A Cleric in Naples | Page 7

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 dive 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,
an 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