"Wherever you please, provided you let this man know where it is, so
that he can give you notice when the peotta is ready to sail. My duty,"
he added, "is to leave you at the lazzaretto of Ancona free of expense
from the moment we leave this place. Until then enjoy yourself as well
as you can."
The man to whom I was to give my address was the captain of the peotta.
I asked him to recommend me a lodging.
"You can come to my house," he said, "if you have no objection to share
a large bed with the cook, whose wife remains on board."
Unable to devise any better plan, I accepted the offer, and a sailor,
carrying my trunk, accompanied me to the dwelling of the honest captain.
My trunk had to be placed under the bed which filled up the room. I was
amused at this, for I was not in a position to be over-fastidious, and,
after partaking of some dinner at the inn, I went about the town.
Chiozza is a peninsula, a sea-port belonging to Venice, with a
population of ten thousand inhabitants, seamen, fishermen, merchants,
lawyers, and government clerks.
I entered a coffee-room, and I had scarcely taken a seat when a young
doctor-at-law, with whom I had studied in Padua, came up to me, and
introduced me to a druggist whose shop was near by, saying that his
house was the rendezvous of all the literary men of the place. A few
minutes afterwards, a tall Jacobin friar, blind of one eye, called
Corsini, whom I had known in Venice, came in and paid me many
compliments. He told me that I had arrived just in time to go to a
picnic got up by the Macaronic academicians for the next day, after a
sitting of the academy in which every member was to recite something of
his composition. He invited me to join them, and to gratify the meeting
with the delivery of one of my productions. I accepted the invitation,
and, after the reading of ten stanzas which I had written for the
occasion, I was unanimously elected a member. My success at the picnic
was still greater, for I disposed of such a quantity of macaroni that I
was found worthy of the title of prince of the academy.
The young doctor, himself one of the academicians, introduced me to his
family. His parents, who were in easy circumstances, received me very
kindly. One of his sisters was very amiable, but the other, a professed
nun, appeared to me a prodigy of beauty. I might have enjoyed myself in
a very agreeable way in the midst of that charming family during my stay
in Chiozza, but I suppose that it was my destiny to meet in that place
with nothing but sorrows. The young doctor forewarned me that the monk
Corsini was a very worthless fellow, despised by everybody, and advised
me to avoid him. I thanked him for the information, but my
thoughtlessness prevented me from profiting by it. Of a very easy
disposition, and too giddy to fear any snares, I was foolish enough to
believe that the monk would, on the contrary, be the very man to throw
plenty of amusement in my way.
On the third day the worthless dog took me to a house of ill-fame, where
I might have gone without his introduction, and, in order to shew my
mettle, I obliged a low creature whose ugliness ought to have been a
sufficient antidote against any fleshly desire. On leaving the place, he
brought me for supper to an inn where we met four scoundrels of his own
stamp. After supper one of them began a bank of faro, and I was invited
to join in the game. I gave way to that feeling of false pride which so
often causes the ruin of young men, and after losing four sequins I
expressed a wish to retire, but my honest friend, the Jacobin contrived
to make me risk four more sequins in partnership with him. He held the
bank, and it was broken. I did not wish to play any more, but Corsini,
feigning to pity me and to feel great sorrow at being the cause of my
loss, induced me to try myself a bank of twenty-five sequins; my bank
was likewise broken. The hope of winning back my money made me keep up
the game, and I lost everything I had.
Deeply grieved, I went away and laid myself down near the cook, who woke
up and said I was a libertine.
"You are right," was all I could answer.
I was worn out with fatigue and sorrow, and I slept soundly. My vile
tormentor, the monk, woke me at noon, and informed me with a triumphant
joy that a very rich young man had been invited by his friends to
supper, that he would be sure to play and to lose, and that it would be
a good opportunity for me to retrieve my losses.
"I have lost all my money. Lend me twenty sequins."
"When I lend money I am sure to lose; you may call it superstition, but
I have tried it too often. Try to find money somewhere else, and come.
Farewell."
I felt ashamed to confess my position to my friend, and sending for, a
money-lender I emptied my trunk before him. We made an inventory of my
clothes, and the honest broker gave me thirty sequins, with the
understanding that if I did not redeem them within three days all my
things would become his property. I am bound to call him an honest man,
for he advised me to keep three shirts, a few pairs of stockings, and a
few handkerchiefs; I was disposed to let him take everything, having a
presentiment that I would win back all I had lost; a very common error.
A few years later I took my revenge by writing a diatribe against
presentiments. I am of opinion that the only foreboding in which man can
have any sort of faith is the one which forbodes evil, because it comes
from the mind, while a presentiment of happiness has its origin in the
heart, and the heart is a fool worthy of reckoning foolishly upon fickle
fortune.
