Page 3: Fed by the Aqua Felice
But before leaving Rome, Cardinal de' Medici was rewarded for his hard work as superintendent of the water works for the Felice Aqueduct. In 1587, Sixtus V granted him a few ounces of water for his own fountain, that is to say in the same year as he bought that "great basin of granite marble" for only 200 scudi, which is surely recognisable as the basin of the present fountain and is still fed by Aqua Felice.
From what I have said so far, I think it is possible to establish without any doubt the year in which this fountain was constructed, even though it is impossible – at least for me – to say for certain who the fountain designer was. Moreover, the fountain design is so simple that, when it comes down to it, there is perhaps no need to think of great names as, for example, that of Annibale Lippi; any sculptor of the time could have "invented" it.
On re-reading what I have written about this fountain up to now, I have just noticed that I have made a serious omission, one that would no doubt reap me a harvest of acid remarks and the well-deserved contempt of the "great Roman Fountain fan club". I really do not fancy any flame emails, so, even though I’ve only just remembered it, I cannot and will not neglect to say at least a couple of words, in my usual simple fashion, about the small stone ball from which a little fountain jet of water cascades into the middle of the basin.
You may be amazed that anyone would want to comment specifically on the little stone ball in the center of the fountain. Well then, you ought to be told that even if the Romans can’t quite remember on the spur of the moment who was born first, Nero or Sixtus V, you can be sure that they know all about this ball, which has been part of all the essential stages of Rome’s history, merrily rolling on through the following fixed points: Romulus and Remus, Julius Caesar, Nero, Pope Sixtus, the Ball itself and Garibaldi.
Well then, among the myriad people and strange things this city has been fated to play host to through the ages, you should know that, on 20 December in the year 1655, Queen Christina of Sweden blew in from the far borders of Europe like a pale Northern flower; this despite her "dark and hairy skin and loud harsh voice almost like that of a man". Indeed, she herself once asked, when irritated by the French ladies who had gathered to greet her, "But why do these women kiss me so ardently? Could it be because they think I’m a man?"
As it was, our northern flower had one day, for reasons not specified, firmly decided to turn her back in disgust on Protestantism and delightedly embrace Catholicism, demonstrating filial piety in coming to Rome and dedicating herself to her new religion with exemplary love. As she wrote her about her experiences: "My occupations consist of eating tasty food and plenty of it, sleeping, studying (not much), joking, laughing and going to see French, Italian and Spanish plays, visiting the fountains, and having lots of fun".
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