About one o'clock in the afternoon, we saw a wretched-looking house at a
short distance from the road, and the friar said, "It is a good distance
from here to Collefiorito; we had better put up there for the night." It
was in vain that I objected, remonstrating that we were certain of
having very poor accommodation! I had to submit to his will. We found a
decrepit old man lying on a pallet, two ugly women of thirty or forty,
three children entirely naked, a cow, and a cursed dog which barked
continually. It was a picture of squalid misery; but the niggardly monk,
instead of giving alms to the poor people, asked them to entertain us to
supper in the name of Saint-Francis.
"You must boil the hen," said the dying man to the females, "and bring
out of the cellar the bottle of wine which I have kept now for twenty
years." As he uttered those few words, he was seized with such a fit of
coughing that I thought he would die. The friar went near him, and
promised him that, by the grace of Saint-Francis, he would get young and
well. Moved by the sight of so much misery, I wanted to continue my
journey as far as Collefiorito, and to wait there for Stephano, but the
women would not let me go, and I remained. After boiling for four hours
the hen set the strongest teeth at defiance, and the bottle which I
uncorked proved to be nothing but sour vinegar. Losing patience, I got
hold of the monk's batticaslo, and took out of it enough for a plentiful
supper, and I saw the two women opening their eyes very wide at the
sight of our provisions.
We all ate with good appetite, and, after our supper the women made for
us two large beds of fresh straw, and we lay down in the dark, as the
last bit of candle to be found in the miserable dwelling was burnt out.
We had not been lying on the straw five minutes, when Stephano called
out to me that one of the women had just placed herself near him, and at
the same instant the other one takes me in her arms and kisses me. I
push her away, and the monk defends himself against the other; but mine,
nothing daunted, insists upon laying herself near me; I get up, the dog
springs at my neck, and fear compels me to remain quiet on my straw bed;
the monk screams, swears, struggles, the dog barks furiously, the old
man coughs; all is noise and confusion. At last Stephano, protected by
his heavy garments, shakes off the too loving shrew, and, braving the
dog, manages to find his stick. Then he lays about to right and left,
striking in every direction; one of the women exclaims, "Oh, God!" the
friar answers, "She has her quietus." Calm reigns again in the house,
the dog, most likely dead, is silent; the old man, who perhaps has
received his death-blow, coughs no more; the children sleep, and the
women, afraid of the singular caresses of the monk, sheer off into a
corner; the remainder of the night passed off quietly.
At day-break I rose; Stephano was likewise soon up. I looked all round,
and my surprise was great when I found that the women had gone out, and
seeing that the old man gave no sign of life, and had a bruise on his
forehead, I shewed it to Stephano, remarking that very likely he had
killed him.
"It is possible," he answered, "but I have not done it intentionally."
Then taking up his batticulo and finding it empty he flew into a violent
passion; but I was much pleased, for I had been afraid that the women
had gone out to get assistance and to have us arrested, and the robbery
of our provisions reassured me, as I felt certain that the poor wretches
had gone out of the way so as to secure impunity for their theft. But I
laid great stress upon the danger we should run by remaining any longer,
and I succeeded in frightening the friar out of the house. We soon met a
waggoner going to Folligno; I persuaded Stephano to take the opportunity
of putting a good distance between us and the scene of our last
adventures; and, as we were eating our breakfast at Folligno, we saw
another waggon, quite empty, got a lift in it for a trifle, and thus
rode to Pisignano, where a devout person gave us a charitable welcome,
and I slept soundly through the night without the dread of being
arrested.
Early the next day we reached Spoleti, where Brother Stephano had two
benefactors, and, careful not to give either of them a cause of
jealousy, he favoured both; we dined with the first, who entertained us
like princes, and we had supper and lodging in the house of the second,
a wealthy wine merchant, and the father of a large and delightful
family. He gave us a delicious supper, and everything would have gone on
pleasantly had not the friar, already excited by his good dinner, made
himself quite drunk. In that state, thinking to please his new host, he
began to abuse the other, greatly to my annoyance; he said the wine he
had given us to drink was adulterated, and that the man was a thief. I
gave him the lie to his face, and called him a scoundrel. The host and
his wife pacified me, saying that they were well acquainted with their
neighbour, and knew what to think of him; but the monk threw his napkin
at my face, and the host took him very quietly by the arm and put him to
bed in a room in which he locked him up. I slept in another room.