I did not lose any time in joining the honest company, which was alarmed
at the thought of not seeing me. Supper went off without any allusion to
gambling, but my admirable qualities were highly praised, and it was
decided that a brilliant fortune awaited me in Rome. After supper there
was no talk of play, but giving way to my evil genius I loudly asked for
my revenge. I was told that if I would take the bank everyone would
punt. I took the bank, lost every sequin I had, and retired, begging the
monk to pay what I owed to the landlord, which he promised to do.
I was in despair, and to crown my misery I found out as I was going home
that I had met the day before with another living specimen of the Greek
woman, less beautiful but as perfidious. I went to bed stunned by my
grief, and I believe that I must have fainted into a heavy sleep, which
lasted eleven hours; my awaking was that of a miserable being, hating
the light of heaven, of which he felt himself unworthy, and I closed my
eyes again, trying to sleep for a little while longer. I dreaded to
rouse myself up entirely, knowing that I would then have to take some
decision; but I never once thought of returning to Venice, which would
have been the very best thing to do, and I would have destroyed myself
rather than confide my sad position to the young doctor. I was weary of
my existence, and I entertained vaguely some hope of starving where I
was, without leaving my bed. It is certain that I should not have got up
if M. Alban, the master of the peotta, had not roused me by calling upon
me and informing me that the boat was ready to sail.
The man who is delivered from great perplexity, no matter by what means,
feels himself relieved. It seemed to me that Captain Alban had come to
point out the only thing I could possibly do; I dressed myself in haste,
and tying all my worldly possessions in a handkerchief I went on board.
Soon afterwards we left the shore, and in the morning we cast anchor in
Orsara, a seaport of Istria. We all landed to visit the city, which
would more properly be called a village. It belongs to the Pope, the
Republic of Venice having abandoned it to the Holy See.
A young monk of the order of the Recollects who called himself Friar
Stephano of Belun, and had obtained a free passage from the devout
Captain Alban, joined me as we landed and enquired whether I felt sick.
"Reverend father, I am unhappy."
"You will forget all your sorrow, if you will come and dine with me at
the house of one of our devout friends."
I had not broken my fast for thirty-six hours, and having suffered much
from sea-sickness during the night, my stomach was quite empty. My
erotic inconvenience made me very uncomfortable, my mind felt deeply the
consciousness of my degradation, and I did not possess a groat! I was in
such a miserable state that I had no strength to accept or to refuse
anything. I was thoroughly torpid, and I followed the monk mechanically.
He presented me to a lady, saying that he was accompanying me to Rome,
where I intend to become a Franciscan. This untruth disgusted me, and
under any other circumstances I would not have let it pass without
protest, but in my actual position it struck me as rather comical. The
good lady gave us a good dinner of fish cooked in oil, which in Orsara
is delicious, and we drank some exquisite refosco. During our meal, a
priest happened to drop in, and, after a short conversation, he told me
that I ought not to pass the night on board the tartan, and pressed me
to accept a bed in his house and a good dinner for the next day in case
the wind should not allow us to sail; I accepted without hesitation. I
offered my most sincere thanks to the good old lady, and the priest took
me all over the town. In the evening, he brought me to his house where
we partook of an excellent supper prepared by his housekeeper, who sat
down to the table with us, and with whom I was much pleased. The
refosco, still better than that which I had drunk at dinner, scattered
all my misery to the wind, and I conversed gaily with the priest. He
offered to read to me a poem of his own composition, but, feeling that
my eyes would not keep open, I begged he would excuse me and postpone
the reading until the following day.
I went to bed, and in the morning, after ten hours of the most profound
sleep, the housekeeper, who had been watching for my awakening, brought
me some coffee. I thought her a charming woman, but, alas! I was not in
a fit state to prove to her the high estimation in which I held her
beauty.
Entertaining feelings of gratitude for my kind host, and disposed to
listen attentively to his poem, I dismissed all sadness, and I paid his
poetry such compliments that he was delighted, and, finding me much more
talented than he had judged me to be at first, he insisted upon treating
me to a reading of his idylls, and I had to swallow them, bearing the
infliction cheerfully. The day passed off very agreeably; the
housekeeper surrounded me with the kindest attentions--a proof that she
was smitten with me; and, giving way to that pleasing idea, I felt that,
by a very natural system of reciprocity, she had made my conquest. The
good priest thought that the day had passed like lightning, thanks to
all the beauties I had discovered in his poetry, which, to speak the
truth, was below mediocrity, but time seemed to me to drag along very
slowly, because the friendly glances of the housekeeper made me long for
bedtime, in spite of the miserable condition in which I felt myself
morally and physically. But such was my nature; I abandoned myself to
joy and happiness, when, had I been more reasonable, I ought to have
sunk under my grief and sadness.
But the golden time came at last. I found the pretty housekeeper full of
compliance, but only up to a certain point, and as she offered some
resistance when I shewed myself disposed to pay a full homage to her
charms, I quietly gave up the undertaking, very well pleased for both of
us that it had not been carried any further, and I sought my couch in
peace. But I had not seen the end of the adventure, for the next
morning, when she brought my coffee, her pretty, enticing manners
allured me to bestow a few loving caresses upon her, and if she did not
abandon herself entirely, it was only, as she said, because she was
afraid of some surprise. The day passed off very pleasantly with the
good priest, and at night, the house-keeper no longer fearing detection,
and I having on my side taken every precaution necessary in the state in
which I was, we passed two most delicious hours. I left Orsara the next
morning.
