*CHAPTER X.*
The portion of the Vatican Palace set apart for the election of thePope, and called the Conclave, consisted of five halls or large marblerooms, two chapels, and a gallery seventy feet long. Each of thesehalls was divided temporarily into small apartments, running up bothsides, with a broad alley between them, formed of wood, and covered withgreen or violet cloth. One of these apartments was assigned to eachCardinal with his attendants. The entrance to the whole of these rooms,halls, chapels, and gallery was by a single door fastened by four locksand as many keys. As soon as the Cardinals had entered the Conclavethis door was made fast, and the four keys were given to the fourdifferent orders of the city,--one to the Bishop of Rome, one to theCardinals themselves, a third to the Roman Nobility, and the fourth tothe Officer, a great noble, who kept the door. A wicket in the door, ofwhich this Officer also kept the key, permitted the daily meals andother necessaries to be handed to the Cardinals' servants, every dishbeing carefully examined before it was allowed to pass in. Within theConclave light and air were only obtained by sky-lights or windowsopening upon interior courts, precluding communication from without.The gloom of the interior was so great, that candles were burntthroughout the Conclave at noon-day.
From the moment the Conclave was closed a silence of expectation andanxiety fell upon all Rome. The daily life of the city was hushed. Theprincipal thoroughfares and fortresses were kept by strong detachmentsof armed troops, and the approaches to the mysterious door werejealously watched. Men spoke everywhere in whispers, and nothing butvague rumours of the proceedings within were listened to in the placesof public resort, and in the coteries and gatherings of all ranks andconditions of the people.
In the interior of the Conclave, for those who were confined within itssingular seclusion, the day passed with a wearisome monotony marked onlyby intrigue not less wearisome. Early in the morning a tolled bellcalled the whole of its inmates to mass in one of the small Chapelsdarkened with stained glass, and lighted dimly by the tapers of thealtar, and by a few wax candles fixed in brass sockets suspended fromthe roof. The Cardinals sat in stalls down either side of the Chapel,and at the lower end was a bar, kept by the master of the ceremonies andhis assistants, behind which the attendants and servants were allowed tostand. Mass being over, a table was placed in front of the altar, uponwhich was a chalice and a silver bell. Upon six stools near the tableare seated two Cardinal-Bishops, two Cardinal-Priests, and twoCardinal-Deacons. Every Cardinal in his turn, upon the ringing of thebell, leaves his seat, and having knelt before the altar in silentprayer for the guidance of heaven in his choice, goes round to the frontof the table and drops a paper, upon which he has written the name of aCardinal, into the chalice, and returns in silence to his stall.
A solemn and awful stillness pervades the scene, broken only by thetinkling of the silver bell. The Cardinals, one by one, some of themstalwart and haughty men with a firm step and imperious glance, othersold and decrepit, scarcely able to totter from their places to thealtar, or to rise from their knees without help, advance to theirmysterious choice. To the eye alone it was in truth a solemn andimpressive scene, and by a heart instructed by the sense of sight only,the awful presence of God the Paraclete might, in accordance with thepopular belief, be felt to hover above the Sacred Host; but in theentire assembly to whom alone the sight was given there was probably notone single heart to which such an idea was present. The assembly wasdivided into different parties, each day by day intriguing andmanoeuvring, by every art of policy and every inducement of worldlyinterest, to add to the number of its adherents. "If perchance," saysone well qualified to speak, "there entered into this Conclave any oldCardinal, worn by conflict with the Church's enemies 'in partibusinfidelium,' amid constant danger of prison or of death, or perchancecoming from amongst harmless peasants in country places, and by longabsence from the centre of the Church's polity, ignorant of the mannerin which her Princes trod the footsteps of the Apostles of old, and bythe memory of such conflict and of such innocence, and because of suchignorance, was led to entertain dreams of Divine guidance, two or threedays' experience caused such an one to renounce all such delusion, andto return to his distant battlefield, and so to see Rome no more."
When every Cardinal has deposited his paper, the Cardinal-Bishop takesthem out of the chalice one by one, and hands them to theCardinal-Deacon, who reads out the name of the elected, but not of theCardinal who had placed the paper in the chalice (which is written onpart of the paper so folded that even the reader does not see it); andas he reads the name, every Cardinal makes a mark upon the scroll ofnames he has before him. When all the names have been read, theCardinal-Priest, from a paper which he has prepared, reads the name ofhim who has had the most voices and the number of the votes. If thenumber be more than two-thirds of the whole, the Cardinal who hasreceived the votes is thereby elected Pope; but if not, theCardinal-Priest rings the silver bell once more, and at the signal themaster of the ceremonies, Monsignor Fabei, advances up the Chapel,followed by a groom carrying a brazier of lighted coals, into which, inthe face of the whole assembly, the papers are dropped one by one tillall are consumed.