In the morning I rose early, and was considering whether it would not be
better to go alone, when the friar, who had slept himself sober, made
his appearance and told me that we ought for the future to live together
like good friends, and not give way to angry feelings; I followed my
destiny once more. We resumed our journey, and at Soma, the inn-keeper,
a woman of rare beauty, gave us a good dinner, and some excellent Cyprus
wine which the Venetian couriers exchanged with her against delicious
truffles found in the vicinity of Soma, which sold for a good price in
Venice. I did not leave the handsome inn-keeper without losing a part of
my heart.
It would be difficult to draw a picture of the indignation which
overpowered me when, as we were about two miles from Terni, the infamous
friar shewed me a small bag full of truffles which the scoundrel had
stolen from the amiable woman by way of thanks for her generous
hospitality. The truffles were worth two sequins at least. In my
indignation I snatched the bag from him, saying that I would certainly
return it to its lawful owner. But, as he had not committed the robbery
to give himself the pleasure of making restitution, he threw himself
upon me, and we came to a regular fight. But victory did not remain long
in abeyance; I forced his stick out of his hands, knocked him into a
ditch, and went off. On reaching Terni, I wrote a letter of apology to
our beautiful hostess of Soma, and sent back the truffles.
From Terni I went on foot to Otricoli, where I only stayed long enough
to examine the fine old bridge, and from there I paid four paoli to a
waggoner who carried me to Castel-Nuovo, from which place I walked to
Rome. I reached the celebrated city on the 1st of September, at nine in
the morning.
I must not forget to mention here a rather peculiar circumstance, which,
however ridiculous it may be in reality, will please many of my readers.
An hour after I had left Castel-Nuovo, the atmosphere being calm and the
sky clear, I perceived on my right, and within ten paces of me, a
pyramidal flame about two feet long and four or five feet above the
ground. This apparition surprised me, because it seemed to accompany me.
Anxious to examine it, I endeavoured to get nearer to it, but the more I
advanced towards it the further it went from me. It would stop when I
stood still, and when the road along which I was travelling happened to
be lined with trees, I no longer saw it, but it was sure to reappear as
soon as I reached a portion of the road without trees. I several times
retraced my steps purposely, but, every time I did so, the flame
disappeared, and would not shew itself again until I proceeded towards
Rome. This extraordinary beacon left me when daylight chased darkness
from the sky.
What a splendid field for ignorant superstition, if there had been any
witnesses to that phenomenon, and if I had chanced to make a great name
in Rome! History is full of such trifles, and the world is full of
people who attach great importance to them in spite of the so-called
light of science. I must candidly confess that, although somewhat versed
in physics, the sight of that small meteor gave me singular ideas. But I
was prudent enough not to mention the circumstance to any one.
When I reached the ancient capital of the world, I possessed only seven
paoli, and consequently I did not loiter about. I paid no attention to
the splendid entrance through the gate of the polar trees, which is by
mistake pompously called of the people, or to the beautiful square of
the same name, or to the portals of the magnificent churches, or to all
the stately buildings which generally strike the traveller as he enters
the city. I went straight towards Monte-Magnanopoli, where, according to
the address given to me, I was to find the bishop. There I was informed
that he had left Rome ten days before, leaving instructions to send me
to Naples free of expense. A coach was to start for Naples the next day;
not caring to see Rome, I went to bed until the time for the departure
of the coach. I travelled with three low fellows to whom I did not
address one word through the whole of the journey. I entered Naples on
the 6th day of September.
I went immediately to the address which had been given to me in Rome;
the bishop was not there. I called at the Convent of the Minims, and I
found that he had left Naples to proceed to Martorano. I enquired
whether he had left any instructions for me, but all in vain, no one
could give me any information. And there I was, alone in a large city,
without a friend, with eight carlini in my pocket, and not knowing what
to do! But never mind; fate calls me to Martorano, and to Martorano I
must go. The distance, after all, is only two hundred miles.
I found several drivers starting for Cosenza, but when they heard that I
had no luggage, they refused to take me, unless I paid in advance. They
were quite right, but their prudence placed me under the necessity of
going on foot. Yet I felt I must reach Martorano, and I made up my mind
to walk the distance, begging food and lodging like the very reverend
Brother Stephano.