Friar Stephano amused me all day with his talk, which plainly showed me
his ignorance combined with knavery under the veil of simplicity. He
made me look at the alms he had received in Orsara--bread, wine, cheese,
sausages, preserves, and chocolate; every nook and cranny of his holy
garment was full of provisions.
"Have you received money likewise?" I enquired.
"God forbid! In the first place, our glorious order does not permit me
to touch money, and, in the second place, were I to be foolish enough to
receive any when I am begging, people would think themselves quit of me
with one or two sous, whilst they give me ten times as much in eatables.
Believe me Saint-Francis, was a very judicious man."
I bethought myself that what this monk called wealth would be poverty to
me. He offered to share with me, and seemed very proud at my consenting
to honour him so far.
The tartan touched at the harbour of Pola, called Veruda, and we landed.
After a walk up hill of nearly a quarter of an hour, we entered the
city, and I devoted a couple of hours to visiting the Roman antiquities,
which are numerous, the town having been the metropolis of the empire.
Yet I saw no other trace of grand buildings except the ruins of the
arena. We returned to Veruda, and went again to sea. On the following
day we sighted Ancona, but the wind being against us we were compelled
to tack about, and we did not reach the port till the second day. The
harbour of Ancona, although considered one of the great works of Trajan,
would be very unsafe if it were not for a causeway which has cost a
great deal of money, and which makes it some what better. I observed a
fact worthy of notice, namely, that, in the Adriatic, the northern coast
has many harbours, while the opposite coast can only boast of one or
two. It is evident that the sea is retiring by degrees towards the east,
and that in three or four more centuries Venice must be joined to the
land. We landed at the old lazzaretto, where we received the pleasant
information that we would go through a quarantine of twenty-eight days,
because Venice had admitted, after a quarantine of three months, the
crew of two ships from Messina, where the plague had recently been
raging. I requested a room for myself and for Brother Stephano, who
thanked me very heartily. I hired from a Jew a bed, a table and a few
chairs, promising to pay for the hire at the expiration of our
quarantine. The monk would have nothing but straw. If he had guessed
that without him I might have starved, he would most likely not have
felt so much vanity at sharing my room. A sailor, expecting to find in
me a generous customer, came to enquire where my trunk was, and, hearing
from me that I did not know, he, as well as Captain Alban, went to a
great deal of trouble to find it, and I could hardly keep down my
merriment when the captain called, begging to be excused for having left
it behind, and assuring me that he would take care to forward it to me
in less than three weeks.
The friar, who had to remain with me four weeks, expected to live at my
expense, while, on the contrary, he had been sent by Providence to keep
me. He had provisions enough for one week, but it was necessary to think
of the future.
After supper, I drew a most affecting picture of my position, shewing
that I should be in need of everything until my arrival at Rome, where I
was going, I said, to fill the post of secretary of memorials, and my
astonishment may be imagined when I saw the blockhead delighted at the
recital of my misfortunes.
"I undertake to take care of you until we reach Rome; only tell me
whether you can write."
"What a question! Are you joking?"
"Why should I? Look at me; I cannot write anything but my name. True, I
can write it with either hand; and what else do I want to know?"
"You astonish me greatly, for I thought you were a priest."
"I am a monk; I say the mass, and, as a matter of course, I must know
how to read. Saint-Francis, whose unworthy son I am, could not read, and
that is the reason why he never said a mass. But as you can write, you
will to-morrow pen a letter in my name to the persons whose names I will
give you, and I warrant you we shall have enough sent here to live like
fighting cocks all through our quarantine."
The next day he made me write eight letters, because, in the oral
tradition of his order, it is said that, when a monk has knocked at
seven doors and has met with a refusal at every one of them, he must
apply to the eighth with perfect confidence, because there he is certain
of receiving alms. As he had already performed the pilgrimage to Rome,
he knew every person in Ancona devoted to the cult of Saint-Francis, and
was acquainted with the superiors of all the rich convents. I had to
write to every person he named, and to set down all the lies he dictated
to me. He likewise made me sign the letters for him, saying, that, if he
signed himself, his correspondents would see that the letters had not
been written by him, which would injure him, for, he added, in this age
of corruption, people will esteem only learned men. He compelled me to
fill the letters with Latin passages and quotations, even those
addressed to ladies, and I remonstrated in vain, for, when I raised any
objection, he threatened to leave me without anything to eat. I made up
my mind to do exactly as he wished. He desired me to write to the
superior of the Jesuits that he would not apply to the Capuchins,
because they were no better than atheists, and that that was the reason
of the great dislike of Saint-Francis for them. It was in vain that I
reminded him of the fact that, in the time of Saint-Francis, there were
neither Capuchins nor Recollets. His answer was that I had proved myself
an ignoramus. I firmly believed that he would be thought a madman, and
that we should not receive anything, but I was mistaken, for such a
quantity of provisions came pouring in that I was amazed. Wine was sent
from three or four different quarters, more than enough for us during
all our stay, and yet I drank nothing but water, so great was my wish to
recover my health. As for eatables, enough was sent in every day for six
persons; we gave all our surplus to our keeper, who had a large family.
