The saint with the little white dog, walking through the wet streets
to San Girolamo della Carità to sit in the shade and pray far from
the Vallicella, which he really did not like to visit...
To Santa Maria, Chiesa Nuova, he went under obedience, missing
his place on the left-hand side of the dark chapel. But, the youths
needed him in those dog days, during the "dangerous part of the day"
When all slept, or sort of, the shutters closed to heat and eyes,
ears could hear the names of Massimo or Martino wafting
over the eaves in sighs and shadows. The saint stood firm then.
And by the doors of the Venerabile, blessing all those pale
men, the "flowers of the martyrs" returning to England and
butchery. His songs would survive and come back to those
cold shores three hundred years later in another street, with
baroque and Counter-Reformation punch. The young are
still hot so far away, with love in their hearts and not much
in their heads, but beer and boredom. The little white dog
and saint knew best, and in the heat of the day found songs
to sing to cool the body and soul. Another Dog running
across the night sky, might find more peace than passion. But,
here, in this city of the dead and dying, of the voices of bravado
silenced forever by confusion, cowardice and fear, the good
saint still finds some young men to call his own.