At the beginning of the Conclave the Cardinals were always divided intotwo, if not more parties, of such relative strength as to make theattainment of such a majority by either of them impossible for manydays. It was not until the persistent intrigues of a fortnight hadincreased the majority of any one Cardinal so much as to give aprobability of his being ultimately elected, that the waverers of allsides, not willing to be known as the opponents of a new Pope, recordedtheir voices in his favour, and thus raised the majority to itsnecessary proportion. For this very delicate matter occurred at thisperiod of the election, that, should the requisite majority of voices beobtained, the master of the ceremonies and his brazier were no longercalled for, but the whole of the papers were opened to their fullextent, and the names of the voters given to the world, whereby, as oneconversant in these matters observes, "Many mysteries and infidelitiesare brought to light." It is evident, therefore, that, as the majorityof any one Cardinal increased or showed signs of increasing, morning andevening, as the suffrages were taken, the voting became a very excitingand delicate matter. No one could be certain but that at the nextvoting the majority from the cause mentioned would suddenly swell to thenecessary size, and every man's name be made clear and plain on whoseside he had been.
Upon entering the Conclave the friends of Cardinal Chigi adopted a quietpolicy, and waited for the progress of events to work for them. Theabuses of the late Pontificate, and the excitement and indignation ofpopular opinion, had made it clear to all parties that it was necessaryto elect a Pope whose character and reputation would restore confidence.In these respects no one seemed more qualified than Cardinal Chigi, whowas supposed to possess all the qualifications necessary to ensure theRomans from the apprehension of a revival of the past disorders, and toinspire the whole Christian world with the hopes of witnessing a worthysuccessor of St. Peter displaying the Christian virtues from the PapalChair. The great reputation he had gained at Muenster, the determinationhe was said to have manifested to reform all abuses, the authority andinfluence he derived from his post of Secretary of State, his attractiveand gracious manner, the recommendation of the late Pope upon hisdeath-bed,--all tended to bring his name prominently forward. He wassupported by the Spanish Cardinals, chiefly on account of the enmity ofthe French Court and of his professed opposition to Cardinal Mazarin.
But, in spite of these advantages, the enmity of the French Court, andthe opposition of the Barbarini family, the relations and supporters ofthe late Pope, made it necessary for his friends to observe extremecaution. The French Cardinals were ordered to vote for Sachetti, andCardinal Barbarini for the present supported him, also, with all hisparty, chiefly because he had not yet made terms with the Spanish Court,which opposed Sachetti; but also, as was supposed, because he himselfhad aspirations towards the Papal
Chair, should he find the electorsfavourable to such a scheme.
Upon the entrance into the Conclave, therefore, Cardinal Sachettiimmediately obtained thirty-two or thirty-three votes. These were notquite so many as the Barbarini expected, and indeed had a right to countupon, after the professions which the Cardinals of the party had made.This was owing to the defection of some members of what was called theFlying Squadron, composed chiefly of young Cardinals, who were supposedto be devoted to the Barbarini, but of whom several were secretlyfavourable to Cardinal Chigi.
The Spanish faction, which was numerous enough to have secured theelection of any Cardinal had it been united, but the members of whichwere agreed upon nothing but their determined opposition to Sachetti,contented itself with voting negatively at every scrutiny, making use ofthe form "accedo nemini." This course was pursued for two entiremonths, during which time the scrutinies were taken regularly morningand evening, always with a slightly varying but indecisive result.
It would be difficult to realize the wearisomeness which reigned in theConclave during so protracted a period. The crowding together of solarge a number of persons in a few apartments, the closeness of the air,and the unbroken monotony of the hours that passed so slowly, made theconfinement almost intolerable. One Cardinal was taken ill, and wasobliged to be removed. The great gallery was generally used by theCardinals themselves, for exercise and conversation, while theirattendants were compelled to content themselves with their masters'apartments, or the corridors and passages. Those which opened on theinterior courts, and thereby afforded some fresh air, were especiallyresorted to. Communication from without, though in theory absolutelyprevented, was really frequent, all the chief among the Cardinalsreceiving advices from foreign Courts, and conveying intelligencethither themselves.
At intervals the whole of the inmates were assembled to listen to FatherQuaechi, preacher to the Conclave, a Jesuit, and secretly in favour ofCardinal Chigi, as was the Society in general. The sermon was socontrived as to influence its hearers considerably by its evidentapplication to the manners and conduct of the Cardinal.