First of all I made a light meal for one fourth of my money, and, having
been informed that I had to follow the Salerno road, I went towards
Portici where I arrived in an hour and a half. I already felt rather
fatigued; my legs, if not my head, took me to an inn, where I ordered a
room and some supper. I was served in good style, my appetite was
excellent, and I passed a quiet night in a comfortable bed. In the
morning I told the inn-keeper that I would return for my dinner, and I
went out to visit the royal palace. As I passed through the gate, I was
met by a man of prepossessing appearance, dressed in the eastern
fashion, who offered to shew me all over the palace, saying that I would
thus save my money. I was in a position to accept any offer; I thanked
him for his kindness.
Happening during the conversation to state that I was a Venetian, he
told me that he was my subject, since he came from Zante. I acknowledged
his polite compliment with a reverence.
"I have," he said, "some very excellent muscatel wine 'grown in the
East, which I could sell you cheap."
"I might buy some, but I warn you I am a good judge."
"So much the better. Which do you prefer?"
"The Cerigo wine."
"You are right. I have some rare Cerigo muscatel, and we can taste it if
you have no objection to dine with me."
"None whatever."
"I can likewise give you the wines of Samos and Cephalonia. I have also
a quantity of minerals, plenty of vitriol, cinnabar, antimony, and one
hundred quintals of mercury."
"Are all these goods here?"
"No, they are in Naples. Here I have only the muscatel wine and the
mercury."
It is quite naturally and without any intention to deceive, that a young
man accustomed to poverty, and ashamed of it when he speaks to a rich
stranger, boasts of his means--of his fortune. As I was talking with my
new acquaintance, I recollected an amalgam of mercury with lead and
bismuth, by which the mercury increases one-fourth in weight. I said
nothing, but I bethought myself that if the mystery should be unknown to
the Greek I might profit by it. I felt that some cunning was necessary,
and that he would not care for my secret if I proposed to sell it to him
without preparing the way. The best plan was to astonish my man with the
miracle of the augmentation of the mercury, treat it as a jest, and see
what his intentions would be. Cheating is a crime, but honest cunning
may be considered as a species of prudence. True, it is a quality which
is near akin to roguery; but that cannot be helped, and the man who, in
time of need, does not know how to exercise his cunning nobly is a fool.
The Greeks call this sort of wisdom Cerdaleophyon from the word cerdo;
fox, and it might be translated by foxdom if there were such a word in
English.
After we had visited the palace we returned to the inn, and the Greek
took me to his room, in which he ordered the table to be laid for two.
In the next room I saw several large vessels of muscatel wine and four
flagons of mercury, each containing about ten pounds.
My plans were laid, and I asked him to let me have one of the flagons of
mercury at the current price, and took it to my room. The Greek went out
to attend to his business, reminding me that he expected me to dinner. I
went out likewise, and bought two pounds and a half of lead and an equal
quantity of bismuth; the druggist had no more. I came back to the inn,
asked for some large empty bottles, and made the amalgam.
We dined very pleasantly, and the Greek was delighted because I
pronounced his Cerigo excellent. In the course of conversation he
inquired laughingly why I had bought one of his flagons of mercury.
"You can find out if you come to my room," I said.
After dinner we repaired to my room, and he found his mercury divided in
two vessels. I asked for a piece of chamois, strained the liquid through
it, filled his own flagon, and the Greek stood astonished at the sight
of the fine mercury, about one-fourth of a flagon, which remained over,
with an equal quantity of a powder unknown to him; it was the bismuth.
My merry laugh kept company with his astonishment, and calling one of
the servants of the inn I sent him to the druggist to sell the mercury
that was left. He returned in a few minutes and handed me fifteen
carlini.
The Greek, whose surprise was complete, asked me to give him back his
own flagon, which was there quite full, and worth sixty carlini. I
handed it to him with a smile, thanking him for the opportunity he had
afforded me of earning fifteen carlini, and took care to add that I
should leave for Salerno early the next morning.
"Then we must have supper together this evening," he said.
