Once I had made my entry into the great hall, I found before me a scene very different from that which I had expected. There was in fact no academy whatever. Or, to put it better, no orator was to be seen, as the tradition of intellectual confraternities demands, before an audience of silent and absorbed listeners. The salon was full of little groups of guests, randomly gathered: some standing in tight knots, others seated in a semicircle; while yet others wandered around, congregating then going their separate ways, greeting the new arrivals and attending first to one speaker, then another. It reminded me of those clouds of summer gnats which one sees against the light in clearings; they seem at first to form a community, but when one looks more closely, they turn out to be nothing but a mass of chaotic singularities.
One could, however, hear outbursts from the liveliest speakers who, before that undulating and disorderly sea of heads and bodies, discoursed upon the immortality of the soul, the movement of the planets, the latest maps imported from the New World and the antiquities of Rome.
All that great conflation of scientific and philosophical discourse, amplified by the echo of the huge room, blended into a dense, milky cloud in which it was possible to distinguish only one or two sentences at a time.
"For, as Jovius opined in Book Four of his opus…" one pedant was proclaiming to my left.
"Thus, as it is written concerning Dionysius of Halicarnassus.." some eloquent fellow was opining to my right.
"Your Excellencies cannot be unaware that the sublime doctrine of Aquinas…" bellowed a third speaker.
In actual fact, no one was listening, for in Rome they assemble for no purpose other than vain chatter as a pretext and garnishing for food and drink. Romans have always been inclined to judge human events by the immemorial measure of the Roman Empire or by the eternal paradigm of the Catholic Church. Erroneously believing themselves to have title to those temporal or spiritual powers, of which they are merely adventitious offshoots, they end up by regarding all matters quotidian as less than nothing, and look down on all things from on high.
Atto came to meet me, perfectly at ease in the midst of that bedlam of noise and confusion.
"'Tis ever so: they all eat and drink and no one listens," he whispered in my ear. "And yet there's a Jesuit behind those people," said he, pointing towards a nearby group, "who is holding forth in a most interesting discussion concerning the problem of obedience to or rebellion against princes. Quite in vain, for they are all talking with their neighbours about their own little affairs. 'Tis quite true, if the Parisians meet a strumpet, they take her for a saint and go down on their knees before her. As for the Romans, if they meet a saint, they take her for a strumpet and ask her how much she wants."
Hardly had I shown my tray and laid it on a serving table in order to fill the cups than a crowd of gentlemen flocked around me with jovial exuberance.
"Look Marchese, there's chocolate!"
"Come, Monsignor, they are serving us."
"And what of the dissertation on the Decades of Livy?" protested one prelate who was taking part in an academic discussion.
"If you'll not let your Decades be bygones, 'tis the chocolate itself that will be gone," retorted another, and the whole company roared with laughter.
Leaning on the table, I had barely time to fill the cups than they had all been snatched up and the contents of the great jug vanished down the maws of the bystanders. Fortunately, other servants were by then arriving in reinforcement, taken by storm in their turn by new groups of guests, while yet others were besieged by princes and archpriests, secretaries and chamberlains.
While before me one such free-for-all was taking place, I heard behind me a brief conversation which intrigued me no little.
"Have you heard? It seems they intend to resurrect Monsignor Retti's project."
"The plan to reform the police, from back in the days of Pope Odescalchi?"
"Precisely. And I am all for it! It is high time that all those infamous corrupt catchpolls were taught a lesson."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that those exchanging these remarks were two middle-aged prelates. The topic was of no little interest to me: where there are catchpolls there will be thieves, and anything that enlightened me on that subject might be of use for my purposes and those of Abbot Melani. Soon, however, the two prelates were lost from sight (and hearing); hoping to retrace them, I promised myself that I would mention their discussion to Atto.
The lofty and majestic vault which, moments before, had resounded with chatter now echoed with sounds of sipping, sucking and the smacking of tongues. None could bear to forego the taste of chocolate which the Steward — regardless of whatever Don Paschatio might have to say on the matter — had prepared with perfect judgment and mastery.
Suddenly, a space opened up in the formless throng of revellers. Cardinal Spada made his way forward, accompanied by the bridal pair. The master of the house had preferred to let talk die down before making his appearance, thus taking advantage of the gaiety produced by the refreshments.
"Hurrah! Long live the bride and groom!" All turned to applaud the couple, rushing forward to exchange compliments with Spada and to kiss his ring, while festive cheering broke out all around.
"A speech, Your Eminence, a speech!" cried several guests, beseeching the Cardinal.
"Very well, my friends, so be it," he replied with a smile, benevolently calming the hubbub with a clap of the hands. "But faced with such an assembly of the learned, my contribution will inevitably be scanty. You will, I hope, pardon me if, in the modest verses I am about to recite, the topic of which is certainly familiar to you, I should fail to measure up to the science which I have heard in these chambers, but, as the poet puts it, non datur omnibus adire Corinthum."
He begged silence and with jovial expression recited a sonnet.
He am I who through the unknown essence On fasting entered such an argument That to the schoolmen's great astonishment None knows to which of us to 'ward the sentence. One argues taste, the other, abstinence, Both to the Jesuit discipline assent;
If, saith the one, to liquors we consent,
We err, for then there is incontinence.
Balm for his scruples, t'other then suggests
Of amity a civil rite wherein the chalice
Containing no vanilla, each ingests.
Thus, betwixt innocence and malice
A wondrous middle way he then invests,
Which reconciles the fast with gusto and with avarice.
This gave rise to laughter and yet another burst of applause. Cardinal Spada had brilliantly exposed, and resolved, a burning question much debated among Jesuit doctrinal experts: does the drinking of chocolate constitute the breaking of a fast? Spada's proposal was, in keeping with the best style of the Society of Jesus, a sensible compromise: by all means drink chocolate, but let it be bitter, without vanilla, thus reconciling appetite, abstinence and thrift. Meanwhile, the academic chapels whose activities had been disrupted by the arrival of the chocolate were again forgathering. Around single orators or pairs engaged in verbal duels, idle knots of listeners were forming, some still sipping from their cups, some deep in conversation with their neighbours, others gesticulating in the direction of some acquaintance glimpsed in a nearby group. In the motley multitude of ladies, prelates and nobles, it was child's play to discern political allegiances; to identify the partisans of France, Spain or the Empire, one had but to look at where pocket handkerchiefs were placed, the colour of stockings or on which side of their bosom the ladies had pinned some little flower.