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My second family name, Nessi, as I have said before, comes out of Lombardy and the city of Como. The Nessis of Como fled from Austrian rule, and came to Spain, probably peddling mousetraps and santi boniti barati.
They appear to be two travellers, face to face with the mystery of Nature and the Unknown. No such feeling for learning and culture is to be met with among our miserably affected Latin mountebanks. I am an anti-militarist by inheritance. The Basques have never been good soldiers in the regular army. My great-grandfather Nessi probably fled from Italy as a deserter.
I have been asked frequently: "How did you ever come to go into the baking business?" I shall now proceed to answer the question, although the story is a long one. My mother had an aunt, Juana Nessi, who was a sister of her father's. This lady was reasonably attractive when young, and married a rich gentleman just returned from America, whose name was Don Matias Lacasa.
As mementos of the Italian branch of the family, I still preserve a few views of Lake Como in my house, a crude image of the Christ of the Annunziatta, stamped on cloth, and a volume of a treatise on surgery by Nessi, which bears the imprimatur of the Inquisition at Venice. I was born in San Sebastian on the 28th of December, 1872. So I am not only a Guipuzcoan but a native of San Sebastian.
My mother's name is Carmen Nessi y Goni. She was born in Madrid. I should be a very good man. My father was a good man, although he was capricious and arbitrary, and my mother is a good woman, firmer and more positive in her manifestations of virtue. Yet, I am not without reputation for ferocity, which, perhaps, is deserved.
One of the Nessis, who survived until a short time ago, always said that the family had been very comfortably off in Lombardy, where one of his relatives, Guiseppe Nessi, a doctor, had been professor in the University of Pavia during the eighteenth century, besides being major in the Austrian Army.
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