Imprimatur by Rita Monaldi, Francesco Sorti Read Free Book Online

he began to partake of his refreshment.
    Flattered by his curiosity, I recounted briefly the story of my mis­erable life. At a few months of age, I had been abandoned and left outside a convent near Perugia. The nuns had then entrusted me to a pious woman who lived in the neighbourhood. When I grew up, I was brought to Rome, where I was placed in the service of that wom­an's brother, the parish priest of Santa Maria in Posterula, the little church not far from the hostelry. After employing me on a number of minor tasks, the priest recommended me to Signor Pellegrino, before he himself was transferred outside Rome.
    "So now you are an apprentice," said the abbot.
    "Yes, but I hope not forever."
    "You would, I imagine, like to have your own inn."
    "No, Signor Abbot. I would like to become a gazetteer."
    "Now, that is a fine one," said he with a mischievous smile.
    I explained to him that the pious and kindly woman to whom I had been entrusted had arranged for me to be instructed by a former serving maid. That old woman, who had previously been in a nun­nery, had initiated me into the arts of the Trivium and the Quadrivium, in the sciences de vegetalibus, de animalibus and de mineralibus, in humanae litterae , in Philosophy and in Theology. She had then made me read many historians and grammarians, as well as Italian, Span­ish and French poets. Yet, more even than arithmetic, geometry, music, astronomy, grammar, logic and rhetoric, I grew passionately interested in the things of this world, and, most of all, my spirit was inflamed by the telling of the exploits and successes, both near and far, of princes and reigning monarchs and of wars and other admirable things which...
    "Good, good," he interrupted me, "so you want to become a gaz­etteer, or scribe, if you prefer. Men of wit often end up engaged in that trade. How did the idea come to you?"
    I was often sent on errands to Perugia, I replied. In town, if I was fortunate enough to be present on the right day, I could listen to the public reading of gazettes, and for two pence one could purchase (but this one could in Rome, too) broadsheets with many notable descriptions of the most recent occurrences in Europe...
    "My goodness, young man, I have never come across one like you!"
    "Thank you, Sir."
    "Are you not rather too learned for a mere scullion? Those of your kind usually do not even know how to hold a pen," said he, grimacing.
    That remark upset me.
    "You are very intelligent," he added, softening his tone. "And I un­derstand you: at your age, I too was fascinated by the scribbler's trade. But I had so many things to do. To write skilfully for newspapers is indeed a great art, and always better than working. "And then," he added between one mouthful and the next, "to be a gazetteer in Rome is most exalting. You will know all about the question of the franchises, the Gallican controversy, Quietism..."
    "Yes, I believe that... is so," I murmured, trying in vain to conceal my ignorance.
    "Some things, young man, one must needs know. Otherwise, about what will you write? But of course, you are too young. And then, whatever could one write about these days in this half-dead city? You should have seen the splendour of Rome formerly, indeed, only a few years ago. Music, theatres, academies, the introduction of ambassadors, processions, balls: all was refulgent with a wealth, an abundance that you can scarcely imagine."
    "And why is it no longer so today?"
    "The grandeur and felicity of Rome ended with the ascension of this Pope, and they will return only with his death. Theatrical per­formances are forbidden, the Carnival has been suppressed. Can you not see it with your own eyes? The churches are neglected, the pal­aces are crumbling, the streets are full of potholes and the aqueducts are close to collapse. The master builders, architects and workmen are all returning to their own countries. The writing and reading of those handbills and broadsheets, for which so you