_What becomes of Guzman after having left Genoa._
I travelled some distance from Genoa, without so much as turning my head
once towards that city, as though I feared that the sight of it would
have petrified me. I resembled one of those who escaped from the battle
of Roncesvalles; I walked on without having any determined route, though
it was my wish to go to Rome. At length I reached a town about ten
miles from Genoa, where I stopped some hours to rest myself, and spent
what remained of my pistole. Then resigning myself entirely into the
hands of Providence, I resumed my journey.
It was well for me that I had been accustomed to misfortunes, and that I
had already made some progress in the art of begging. What would have
become of me without this resource? I should have been much to be
pitied. Any one that possesses the talent of exciting his neighbour’s
charity may travel all over Italy without money. I must render this
justice to Italy, that no nation in the world has more charity in it. In
proof of which assertion, I reached Rome without spending a single sous
of all the money that I was able to collect on the road, and which I
carefully reserved. In the different villages through which I passed I
had more meat and bread given me than I could possibly consume.
Mendicity in that country is a fine resource for persons of spirit in
bad circumstances who cannot make up their minds to be industrious. For
my own part, I was so naturally inclined to that trade that I wished for
no better. I must confess that when I found myself in the capital of the
Catholic World with money enough in my pocket to buy a new suit of
clothes, I was at first somewhat tempted to employ it that way, with
design to offer my services to some nobleman; but I had courage enough
to resist this desire, which I considered in no other light than as a
temptation of the devil.
“Oh! Oh! Guzman,” said I to myself, “do you wish to give yourself the
same airs here as at Toledo; suppose, when you have expended all your
little hoard in dress, you should be so unlucky as to find no one
willing to employ you, who do you think will feed you, my friend? do
you imagine that a fine new coat is likely to excite charity? undeceive
yourself. You will be more likely to fare better in your present dress.
Be wise, and rather endeavour to profit by your old follies than to seek
after new ones. Be contented as you are, and do not resume your former
vanities.” Reasoning with myself in this manner, I tied up my purse with
a double knot, and addressing myself to the money within it: “Remain
thus secure,” said I, “until I find a better opportunity of making thee
useful.”
I began then to traverse the streets of Rome in my rags, soliciting alms
like one who believed himself a master in the art, but who was in
reality a mere apprentice in comparison with the professors of that
country. Among these was a young fellow, who remarking the manner of
begging that I adopted, found that I required a few lessons, which he
was kind enough to give me. We associated together; and to render me
useful to the society, he taught me the different manners and the
several tones in which alms should be asked of different people, and
that the same speech would not always do. “Men,” said he, “are not in
the least affected by the plaintive and lamentable tones adopted by most
beggars. They will be much more likely to put their hands in their
pockets, when you implore their assistance boldly for God’s sake.” “As
for women,” continued he, “as some pay their devotions to the Holy
Virgin, and others to our lady of the Rosary, it is by one of these that
we wheedle them. It has frequently a good effect also to pray that they
may be preserved from all mortal sin, from false witnesses, the power of
traitors, and from slanderous tongues: such wishes as these, pronounced
in energetic terms, and in an impressive tone of voice, will almost
always make their purses fly open to assist you.”
He taught me moreover how to excite the compassion of the rich; and what
is still more difficult of professed devotees. In a word, he gave me
such good instructions, and I made so good a use of them, that I soon
received more money than I could spend. I was already perfectly
acquainted with Rome, from the Pope down to the very lowest scullion in
the city. For fear of troubling my customers too often, I divided the
city into seven parts, allotting one for every day in the week. I never
failed to present myself at the several churches on holidays, where I
was sure to pick up something. As to the pieces of bread that were
usually given at doors of private houses, I sold what I did not want to
distressed objects who were ashamed to beg, but who, by being relieved
in private by the faithful, were well able to pay for what they bought
of me. Country people and others, who made it their business to fatten
fowls and hogs, were also frequent purchasers; but the spicecake makers
were my best customers. I likewise made something considerable by the
old rags which were given me by charitable persons who could not without
pity see a lad of my age almost naked, especially in winter.
Having by this time become acquainted with the first professors in the
art of begging, I was now perfect master of the trade, by following
their directions and example. It happened one day that about thirty of
our fraternity were collected before the door of the Ambassador of
France, where I heard one of my comrades behind me cry, “Look at that
Spanish glutton there, he’ll certainly spoil our trade. When once his
guts are well filled with the soup or meat that is given him, he
declines taking any more; this it is that ruins our business. By these
means, people will be apt to think that poor people like us have too
much given them.” One of our veterans, who knew me, overhearing this,
said to the beggar who uttered this complaint, “Peace, comrade, do you
not see that this novice is a stranger who is not yet acquainted with
our regulations. Leave him to me, and I will undertake to instruct him.
He is a pretty apt scholar, I assure you, and will in a very short time
be a match for any of us.”
After having thus taken my part, he called me aside in a low voice, and
asked me several questions; as, in what part of Spain I was born? what
was my name, and how long I had been at Rome? When I had answered all
these queries in a very laconic style, he proceeded to represent to me,
but in a very mild manner, the mutual feeling that beggars were bound to
observe towards each other, that a proper _decorum_ might be supported
among them; that they ought to be so united as to play into each other’s
hands like brother pick-pockets in a fair. From thence entering into a
long detail, he revealed so many secrets to me as soon convinced me how
inferior I was to these great men. Amongst other things which I had
never yet heard of, he taught me how to enlarge my stomach, so as to be
able to eat four times as much as usual, without incommoding myself; not
forgetting to recommend me, never to eat before people, without
effecting extreme greediness, for he assured me, it was most essential
to persuade them that beggars are dying with hunger. He concluded by
informing me at what hours I should be sure to be at such and such
places: that in some houses I might venture to enter the kitchen, and
even as far as the parlour; but that in others I must not dare to enter
the door.
I now thought that he had completely exhausted the subject, but all
these things were nothing in comparison with the begging-laws, which he
made me read at his own house, whither he led me, as soon as the alms of
the French Ambassador were distributed. He did not content himself by
allowing me merely to read these admirable regulations, but insisted on
my taking a copy of them, that by being well acquainted with them, I
might never again infringe them in so shameful a manner. I have not
thought myself bound, friendly reader, to withhold these statutes, which
I shall communicate to you as they were presented to me. If there be any
who have no wish to have the manners of low life depicted to them, is it
just that I should accommodate myself to their excessive delicacy, and
withdraw a picture which may afford much pleasure to others?