Source:
The Sibyl of the North: The Tale of Christina, Queen of Sweden, pages 233 to 244, by Faith Compton Mackenzie, 1931; original scan at the Universal Digital Library
The account:
CHAPTER XVI
THE CONCLAVE
THERE was ample consolation for the barren Hamburg years awaiting Christina in Rome. At Narni Azzolino met her, and she had evidently taken more trouble about her appearance than on her last entry into the city. She wore an innocente, a long, excessively feminine garment, of purple velvet embroidered with gold, a yellow wig, a huge black feather in her hat, and a cape trimmed with point de Venise. The Pope's state coach with an escort of Swiss and other Guards conveyed her to the Quirinal, where she was received by His Holiness in an hour's audience. And again she was accorded that signal honour which marked her first arrival in Rome thirteen years ago. She dined with the Pope. That no woman was ever permitted to eat in the presence of His Holiness, whether she were empress, queen or relation of the Sovereign Pontiff, was one of the rules most strictly observed by the Vatican.
One does not hear of a sermon being preached at this repast as at the other. It was the meeting of old friends, and there were so many matters which both had at heart that conversation must have flowed easily. That Ottoman problem which was always at the back of Christina's mind — here at last was a Pope who was passionately interested in it. A union of Christian Europe against the Turk! Had not Christina aimed at that when she sent Gualdo forth on his fruitless eighteen months' tour seven years ago?
And now it seemed that Clement IX was actually accomplishing it, inspiring harmony in the jangling nations under his authority. Morosini of Venice, who had for two years been valiantly defending the last outpost of Christianity, Candia, against the invader, was being supported now by the Duke of Beaufort from France, by Vivonne and his galleys, by the ships of the Holy See and the Knights of Malta under the Pope's brother, Vincenzo Rospigliosi, and by an army of seven thousand men of France. This was the news which Clement had for Christina as they dined together that November day.
A grant of twelve thousand crowns a year from the Pope was only one among many blessings that came to Christina in the waning of 1669. Palazzo Riario greeted her as one is greeted by a home that has shared vividly in great happiness. As she entered the Palace her countenance was alight; she looked "plump, pink and white, and enchanted with her return". Perhaps those dead years in Hamburg were worth while after all, to contrast with the glowing autumnal garden which had so fantastically grown up in these two years. The Vigna Farnese terrace no longer intruded, and the lemon trees still carried their shapely fruit.
Best of all her blessings was the honour done to the beloved Azzolino. He was the most powerful man in Rome — the trusted servant of His Holiness. He had arrived; one day, she dreamed, he would be Pope, but not too soon.
Meanwhile, life was splendid in the Golden Age of Rome. Noble diversions filled the days and nights. The ugly shadow of nepotism which had hung so blackly over the pontificate of Alexander VII was gone. There were certain offices which went by tradition to the Pope's relations, but there was no enriching of the Rospigliosi family at the expense of the Holy See. Clement IX combined the best kind of worldliness with a generous integrity probably unique in his day. The social life of Rome had never been more brilliant. One day there was the magnificent entry of an ambassador, another a pageant or the promotion of a cardinal, among the public festivals, while the private entertainments were on a scale never surpassed. Every night there was the opera, at which Christina was constantly seen in her gorgeous box. She was responsible for the introduction of female sopranos, who enchanted Rome with their singing and beautiful clothes. In her box a constant visitor was Cardinal Odescalchi, who, when he came into power some years later, changed his ideas and dealt severely with the theatre, and female singers were heard no more at the opera.
Every evening the bells of Rome rang, reminding the faithful to pray for the gallant defenders of Candia. The Pope himself never ceased to pray for the cause which meant, literally, life itself to him.
Alas, for the human element which defies Divine interference! The foolish Duke of Beaufort had no sooner arrived on the scene than he rushed his troops into action, in spite of the entreaties of Morosini, with disastrous results. A concerted attack a month later ended in tragedy, and two hundred heads of French leaders, including Beaufort's, were paraded before the Grand Vizier. The French, discouraged, and impatient of the prudent Venetians, deserted their allies and set sail for home. Vincenzo Rospigliosi, helpless without the French, was also obliged to retire. The news was slow in reaching Rome. It was six weeks before, on October 13, Clement IX heard of the tragedy. The deep anxiety he had been suffering all through the summer was now made manifest. At the shock of the news he collapsed, and less than a fortnight later he was seized by apoplexy.