But the monk felt no gratitude for the kind souls who bestowed their
charity upon him; all his thanks were reserved for Saint-Francis.
He undertook to have my linen washed by the keeper; I would not have
dared to give it myself, and he said that he had nothing to fear, as
everybody was well aware that the monks of his order never wear any kind
of linen.
I kept myself in bed nearly all day, and thus avoided shewing myself to
visitors. The persons who did not come wrote letters full of
incongruities cleverly worded, which I took good care not to point out
to him. It was with great difficulty that I tried to persuade him that
those letters did not require any answer.
A fortnight of repose and severe diet brought me round towards complete
recovery, and I began to walk in the yard of the lazzaretto from morning
till night; but the arrival of a Turk from Thessalonia with his family
compelled me to suspend my walks, the ground-floor having been given to
him. The only pleasure left me was to spend my time on the balcony
overlooking the yard. I soon saw a Greek slave, a girl of dazzling
beauty, for whom I felt the deepest interest. She was in the habit of
spending the whole day sitting near the door with a book or some
embroidery in her hand. If she happened to raise her eyes and to meet
mine, she modestly bent her head down, and sometimes she rose and went
in slowly, as if she meant to say, "I did not know that somebody was
looking at me." Her figure was tall and slender, her features proclaimed
her to be very young; she had a very fair complexion, with beautiful
black hair and eyes. She wore the Greek costume, which gave her person a
certain air of very exciting voluptuousness.
I was perfectly idle, and with the temperament which nature and habit
had given me, was it likely that I could feast my eyes constantly upon
such a charming object without falling desperately in love? I had heard
her conversing in Lingua Franca with her master, a fine old man, who,
like her, felt very weary of the quarantine, and used to come out but
seldom, smoking his pipe, and remaining in the yard only a short time. I
felt a great temptation to address a few words to the beautiful girl,
but I was afraid she might run away and never come out again; however,
unable to control myself any longer, I determined to write to her; I had
no difficulty in conveying the letter, as I had only to let it fall from
my balcony. But she might have refused to pick it up, and this is the
plan I adopted in order not to risk any unpleasant result.
Availing myself of a moment during which she was alone in the yard, I
dropped from my balcony a small piece of paper folded like a letter, but
I had taken care not to write anything on it, and held the true letter
in my hand. As soon as I saw her stooping down to pick up the first, I
quickly let the second drop at her feet, and she put both into her
pocket. A few minutes afterwards she left the yard. My letter was
somewhat to this effect:
"Beautiful angel from the East, I worship you. I will remain all night
on this balcony in the hope that you will come to me for a quarter of an
hour, and listen to my voice through the hole under my feet. We can
speak softly, and in order to hear me you can climb up to the top of the
bale of goods which lies beneath the same hole."
I begged from my keeper not to lock me in as he did every night, and he
consented on condition that he would watch me, for if I had jumped down
in the yard his life might have been the penalty, and he promised not to
disturb me on the balcony.
At midnight, as I was beginning to give her up, she came forward. I then
laid myself flat on the floor of the balcony, and I placed my head
against the hole, about six inches square. I saw her jump on the bale,
and her head reached within a foot from the balcony. She was compelled
to steady herself with one hand against the wall for fear of falling,
and in that position we talked of love, of ardent desires, of obstacles,
of impossibilities, and of cunning artifices. I told her the reason for
which I dared not jump down in the yard, and she observed that, even
without that reason, it would bring ruin upon us, as it would be
impossible to come up again, and that, besides, God alone knew what her
master would do if he were to find us together. Then, promising to visit
me in this way every night, she passed her hand through the hole. Alas!
I could not leave off kissing it, for I thought that I had never in my
life touched so soft, so delicate a hand. But what bliss when she begged
for mine! I quickly thrust my arm through the hole, so that she could
fasten her lips to the bend of the elbow. How many sweet liberties my
hand ventured to take! But we were at last compelled by prudence to
separate, and when I returned to my room I saw with great pleasure that
the keeper was fast asleep.
Although I was delighted at having obtained every favour I could
possibly wish for in the uncomfortable position we had been in, I racked
my brain to contrive the means of securing more complete enjoyment for
the following night, but I found during the afternoon that the feminine
cunning of my beautiful Greek was more fertile than mine.