During the afternoon we took a walk towards Mount Vesuvius. Our
conversation went from one subject to another, but no allusion was made
to the mercury, though I could see that the Greek had something on his
mind. At supper he told me, jestingly, that I ought to stop in Portici
the next day to make forty-five carlini out of the three other flagons
of mercury. I answered gravely that I did not want the money, and that I
had augmented the first flagon only for the sake of procuring him an
agreeable surprise.
"But," said he, "you must be very wealthy."
"No, I am not, because I am in search of the secret of the augmentation
of gold, and it is a very expensive study for us."
"How many are there in your company?"
"Only my uncle and myself."
"What do you want to augment gold for? The augmentation of mercury ought
to be enough for you. Pray, tell me whether the mercury augmented by you
to-day is again susceptible of a similar increase."
"No, if it were so, it would be an immense source of wealth for us."
"I am much pleased with your sincerity."
Supper over I paid my bill, and asked the landlord to get me a carriage
and pair of horses to take me to Salerno early the next morning. I
thanked the Greek for his delicious muscatel wine, and, requesting his
address in Naples, I assured him that he would see me within a
fortnight, as I was determined to secure a cask of his Cerigo.
We embraced each other, and I retired to bed well pleased with my day's
work, and in no way astonished at the Greek's not offering to purchase
my secret, for I was certain that he would not sleep for anxiety, and
that I should see him early in the morning. At all events, I had enough
money to reach the Tour-du-Grec, and there Providence would take care of
me. Yet it seemed to me very difficult to travel as far as Martorano,
begging like a mendicant-friar, because my outward appearance did not
excite pity; people would feel interested in me only from a conviction
that I needed nothing--a very unfortunate conviction, when the object of
it is truly poor.
As I had forseen, the Greek was in my room at daybreak. I received him
in a friendly way, saying that we could take coffee together.
"Willingly; but tell me, reverend abbe, whether you would feel disposed
to sell me your secret?"
"Why not? When we meet in Naples--"
"But why not now?"
"I am expected in Salerno; besides, I would only sell the secret for a
large sum of money, and I am not acquainted with you."
"That does not matter, as I am sufficiently known here to pay you in
cash. How much would you want?"
"Two thousand ounces."
"I agree to pay you that sum provided that I succeed in making the
augmentation myself with such matter as you name to me, which I will
purchase."
"It is impossible, because the necessary ingredients cannot be got here;
but they are common enough in Naples."
"If it is any sort of metal, we can get it at the Tour-du-Grec. We could
go there together. Can you tell me what is the expense of the
augmentation?"
"One and a half per cent. but are you likewise known at the Tour-du-
Grec, for I should not like to lose my time?"
"Your doubts grieve me."
Saying which, he took a pen, wrote a few words, and handed to me this
order:
"At sight, pay to bearer the sum of fifty gold ounces, on account of
Panagiotti."
He told me that the banker resided within two hundred yards of the inn,
and he pressed me to go there myself. I did not stand upon ceremony, but
went to the banker who paid me the amount. I returned to my room in
which he was waiting for me, and placed the gold on the table, saying
that we could now proceed together to the Tour-du-Grec, where we would
complete our arrangements after the signature of a deed of agreement.
The Greek had his own carriage and horses; he gave orders for them to be
got ready, and we left the inn; but he had nobly insisted upon my taking
possession of the fifty ounces.
When we arrived at the Tour-du-Grec, he signed a document by which he
promised to pay me two thousand ounces as soon as I should have
discovered to him the process of augmenting mercury by one-fourth
without injuring its quality, the amalgam to be equal to the mercury
which I had sold in his presence at Portici.
He then gave me a bill of exchange payable at sight in eight days on M.
Genaro de Carlo. I told him that the ingredients were lead and bismuth;
the first, combining with mercury, and the second giving to the whole
the perfect fluidity necessary to strain it through the chamois leather.
The Greek went out to try the amalgam--I do not know where, and I dined
alone, but toward evening he came back, looking very disconsolate, as I
had expected.
"I have made the amalgam," he said, "but the mercury is not perfect."
"It is equal to that which I have sold in Portici, and that is the very
letter of your engagement."
"But my engagement says likewise without injury to the quality. You must
agree that the quality is injured, because it is no longer susceptible
of further augmentation."
