CHAPTER V.
RESIDENCE AT ROME—CEREMONY AT ST. PETER’S—MIDSUMMER MADNESS—ANECDOTE OF M. CLERMONT—THE AMBASSADOR AND THE ACTRESS—POPE GANGANELLI.
On the 28th of June, 1780, being St. Peter’s-eve, we went to a house near the bridge of St. Angelo to see the Constable Colonna conveying the tribute-horse, which was annually presented to the Pope by the King of Naples. The procession commenced with the Pope’s light horse, sent to escort the constable. Then came the servants of several cardinals and princes in their liveries, in attendance upon some of their gentlemen on horseback with black mantles. The constable’s were the last, with their mantles turned back with gold stuff. Next followed the horse, richly caparisoned, the present—a silver flower—being carried on his back. Behind the animal came the constable, preceded by his pages in lilac and silver, and by his first gentlemen. He was dressed in light brown, with a mantle, and was mounted on a beautiful horse: he himself was a pretty figure. His state carriages followed him. The first was a chariot, which belonged to his uncle, Cardinal Pamfili, when he was nuncio in France, and the second one was a coach, richly ornamented, belonging to the King of Naples, whom he represented as ambassador; the rest were of various colours, but all drawn by fine horses. When they arrived at St. Peter’s, the guns of St. Angelo were fired, and after them a volley of musketry. We entered St. Peter’s a few minutes before the Pope came in to receive the constable. He was carried on men’s shoulders down the body of the church, attended by the cardinals. The horse was then brought in and led up to the altar, when he received a slight tap with a wand, and immediately knelt down, and the Pope gave him his benediction. The statue of St. Peter was dressed in gold stuff, with a ring on its finger, rare jewels on its breast, and a tiara on its head. Large candle-sticks with lighted tapers were placed in front, and a guard of soldiers stationed to check the indiscreet devotion of the saint’s votaries; but the black face and hands of the statue had a comical effect. The church was hung with crimson velvet and gold, the great altar finely arranged, and festoons of artificial flowers hung round the silver lamps that surrounded it. The throne of the Pope was set out for next day’s mass, and the whole building in perfect “fiocchi.”[[26]] The constable returned in his state coach, drawn by six horses.
During the great heats of July, 1781, many people went mad. Amongst others, a bricklayer, in his madness, killed a priest near St. Pietro in Vincoli, and then went to his work. His master, observing that his hands were bloody, told him he looked as if he had been killing somebody. He said, so he had; that he had just killed a priest. On this his master, being frightened, gave him some money, and advised him to run away. He went towards the Coliseo, where he killed, at one stroke, a very beautiful woman, then broke in two places the arm of another woman who was walking with her, and wounded a priest who came to her assistance. In short, they say he killed, or wounded, seven persons. He was at last secured, and thrown into prison. Many other madmen have tried to fight, but people were put on their guard, and precautions taken to prevent any violence. One of the madmen, meeting the Pope in St. Peter’s, said he would confess to him, and tell him all the evils the poor experienced from bad bread and dear oil. Another beat the statue of St. Peter; it was reported he had beaten that of Pasquin. Four barbers, also, counterfeited madness, but were taken up, and two of them sent to the galleys for ten years, and the others sentenced to be hanged.
A story is told of M. Clermont, ambassador of France at the Court of Naples, that he became very attentive to an actress known as “La Balduzzi.” M. de Bièvre, calling upon him one morning, found him in his garden gathering flowers. So he asked him what he was doing; when the ambassador replied that he was gathering “garofolis” for the Balduzzi. “Ah, monsieur,” exclaimed the other, “gare aux folies!” This M. de Bièvre complained one day that Colonel Chrysti was very tiresome. “He is a very honest man,” remarked a gentleman who was present, “he is a Swiss.” “Eh bien, donc,” cries M. de Bièvre, “il faut le mettre à la porte.”
Mr. Jenkins, our banker, having remarked that he didn’t know what Mr. Pigot would think of the race on the Corso, he who had been so celebrated on the turf: “Well,” said Mr. Hodges, “he can now be celebrated on the pavé.”
When Pope Ganganelli died, who had made a great favourite of Padre Buontempi, a monk of his own order, some one put an umbrella up over Pasquin’s statue, with a writing, “E finito il buon tempo.” At another time, a wag wrote on this statue, in answer to the question, “Che fa Roma?” “Opera di misericordia. Veste i Gnudi ed arrichisce gli Onesti.”[[27]] Gnudi was the name of a person who came from Cesena with Don Luigi Onesti, the Pope’s nephew, and was previously in the greatest poverty. In the chapel, too, of the new sacristy, where an inscription testified that it was built in consequence of the vota publica, a paper was affixed with these lines:
Publica! mentiris, non publica vota fuêre,
Sed tumidi capitis vota fuêre tui.
His Holiness was so much offended, that it was said he would have put the author to death for his impertinence, if he could have found him. The Italians used to say of the Pope’s arms, in which were stars, an eagle, and the wind blowing on fleurs-de-lys: “L’Aquila è andata in Germania, i Gigli in Francia, le Stelle sono tornate nel cielo, e non gli è rimasto altro che il Vento.”[[28]]