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of the New Testament had recently been seized and burned by order of the papal government.
But to return to matters purely personal.
As the Christmas of 1850 drew near, my sister L., ever intent on hospitality, determined to have a party and a Christmas tree at Villa Negroni.
This last was then a novelty unheard of in Rome.
I was to dine with her, and had offered to furnish the music for an informal dance.
On Christmas Eve I went with a party of friends to the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, where the Pope, according to the custom of those days, was to appear in state, bearing in his arms the cradle supposed to be that of the infant Jesus, which was usually kept at St. Peter's. We were a little late in starting, and were soon obliged to retire from the highway, as the whole papal cortege came sweeping by,—the state coaches of crimson and gold, and the Guardia Nobile with their glittering helmets, white cloaks, and high boots.
Their course was illuminated by pans of burning oil, supported by iron staves, the spiked ends of which were stuck in the ground.
When the rapid procession had passed on we hastened to overtake it, but arrived too late to witness either the arrival of the Pope or his progress to the high altar with the cradle in his arms.
On Christmas Day I attended high mass at St. Peter's. Although the weather was of the plea.
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