"You knew that to be the case; the point is its equality with the
mercury I sold in Portici. But we shall have to go to law, and you will
lose. I am sorry the secret should become public. Congratulate yourself,
sir, for, if you should gain the lawsuit, you will have obtained my
secret for nothing. I would never have believed you capable of deceiving
me in such a manner."
"Reverend sir, I can assure you that I would not willingly deceive any
one."
"Do you know the secret, or do you not? Do you suppose I would have
given it to you without the agreement we entered into? Well, there will
be some fun over this affair in Naples, and the lawyers will make money
out of it. But I am much grieved at this turn of affairs, and I am very
sorry that I allowed myself to be so easily deceived by your fine talk.
In the mean time, here are your fifty ounces."
As I was taking the money out of my pocket, frightened to death lest he
should accept it, he left the room, saying that he would not have it. He
soon returned; we had supper in the same room, but at separate tables;
war had been openly declared, but I felt certain that a treaty of peace
would soon be signed. We did not exchange one word during the evening,
but in the morning he came to me as I was getting ready to go. I again
offered to return the money I received, but he told me to keep it, and
proposed to give me fifty ounces more if I would give him back his bill
of exchange for two thousand. We began to argue the matter quietly, and
after two hours of discussion I gave in. I received fifty ounces more,
we dined together like old friends, and embraced each other cordially.
As I was bidding him adieu, he gave me an order on his house at Naples
for a barrel of muscatel wine, and he presented me with a splendid box
containing twelve razors with silver handles, manufactured in the Tour-
du-Grec. We parted the best friends in the world and well pleased with
each other.
I remained two days in Salerno to provide myself with linen and other
necessaries. Possessing about one hundred sequins, and enjoying good
health, I was very proud of my success, in which I could not see any
cause of reproach to myself, for the cunning I had brought into play to
insure the sale of my secret could not be found fault with except by the
most intolerant of moralists, and such men have no authority to speak on
matters of business. At all events, free, rich, and certain of
presenting myself before the bishop with a respectable appearance, and
not like a beggar, I soon recovered my natural spirits, and
congratulated myself upon having bought sufficient experience to insure
me against falling a second time an easy prey to a Father Corsini, to
thieving gamblers, to mercenary women, and particularly to the impudent
scoundrels who barefacedly praise so well those they intend to dupe--a
species of knaves very common in the world, even amongst people who form
what is called good society.
I left Salerno with two priests who were going to Cosenza on business,
and we traversed the distance of one hundred and forty-two miles in
twenty-two hours. The day after my arrival in the capital of Calabria, I
took a small carriage and drove to Martorano. During the journey, fixing
my eyes upon the famous mare Ausonaum, I felt delighted at finding
myself in the middle of Magna Grecia, rendered so celebrated for twenty-
four centuries by its connection with Pythagoras. I looked with
astonishment upon a country renowned for its fertility, and in which, in
spite of nature's prodigality, my eyes met everywhere the aspect of
terrible misery, the complete absence of that pleasant superfluity which
helps man to enjoy life, and the degradation of the inhabitants sparsely
scattered on a soil where they ought to be so numerous; I felt ashamed
to acknowledge them as originating from the same stock as myself. Such
is, however the Terra di Lavoro where labour seems to be execrated,
where everything is cheap, where the miserable inhabitants consider that
they have made a good bargain when they have found anyone disposed to
take care of the fruit which the ground supplies almost spontaneously in
too great abundance, and for which there is no market. I felt compelled
to admit the justice of the Romans who had called them Brutes instead of
Byutians. The good priests with whom I had been travelling laughed at my
dread of the tarantula and of the crasydra, for the disease brought on
by the bite of those insects appeared to me more fearful even than a
certain disease with which I was already too well acquainted. They
assured me that all the stories relating to those creatures were fables;
they laughed at the lines which Virgil has devoted to them in the
Georgics as well as at all those I quoted to justify my fears.
I found Bishop Bernard de Bernardis occupying a hard chair near an old
table on which he was writing. I fell on my knees, as it is customary to
do before a prelate, but, instead of giving me his blessing, he raised
me up from the floor, and, folding me in his arms, embraced me tenderly.
