11th excerpt from the memoirs of Carlo Calcagni, my maternal grandmother’s eldest brother and a true Roman born almost one and a half century ago. Read all excerpts posted so far in English or in Carlo’s original Italian text.
Here the original Italian text of this post.
Another passion of my father Nino was to dress in full uniform (the beautiful scarlet red one with gold frogs, white trousers and very high black boots) and to ride about the Pincio gardens at stroll time.
He once wore it with the big white cloak on top for a very serious reason.
My father in uniform mounts a horse, pays a visit to his beloved niece and finds her abandoned by those put in her care, abandoned in a sty with the pigs.
Extremely indignant he grabs the baby to the cries of the terrified nurse, places her under his cloak and returns to Rome on horseback.
He rides to her sister’s house and handing her daughter on to her exclaims:
“Here is Carlotta whom I found among the pigs. Shame on you! Children should stay with their parents!”
The idea of riding like that, in full uniform at public strolls or even worse outside Rome was of course prohibited so my father once back was put under arrest in quarters at the Palazzo della Consulta in the Quirinal Palace piazza [see image below.]
A guard put under arrest once the sentence was served had to report to the Corps Commander – Prince Altieri at that time – dressed in black coat and silk hat in order to be given a good telling-off so to speak.
Another time, my father had gone to Palazzo Altieri [see picture below] to receive a dressing down by the Commander.
He was introduced into a large hall and was said to wait.
He waited and waited but the Commander didn’t show up so my father seeing a beautiful piano to beguile the time opened it and by using the soft pedal began to play a fashionable dancing tune, then growing in volume well-known arie from the opera repertoire.
Prince Altieri who in the meanwhile had arrived was waiting behind the door much uncertain on which behaviour would be appropriate in such delicate moment.
Finally he took courage and entered. Tableau! My father standing at attention and the Prince loweringly:
“What on earth are you doing with that piano.”
“Eh! Since I was waiting I started some playing just to entertain myself a bit.”
“Do you know why you are here? Not for serious or shameful things, certainly, but after all I think it’s already the third or fourth time in ten years of service that you have to come here to … receive my grievances for your conduct.”
“Well, what is it after all, not even twice a year … ”
“Get lost! Get lost!”
Since ultimately the Prince commander did not want to burst out laughing right in front of his guilty subordinate.
Perhaps in memory of the above skirmish and of the contrasts between him and the Commander, when my father already retired used to go to the guards’ club (still at the Altieri palace) for a flying visit during the very first part of the evening, he did not fail to linger pensively in front of a large oil portrait of prince Altieri (long deceased) and to always pronounce, halfway between vexation and compunction, the same usual words while looking at the oil painting:
“The Thirty Years’ War.”
As many as his years of service in the corps of the noble guards.