2-nd of May 1792, in the slums of Santa Croce


All the cities in this world had richer and poorer areas. Sometimes, even within the same sestiere of Venice there were places safer and less safe to wander through at night, and the palaces bordering the Canal Grande and other bigger canals were hiding, with their majestic appearance, the slum streets situated behind them, at 10 minutes walking distance or so. Santa Croce was making no exception to this rule, having within its area bright palaces, brothels for fuller or meager purses, as well as streets with modest dwellings of working people, living from a payday to another, or, depending how many children they had to feed, from a payday to half the time till the next one.

Padre Agustin had a list with the widows, orphans and disabled heads of families, and he visited them regularly. Right now, he was returning from such a visit, still thinking about the difficult familial situations encountered, who had no other help than the Mother Church.

@Swashbuckler

The past day had been good for the poor orphan brothers Paolo and Faxio. They had even eaten rather well. They had “found” many delicious green apples, few fish and a large full jar of olives. They were still hungry, they were growing kids after all, but now they could not really complain.

They had even got a few coins from begging, so soon they could even buy something. Paolo wanted to save them in case worse days lay ahead, Faxio would have wanted to use them already, but the older brother had the last word in this. Paolo was glad that his brother understood this need to save without much resistance and without tears. Polo hated to disagree with his little brother, but sometimes he had to.

They were sitting on a small side alley. It seemed like a good safe place to sleep, even while some stray dogs could be heard barking not so far away.

It seemed that no passers-by were in sight either. Or it seemed so before Faxio heard noise. He was quick to tell his brother after he had peeped around the corner, “Someone moves in there. Just behind that corner. Looked like a priest.” Faxio took a quick careful look and nodded, “He really is a priest”.

They had probably seen the man before and priests or monks were not uncommon sight in the slums. This was true even while it was clear that there were more clergymen who claimed that they were helping the poor than those who helped them in real life.

Paolo saw an opportunity. He told his younger brother, “I will go to beg from him, you try to see if his robe has any pockets.” He knew that the man might be carrying something valuable in his pocket. A silver cross or a rosary might be hanging on his neck, those were hard to steal, but the man could carry something in his pockets too. In any case the priest might give them something if they begged.

Faxio hesitated a bit, “I don’t like this, Paolo. He is a priest. We have not taken things from priests before. Isn’t this evil?” Paolo was quick to ease his brother’s mind, “Whatever we take from him, he can afford to buy again… I would think so at least.”

Faxio run behind the man via another route, around the nearest house so he could not be seen. Once Paolo saw that Faxio was sneaking behind the priest, he jumped in front of the man. He put his head down and begged humbly, “Good priest, sir. Please, give us some coin.”

Padre Agustin looked at the thin, dirty and raggedly dressed boy who was begging. He looked indeed in need of some good food first… then it remained to be seen what else. The fact that he had said ”us”, as Agustin hadn’t seen yet the younger boy behind him, made him think about something else he had learnt from feeding such street urchins before. Most of them had grouped in gangs, led by an older teen, exactly how stray cats and dogs were grouping in packs. So, if he gave the boy money, it most likely would be spent by someone else, most likely not in the boy’s benefit.

”For a start, before arriving to the coin, wouldn’t you like a hot stew with meat and fresh bread at the eatery here?” he pointed in front of them, to a small such establishment. ”Maybe something sweet afterwards too,” he tempted the boy.

This way he’d hear the boy’s story and maybe figure out if there were more possibilities to help him.

@Swashbuckler

Paolo had not expected the offer from the man. The man seemed fair, compassionate even. Perhaps this was one of the ideal priest, who really cared.

This gave Paolo seconds thoughts about robbing the man. Faxio was already nearing the priest from behind. Paolo made a quick eye contact with his brother and shook his head. Faxio retreated, understanding that robbing was no longer their plan. Both of the boys hoped that the priest had not noticed this, or at least would not care if he had.

Paolo was quick to reply to the kind priest, "Thanks, good sir. We like the sound of stew and sweets.... Me and my brother." He now pointed at Faxio, who had by now taken some safe distance from the man and appeared like he had just arrived casually.

Agustin was compassionate. If he had been, in the past, when he was working as a deacon in charge with charity works here in Santa Croce and other poor areas, after he met Gabriella and went with her to the villages in the Dolomites, his understanding about what meant to be poor, why people were poor in some cases and why the Revolution had started in France had improved. And now, when the subject was a young boy – or, as the next moments showed, two young boys, the begging one being the oldest of them and giving the other a signal to show himself, how could he be any different than charitable?

He liked that the older boy was polite. Even if the second boy was a surprise, he could afford feeding two children.

"You are welcome," he said, heading towards the eatery and expecting to be followed by both boys. "I am Padre Agustin. Which are your names?"

As they entered, the owner looked strange at them, but Agustin didn't mind. He chose a table in a corner, to make sure that the sight of the unkempt, dirty boys doesn't disturb the other customers, and he ordered:

"Three bowls of the stew of the day – with plenty of meat and fresh bread, and a jug of lemonade with three glasses."

Seeing that he put already a silver zecchin on the table, the man took it promptly and went to fill the order.

@Swashbuckler

They boys felt excited. Meat stew? this was real food that could actually take the hunger away. The boys, despite their recent food "findings" were pretty much always hungry. The priest did not have to ask them twice about this.

Paolo introduced himself to the priest, "I am Paolo. Molin is the last name." He then waited for his brother to come to his side, "This my brother Faxio". The younger boy smiled and nodded enthusiastically to the priest.

They arrived at the eatery. The boys had rarely been customers here. Not sure how to call the kind priest Paolo said, "Thanks, father. We have not eaten in a place like this since.... forever, I think."