The famous De Retz, then an exile from France and a supporter of Chigi,by whom he always sat in the Chapel, was the principal intriguer in hisfavour. He was in communication with the nominal supporters ofBarbarini, who sent him intelligence by Monsignor Fabei when to vote forSachetti, on occasions when it would be of no real service to him, andwhen to refrain. On one of these latter occasions Fabei entrusted hismessage to Inglesant, with whom he was intimate, and it afterwardsappeared that Sachetti, on that scrutiny, wanted but very few votes tohave secured his election. This circumstance made a deep impression onDe Retz, and he never recognized Inglesant afterwards without alludingto it.
The day after this scrutiny Cardinal Barbarini appears to have thoughtthat the time was come for his friends to make a demonstration in hisbehalf, and to the astonishment of the Conclave thirty-one votesappeared in his favour in the next scrutiny. This caused the friends ofCardinal Chigi to pay more attention to his conduct, and to thediscourses of his Conclavists and other partizans, who neglected noopportunity of exalting his good qualities.
The exhaustion of the Conclave became extreme. Cardinal Caraffa, who,next to Sachetti and Chigi, stood the greatest chance of election,became ill and died. Twelve other Cardinals were balloted for, oneafter another, without result. Cardinal San Clemente was then broughtforward, and, but for the hostility of the Jesuits, might have beenelected; but the Spanish Cardinals who supported him did not dare openlyto offend the Society, and the election failed.
The Barbarini began to despair of electing their candidate, and havingreceived favourable advices from the Court of Spain, were willing,either with or without the concurrence of their leader, to negotiatewith the friends of Cardinal Chigi. Sachetti, finding his own chanceshopeless, was not averse to be treated with. There remained only theCourt of France.
* * * * *
The MSS. are here defective.
Be this as it may, Cardinal Sachetti's letter had the desired effectupon Mazarin, who immediately sent the necessary letters to the FrenchCardinals, withdrawing the veto upon Chigi. Nothing remained now but togain the concurrence of Cardinal Barbarini. For a long time he refusedto accede, but, the members of his party who had from the first secretlysupported Chigi having now openly declared in his favour, Barbarini atlast consented to hold a conference. It took place immediately afterthe morning scrutiny, and lasted but a short time. But it sat longenough to arrange that the next morning Cardinal Chigi should be electedPope.
This determination was so suddenly arrived at, and was concealed socarefully, that nothing certainly was known during the rest of the day,outside the number of those who had taken part in the conference. Therewere vague rumours, and many discontents, but the time was so short thatmany who would have declared in favour of Sachetti, had longer time beengiven them, were not able to recover from their surprise.
Inglesant was of course informed by Cardinal Chigi of what had occurredimmediately after the conference, and about mid-day he received amessage from De Retz warning him to be upon his guard. During theafternoon, however, some further intelligence of the feeling within theConclave came to the knowledge of that astute intriguer, and he sentMonsignor Fabei to Inglesant about five o'clock.
This man was a favourable specimen of the Italian servant of anEcclesiastical Court. Belonging to a family which had been trained forgenerations in the service of the Curia, he was a man to whom thedifficulties which perplexed others, and the anomalies which appeared tosome men to exist between Christian polity as it might be conceived tobe and Christian polity as it was practised in Rome, did not exist;--aman to whom the Divine, so far as it was manifested to him at all, tookthe form, without doubt or scruple, of that gorgeous though unwieldy,and, as it seemed to some, slightly questionable, economy of which hewas the faithful servant. He was honest, yet he appeared--such was thepeculiarity of his training and circumstances--to have solved the, ongood authority, insoluble problem of serving two masters at the sametime; for two opposing Cardinals, or two factions of Cardinals, alikecommanded his reverence and service at the same moment. Much of thisservice was no doubt unthinking and unconscious, else the memoirs ofsuch a man, composed by himself without reserve, would be perhaps asinteresting a book as could be written.
"Something is going on within the Conclave, Cavaliere," he said, "ofwhich I am not entirely cognizant. Of course I am aware of thecommunications which have been made from outside during this mostprotracted Conclave. The Princes of the Church must have everyopportunity given them of arriving at a just conclusion in this mostimportant matter, and I have never been backward in affording everyassistance to their Eminences; but what we have to deal with to-night isof a very different kind. You have nothing to dread from the chiefs ofthe opposite party; they have accepted the situation, and will loyallycarry out their engagements. But they have altered their policy withoutconsulting or remembering their supporters, and among these, especiallythe inferior ones outside the Conclave, the disappointment is severe.They have not time, nor are they in a position to make terms with thesuccessful party, and their expectations of advancement are annihilated.They are, many of them, absolutely unscrupulous, and would hazardeverything to gain time. They have some means of communication betweenthe outside world of Rome and their partizans within the Conclave, whichthey have not used till now, and with which, therefore, I amunacquainted. They are employing it now. What the exact effort will beI do not know, but should your Padrone, Cardinal Chigi, fall ill beforeto-morrow's scrutiny, it would delay his election, and delay is all theywant. There are sufficient malcontents to prevent his election if theyhad only time; two or three days would give them all they want. Ishould advise you not to sleep to-night, but to watch with a wakefulnesswhich starts at every sound."