He expressed his deep sorrow when I told him that in Naples I had not
been able to find any instructions to enable me to join him, but his
face lighted up again when I added that I was indebted to no one for
money, and that I was in good health. He bade me take a seat, and with a
heavy sigh he began to talk of his poverty, and ordered a servant to lay
the cloth for three persons. Besides this servant, his lordship's suite
consisted of a most devout-looking housekeeper, and of a priest whom I
judged to be very ignorant from the few words he uttered during our
meal. The house inhabited by his lordship was large, but badly built and
poorly kept. The furniture was so miserable that, in order to make up a
bed for me in the room adjoining his chamber, the poor bishop had to
give up one of his two mattresses! His dinner, not to say any more about
it, frightened me, for he was very strict in keeping the rules of his
order, and this being a fast day, he did not eat any meat, and the oil
was very bad. Nevertheless, monsignor was an intelligent man, and, what
is still better, an honest man. He told me, much to my surprise, that
his bishopric, although not one of little importance, brought him in
only five hundred ducat-diregno yearly, and that, unfortunately, he had
contracted debts to the amount of six hundred. He added, with a sigh,
that his only happiness was to feel himself out of the clutches of the
monks, who had persecuted him, and made his life a perfect purgatory for
fifteen years. All these confidences caused me sorrow and mortification,
because they proved to me, not only that I was not in the promised land
where a mitre could be picked up, but also that I would be a heavy
charge for him. I felt that he was grieved himself at the sorry present
his patronage seemed likely to prove.
I enquired whether he had a good library, whether there were any
literary men, or any good society in which one could spend a few
agreeable hours. He smiled and answered that throughout his diocese
there was not one man who could boast of writing decently, and still
less of any taste or knowledge in literature; that there was not a
single bookseller, nor any person caring even for the newspapers. But he
promised me that we would follow our literary tastes together, as soon
as he received the books he had ordered from Naples.
That was all very well, but was this the place for a young man of
eighteen to live in, without a good library, without good society,
without emulation and literary intercourse? The good bishop, seeing me
full of sad thoughts, and almost astounded at the prospect of the
miserable life I should have to lead with him, tried to give me courage
by promising to do everything in his power to secure my happiness.
The next day, the bishop having to officiate in his pontifical robes, I
had an opportunity of seeing all the clergy, and all the faithful of the
diocese, men and women, of whom the cathedral was full; the sight made
me resolve at once to leave Martorano. I thought I was gazing upon a
troop of brutes for whom my external appearance was a cause of scandal.
How ugly were the women! What a look of stupidity and coarseness in the
men! When I returned to the bishop's house I told the prelate that I did
not feel in me the vocation to die within a few months a martyr in this
miserable city.
"Give me your blessing," I added, "and let me go; or, rather, come with
me. I promise you that we shall make a fortune somewhere else."
The proposal made him laugh repeatedly during the day. Had he agreed to
it he would not have died two years afterwards in the prime of manhood.
The worthy man, feeling how natural was my repugnance, begged me to
forgive him for having summoned me to him, and, considering it his duty
to send me back to Venice, having no money himself and not being aware
that I had any, he told me that he would give me an introduction to a
worthy citizen of Naples who would lend me sixty ducati-di-regno to
enable me to reach my native city. I accepted his offer with gratitude,
and going to my room I took out of my trunk the case of fine razors
which the Greek had given me, and I begged his acceptance of it as a
souvenir of me. I had great difficulty in forcing it upon him, for it
was worth the sixty ducats, and to conquer his resistance I had to
threaten to remain with him if he refused my present. He gave me a very
flattering letter of recommendation for the Archbishop of Cosenza, in
which he requested him to forward me as far as Naples without any
expense to myself. It was thus I left Martorano sixty hours after my
arrival, pitying the bishop whom I was leaving behind, and who wept as
he was pouring heartfelt blessings upon me.
The Archbishop of Cosenza, a man of wealth and of intelligence, offered
me a room in his palace. During the dinner I made, with an overflowing
heart, the eulogy of the Bishop of Martorano; but I railed mercilessly
at his diocese and at the whole of Calabria in so cutting a manner that
I greatly amused the archbishop and all his guests, amongst whom were
two ladies, his relatives, who did the honours of the dinner-table. The
youngest, however, objected to the satirical style in which I had
depicted her country, and declared war against me; but I contrived to
obtain peace again by telling her that Calabria would be a delightful
country if one-fourth only of its inhabitants were like her. Perhaps it
was with the idea of proving to me that I had been wrong in my opinion
that the archbishop gave on the following day a splendid supper.