Indeed, the boys were not used to even eating at a table at all. Often, they had to eat in a hurry, especially if the food they had was stolen and the "evidence" had to be hidden immediately. Now they could eat like "normal people", Paolo mused.

The boys were impatiently waiting for their order. Paolo spoke to past the time, he had a general question, "Father, why were you here? It was late. Most people don't move here this late."

The boys introduced themselves. Paolo and Faxio.

"Glad to meet you," he said on a serious tone, as if they were important people.

They made him smile with admitting that they hadn’t eaten there since forever. As they asked why he was there, he replied promptly:

”I have been moving through this neighbourhood since the sun was there,” he pointed a place on the ceiling corresponding to an early afternoon. ”Visiting sick and poor people, helping and encouraging them. Now it was time to return to my place. I live in San Giorgio Monastery. Have you ever been at San Giorgio?”

It was unlikely, since it was on an island and one would have needed a gondola to arrive there.

”What about you, why were you up and about so late? Who is taking care of you? Have you got a family, or do you belong to a group?”

It was common for those who didn’t have a family and were living in the streets, to belong to a gang where the older boys took care of the younger… and asked them to do the dirtiest jobs for them. Agustin was talking with them, but he minded his money pouch, put quickly back after having paid for the food and drinks.

As the order came, padre Agustin said the grace quickly, as he knew the children weren’t accustomed to this. The offered bowls of stew weren’t wooden bowls, but bread trenchers here. Agustin had eaten this way in one of the Dolomite villages too, and once before, when he was a young teen, that he barely remembered. He didn’t mind it now, it just meant that the boys would finally feel full. They got spoons to eat with, and Agustin told them:

”Good appetite! With this, you can start by eating the lid with the stew, then eating the bowl too, since it is made of bread. You can tell others that you were as hungry as to eat even the bowls, and they have to believe you.”

@Swashbuckler,

The priest seemed to respect them. This was quite rare, Paolo had learnt. Some people did not even respect poor adults, even less poor street children.

Faxio was not now feeling very talkative, as he was expecting the food and could not focus on chat. The younger kid could barely sit still on his chair. Paolo was more patient. Paolo replied to the priest's inquiries about the monastery, "I have never been there. It must be a good home!"

Paolo knew that he could be honest with the priest. He answered promptly about his and Faxio's current life situation, "Our parents are gone. Streets are our home, we have some places where we stay more often, near the port we have a small shed, but we stay there only when it rains." The reason why the boys avoided the place when they did not need shelter from rain was the abundance of rats in the port. Paolo continued casually, "We used to go together with some others, but for few weeks we have been on our own." With this he referred to other kids living on the streets.

The food was soon served. It was fun that the bowl was made of bread and there was more to eat too. When the priest gave his permission, both of the boys started to eat with enormous appetite. "This is good!", Faxio commented enthusiastically.

Padre Agustin smiled at Paolo's comment, trying to explain him in simple words the boys could understand:

"Yes, it is. For me only temporary, because a monastery is generally a place for monks, while I am a priest, but not a monk. I have been sent there as a sort of priest apprentice, to learn from them before being given a church to serve, where there aren't monks. But I like there."

He didn’t like it enough to enter the benedictine order, though. And the word apprentice gave him a new subject to approach, in the right context.

The children's story was as old as life itself. Two orphans alone, to fend for themselves in a city where it was difficult to make a living even for grown-ups, as he had learnt lately. He didn't ask why they were on their own. Probably there was a conflict.

"Aren't you afraid that your former… chief would come after you and force you to return to his group?" he asked. "And wouldn't you like more, if possible, to have a roof over your head, the meals you need and to learn a trade? Yes, I know usually apprentices are older than you, but for orphans there are some possibilities," he clarified to them.

He saw the children's appetite and enthusiasm, and he was glad that the stew came in trenches, because the bread with stew sauce was exactly what they needed in order to feel full.

"I am glad that you like it," he replied with a serious face. "I like it too."

How wouldn't he, when, without being hungry like them, he had the opportunity to enjoy some meat, a food which wasn't allowed in the monastery?

@Swashbuckler

Paolo understood something simple about monks and priests, so he nodded to the priest about the monastery talk. Still, he and his brother had no clear idea of these matters as they had not had any real education, not in religion reading or math.

Paolo was not afraid of the other boys of the former group. They had not had bad arguments, but he said honestly, “No, I don’t fear them, but they did not like when we left. I have not met the others since we left them. This is a big place…”

Paolo had no fear, but now when the priest said it, he was not sure if he should start to fear. He knew that the group they had left with Faxio could be harsh to some of the members. Indeed, this had been the reason why they had left. They had been kept in the worst end of the group hierarchy by some of the older kids leading the group. Surely, they might get a punishment for disobeying. Thinking of this, Paolo felt a but uncomfortable, and it could be seen in his face.

Paolo sounded a bit indifferent when he answered the priest's question about normal living and learning a trade as an apprentice, "I guess I would like a roof on my head and a trade, Faxio too... But how? I have never heard of anyone leaving the streets like that." Despite these words he started to believe that the priest might be right. Perhaps that all was possible for them.

The idea of opportunities and the food cheered him up. When he had eaten most of the meal, Paolo decided to thanks the priest again, this was a big service after all, “Thanks again, father. No one has done anything like this before to us.”

While Faxio had no distracting thoughts in his mind about this gift, Paolo was suspicious enough to have some. He wondered if the priest had some ulterior motives, but he could not think of anything. On the streets people rarely had good intentions, so this kind of kindness was new to him.