Being alone in the yard with her master, she said a few words to him in
Turkish, to which he seemed to give his approval, and soon after a
servant, assisted by the keeper, brought under the balcony a large
basket of goods. She overlooked the arrangement, and in order to secure
the basket better, she made the servant place a bale of cotton across
two others. Guessing at her purpose, I fairly leaped for joy, for she
had found the way of raising herself two feet higher; but I thought that
she would then find herself in the most inconvenient position, and that,
forced to bend double, she would not be able to resist the fatigue. The
hole was not wide enough for her head to pass through, otherwise she
might have stood erect and been comfortable. It was necessary at all
events to guard against that difficulty; the only way was to tear out
one of the planks of the floor of the balcony, but it was not an easy
undertaking. Yet I decided upon attempting it, regardless of
consequences; and I went to my room to provide myself with a large pair
of pincers. Luckily the keeper was absent, and availing myself of the
opportunity, I succeeded in dragging out carefully the four large nails
which fastened the plank. Finding that I could lift it at my will, I
replaced the pincers, and waited for the night with amorous impatience.
The darling girl came exactly at midnight, noticing the difficulty she
experienced in climbing up, and in getting a footing upon the third bale
of cotton, I lifted the plank, and, extending my arm as far as I could,
I offered her a steady point of support. She stood straight, and found
herself agreeably surprised, for she could pass her head and her arms
through the hole. We wasted no time in empty compliments; we only
congratulated each other upon having both worked for the same purpose.
If, the night before, I had found myself master of her person more than
she was of mine, this time the position was entirely reversed. Her hand
roamed freely over every part of my body, but I had to stop half-way
down hers. She cursed the man who had packed the bale for not having
made it half a foot bigger, so as to get nearer to me. Very likely even
that would not have satisfied us, but she would have felt happier.
Our pleasures were barren, yet we kept up our enjoyment until the first
streak of light. I put back the plank carefully, and I lay down in my
bed in great need of recruiting my strength.
My dear mistress had informed me that the Turkish Bairam began that very
morning, and would last three days during which it would be impossible
for her to see me.
The night after Bairam, she did not fail to make her appearance, and,
saying that she could not be happy without me, she told me that, as she
was a Christian woman, I could buy her, if I waited for her after
leaving the lazzaretto. I was compelled to tell her that I did not
possess the means of doing so, and my confession made her sigh. On the
following night, she informed me that her master would sell her for two
thousand piasters, that she would give me the amount, that she was yet a
virgin, and that I would be pleased with my bargain. She added that she
would give me a casket full of diamonds, one of which was alone worth
two thousand piasters, and that the sale of the others would place us
beyond the reach of poverty for the remainder of our life. She assured
me that her master would not notice the loss of the casket, and that, if
he did, he would never think of accusing her.
I was in love with this girl; and her proposal made me uncomfortable,
but when I woke in the morning I did not hesitate any longer. She
brought the casket in the evening, but I told her that I never could
make up my mind to be accessory to a robbery; she was very unhappy, and
said that my love was not as deep as her own, but that she could not
help admiring me for being so good a Christian.
This was the last night; probably we should never meet again. The flame
of passion consumed us. She proposed that I should lift her up to the
balcony through the open space. Where is the lover who would have
objected to so attractive a proposal? I rose, and without being a Milo,
I placed my hands under her arms, I drew her up towards me, and my
desires are on the point of being fulfilled. Suddenly I feel two hands
upon my shoulders, and the voice of the keeper exclaims, "What are you
about?" I let my precious burden drop; she regains her chamber, and I,
giving vent to my rage, throw myself flat on the floor of the balcony,
and remain there without a movement, in spite of the shaking of the
keeper whom I was sorely tempted to strangle. At last I rose from the
floor and went to bed without uttering one word, and not even caring to
replace the plank.
In the morning, the governor informed us that we were free. As I left
the lazzaretto, with a breaking heart, I caught a glimpse of the Greek
slave drowned in tears.
I agreed to meet Friar Stephano at the exchange, and I took the Jew from
whom I had hired the furniture, to the convent of the Minims, where I
received from Father Lazari ten sequins and the address of the bishop,
who, after performing quarantine on the frontiers of Tuscany, had
proceeded to Rome, where he would expect me to meet him.
I paid the Jew, and made a poor dinner at an inn. As I was leaving it to
join the monk, I was so unlucky as to meet Captain Alban, who reproached
me bitterly for having led him to believe that my trunk had been left
behind. I contrived to appease his anger by telling him all my
misfortunes, and I signed a paper in which I declared that I had no
claim whatever upon him. I then purchased a pair of shoes and an
overcoat, and met Stephano, whom I informed of my decision to make a
pilgrimage to Our Lady of Loretto. I said I would await there for him,
and that we would afterwards travel together as far as Rome. He answered
that he did not wish to go through Loretto, and that I would repent of
my contempt for the grace of Saint-Francis. I did not alter my mind, and
I left for Loretto the next day in the enjoyment of perfect health.
I reached the Holy City, tired almost to death, for it was the first
time in my life that I had walked fifteen miles, drinking nothing but
water, although the weather was very warm, because the dry wine used in
that part of the country parched me too much. I must observe that, in
spite of my poverty, I did not look like a beggar.