He lingered through November, and[,] well aware that his end was approaching, he held a convocation in his room, with thirty-six cardinals round his bed, gave the purple to half a dozen prelates, and finally spoke a Latin discourse in which he begged them to elect his successor without discord or self-interest, to the glory of God. He deplored his own failure, and it was clear that his mind was unceasingly occupied with the tragedy of Candia. He sent for Christina a few days before he died and bade her a tender farewell. She left his presence in tears, and indeed the death of this good man was a most bitter blow for the Church, and for Christina and Azzolino a misfortune incalculable.
No time was wasted by the factions at the Vatican as soon as the illness of the Pope was known to be fatal. The most active of all was Azzolino. His manœuvres at the last Conclave had been astonishingly successful. He had managed so skillfully that both the French and Spanish parties had given him the credit of having worked for the election of Rospigliosi in their favour. Both factions were, for once, entirely satisfied, and the escadron had issued from the Conclave with its colours flying.
The coming Conclave was of enormous importance to Azzolino. He had immediately selected Cardinal Vidoni as the desirable successor to Clement IX. Vidoni came from a noble but not princely house in Cremona, and had been nuncio to John Casimir in Poland. He was acknowledged to be just and honourable and a man learned in affairs. There were those who feared his justice might degenerate into severity, the last quality to be tolerated in a Pope, but there was a strong general feeling in his favour.
As soon as the funeral ceremonies of Clement IX were over, the Vatican was invaded by Bernini's workmen, who transformed the whole of the first floor into a network of little cells in which the cardinals should be immured until the Pope be elected. The distribution of cells, like the entire business of the Conclave, was supposed to be under Divine guidance, but we find Azzolino conveniently placed in cell 18, which looked out on the Borgo Nuovo, where Christina was eagerly working for him in Palazzo d'Inghilterra, which she had taken in order to be within the precincts of the Vatican and so free to exchange notes without interference. In cell 19 was Ottoboni, Azzolino's principal friend and one of the live wires of the escadron, and in No. 20, singularly enough, was Vidoni himself. Cardinal Flavio Chigi was also indulged, for he was in No. 59, which not only faced south-west, but looked out on the piazza of St. Peter's[,] where he could watch his horses at their daily exercise. He had been made cardinal when he was twenty-one by his uncle, Alexander VII, and was remarkable for his equipages, his kennels, and his peculiar tastes.
Chigi was now thirty-four, and leader of a powerful faction which included Vidoni, Azzolino's choice for the Papacy. Christina said of this faction that it contained twenty-two men and twenty-five Popes. Of the twenty-five members of it, all coveted the tiara, but three of them were not, she considered, men. These three were Flavio, his cousin Sigismondo, and a Tuscan cardinal, Nini.
The two Crown factions were led by d'Este, Barberini and de Retz for France, and by the de Medicis for the Spaniards. Then there was the Rospigliosi faction, and finally the escadron volant, also called the Pamphili, of which Azzolino was the acknowledged leader. Pamphili was no longer cardinal, being married to the famous and beautiful Princess Rossano, but he and his wife were active in the work of the escadron. Much too active, Christina thought. This princess had known Azzolino before he met Christina, and rumour said it was not only poetry that he had dedicated to her in the past. However this might be, an annoying incident occurred when Clement IX lay dying. Some of the escadron cardinals paid a call on Vidoni, who was spending a little leisure at Frascati, and afterwards took him to visit the Princess Rossano. When he was presented to her, someone said:
"This is the future Pope."
When Christina heard of this[,] she was justly annoyed. The first principle of making a Pope was that no one should know whom anyone else was backing. That someone should have announced Vidoni as the coming Pope before the escadron had begun its stealthy campaign on his behalf, was exasperating. It did not, however, prevent Christina from throwing herself with more than her usual zest into the novel excitement of a conclave. Because Azzolino had, temporarily, it was to be hoped, lost his official quarters in the Vatican, she took the house on the Borgo Nuovo for him for three years. It eventually became his permanent residence until he died. Here she set up her work-room, from which she was in constant communication with Azzolino, sometimes writing as many as four long notes a day, and sometimes, when there was a lull in the correspondence, walking in the little garden of the new house, whence she could see the barred window of cell No. 18, where the beloved was weaving his invisible threads so cautiously — so dexterously, she fondly thought.
