Gerald Fitzgerald, the Chevalier: A Novel

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER IX. THE PERE MASSONI IN HIS CELL

  Let us now return to Rome. The Pere Massoni sat alone in his smallstudy; a single lamp, covered with a shade, stood beside him, throwingits light only on his thin, attenuated figure, dressed in the long robeof black serge, and buttoned to the very feet. One wasted, blue-veinedhand rested on his knee, the other was in the breast of his robe. It wasa wild and stormy night without: long, swooping dashes of rain came fromtime to time against the windows, with blasts of strong wind borneover the wide expanse of the Campagna. The blue lightning, too, flashedthrough the half-darkened room, while the thunder rolled unceasinglyamid the stupendous ruins of old Rome. For a long time had the Pere satthus motionless, and to all seeming, in expectancy. Some books and anopen map lay on the table beside him, but he never turned to them, butremained in this selfsame attitude; only changing when he bent his headto listen more attentively to the noises without. At length he arose,and passing into a small octagonal tower that opened from the corner ofhis chamber, closed the door behind him. For a second or two he stoodin perfect darkness, but suddenly a wide flash of lightning lit up thewhole air, displaying the bleak Campagna for miles and miles, while itdepicted every detail of the little tower around him. Taking advantageof the light, he advanced and opened the windows, carefully fasteningthem to the walls as he did so. He now seated himself by the opencasement, gathering his robe well about him, and drawing the hood overhis face. The storm increased as the night went on. Many an ancientpillar rocked to its base; many a stern old ruin shook, as in distinctblasts, like the report of cannon, the wind hurled all its force uponthem. In the same fitful gusts the rain dashed down, seething across thewide plain, where it hissed with a sound like a breaking sea borneaway on the wild blast. The sound of the bells through the city was notheard: all except St. Peter's were dissipated and lost. The great bellof the mighty dome, however, rose proudly above the crash of elements,and struck three, and as the Pere counted the strokes, he sigheddrearily. For the last hour the lightning had been less and lessfrequent; and instead of that wide-spreading scene of open Campagna,dotted with villages, and traversed by roads, suddenly flashing upon himwith a clearness more marked than at noonday, all was now wrapped in animpenetrable darkness, only broken at rare intervals, and by weak anduncertain gleams.

  Why does he peer so earnestly through the gloom, why in every lull ofthe gale, does he bend his ear to listen, and why, in the lightningflashes, are his eyes ever turned to the winding road that leads toViterbo? For him, surely, no ties of kindred, no affections of the heartare the motives which hold him thus spell-bound: nor wife nor child arehis, for whose coming he watches thus eagerly. What can it be, then,that has awakened this feverish anxiety within him, that with everyswell of the storm he starts and listens with more intense eagerness?

  'He will not come to-night,' muttered he at length to himself; he willnot come to-night, and to-morrow it will be too late. On Wednesday theyleave this for Gaeta, and ere they return it may be weeks, ay, months.So is it ever: we strive, and plot, and plan; and yet it is a merequestion of seconds whether the mine explode at the right instant. Thedelay is inexplicable,' said he, after a pause. 'They left Sienna onSunday last; and, even granting that they must travel slowly, theyshould have been here yesterday morning. What misfortune is this? I leftthe Cardinal last night, at length--and after how much labour--persuadedand convinced. He agreed to all and every thing. Had the youth arrivedto-night, therefore, his Eminence must have pledged himself to theenterprise; indeed he rarely changes his mind under two days!' He pausedfor a while, and then in a voice of deeper emotion, said: 'If we neededto be taught how small is all our wisdom--how poor, and weak, andpowerless we are--we can read the lesson in the fact that minutes decidedestinies, while whole lives of watching cannot control the smallestevent!' A brilliant flash of lightning at this instant illuminated theentire plain, showing every object in the wide expanse for miles. ThePere started, and leaned eagerly upon the window, his eyes fixed onthe Viterbo road. Another minute, ay, a second more, had been enough toassure him if he had seen aright; but already it was dark again, andthe dense thunder-clouds seemed to descend to the very earth. As the lowgrowling sounds died away at last, the air seemed somewhat thinner, andnow the Pere could make out a faintly twinkling light that flickeredthrough the gloom, appearing and disappearing at intervals, as theground rose or fell: he quickly recognised it for a carriage-lamp, andwith a fervently uttered entreaty to Heaven, that it might prove theherald of those he watched for, he closed the window and returned to hisstudy.

