The hour of the Ave Maria came as on the evening before; but, as on the
evening before, the waiting of the whole day was lost; for, as half-past
eight struck, the daily smoke reappeared at the top of the chimney. But
when at the same moment rumours which came from the inside of the
Vatican were spread abroad, announcing that, in all probability, the
election would take place the next day, the good people preserved their
patience. Besides, it had been very hot that day, and they were so
broken with fatigue and roasted by the sun, these dwellers in shade and
idleness, that they had no strength left to complain.
The morning of the next day, which was the 11th of August, 1492, arose
stormy and dark; this did not hinder the multitude from thronging the
piazzas, streets, doors, houses, churches. Moreover, this disposition of
the weather was a real blessing from Heaven; for if there were heat, at
least there would be no sun. Towards nine o’clock threatening
storm-clouds were heaped up over all the Trastevere; but to this crowd
what mattered rain, lightning, or thunder? They were preoccupied with a
concern of a very different nature; they were waiting for their pope: a
promise had been made them for to-day, and it could be seen by the
manner of all, that if the day should pass without any election taking
place, the end of it might very well be a riot; therefore, in proportion
as the time advanced, the agitation grew greater. Nine o’clock,
half-past nine, a quarter to ten struck, without anything happening to
confirm or destroy their hopes. At last the first stroke of ten was
heard; all eyes turned towards the chimney: ten o’clock struck slowly,
each stroke vibrating in the heart of the multitude. At last the tenth
stroke trembled, then vanished shuddering into space, and, a great cry
breaking simultaneously from a hundred thousand breasts followed the
silence "Non v’e fumo! There is no smoke!" In other words, "We have a
pope."
At this moment the rain began to fall; but no one paid any attention to
it, so great were the transports of joy and impatience among all the
people. At last a little stone was detached from the walled window which
gave on the balcony and upon which all eyes were fixed: a general shout
saluted its fall; little by little the aperture grew larger, and in a
few minutes it was large enough to allow a man to come out on the
balcony.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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