As I was entering the city, I saw coming towards me an elderly priest of
very respectable appearance, and, as he was evidently taking notice of
me, as soon as he drew near, I saluted him, and enquired where I could
find a comfortable inn. "I cannot doubt," he said, "that a person like
you, travelling on foot, must come here from devout motives; come with
me." He turned back, I followed him, and he took me to a fine-looking
house. After whispering a few words to a man who appeared to be a
steward, he left me saying, very affably, "You shall be well attended
to."
My first impression was that I had been mistaken for some other person,
but I said nothing.
I was led to a suite of three rooms; the chamber was decorated with
damask hangings, the bedstead had a canopy, and the table was supplied
with all materials necessary for writing. A servant brought me a light
dressing-gown, and another came in with linen and a large tub full of
water, which he placed before me; my shoes and stockings were taken off,
and my feet washed. A very decent-looking woman, followed by a servant
girl, came in a few minutes after, and curtsying very low, she proceeded
to make my bed. At that moment the Angelus bell was heard; everyone
knelt down, and I followed their example. After the prayer, a small
table was neatly laid out, I was asked what sort of wine I wished to
drink, and I was provided with newspapers and two silver candlesticks.
An hour afterwards I had a delicious fish supper, and, before I retired
to bed, a servant came to enquire whether I would take chocolate in the
morning before or after mass.
As soon as I was in bed, the servant brought me a night-lamp with a
dial, and I remained alone. Except in France I have never had such a
good bed as I had that night. It would have cured the most chronic
insomnia, but I was not labouring under such a disease, and I slept for
ten hours.
This sort of treatment easily led me to believe that I was not in any
kind of hostelry; but where was I? How was I to suppose that I was in a
hospital?
When I had taken my chocolate, a hair-dresser--quite a fashionable,
dapper fellow--made his appearance, dying to give vent to his chattering
propensities. Guessing that I did not wish to be shaved, he offered to
clip my soft down with the scissors, saying that I would look younger.
"Why do you suppose that I want to conceal my age?"
"It is very natural, because, if your lordship did not wish to do so,
your lordship would have shaved long ago. Countess Marcolini is here;
does your lordship know her? I must go to her at noon to dress her
hair."
I did not feel interested in the Countess Marcolini, and, seeing it, the
gossip changed the subject.
"Is this your lordship's first visit to this house? It is the finest
hospital throughout the papal states."
"I quite agree with you, and I shall compliment His Holiness on the
establishment."
"Oh! His Holiness knows all about it, he resided here before he became
pope. If Monsignor Caraffa had not been well acquainted with you, he
would not have introduced you here."
Such is the use of barbers throughout Europe; but you must not put any
questions to them, for, if you do, they are sure to treat you to an
impudent mixture of truth and falsehood, and instead of you pumping
them, they will worm everything out of you.
Thinking that it was my duty to present my respectful compliments to
Monsignor Caraffa, I desired to be taken to his apartment. He gave me a
pleasant welcome, shewed me his library, and entrusted me to the care of
one of his abbes, a man of parts, who acted as my cicerone every where.
Twenty years afterwards, this same abbe was of great service to me in
Rome, and, if still alive, he is a canon of St. John Lateran.
On the following day, I took the communion in the Santa-Casa. The third
day was entirely employed in examining the exterior of this truly
wonderful sanctuary, and early the next day I resumed my journey, having
spent nothing except three paoli for the barber. Halfway to Macerata, I
overtook Brother Stephano walking on at a very slow rate. He was
delighted to see me again, and told me that he had left Ancona two hours
after me, but that he never walked more than three miles a day, being
quite satisfied to take two months for a journey which, even on foot,
can easily be accomplished in a week. "I want," he said, "to reach Rome
without fatigue and in good health. I am in no hurry, and if you feel
disposed to travel with me and in the same quiet way, Saint-Francis will
not find it difficult to keep us both during the journey."
This lazy fellow was a man about thirty, red-haired, very strong and
healthy; a true peasant who had turned himself into a monk only for the
sake of living in idle comfort. I answered that, as I was in a hurry to
reach Rome, I could not be his travelling companion.
"I undertake to walk six miles, instead of three, today," he said, "if
you will carry my cloak, which I find very heavy."
The proposal struck me as a rather funny one; I put on his cloak, and he
took my great-coat, but, after the exchange, we cut such a comical
figure that every peasant we met laughed at us. His cloak would truly
have proved a load for a mule. There were twelve pockets quite full,
without taken into account a pocket behind, which he called 'il
batticulo', and which contained alone twice as much as all the others.
Bread, wine, fresh and salt meat, fowls, eggs, cheese, ham, sausages--
everything was to be found in those pockets, which contained provisions
enough for a fortnight.
