XXVII

AT that time, while I was still a young man of about twenty-three, there
raged a plague of such extraordinary violence that many thousands died
of it every day in Rome. Somewhat terrified at this calamity, I began to
take certain amusements, as my mind suggested, and for a reason which I
will presently relate. I had formed a habit of going on feast-days to
the ancient buildings, and copying parts of them in wax or with the
pencil; and since these buildings are all ruins, and the ruins house
innumerable pigeons, it came into my head to use my gun against these
birds. So then, avoiding all commerce with people, in my terror of the
plague, I used to put a fowling-piece on my boy Pagolino's shoulder, and
he and I went out alone into the ruins; and oftentimes we came home
laden with a cargo of the fattest pigeons. I did not care to charge my
gun with more than a single ball; and thus it was by pure skill in the
art that I filled such heavy bags. I had a fowling-piece which I had
made myself; inside and out it was as bright as any mirror. I also used
to make a very fine sort of powder, in doing which I discovered secret
processes, beyond any which have yet been found; and on this point, in
order to be brief, I will give but one particular, which will astonish
good shots of every degree. This is, that when I charged my gun with
powder weighing one-fifth of the ball, it carried two hundred paces
point-blank. It is true that the great delight I took in this exercise
bid fair to withdraw me from my art and studies; yet in another way it
gave me more than it deprived me of, seeing that each time I went out
shooting I returned with greatly better health, because the open air was
a benefit to my constitution. My natural temperament was melancholy, and