Negroni had then spread the rumour that Delfino had in his youth even killed a man with a poker; which he had indeed done, but only to defend himself from a thief who had broken into his house and was attacking him with a dagger. In the end, malign tongues had prevailed, and, in the place of Cardinal Delfino, the election went to Cardinal Pignatelli, the Pope whose imminent death was now expected.
"The fact, however, remains that our present Pontiff Innocent XII is a saintly, good and wise pope," said Cardinal Negroni, meaning, for those who were familiar with what had taken place behind the scenes, that the sabotage at Delfino's expense had not done any great harm; Atto said nothing.
"This is, moreover, proven by the Romanum decet Pontificem," added Negroni, referring to the constitution whereby Innocent XII had, soon after his election, forbidden the relatives of popes from enriching themselves at the expense of the Church. "And I know not how many would have had the courage to do what he did."
This was yet another allusion to Delfino: in order to prevent his election, the Zealots had it cried out on the rooftops that he had a mass of nephews and intended to enrich them all from the coffers of the Vatican.
The wedding table had fallen silent. Nothing could be heard except the sound of jaws patiently chewing the "English" pie of grilled mullet in salsa bastarda, with little sweetmeats and prune jelly, garnished with lemon slices and candied cinnamon sticks. Decidedly, the Curia's disputes had gained the better of the wedding.
The tensions created by that skirmish, however subtly it had been conducted, had been almost contagiously transmitted to us torchbearers too; now I was perspiring even more copiously. None dared interrupt the venomous verbal duel between Atto and Negroni.
"Oh, what you say is ungenerous towards the previous pontiff," replied Atto with a little smirk. "If Prince Odescalchi were here tonight, I know not what he would have to say about your words. He, the nephew of Pope Innocent XI, who reigned before the present pontiff and Alexander VIII, was never made a cardinal, because his uncle did not wish to be accused of favouring his kinsmen."
"And what of it?" asked Negroni.
"How can one put it, Excellency? So many things are bruited abroad — clearly all malicious gossip. It is said that Prince Odescalchi lends money to the Emperor who loses incredible sums gaming, as though it were a mere trifle, and that he offered eight million florins to the Poles to be elected king, as though that were a title to be sold to the highest bidder; and, moreover, that he paid some four hundred and forty thousand Roman scudi to purchase the fiefs of the Orsini… He, the nephew of a pope who fought against nepotism…"
"I repeat: what of it?"
"All this goes to show that, at least in the eyes of the public, it was precisely when an end was put to nepotism that popes' nephews really began to make their fortunes."
The hum of disapproval grew louder; Atto was casting aspersions on Prince Odescalchi, whom some ailment had kept to his house (he was said to be a hypochondriac), but to whom all these words would surely be reported, together with the disrespect for the present Pope who had even officially done away with nepotism: a policy that in fact pleased no one (for all hope one day to be able to take advantage of the world's injustices), although for the sake of appearances they all feigned blind approval.
"It is not my intention to offend His Holiness, heaven forbid!" continued Abbot Melani. "I am thus debating only in order to amuse the august intellects amongst whom I have the quite undeserved honour to find myself this evening. Well, Cardinal Aldobrandini, who was the nephew of Clement VIII, or Cardinal Francesco Barberini, who was the nephew of Urban VIII, and so many other examples one could cite, never lingered among the delights of Rome when it came to going forth to defend the interests of the Church, even volunteering to fight alongside armies in distant lands. Well, I ask myself: can we really say the same thing of…
"Enough, now, Abbot Melani, this is too much."
The speaker was Cardinal Albani. The company was not only amazed by the peremptory tone with which he had silenced Atto. As I had read in the Abbot's piquant court notices, it was Albani who had materially drafted the bull Romanum decet pontificem against nepotism, which had just been mentioned by Cardinal Negroni and, acting together with the master of the house, Cardinal Spada, he was also one of the cardinals who maintained contacts at the highest level between the Holy See and France. What was more, he was regarded as one of the most influential members of the entire Sacred College. He had studied, outshining the best, with the Jesuits of the Collegium Romanum, where the celebrated Hellenist and Hebrew scholar Pierre Poussines had soon noted his gifts for the study of Latin and Greek. While still a young student he had taken on the Latin translation of a homily by Saint Sophronius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, astounding all by his precocity. At the same time, he had discovered in a monastery the manuscript of the second part of the Byzantine Greek Menologion of Basil Porphyrogenitus, the loss of which had long been lamented. Continuing the same display of erudition, he had translated the eulogy of Saint Mark the Evangelist by Deacon Procopius which was inscribed by the Bollandist Fathers in the Acta Santorum. In other words, since his earliest youth Albani had shown himself to be the possessor of a most refined and erudite mind, perhaps already presaging future, glorious achievements.
After obtaining his degree in Jurisprudence at Urbino, a lightning career had seen him become, first, governor of Rieti and Viterbo, then, under the two last popes, Secretary for Breves (or confidential correspondence): a most delicate task, reserved for the most penetrating intellects. Among the most important matters entrusted to him were a considerable proportion of relations with France; and this had soon caused him to be accused of being a Francophile. Not without cause: the year before, in 1699, many had clamoured for a bull condemning the French Abbe Fenelon, who was suspected of heresy. Albani had responded by bringing about the breve Cum Alias, in which twenty-three propositions contained in Fenelon's book were condemned, but the word "heresy" was never mentioned. Not only that, but he had hastened to write a letter to Fenelon to instruct him about the ways and means of arranging an appropriate submission, which was so swiftly done as even to obtain the Pope's written praises.
Even if he was far too young to be made pope (he was at the time of the facts I am narrating only just fifty-one years old), Cardinal Albani had been one of the most important collaborators of the three last pontiffs, an influential mediator with France and the actual author of some of the most important doctrinal and policy measures. One peculiarity should be noted: although a cardinal, he was not a priest. He had in fact never yet received the major orders. Such a omission was, however, not unusual among the wearers of the purple, who often arranged for the necessary formalities when a conclave was imminent, so as not to lose (one never knows!) the possibility of being elected to the papal throne. Atto had, in other words, caused a very important personage to lose patience with him, and, what was more, one with the closest links to Cardinal Spada, his host.
"Eminence, I bow down to whatever you may say," said Melani complacently.
"Come now," retorted Albani with a grimace of annoyance, "I am not asking you to bow down. I simply wonder whether you are aware of what you are saying."