She had been among the friends who visited the cells on the last day before the Conclave, on the 20th of December[,] when the gates were to clang on the outer world until the Pope was chosen. An excellent law of the Middle Ages to guard against abuses was no longer in force. By this the members of the Conclave, strictly secluded as now, were given their food through a carefully guarded window, and, if the Pope were not elected in three days, only one course was allowed. After five days bread and water was the only fare, with a little wine. Things were not so severe now, but they were bad enough. Clement IX had chosen an unseasonable time to die. The Vatican was never comfortable in winter, and the cells, inadequately warmed with unwholesome braziers, were not at all to the taste of the cardinals, accustomed as most of them were to luxurious living. Food, too, if it was not actually handed through a window, was, however, richly and pompously presented, generally half cold. One cardinal quite definitely refused to occupy his cell, and that was Ludovisi, a member of the escadron, to whom laziness was a point of honour. This was so well known that his cell, No. 60, had not even been furnished.
Under the somewhat meagre circumstances it was natural that a half-bottle of wine or a few dozen oysters might well turn the scale in a delicate manœuvre. An excellent claret played a lively part in the Conclave. Cardinal Medici writes to the head of his family:
"Bouillon and Retz tell me that they have gained new life from Your Highness's claret. Please send me some more. I will distribute it by the bottle, for unless I give it to them decanted the conclavists will take to tippling."
Vidoni was one of the first to be tempted with oysters and claret. He was genuinely shocked by this, especially as it was Lent, and immediately went to Azzolino for advice. This was, that to keep on good terms with the tempter, it would be best to accept a half-bottle of claret a day. "With these people, it's the only thing to do", he said.
One does not hear what Vidoni did about it, but he is scandalized by the eating and drinking that goes on. "Think what the Protestants will say", he writes.
When Christina said good-bye to Azzolino on that last day[,] she also visited the cell, next door, of Vidoni, and inaugurated her career of duplicity with the remark, made in ringing tones to be heard by as many as possible:
"Here at any rate is one who will not be Pope!"
A trifle overdone this. Crude and Nordic. Later on, when she had had more experience of Latin diplomacy, she took to heart Azzolino's advice, which was to tell the truth in order not to be believed. "It is", he wrote to her, "the art of arts."
The problem of electing a new Pope was a hard one. To begin with, no one must have any ambition to be Pope. Everyone papable must, naturally, wait for Divine guidance to direct the Conclave. There were no candidates; there were "subjects". Then each faction must scrupulously conceal from the others the secret of its choice, but as soon as the Pope was elected it was absolutely essential to have been responsible for that election.
Azzolino, though he was next door to Vidoni, never entered his cell, and was never seen speaking to him. They exchanged notes at night, and Azzolino took the trouble to translate Christina's long notes from French into Italian for the benefit of his subject. Christina, on her side, when she was not in her work-room in Borgo Nuovo, was giving audiences to the French and Spanish Ambassadors, the Duc de Chaulnes and the Marquis d'Astorga, and most of the notable people interested in the Conclave. The Riario became the centre of intrigue, and her business was, with as much mystery as possible, to convince all her visitors, whatever faction they favoured, that Azzolino was Pope-maker, and to him alone would be the credit, whoever was elected. The atmosphere inside and outside the Vatican was indeed so heavily charged with intrigue and mystery that it looked as though the cardinals would be immured for ever. The weeks went by, and one by one the subjects were juggled with and excluded by vote. If Vidoni were elected[,] there was no doubt that Azzolino would be re-established and more powerful than ever, therefore Chigi, who had favoured Vidoni until he suspected that Azzolino did too, looked round for another subject for his party. Already D'Elci, the most papable of his own faction, had been excluded, and he at last confided in his own people that he would seek a subject elsewhere. When Azzolino heard this[,] he decided upon a daring ruse which was, in fact, scarcely worthy of his intelligence nor a good example of the "art of arts".
He wrote a note to Christina saying that, for all he had apparently been working in favour of Vidoni, the very opposite was the case. Vidoni, he wrote, was the strongest of Chigi's candidates, and for that reason most to be feared. As to whom the *escadron* was truly favouring — ah! that would be known to all in good time. Meanwhile, Christina would please go on giving the impression that Vidoni was his favourite, which was the best way of getting him excluded.
This note, written on the 25th of February, he carefully dropped so that a servant of Chigi should pick it up, and it was, as he had hoped, taken straight to the Cardinal. But Chigi was not at all taken in by it, and the only result of the trick was to prejudice him still more against Vidoni. There was another unfortunate incident of the same kind. When D'Elci and Bonvisi had been excluded after an enormous amount of intrigue and disappointment, there was a strong move in favour of Odescalchi, so strong that by the 16th of March there was little doubt that he would be elected; so little that the luxurious Ludovisi actually visited his cell, in spite of the cold, which was regarded as a sure sign that the end was near.