I told him how well I had been treated in Loretto, and he assured me
that I might have asked Monsignor Caraffa to give me letters for all the
hospitals on my road to Rome, and that everywhere I would have met with
the same reception. "The hospitals," he added, "are all under the curse
of Saint-Francis, because the mendicant friars are not admitted in them;
but we do not mind their gates being shut against us, because they are
too far apart from each other. We prefer the homes of the persons
attached to our order; these we find everywhere."
"Why do you not ask hospitality in the convents of your order?"
"I am not so foolish. In the first place, I should not be admitted,
because, being a fugitive, I have not the written obedience which must
be shown at every convent, and I should even run the risk of being
thrown into prison; your monks are a cursed bad lot. In the second
place, I should not be half so comfortable in the convents as I am with
our devout benefactors."
"Why and how are you a fugitive?"
He answered my question by the narrative of his imprisonment and flight,
the whole story being a tissue of absurdities and lies. The fugitive
Recollet friar was a fool, with something of the wit of harlequin, and
he thought that every man listening to him was a greater fool than
himself. Yet with all his folly he was not wanting in a certain species
of cunning. His religious principles were singular. As he did not wish
to be taken for a bigoted man, he was scandalous, and for the sake of
making people laugh he would often make use of the most disgusting
expressions. He had no taste whatever for women, and no inclination
towards the pleasures of the flesh; but this was only owing to a
deficiency in his natural temperament, and yet he claimed for himself
the virtue of continence. On that score, everything appeared to him food
for merriment, and when he had drunk rather too much, he would ask
questions of such an indecent character that they would bring blushes on
everybody's countenance. Yet the brute would only laugh.
As we were getting within one hundred yards from the house of the devout
friend whom he intended to honour with his visit, he took back his heavy
cloak. On entering the house he gave his blessing to everybody, and
everyone in the family came to kiss his hand. The mistress of the house
requested him to say mass for them, and the compliant monk asked to be
taken to the vestry, but when I whispered in his ear,---
"Have you forgotten that we have already broken our fast to-day?" he
answered, dryly,---
"Mind your own business."
I dared not make any further remark, but during the mass I was indeed
surprised, for I saw that he did not understand what he was doing. I
could not help being amused at his awkwardness, but I had not yet seen
the best part of the comedy. As soon as he had somehow or other finished
his mass he went to the confessional, and after hearing in confession
every member of the family he took it into his head to refuse absolution
to the daughter of his hostess, a girl of twelve or thirteen, pretty and
quite charming. He gave his refusal publicly, scolding her and
threatening her with the torments of hell. The poor girl, overwhelmed
with shame, left the church crying bitterly, and I, feeling real
sympathy for her, could not help saying aloud to Stephano that he was a
madman. I ran after the girl to offer her my consolations, but she had
disappeared, and could not be induced to join us at dinner. This piece
of extravagance on the part of the monk exasperated me to such an extent
that I felt a very strong inclination to thrash him. In the presence of
all the family I told him that he was an impostor, and the infamous
destroyer of the poor child's honour; I challenged him to explain his
reasons for refusing to give her absolution, but he closed my lips by
answering very coolly that he could not betray the secrets of the
confessional. I could eat nothing, and was fully determined to leave the
scoundrel. As we left the house I was compelled to accept one paolo as
the price of the mock mass he had said. I had to fulfil the sorry duty
of his treasurer.
The moment we were on the road, I told him that I was going to part
company, because I was afraid of being sent as a felon to the galleys if
I continued my journey with him. We exchanged high words; I called him
an ignorant scoundrel, he styled me beggar. I struck him a violent slap
on the face, which he returned with a blow from his stick, but I quickly
snatched it from him, and, leaving him, I hastened towards Macerata. A
carrier who was going to Tolentino took me with him for two paoli, and
for six more I might have reached Foligno in a waggon, but unfortunately
a wish for economy made me refuse the offer. I felt well, and I thought
I could easily walk as far as Valcimare, but I arrived there only after
five hours of hard walking, and thoroughly beaten with fatigue. I was
strong and healthy, but a walk of five hours was more than I could bear,
because in my infancy I had never gone a league on foot. Young people
cannot practise too much the art of walking.
The next day, refreshed by a good night's rest, and ready to resume my
journey, I wanted to pay the innkeeper, but, alas! a new misfortune was
in store for me! Let the reader imagine my sad position! I recollected
that I had forgotten my purse, containing seven sequins, on the table of
the inn at Tolentino. What a thunderbolt! I was in despair, but I gave
up the idea of going back, as it was very doubtful whether I would find
my money. Yet it contained all I possessed, save a few copper coins I
had in my pocket. I paid my small bill, and, deeply grieved at my loss,
continued my journey towards Seraval. I was within three miles of that
place when, in jumping over a ditch, I sprained my ankle, and was
compelled to sit down on one side of the road, and to wait until someone
should come to my assistance.
