in my eyes. Then I picked up my Book of Hours from the bedside table and turned to Thursday’s prayers.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;

Thou hast anointed my head with oil; My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

But not in the convent.

Marta pulled me out of bed, and the two of us dragged the tub to the center of the room. I threw off my nightdress and squatted in the water, splashing myself all over. I loved the feeling of the morning air on my moist, naked flesh.

“You look like a skinny, white fish, just caught from the sea,” Marta said as I stood and she covered me in a cloth. I thought of those fish thrown into the boats in a heap, restless and flapping, and a sense of dread washed over me.

Father said mostly all noble girls went to convents to study. He said Le Vergini was the most special of all the fifty convents in Venice, because every time a new abbess was elected, our ruler the doge gave her a ring and she gave him a blessing. It was like a wedding, he said, between the doge and the Virgin Mary. I would be giving a blessing to Venice just by living there. He also said he would find me a noble husband, and that one day I would come out and be married.

But some of the girls who went to study in convents never came out. That had happened to my aunts. Mamma said since they were noble, they could only marry noble men; and since their father couldn’t afford a large dowry they had to stay in the convent. But she also said she’d never let me go into a convent. I heard her tell that to Father, and he agreed. And another time Mamma told me that no matter what, she’d find a way to make sure I had a dowry. Now Mamma was gone and I didn’t know if she’d given the dowry to Father, or if he’d gambled it away.

I started to cry, standing there covered only with a cloth, my hair dripping water on the floor. Gemma jumped around my feet, and I reached down and picked her up, getting her wet. I brushed back the fur on her face and kissed her.

“Oh Marta,” I said between sobs, “please take good care of Gemma for me.”

* * *

I went to the sala, the large hall that opened up to the loggia, the closed terrace that looked out onto the rio. I paced back and forth along the shining marble floor, going all the way to the end, then turning and walking back again to the staircase, with the portraits of our dead ancestors gazing down on me. And I thought about what it would be like to live in the convent, wondered how long I would have to stay. Marta said some girls married even as young as 14, while others did later, at 17 or older. So maybe I would get out in just two years! But then when I thought about being married it also seemed like an odd idea. Mostly I wanted to stay where I was, with Father. But that was impossible, because girls either had to get married or go into a convent. I chose to believe Father would find me a husband who would treat me kindly and I would love him and live in a casa as beautiful as this one.

As I reached the top of the staircase yet again, Cornelia’s stout body appeared. Her baby, Massimo lay contentedly against her large breasts.

“Say good-bye to your sister. She’s going away to live in a convent,” she said, grinning. Then she took hold of the baby’s arm and waved it at me. He grasped his bunch of bells and started to shake them. Cornelia laughed and darted her eyes back and forth, between me and her baby. It was difficult to breathe.

“It’s good you’re not going to the Convent of Sant’Anna. The ghost of a girl wanders there, you know, looking for her lost lover.”

Then she laughed again and tears sprang into my eyes. I thought I’d cried them all out, but here they were again. She pursed her lips and frowned. “I was just teasing you! We’re going to miss you, aren’t we, my darling?” she said, looking at Massimo and kissing him on his pudgy cheeks. He was a healthy, cheerful baby, and the two of them seemed to be fashioned from the same mold, with round faces and popping eyes. But his eyes expressed the curiosity of the newly arrived in the world, while hers seemed to show fear. I reached out to caress him but Cornelia took a step back.

“You’re going to be so happy in the convent, with friends your own age. And you’ll be able to do all the things you can’t do here, with just your father and me and Massimo. We’re not very interesting company.”

I felt as if I’d been stung by a giant insect, one that paralyzes you. But then the shock wore off and a terrible anger flooded through me. She was making me leave all that I loved and I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

“You don’t know anything about a convent since you’ve never lived in one! It’s true you’re not very interesting. But my father is the most interesting person in the world, and I’m very unhappy to leave him!” I stood there shaking; I’d never spoken to anyone that way before.

Her mouth hung open and her eyes stared. For the first time since I’d met her, she was speechless. Massimo tilted his head and stared at me too, mouth open.

She sniffed a few times and bit her lower lip. “I love you Bianca, and I care about you, as if I were your own mamma. How can you be so cruel?”

My heart was racing. “I’m sorry Cornelia, but I had a mother, and now she’s gone. My own mamma never wanted me to leave her. You asked Father to send me away.”

I rushed past her to go down the staircase. But after taking a few steps I heard her mumble something and I glanced back. She had on the familiar, terrible mask again, the one she almost always wore, lips turned up, eyes hard and cold.

“Don’t be selfish, Bianca. Think of it this way. You’ll be doing everyone a wonderful service. The government needs heaps of women in convents to pray for the protection and welfare of the Republic.” Then she added, “But it would be a shame if you have to become a nun and cut off all that beautiful blonde hair of yours.”

“My parents raised me to be a noble wife, not a nun,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. Then I ran down the stairs, out to the garden.

Once there, my tears came pouring out. I gazed at a statue of a unicorn that stood in a corner, with figures of snakes and crabs crawling toward her. The unicorn, mysterious and difficult to capture or tame, stood guard over the lavender, one of those plants loved by Our Lady. I broke off a small branch and tucked it into the cuff of my sleeve and prayed it would bring me back here. A servant’s voice called out my name, and I said a final goodbye to the garden. I went to the long androne—the place where the goods Father used to sell had been stored—that opened onto the short embankment and the rio. Now the space stood empty and dark, but a bit of the pungent smell of spices still clung to the walls.

* * *

Little white puff-balls of pollen flew through the air like snow. Swallows darted in the sky, tracing giant mysterious patterns. Across the rio, a few women leaned out of windows. On the street below, men clustered together as they talked and gestured, and boys carrying packages skirted in and out among them.

Calmer now, I stood on the fondamenta, where the mossy wooden steps that led from the rio were covered by the tide. Sunlight glanced off the water onto the surface of the walls. Uncle Giovanni showed up, his wiry hair looking as if he’d just walked through a storm. That one lock of hair on top of his head stuck up, as it always did, and his stomach bulged and strained against the buttons on his doublet. As in many families, only one brother could afford to marry, so Giovanni lived in his own apartment in another part of the house.

“Carissima Bianca! Don’t go!” he wailed. Then he laughed, picked me up and twirled around. “Don’t be afraid; nuns don’t bite,” he said.  He tweaked my ear. When he pulled his hand back, it held a golden coin. “Keep this until you come out to be married.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” I said, tears starting to rise again. “Don’t forget to visit me.”

“I could never forget,” he said.

I bent down and hid the coin in my shoe. Then I got in the boat and sat next to Father on the bench, while Piero lifted up my cassa filled with clothes, sheets, pillows, hair combs, and my Book of Hours, and set it down in front of us. Piero and the other boatman pushed off with their long oars, and we rocked away. I looked at our house; some clusters of violet wisteria trailed down from the roof, touching an eagle triumphing over a hare carved into the wall. Would virtue triumph over evil in my life?

Even though Cornelia wanted to hurt me, I shouldn’t have said those awful things to her; I should have turned the other cheek, and I felt ashamed. I prayed she wouldn’t make Father think I should stay in the convent forever. I took Father’s hand and squeezed it until he turned and smiled. But his eyes weren’t smiling. “I want to make you happy, Father.”

“You do, dear. But sometimes we can only make each other happy by being apart for a while.”

I didn’t understand this answer but I didn’t know what else to say.