The apartment assigned to Cardinal Chigi was subdivided into threesmaller ones
, the largest of which was appropriated to the bedchamber ofthe Cardinal, the two others to his attendants. These apartmentscommunicated with each other, and only one opened upon the centrecorridor running down the Hall. The Cardinal retired early to his ownchamber, and most of the other Cardinals did the same. A profoundsilence reigned in the Conclave; if any of the attendants still stirredthey were velvet-shod, and the floors and walls, lined with velvet,prevented the least sound from being heard.
Inglesant remained alone in the outermost of the three apartments, anddetermined to keep his faculties on the alert. For some reason,however, either the fatigue of the long confinement, or the deathlikestillness of the night, a profound drowsiness overpowered him, and hecontinually sank into a doze. He tried to read, but the page floatedbefore his eyes, and it was only by continually rising and pacing thesmall chamber that he kept himself from sinking into a deep sleep.
A profound peace and repose seemed to reign in a place where so manyscheming and excited brains, versed in every art of policy, were reallyat work.
Inglesant had sat down again, and had fallen once more into a slightdoze, when suddenly, from no apparent cause, his drowsiness left him,and he became intensely and almost painfully awake. The silence aroundhim was the same as before, but a violent agitation and excitementdisturbed his mind, and an overpowering apprehension of some approachingexistence, inimical to himself, aroused his faculties to an acuteperception, and braced his nerves to a supreme effort. In anothermoment, this apprehension, at first merely mental, became perceptible tothe sense, and he could hear a sound. It was, as it were, the echo of alow faint creeping movement, the very ghost of a sound. Whence it cameInglesant could not determine, but it was from without the apartment inwhich he sat. No longer able to remain passive, he rose, drew back thevelvet curtain that screened the entrance from the corridor, opened thedoor silently, and went out.
The corridor was lighted here and there along its great length by oillamps suspended before every third door of the Cardinals' rooms; but thedark and massive hangings, the loftiness of the hall overhead, and thedimness of the lamps themselves, caused the light to be misty anduncertain, as in a confused and troubled dream. One of these lamps wassuspended immediately above the door at which Inglesant had appeared,and he stood in its full light, being himself much more distinctly seenthan he was himself able to see anything. He was richly dressed in darkvelvet, after the French fashion, and in the uncertain light hisresemblance to his murdered brother was, in this dress, very great. Heheld a slight and jewelled dagger in his hand.
As he paused under the suspended lamp the sound he had before hearddeveloped itself into low stealthy footsteps approaching down thecorridor, apparently on the opposite side, and the next moment a figure,more like a phantom thrown on the opposite wall than a substantialbeing, glided into sight. It was shrouded in dark and flowing drapery,and kept so close to the heavy hangings that it seemed almost the wavingof their folds stirred by some unknown breeze. Though it passed down theopposite side, it kept its attention turned in Inglesant's direction,and almost at the same moment at which he appeared through the openingdoor it saw him and instantly stopped. It lost its stealthy motion andassumed an attitude of intense and speechless terror, such as Inglesanthad never seen depicted in a human being, and by this attitude revealeditself more completely to his gaze. The hood which shaded its face fellpartly back, and displayed features pale as death, and lustrous eyesdilated with horror, and Inglesant could see that it held some namelessweapon in its hand. As it stood, arrested in its purpose, breathlessand uncertain, it seemed to Inglesant a phantom murderer, or rather thephantom of murder itself, as though nothing short of the murderousprinciple sufficed any longer to dog his steps.
This strange figure confronted Inglesant for some seconds, during whichneither stirred, each with his eyes riveted upon the other, each withhis weapon in his hand. Then the phantom murmured in an articulate andbroken voice, that faltered upon the air as though tremulous withhorror, "It is himself! He has taken the dagger from his bleedingwound."
Then, as it had come, it glided backwards along the heavy drapery,becoming more and more lost in its folds, till, at first apparently butthe shadow of a shade, it faded more and more into the hanging darkness,and vanished out of sight.
The next morning, at the scrutiny after early mass, Fabitis Chigi,Cardinal and Secretary of State, was, by more than two-thirds of thewhole Conclave, elected Pope.
John Inglesant: A Romance (Volume 2 of 2) Page 10