Now Odescalchi was one of the papables whom Azzolino had completely neglected throughout the Conclave. Not a word or sign to him of favour or friendship. This must be remedied at once. An inspiration came indirectly from Cardinal de Retz, who was said to have congratulated Odescalchi upon his approaching election. A note should be written to Odescalchi in the same tone, and what could be more effective than the statement that he, Azzolino, had advised de Retz to pay that little compliment, thereby convincing Odescalchi that the leader of the escadron had been working secretly for him all the time, and that his apparent indifference was but a mask to hide the truth?
An excellent idea, but unfortunately, as this was the first note Azzolino had written to Odescalchi, the servant of that cardinal, suspecting a mistake, as of course it had no direction on the outside, handed it to the servant of Cardinal Bouillon in the cell next door, with whom Azzolino was in constant communication. Bouillon read it and passed it on to de Retz, and the result was not pleasant for Azzolino. Apart from the de Retz invention, which was trivial and foolish, the impression made on these two friends of his was that he had been working against them secretly in favour of Odescalchi. Azzolino was decidedly losing ground in Vatican politics. And in the end Odescalchi had only seven votes in the scrutiny of March 20.
The discomfort of the Bernini cells and the intense cold soon began to tell upon the immured cardinals. Fever and bronchitis laid many of them low, and even Azzolino, one of the youngest and strongest, was shut in his cell for several days with a violent cold. When he was better he sent a note to Christina telling her so, and her joy at hearing it was surpassed by the fact that he had written the two letters "S. M." at the head of it. S. M. — Sua Maesta? It meant more than that, and no one but themselves will ever know what it did mean, but on Christina those two initials had a magical effect:
"But under what happy influence did you give me that glorious reminder of my past felicity? Am I mistaken, and do the letters 'S. M.' no longer mean what they used to mean? If I could describe to you the joy the sight of them gave me, you would think me somehow worthy of that title, which is dearer to me than Queen of the Universe. But I cannot be worthy of it, since you have deprived me of it. Do what you please; I am yours so absolutely that you cannot without injustice and horrible cruelty doubt that I deserve 'S. M.'".
In his answer he gave her "S. M." again, but for the rest of the Conclave he was discreet, and begged her to be the same. Business and sentiment were so carelessly interwoven that it became impossible to show her letters to his friends. He asks her to separate from "other things" the affairs of the Conclave.
These affairs went on all through Lent. Easter came, and Christina retired for a week to the Carmelite convent in Lungara[,] as was her habit. This time she said she would not have objected to a slightly deaf confessor. The cardinals, still imprisoned, were engaged solely in their religious observances. But soon they were busy again, with their secret votes and daily scrutinies, and now it was spring in Rome, and the cells were warmer, and everyone hoped the end would soon come.
It came in the last days of April, and a shattering end it was for Azzolino. It was incredible! De Retz had been plotting with Chigi and Rospigliosi to such purpose that the future Pope was already decided upon without the slightest reference to Azzolino. A very old gentleman, Cardinal Altieri, had been chosen. His principal recommendation was that he was eighty years of age. The news was brought to him in his cell, and he broke down and begged with tears to be allowed to die in peace, crying that he was too old and not capable of what would be expected of him. He clung to the bed he was sitting on when the conclavists came to carry out the custom of pillaging his cell. He was then seized and led kindly but forcibly to the Sistine Chapel, where the vote was made. Still the old man protested, and only after an hour's persuasion would he consent to wear the Papal insignia.
The election was announced to the waiting crowd, the smoke from the voting papers rose to the skies, the barriers that had shut out the world for over four months fell, and the first to kiss the Pope's toe was Christina herself. Her bearing, of course, was brave, but her heart was sore for the man she loved.
Reams of paper and gallons of ink! The usual reckless expenditure of energy and enthusiasm, and, as always, disillusion at the end.
"Mon Dieu", she had written to Azzolino when the cabals were at their thickest, "si vous pouviez profiter de tout ce desordre pour vous même!"
But he had failed. Flavio Chigi had beaten him in the "art of arts".
Above: Kristina.
Above: Cardinal Decio Azzolino.
_02.jpg)
Above: Pope Clement IX.
Above: Pope Clement X.
Above: Faith Compton Mackenzie.
Note: Candia is the old name for the Greek island of Crete.
No comments:
Post a Comment