Cosenza is a city in which a gentleman can find plenty of amusement; the
nobility are wealthy, the women are pretty, and men generally well-
informed, because they have been educated in Naples or in Rome. I left
Cosenza on the third day with a letter from the archbishop for the far-
famed Genovesi.
I had five travelling companions, whom I judged, from their appearance,
to be either pirates or banditti, and I took very good care not to let
them see or guess that I had a well-filled purse. I likewise thought it
prudent to go to bed without undressing during the whole journey--an
excellent measure of prudence for a young man travelling in that part of
the country.
I reached Naples on the 16th of September, 1743, and I lost no time in
presenting the letter of the Bishop of Martorano. It was addressed to a
M. Gennaro Polo at St. Anne's. This excellent man, whose duty was only
to give me the sum of sixty ducats, insisted, after perusing the
bishop's letter, upon receiving me in his house, because he wished me to
make the acquaintance of his son, who was a poet like myself. The bishop
had represented my poetry as sublime. After the usual ceremonies, I
accepted his kind invitation, my trunk was sent for, and I was a guest
in the house of M. Gennaro Polo.
CHAPTER IX
My Stay in Naples; It Is Short but Happy--Don Antonio Casanova--Don
Lelio Caraffa--I Go to Rome in Very Agreeable Company, and Enter the
Service of Cardinal Acquaviva--Barbara--Testaccio--Frascati
I had no difficulty in answering the various questions which Doctor
Gennaro addressed to me, but I was surprised, and even displeased, at
the constant peals of laughter with which he received my answers. The
piteous description of miserable Calabria, and the picture of the sad
situation of the Bishop of Martorano, appeared to me more likely to call
forth tears than to excite hilarity, and, suspecting that some
mystification was being played upon me, I was very near getting angry
when, becoming more composed, he told me with feeling that I must kindly
excuse him; that his laughter was a disease which seemed to be endemic
in his family, for one of his uncles died of it.
"What!" I exclaimed, "died of laughing!"
"Yes. This disease, which was not known to Hippocrates, is called li
flati."
"What do you mean? Does an hypochondriac affection, which causes sadness
and lowness in all those who suffer from it, render you cheerful?"
"Yes, because, most likely, my flati, instead of influencing the
hypochondrium, affects my spleen, which my physician asserts to be the
organ of laughter. It is quite a discovery."
"You are mistaken; it is a very ancient notion, and it is the only
function which is ascribed to the spleen in our animal organization."
"Well, we must discuss the matter at length, for I hope you will remain
with us a few weeks."
"I wish I could, but I must leave Naples to-morrow or the day after."
"Have you got any money?"
"I rely upon the sixty ducats you have to give me."
At these words, his peals of laughter began again, and as he could see
that I was annoyed, he said, "I am amused at the idea that I can keep
you here as long as I like. But be good enough to see my son; he writes
pretty verses enough."
And truly his son, although only fourteen, was already a great poet.
A servant took me to the apartment of the young man whom I found
possessed of a pleasing countenance and engaging manners. He gave me a
polite welcome, and begged to be excused if he could not attend to me
altogether for the present, as he had to finish a song which he was
composing for a relative of the Duchess de Rovino, who was taking the
veil at the Convent of St. Claire, and the printer was waiting for the
manuscript. I told him that his excuse was a very good one, and I
offered to assist him. He then read his song, and I found it so full of
enthusiasm, and so truly in the style of Guidi, that I advised him to
call it an ode; but as I had praised all the truly beautiful passages, I
thought I could venture to point out the weak ones, and I replaced them
by verses of my own composition. He was delighted, and thanked me
warmly, inquiring whether I was Apollo. As he was writing his ode, I
composed a sonnet on the same subject, and, expressing his admiration
for it he begged me to sign it, and to allow him to send it with his
poetry.
While I was correcting and recopying my manuscript, he went to his
father to find out who I was, which made the old man laugh until supper-
time. In the evening, I had the pleasure of seeing that my bed had been
prepared in the young man's chamber.
Doctor Gennaro's family was composed of this son and of a daughter
unfortunately very plain, of his wife and of two elderly, devout
sisters. Amongst the guests at the supper-table I met several literary
men, and the Marquis Galiani, who was at that time annotating Vitruvius.
