The Prince of Solms was exceedingly pleased with a young lady who was in the year of her novitiate and about to become a nun. He fancied that his attentions were beginning to shake her resolution, and though the day of profession was near at hand, he fancied that she would prefer him to a cloister. One day, after he had paid her a long visit at the grate, and had no great reason to complain of her cruelty, she begged of him, as a particular favour, a lock of his hair. The Prince, confirmed in his flattering illusions by this request, immediately cut one off for her. At his next visit he found her particularly lively and agreeable. “May I presume,” he said, “to hope that you have given up all idea of a convent life, and have cast a favourable look upon myself?” “So great is my affection for you,” replied the lady, “that I have just finished making a wig for the Infant Jesus out of your hair, and if you come to my profession to-morrow you will see it on the altar.”
One day in April, 1783, a Frenchman, who had subsisted on charity, died in his thirty-third year, and was carried to the Madonna de’ Monte to be buried. His corpse was exposed there for several days before interment, and many miracles are told and believed as having been performed by him both before and after his death. His limbs were flexible, and he appeared asleep. Some say they smelt a perfume; others, a stink; others, again, nothing whatever. As they were lowering the body into the grave it nearly fell, when it put out one hand and supported itself on the bier, and this more than once—as the story runs. A dumb person recovered his speech, a lame person the use of his limbs, &c. The Abbé Marotti says that he has dined with a gentleman who was cured of a toothache by the touch of a rosary that had been near the body; that the young Duke de Rignano was so frightened at hearing the dumb man speak, that he ran out of the church; and much more nonsense to the same effect. It is certain that the church has since been constantly crowded with people, and amongst them some persons of distinction, in whose presence a vein was opened, but no blood appeared. The man used to spend his whole time in praying, and was so dirty that millions of vermin crawled about him, none of which he would suffer to be killed, saying they had as much right to live as himself. There was found upon him a certificate from La Trappe, saying that he had been there, but that the discipline was so severe he had been obliged to quit it—adding, that his sanctity was so exemplary he would edify any place he went to. The stories told of him, such as his predicting the hour of his death, the cure of the butcher’s wife in whose house he died, &c., are too tedious and ridiculous to repeat.