I do not know the motive has induced her to do so: did she do it for the kinship between them, for a lively sympathy towards the cousin or for the interest aroused by chance?
I elevate, however, an affectionate and devoted thought to her memory and I thank her, not only for the accomplished human gesture, but also for the way she has always presented the figure of my Father, putting particular emphasis on the qualities and exalting the feelings.
I, the eldest son of Luigi Palladino, on the threshold now of seventy-seven, having, throughout this period, known men and things, I believe my parent is:
"AN HOMME MEMORABLE".
So I continue the story of Stefania Palladino, invoking the benevolence of all those who will read the whole affair if, with the help of God, I will be able to complete it and I ask their forgiveness if they should notice in my work a gesture of presumption.
7
When my father came back from England, with the savings he had accumulated, not so much for the lavish earnings but for the imputed deprivations, the first thing he did was to give to his mother a dignified arrangement. During her son's stay abroad, she had lent her work as a governor to a noble Neapolitan family.
From what they told in my adolescence and what I remember, one day my father, turning to his mother, told her: "Mum I gave you a gift: I bought the fabric for a dress; I want to see you even more beautiful than what appears in my eyes. I also know a good dressmaker and I am sure she will satisfy you; in a few days, when you want, we'll go with her for the pack. "
The mother, already by nature emotional and perhaps remembering some circumstances not happy of the past, embraced his son with so much effusion, whispering these words: "Look a bit what my son have done for me!"
And the day came when my father took her to the seamstress. This, by the name of Virginia, gave them a warm welcome and, having arranged them, immediately took care to show the models that, more than others, suited her. Her suggestion was widely shared and appreciated.
On the street, then, they commented about the meeting and Donna Anna, so it was called my grandmother, said to her son:
"I'm really satisfied. That dress is beautiful and kind and I think she does very well her job. How did you meet her? "
My father, a little surprised by this question, with a rather mischievous smile, answered:
"She is the sister of a friend of mine, mother; to tell you the truth, however, Virginia is not a professional dressmaker but she has learned the art of cutting and sewing at the French nuns she attends in the hours of freedom and leisure. When I told her about you and I told her about the gift I wanted to give you, she encouraged me so much, to the point of telling me she would accompany me for the choice and purchase of the fabric. And so it was: together we did the shopping ".
The dress was soon packed and the mother wanted to wear it for the first time to go to church to listen to the Mass. Perhaps she meant to thank God for the treasure of the son he had given her, the only living male, after four daughters brought into the world, all married but forgotten, in large part, perhaps because far away, from their branch duties.
My father and her mother lived in Naples near Piazza Amedeo, in a building located at the intersection of two streets: Via Vittoria Colonna and Via Giovanni Bausan, in a modest but well-kept house. The origins, sometimes, are not contradicted; Donna Anna was born as a lady and she remained so, even if poverty and loneliness had been for a long time her only and faithful companions.
Her scion, her one and only big treasure (as she used to say) had assured her a life not well-off but serene. Sometimes the serenity and the health are worth more than money!
Luigi, however, for work reasons, was forced to move continuously and the poor mother was also used to this. She said she felt equally calm, because she knew well the feelings that animated his son and, consequently, of the actions that he performed.
At that time, to make a career in hotels, the so-called "Certificates" were needed: certificates issued by the owners or managers of the companies where he had worked to explicitly declare the tasks performed and the skills demonstrated during the entire stay in the hotel.
The big hotels of that time welcomed a high class clientele and, as a consequence, they required in the personnel they assumed adequate gifts and unexceptionable moral requisites. The career, therefore, was a function of these "Certificates" and furthermore, in order to advance well or to do so with a certain solicitude, it was particularly necessary to have a perfect knowledge of foreign languages, particularly of English and German.
All the best Seasonal Posts were almost all, sooner or later, the prerogatives of my father, who, having begun to work in that branch at an early age, knew his job well and in his long stay in England he had learned that language very well. .
They told me in one of his stops in Naples, a little more prolonged than usual, happened something: one day my grandmother, in tidying her son's room, found under the pillow a letter addressed to him. Which mother would not care to know who was the person who contacted with her son? And so giving a fleeting glance at the first words and the signature, she became aware of his secret; something that a mother's heart had perhaps already foretold: Luigi and Virginia loved each other!
When his son returned in the evening he noticed in his mother's eyes a greater tenderness, because her eyes glistened with joy and maternal love. She went to him whispering in his ear, jokingly smiling:
"Little scoundrel … little scoundrel ..., you make love with Virginia!".
My father had so much respect for his mother and he apologized confirming joyfully his feeling. So his mother told him these words:
"I am very happy with your choice. May God one day allow and bless your union ".
8
Donna Anna lived, now, a peaceful life. She was happy and pleasant with her state, but unfortunately, she had on her face the traces of her past sufferings and in the physical the damage suffered in the most anguished period of her existence. A sad day she fell ill and there were no cures that could save her. Before taking her last breath, she called his "only treasure" and she thanked him for all he had done for her; she praised him for his affectionate feelings and she blessed him. She also had the strength to say:
"Bride Virginia. She is the woman of your life. You will certainly be happy with her! "
So we arrived in the year 1907 and during that winter season, my father was "hired" by the Engadine Kulm Hotel in St. Moritz. On his return, in the spring of 1908, his Virginia, for him also second mother, awaited for him with anxiety, with love and affection. On 10 December 1908 they happily married in the Church of S. Rocco on the Riviera di Chiaia, following the permission from the Parish of the Ascension in Chiaia, to which they belonged. My father, always modest, and my mother, even more modest than him, went to live in a small house on a high floor of a building located in Parco Margherita n. 23, near Piazza Amedeo. That was their first love nest; in that place they conceived their firstborn, that is me, I came to the world the morning of 4 October 1909, the day of the festivity of Saint Francis, the poor man from Assisi.
With my birth, my father felt his responsibilities increase. He spoke English very well (he had been in England for more than 10 years); now it was necessary to improve in the German language. Then he worked to have a place of greater stability: he wanted to stay for at least a couple of years in the same place, not only to be near his young bride, but to help her in my growth.
The place fortunately came and it was also very welcome. My father went to cover the place of 1st Maître at the Hotel Vittoria in Naples, where he remained until September 1910.
Hence still a necessary shift for his career, he went to the city of Rome and, precisely, to the Gran Hotel Royale, located in Via XX Settembre.
My mother and me, this time, followed him to the new residence, settling