Vivaldi's Girls

September 1700 Venice

September 1700

VeniceI was celebrating my twenty-first birthday when my father was called to the house of Ludovico d'Invito and his wife, Mariella Costo d'Invito. Signora d'Invito had just given birth to her second child, a girl, whom they named Rachel. I attended my father as he paid his respects to the d'Invito family, a merchant clan of some note but not at the level of our own business, the Trapensi import company. Nevertheless, my father liked Ludovico and – truth be told – conspired to buy his list of clients, so paying tribute to the newborn girl was in order.

We entered the modest d'Invito home and found the signora resting on cushions around the fire. She smiled at us and waved for my father and me to approach. I was tentative, never having been so close to a young baby before, but the light of the mother's smile put me at ease.

There were no servants in this household, unlike my own, so the gathering was by its nature very intimate. With the presence of attendants as we always experienced in the Trapensi family, behavior was a bit stiff so as not to reveal too much of oneself to members outside the family. Over the years, one would develop a veneer that would disguise some of the most intimate intentions. But here, at the d'Invito home, there was no one to intercede between the visitors and the new mother and father. I felt at once uneasy, not knowing how to navigate that scene, but at the same time I felt more at ease because the veneer seemed so superfluous. Especially with the nearness of a young mother exposing her breast to nurse the infant girl.

The light of the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the scene and yet I could see how beautiful the young baby's face was – Rachel as I was introduced to her at that moment – and how the force of an mother's love could fill the room.

My father paid his respects to Ludovico, which included a small sack of money – the more commonplace demonstration of congratulations among merchants – and then he begged his leave. He was at the door with his hat already on his head but I was still at the mother's side, smiling back at the baby Rachel who looked deeply into my eyes.

Suddenly, a crackle from the fire and a burst of unexpected flame from the embers startled both me and Signora d'Invito. The baby was also startled, and gave a brief cry of surprise, but then settled back into her mother's clutch and closed her eyes.

“We should go,” my father said, noticing the scene and perhaps wondering why his son was so absorbed with the infant.

“Yes, sir,” I replied while still staring at the baby. “We should leave them to rest.”

I raised my hat to Signora d'Invito that I held respectfully in my right hand, then settled it on my head in a signal that I would depart.

“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly. “I will remember your kindness.”

My father and I left the d'Invito home that afternoon but I could not forget the impression that was made upon me of a woman just birthing, and a baby so new and so beautiful.