He had a brother, an abbe whose acquaintance I made twenty years after,
in Paris, when he was secretary of embassy to Count Cantillana. The next
day, at supper, I was presented to the celebrated Genovesi; I had
already sent him the letter of the Archbishop of Cosenza. He spoke to me
of Apostolo Zeno and of the Abbe Conti. He remarked that it was
considered a very venial sin for a regular priest to say two masses in
one day for the sake of earning two carlini more, but that for the same
sin a secular priest would deserve to be burnt at the stake.
The nun took the veil on the following day, and Gennaro's ode and my
sonnet had the greatest success. A Neapolitan gentleman, whose name was
the same as mine, expressed a wish to know me, and, hearing that I
resided at the doctor's, he called to congratulate him on the occasion
of his feast-day, which happened to fall on the day following the
ceremony at Sainte-Claire.
Don Antonio Casanova, informing me of his name, enquired whether my
family was originally from Venice.
"I am, sir," I answered modestly, "the great-grandson of the unfortunate
Marco Antonio Casanova, secretary to Cardinal Pompeo Colonna, who died
of the plague in Rome, in the year 1528, under the pontificate of
Clement VII." The words were scarcely out of my lips when he embraced
me, calling me his cousin, but we all thought that Doctor Gennaro would
actually die with laughter, for it seemed impossible to laugh so
immoderately without risk of life. Madame Gennaro was very angry and
told my newly-found cousin that he might have avoided enacting such a
scene before her husband, knowing his disease, but he answered that he
never thought the circumstance likely to provoke mirth. I said nothing,
for, in reality, I felt that the recognition was very comic. Our poor
laugher having recovered his composure, Casanova, who had remained very
serious, invited me to dinner for the next day with my young friend Paul
Gennaro, who had already become my alter ego.
When we called at his house, my worthy cousin showed me his family tree,
beginning with a Don Francisco, brother of Don Juan. In my pedigree,
which I knew by heart, Don Juan, my direct ancestor, was a posthumous
child. It was possible that there might have been a brother of Marco
Antonio's; but when he heard that my genealogy began with Don Francisco,
from Aragon, who had lived in the fourteenth century, and that
consequently all the pedigree of the illustrious house of the Casanovas
of Saragossa belonged to him, his joy knew no bounds; he did not know
what to do to convince me that the same blood was flowing in his veins
and in mine.
He expressed some curiosity to know what lucky accident had brought me
to Naples; I told him that, having embraced the ecclesiastical
profession, I was going to Rome to seek my fortune. He then presented me
to his family, and I thought that I could read on the countenance of my
cousin, his dearly beloved wife, that she was not much pleased with the
newly-found relationship, but his pretty daughter, and a still prettier
niece of his, might very easily have given me faith in the doctrine that
blood is thicker than water, however fabulous it may be.
After dinner, Don Antonio informed me that the Duchess de Bovino had
expressed a wish to know the Abbe Casanova who had written the sonnet in
honour of her relative, and that he would be very happy to introduce me
to her as his own cousin. As we were alone at that moment, I begged he
would not insist on presenting me, as I was only provided with
travelling suits, and had to be careful of my purse so as not to arrive
in Rome without money. Delighted at my confidence, and approving my
economy, he said, "I am rich, and you must not scruple to come with me
to my tailor;" and he accompanied his offer with an assurance that the
circumstance would not be known to anyone, and that he would feel deeply
mortified if I denied him the pleasure of serving me. I shook him warmly
by the hand, and answered that I was ready to do anything he pleased. We
went to a tailor who took my measure, and who brought me on the
following day everything necessary to the toilet of the most elegant
abbe. Don Antonio called on me, and remained to dine with Don Gennaro,
after which he took me and my friend Paul to the duchess. This lady,
according to the Neapolitan fashion, called me thou in her very first
compliment of welcome. Her daughter, then only ten or twelve years old,
was very handsome, and a few years later became Duchess de Matalona. The
duchess presented me with a snuff-box in pale tortoise-shell with
arabesque incrustations in gold, and she invited us to dine with her on the morrow, promising to take us after dinner to the Convent of St. Claire to pay a visit to the new nun. |
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