Gualdi
Dr. Campbel, in his well-known work Hermippus Redivivus or the Sage's Triumph over old age and the grave relates that this person was probably Rosicrucian who lived for several hundreds of years. The particulars concerning him are as follows, but they cannot be verified, and are regarded by Godwin as apocryphal :- He sojourned at Venice for several months, and was known by the name of the "Sober Signior" among the common people, on account of the regularity of his life, the composed simplicity of his manners and the quietness of his costume: for he always wore dark clothes, and these of a plain, unpretending style. Three things were remarked of him during his stay at Venice. The first was, that he had a small collection of fine pictures, which he readily showed to everybody that desired it: the next, that he was perfectly versed in all arts and sciences, and spoke always with such minute particularity as astonished-nay, silenced-all who heard him, because he seemed to have been present at the things which he related, making the most unexpected corrections in small facts sometimes. And it was, in the third place, observed that he never wrote or received any letter, never desired any credit, but always paid for everything in ready money, and made no use of bankers, bills of exchange, or letters of credit. However, he always seemed to have enough, and he lived respectably, though with no attempt at splendour or show.
Signor Gualdi met, shortly after his arrival at Venice, one day, at the coffee-house which he was in the habit of frequenting, a Venetian nobleman of sociable manners, who was very fond of art, and this pair used to engage in sundry discussions, and they had many conversations concerning the various objects and pursuits which were interesting to both of them. Acquaintance ripened into friendly esteem, and the nobleman invited Signor Gualdi to his private house, whereat for he was a widower- Signor Gualdi first met the nobleman's daughter, a very beautiful young maiden of eighteen, of much intelligence, and of great accomplishments. The nobleman's daughter was just introduced at her father's house from a convent, or pension, where she had been educated by the nuns. young lady, in short, from constantly being in his society, and listening to his narratives, gradually fell in love with the mysterious stranger, much for the reasons of Desdemona; though Signor Gualdi was no swarthy Moor, but only This Gualdi a well-educated gentleman-a thinker rather than a doer. At times, indeed, his countenance seemed to grow splendid in expression, and he boasted certainly wondrous discourse, and a strange and weird fascination would grow up about him, as it were, when he became more than usually pleased and animated. Altogether, when you were set thinking about him, he seemed a puzzling person, and of rare gifts, though when mixing with the crowd you would scarcely distinguish him from the crowd; nor would you observe him unless there was something akin to him in you excited by his talk.
The Venetian nobleman was now on a footing of sufficient intimacy with Signor Gualdi to say to him one evening, at his own house, that he understood that he had a fine collection of pictures, and that, if agreeable, he would pay him a visit one day for the purpose of viewing them. The nobleman's daughter, who was present, and who was pensively looking down upon the table thinking deeply of something that the Signor had just said, raised her eyes eagerly at this expression of wish by her father, and, as accorded with her feelings, she appeared, though she spoke not, to be desirous to make one of the party to see the pictures. It was natural that she should secretly rejoice at this opportunity of becoming more intimately acquainted with the domestic life of one whom she had grown to regard with feelings of powerful interest. She felt that the mere fact of being his guest, and under the roof which was his, would seem to bring her nearer to him, and, as common with lovers, it seemed that their being thus together would, in feeling at least, appear to identify both. Signor Gualdi was very polite, and readily invited the nobleman to his house, and also extended the invitation to the young lady, should she feel disposed to accompany her father, since he divined from the expression of her face that she was wishful to that effect. The day for the visit was then named, and the Signor took his departure with the expression of friendship on all sides which usually ended their meetings.
It followed from this arrangement, that on the day appointed, the father and daughter went to Signor Gualdi's house. They were received by the Signor with warm kindness, and were shown over his rooms with every mark of friendliness and distinction. The nobleman viewed Signor Gualdi's pictures with great attention, and when he had completed his tour, he expressed his satisfaction by telling the Signor that he had never seen a finer collection, considering the number of pictures. They were now in Signor Gualdi's own chamber-the last of his set of rooms, and they were just on the point of turning to go out, and Gualdi was removing the tapestry from before the door to widen the egress, when the nobleman, who had paused to allow him thus to clear the way, by chance cast his eyes upwards over the door, where there hung a picture evidently of the stranger himself. The Venetian looked upon it with doubt, and after a while his face fell; but it was soon cleared, as if with relief. The gaze of the daughter was also riveted upon the picture, which was very like Gualdi but she regarded it with a blush. The Venetian looked from the picture to Gualdi, and back again from Gualdi to the picture. It was some time before he spoke. 66 "
That picture was intended for you, sir," said he at last, hesitating, to Signor Gualdi. A slight cold change passed over the eyes of the stranger; but he only made reply by a low bow.
You look a moderately young man, -to be candid with you, sir, I should say about forty-five, or thereabouts and yet I know, by certain means of which I will not now further speak, that this picture is by the hand of Titian who has been dead nearly a couple of hundred years. How is this possible?" he added, with a polite, grave smile.
It is not easy," said Signor Gualdi quietly, "to know all things that are possible, for very frequent mistakes are made concerning such; but there is certainly nothing strange in my being like a picture painted by Titian." The nobleman easily perceived by his manner, and by a momentary cloud upon his brow, that the stranger felt offence. The daughter clung to her father's arm, secretly afraid that this little unexpected demur might pass into coolness, and end with a consummation of estrangement, which she feared excessively; she dreaded the rupture of their intimacy with the stranger; and, contradictory as it may seem, she wanted to withdraw, even without the point she dreaded being cleared up into renewed pleasant confidence. However, this little temporary misunderstanding was soon put to an end by Signor Gualdi himself, who, in a moment or two, resumed his ordinary manner, and he saw the father and daughter down-stairs, and forth to the entrance of his house, with his usual composed politeness-though the nobleman could not help some feeling of restraint, and his daughter experienced a considerable amount of mortification; and she could not look at Signor Gualdi, -or, rather, when she did, she looked too much.
This little occurence remained in the mind of the nobleman. His daughter felt lonely and dissatisfied afterwards, eager for the restoration of the same friendly feeling with Signor Gualdi, and revolving in her mind numberless schemes to achieve it. The Venetian betook himself in the evening to the usual coffee-house, and he could not forbear speaking of the incident among the group of people collected there. Their curiosity was roused, and one or two resolved to satisfy themselves by looking at the picture attentively the next morning. But to obtain an opportunity to see the picture on this next morning, it was necessary to see the Signor Gualdi somewhere, and to have his invitation to his lodgings for the purpose. The only likely place to meet with him was at the coffee-house; and thither the gentlemen went at the usual time, hoping, as it was the Signor's habit to present himself, that he would do so. But he did not come-nor had he been heard of from the time of the visit of the nobleman the day before to the Signor's house-which absence, for a first time almost that he had been in Venice, surprised everybody. But as they did not meet with him at the coffee-house-as they thought was sure-one of the persons who had the oftenest conversed with the Signor, and therefore was the freer in his acquaintance, undertook to go to his lodgings and inquire after him, which he did; but he was answered by the owner of the house, who came to the street-door to respond to the questioner, that the Signor had gone, having quitted Venice that morning early, and that he had locked up his pictures with certan orders, and had taken the key of his rooms with him.
This affair made a great noise at the time in Venice, and an account of it found its way into most of the newspapers of the year in which it occurred. In these newspapers, and elsewhere, an outline of the foregoing particulars may be seen. The account of the Signor Gualdi will also be met with in Les Mémoires historiques for the year 1687.