ATDTDA (9): Nemesis, 243-248

[Paul Nightingale]

This opening section of Ch20 will recall aspects of
previous Chumstuff. There is the conflict between
Lindsay and Darby; and “the ambiguous smell of molten
glass rising from the vomitoria beneath them” recalls
the descent to Chicago in Ch2 (“... the smell found
them, the smell and the uproar of flesh learning its
mortality”, 10). There, descent over the Stockyards
introduced a darker tone, undermining the enthusiasm
of the initial take-off. Here, we see juxtaposed “an
impression of ruin and sorrow” to “a million
roof-tiles of a somewhat more optimistic red” (243).
The Stockyards, according to Professor Vanderjuice
subsequently, confirmed the end of both “the Trail”
and “the American Cowboy who used to live on it and by
it” (53). Hence, progress in the form of capitalist
rationalisation, which includes a loss of innocence
for the Chums also (eg, 10).

Their first view of Venice is of “some map of itself
printed in an ancient sepia” (243): not just a
juxtaposition of the ‘real’ city to its
representation, but the representation—or faking—of
age. If “an ancient sepia” is a coded transformation
of the ‘now’ of the city, then the effect is to
position the Chums as travelling from the future:
‘now’ becomes the past. One might recall the “boy with
the face of an angel in an old painting” who brought
orders in the form of “a telephone set” (107): again,
technology invokes the future (including, on that
occasion, “the airship’s new Tesla device”).

In contrast to “the uproar of flesh learning its
mortality”, the Venetian soundtrack is provided by
“the voice of a gondolier, singing of his love” (244).
It brings Miles to tears: previously he identified the
“human timbres and rhythms—not speech so much as
music” as they came in over the islands at the end of
Part 1 (116-117). The object of the gondolier’s
affections isn’t, however, a “ringleted ragazza” but
his gondola” (244), ie his means of livelihood. Again,
the first impression is of a daily routine that will
be affected by the Chums; their presence, orders
notwithstanding, is by definition an intervention.
Later, “gathered for dinner in the garden of an
agreeable osteria” (245), they are able to witness,
passively, scenes of domestic routine, “[w]ives ...
[on] small balconies ...” etc; they can also hear “an
accordion ... wrenching hearts”. However, Chick (now
“the most worldly of the company, and thus spokesman
by default in fair-sex encounters”) asks Giuseppina
about the Russians (246); this is indeed an
intervention, and her “formally wistful smile” is
provocative.

In Ch2, Miles, peering through a telescope, causes “an
‘eager stampede’ to the rail” when he announces the
presence of a naked lady (13). Here, Zanni has noticed
“a trembling apparition in the distance, off to
starboard”; and Randolph, using binoculars, identifies
“the old Bol’shaia Igra once again, coming to town”
(245). Cf. the introduction of the BI, “the flagship
of Randolph’s mysterious Russian counterpart—and, far
too often, nemesis—Captain Igor Padzhitnoff” (123): on
that occasion we’re told their shared history with the
Russian “evoked in the boys lively though anxious
memories”. 

Some evidence that they are learning from
experience—perhaps a working definition of ‘growing
up’—is provided by Darby when he describes ignorance
as the “[w]ages of unquestioning obedience” (245).
Even Randolph confesses helplessness in the matter:
“Whom could we even ask ...” etc (246). Hence Chick’s
approach to Giuseppina. Darby and Chick, not for the
first time, have challenged the ‘natural order’; and
Giuseppina’s response seems to confirm
Randolph’s—well, is impotence too strong a term? She
cites not just the Russian crew generally, but the
rival leader: one thinks back to the opening scenes,
Randolph about to leave the Inconvenience and go into
Chicago, and Darby’s “manly admiration” for his leader
(16). This might help explain his response to
Giuseppina’s news on 246.

Briefly, the Chums argue. Randolph shows his
irritation with Lindsay (247) and then imposes order.
Narrative digression, in the form of wineglasses and
their back-story, eventually leads to the presentation
of the glasses to the Chums by “current
Shadow-Doge-in-Exile Domenico Sfinciuno”. This account
concludes with a description of “these illustrious
young American scientists” (248). Hence, the
squabbling of the osteria has been put aside by the
memory, as they drink, of earlier ‘glory’.

Lindsay is the obvious choice to emphasise the honour
they have just received: “Why, it’s just like the Keys
to the City!” Chick, as one of the malcontents has a
quick response, reminding them of the danger the
ceremony has placed them in: in the final lines,
almost as an afterthought, we learn the Chums’ mission
in Venice, and hence the reason why they would be a
little jumpy at the Russians’ presence. Going back to
the opening, it was Randolph’s clandestine visit to
Nate (24-25), again a scene that featured as a coda,
that exposed the visit to the Fair as a cover.