civil authorities.
Torturo was successfully appointed, along with twenty-eight other new cardinals. The ceremony was grand. Torturo showed himself to be modest and a man of commendable manners. At the Vatican he was well received. His days of obscurity appeared to be at an end.
Chapter Twelve
Upon the news that the tongue had been restored to its rightful place, in the Basilica del Santo, the world rejoiced. Pilgrims in unprecedented quantities came from every continent and country to view the miraculous bit of flesh, first filling the hotels beyond capacity and then spilling out onto the streets of Padua, where they milled and moved with bovine facility. Under the recommendation of the city fire department, special guards were set up at the doors of the basilica with instructions to only allow a specified number of visitors in at a time. The number of pilgrims rapidly multiplied and soon they were requested to call ahead for reservations. The lines of people levelled off onto the via Capelli, where traffic was blocked. On several occasions the police were called in to control the mob, which periodically threatened to become violent. At one point an American man, far from lean in his proportions and wielding a camera menacingly over his head, made statements to a priest, the purport of which could not be mistaken.
“I have been here since eight o’clock this morning,” the man shouted (it was then eleven). “You sons of bitches have been ignoring my reservation! Is this how you treat American citizens!”
A number of his compatriots joined in, raising their voices high above the noise of the crowd, and, from what could be understood, demanded either entrance or sacerdotal blood. In the weeks that followed, similar outbursts were heard from groups of Germans, English, Danish and Irish. It was decided that those visitors willing to make a moderate donation of twenty euros would be allowed carte blanche status. A considerable sum was thus gathered, only about sixty percent of which found its way into the pocket of Bishop Vivan and, in turn, Cardinal Torturo. It was, after all, his tongue the people were paying to see.
Meanwhile the other relics, that is Torturo’s femurs, fibulas, tibias, etc, were transported to Rome, where they were to be specially exhibited in the Vatican before being returned to their rightful home in Milan. The responsibility for promoting the event was handed over to the Italian Board of Tourism who, with their usual skill in attracting attention to the most splendid country on earth, did a marvellous job. Full page ads were taken out in all the leading Catholic newspapers, as well as the travel sections of both the New York Times and the London Guardian. The Italian Prime Minister, perfectly aware of the percentage of the profits he would gain, loaned his vast media-conglomeration-network to the exploitation of the restored relics at home, taking the line that it was, more or less, every Italian’s duty to view these emblems of their nation’s spiritual and cultural heritage. The admission to this magnificent display was a mere ten euros.
The Pope, who was to be the first to see the line up, arrived some three quarters of an hour late. He shuffled along the range of glass cases in which the relics were elaborately displayed, placed on gold-trimmed velvet and lit with a subtle, somewhat mysterious light placed in such a way as to give the impression that it exuded from the bones themselves. Over the cases were placed old master paintings by such artists as Botticelli, Signorelli and Raphael, which, due to the fact that they were put in a subordinate position, heightened the implied value of the human remains. The old man’s eyes, glassy and bespeaking an entire absence of strength, passed over the bones which were before him, his vague expression seeming to say: “Oh, you lucky dogs; look how you rest!”
“The man is sublime,” Cardinal Gonzales, who was following close behind
Torturo was successfully appointed, along with twenty-eight other new cardinals. The ceremony was grand. Torturo showed himself to be modest and a man of commendable manners. At the Vatican he was well received. His days of obscurity appeared to be at an end.
Chapter Twelve
Upon the news that the tongue had been restored to its rightful place, in the Basilica del Santo, the world rejoiced. Pilgrims in unprecedented quantities came from every continent and country to view the miraculous bit of flesh, first filling the hotels beyond capacity and then spilling out onto the streets of Padua, where they milled and moved with bovine facility. Under the recommendation of the city fire department, special guards were set up at the doors of the basilica with instructions to only allow a specified number of visitors in at a time. The number of pilgrims rapidly multiplied and soon they were requested to call ahead for reservations. The lines of people levelled off onto the via Capelli, where traffic was blocked. On several occasions the police were called in to control the mob, which periodically threatened to become violent. At one point an American man, far from lean in his proportions and wielding a camera menacingly over his head, made statements to a priest, the purport of which could not be mistaken.
“I have been here since eight o’clock this morning,” the man shouted (it was then eleven). “You sons of bitches have been ignoring my reservation! Is this how you treat American citizens!”
A number of his compatriots joined in, raising their voices high above the noise of the crowd, and, from what could be understood, demanded either entrance or sacerdotal blood. In the weeks that followed, similar outbursts were heard from groups of Germans, English, Danish and Irish. It was decided that those visitors willing to make a moderate donation of twenty euros would be allowed carte blanche status. A considerable sum was thus gathered, only about sixty percent of which found its way into the pocket of Bishop Vivan and, in turn, Cardinal Torturo. It was, after all, his tongue the people were paying to see.
Meanwhile the other relics, that is Torturo’s femurs, fibulas, tibias, etc, were transported to Rome, where they were to be specially exhibited in the Vatican before being returned to their rightful home in Milan. The responsibility for promoting the event was handed over to the Italian Board of Tourism who, with their usual skill in attracting attention to the most splendid country on earth, did a marvellous job. Full page ads were taken out in all the leading Catholic newspapers, as well as the travel sections of both the New York Times and the London Guardian. The Italian Prime Minister, perfectly aware of the percentage of the profits he would gain, loaned his vast media-conglomeration-network to the exploitation of the restored relics at home, taking the line that it was, more or less, every Italian’s duty to view these emblems of their nation’s spiritual and cultural heritage. The admission to this magnificent display was a mere ten euros.
The Pope, who was to be the first to see the line up, arrived some three quarters of an hour late. He shuffled along the range of glass cases in which the relics were elaborately displayed, placed on gold-trimmed velvet and lit with a subtle, somewhat mysterious light placed in such a way as to give the impression that it exuded from the bones themselves. Over the cases were placed old master paintings by such artists as Botticelli, Signorelli and Raphael, which, due to the fact that they were put in a subordinate position, heightened the implied value of the human remains. The old man’s eyes, glassy and bespeaking an entire absence of strength, passed over the bones which were before him, his vague expression seeming to say: “Oh, you lucky dogs; look how you rest!”
“The man is sublime,” Cardinal Gonzales, who was following close behind
Similar Books