In the course of an hour a peasant happened to pass with his donkey, and
he agreed to carry me to Seraval for one paolo. As I wanted to spend as
little as possible, the peasant took me to an ill-looking fellow who,
for two paoli paid in advance, consented to give me a lodging. I asked
him to send for a surgeon, but I did not obtain one until the following
morning. I had a wretched supper, after which I lay down in a filthy
bed. I was in hope that sleep would bring me some relief, but my evil
genius was preparing for me a night of torments.
Three men, armed with guns and looking like banditti, came in shortly
after I had gone to bed, speaking a kind of slang which I could not make
out, swearing, raging, and paying no attention to me. They drank and
sang until midnight, after which they threw themselves down on bundles
of straw brought for them, and my host, who was drunk, came, greatly to
my dismay, to lie down near me. Disgusted at the idea of having such a
fellow for my bed companion, I refused to let him come, but he answered,
with fearful blasphemies, that all the devils in hell could not prevent
him from taking possession of his own bed. I was forced to make room for
him, and exclaimed "Heavens, where am I?" He told me that I was in the
house of the most honest constable in all the papal states.
Could I possibly have supposed that the peasant would have brought me
amongst those accursed enemies of humankind!
He laid himself down near me, but the filthy scoundrel soon compelled me
to give him, for certain reasons, such a blow in his chest that he
rolled out of bed. He picked himself up, and renewed his beastly
attempt. Being well aware that I could not master him without great
danger, I got out of bed, thinking myself lucky that he did not oppose
my wish, and crawling along as well as I could, I found a chair on which
I passed the night. At day-break, my tormentor, called up by his honest
comrades, joined them in drinking and shouting, and the three strangers,
taking their guns, departed. Left alone by the departure of the vile
rabble, I passed another unpleasant hour, calling in vain for someone.
At last a young boy came in, I gave him some money and he went for a
surgeon. The doctor examined my foot, and assured me that three or four
days would set me to rights. He advised me to be removed to an inn, and
I most willingly followed his counsel. As soon as I was brought to the
inn, I went to bed, and was well cared for, but my position was such
that I dreaded the moment of my recovery. I feared that I should be
compelled to sell my coat to pay the inn-keeper, and the very thought
made me feel ashamed. I began to consider that if I had controlled my
sympathy for the young girl so ill-treated by Stephano, I should not
have fallen into this sad predicament, and I felt conscious that my
sympathy had been a mistake. If I had put up with the faults of the
friar, if this and if that, and every other if was conjured up to
torment my restless and wretched brain. Yet I must confess that the
thoughts which have their origin in misfortune are not without advantage
to a young man, for they give him the habit of thinking, and the man who
does not think never does anything right.
The morning of the fourth day came, and I was able to walk, as the
surgeon had predicted; I made up my mind, although reluctantly, to beg
the worthy man to sell my great coat for me--a most unpleasant
necessity, for rain had begun to fall. I owed fifteen paoli to the inn-
keeper and four to the surgeon. Just as I was going to proffer my
painful request, Brother Stephano made his appearance in my room, and
burst into loud laughter enquiring whether I had forgotten the blow from
his stick!
I was struck with amazement! I begged the surgeon to leave me with the
monk, and he immediately complied.
I must ask my readers whether it is possible, in the face of such
extraordinary circumstances, not to feel superstitious! What is truly
miraculous in this case is the precise minute at which the event took
place, for the friar entered the room as the word was hanging on my
lips. What surprised me most was the force of Providence, of fortune, of
chance, whatever name is given to it, of that very necessary combination
which compelled me to find no hope but in that fatal monk, who had begun
to be my protective genius in Chiozza at the moment my distress had
likewise commenced. And yet, a singular guardian angel, this Stephano! I
felt that the mysterious force which threw me in his hands was a
punishment rather than a favour.
Nevertheless he was welcome, because I had no doubt of his relieving me
from my difficulties,--and whatever might be the power that sent him to
me, I felt that I could not do better than to submit to its influence;
the destiny of that monk was to escort me to Rome.
"Chi va piano va sano," said the friar as soon as we were alone. He had
taken five days to traverse the road over which I had travelled in one
day, but he was in good health, and he had met with no misfortune. He
told me that, as he was passing, he heard that an abbe, secretary to the
Venetian ambassador at Rome, was lying ill at the inn, after having been
robbed in Valcimara. "I came to see you," he added, "and as I find you
recovered from your illness, we can start again together; I agree to
walk six miles every day to please you. Come, let us forget the past,
and let us be at once on our way."
"I cannot go; I have lost my purse, and I owe twenty paoli."
"I will go and find the amount in the name of Saint-Francis."
He returned within an hour, but he was accompanied by the infamous
constable who told me that, if I had let him know who I was, he would
have been happy to keep me in his house. "I will give you," he
continued, "forty paoli, if you will promise me the protection of your
ambassador; but if you do not succeed in obtaining it for me in Rome,
you will undertake to repay me. Therefore you must give me an
acknowledgement of the debt."
"I have no objection." Every arrangement was speedily completed; I
received the money, paid my debts, and left Seraval with Stephano. |
|
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기