  If the law that condemns the priest to a life of isolation andestrangement from all human affections be severe and pitiless, thereis what many would deem a proud compensation in the immensity of thatambition offered to men thus separated from their fellows. Soaring abovethe cares and anxieties, whose very egotism renders them little, thesemen fix their contemplation upon the great events of the world, and,in a spirit that embraces ages yet unborn, uninfluenced by the emotionsthat sway others, untouched by the yearnings that control them, theyalone of all mankind can address themselves to the objects of theirambition without selfish interests. The aggrandisement of the Church,the spread and pre-eminence of the Catholic faith, formed a cause whichfor centuries engaged the greatest intellects and the most devotedhearts of her followers. Among these were many of more eminence, inpoint of station, than Massoni; many more learned, many more eloquent,many whose influence extended further and wider, but not one who threwmore steadfast devotion into the cause, nor who was readier to perilall--even to life itself--in its support. He had been for years employedby the Papal Government as a secret agent at the different courtsof Europe. He had been in Spain, in Austria, in France, and the LowCountries; he had travelled through England, and passed nearly a yearin Ireland. Well versed in modern languages, and equally acquainted withthe various forms of European government, he was one whose opinion had agreat weight upon every question of political bearing. Far too crafty toemploy this knowledge in self-advancement, where, at the very utmost,it might have led to some inferior dignity at home, or some small'Nunciate' abroad, he devoted himself to the service of the CardinalCaraffa, a man of immense wealth, high family, overweening pretensions,but of an intellect the very weakest, and so assailable by flattery, asto be the slave of those who had access to him. His Eminence saw all theadvantages to be derived from such a connection. Whatever the point thatoccupied the Consulta, he was sure to be thoroughly informed upon itby his secret adviser; and so faithfully and so adroitly was he served,that the mystery of their intimacy was unfathomed by his brothercardinals. Caraffa spoke of Massoni as a person of whom 'he had heard,indeed'; a man trustworthy, and of some attainments, but that was all;'he had seen him, too, and spoken with him occasionally!'

  As for the Pere, the name of his Eminence never passed his lips, exceptin company with those of other cardinals. In fact, he knew few greatpeople; their ways and habits little suited his humble mode of life, andhe never frequented the grand receptions of the princes of the Church,nor showed himself at their salons. Such, in brief, was the Jesuitfather, who now walked up and down the little study, in a state offeverish impatience it was rarely his lot to suffer. At last theheavy roll of a carriage resounded in the court beneath, the clank ofdescending steps was heard, and soon after the sound of approaching feetalong the corridor.

  'Are they come? is it Carrol?' cried the Pere, flinging wide the door ofhis chamber.

  'Yes, most reverend rector,' said a full, rich voice; and a short,rosy-faced little man, in the prime of life, entered and obsequiouslykissed Massoni's extended hand.

  'What an anxious time you have given me, Carrol!' said the Pere hastily.'Have you brought him? Is he with you?

  'Yes; he's in the carriage below at this moment, but so wearied andexhausted that it were better you should not see him to-night.' Massonipaused to reflect, and after a moment said--'We have no time, not evenan hour, to throw away, Carrol; the sooner I see this youth, the betterprep
ared shall I be to speak of him to his Eminence. A few words towelcome him will be enough for me. Yes, let him come; it is for thebest.'

  Carrol left the room, and after some delay, was heard returning, hisslow steps being accompanied by the wearied foot-falls of one who walkedwith difficulty. Massoni threw the door wide, and as the lightstreamed out he almost started at the figure before him. Pale, wan, andworn-looking as the stranger appeared, the resemblance to Charles Edwardwas positively startling. The same lustrous gleam of the deep blueeyes: the same refinement of brow; the same almost womanly softness ofexpression in the mouth; and stronger than all these, the mode in whichhe carried his head somewhat back, and with the chin slightly elevated,were all marks of the Prince.

  Massoni welcomed him with a courteous and respectful tone, and conductedhim to a seat.

  'This is a meeting I have long and ardently desired, sir,' said thePere, in the voice of one to whom the arts of the courtier were notunknown; 'nor am I the only one here who has cherished this wish.'

  A faint smile, half gracious half surprised, acknowledged this speech,and Carrol watched with a painful anxiety even this mark of recognition.

  'The Chevalier is fatigued to-night, reverend father,' said he;'his endeavours to fulfil our wishes have cost him much exertion andweariness. We have journeyed day and night from Geneva.'

  'In this ardour he has only given us a deeper pledge of his highdeservings. May I offer you some refreshments, sir?' said he, hastily,struck by the weak pallor of the young man's countenance.

  A gentle gesture of refusal declined the offer.

  'Shall I show you to your room, then?' said the Pere, rising and openinga door into a small chamber adjoining; 'my servant will attend you.'

  'No,' said the youth faintly. 'Let us proceed with our journey; I willnot rest till I reach Rome.'

  'But you are at Rome, sir; we are at our journey's end,' said Carrol.

  The young man heard the words without emotion--the same sad smile uponhis lips.

  'He must have rest and care,' whispered Massoni to Carrol; and thenturning to the youth, he took him by the hand and led him away.

  Having consigned him to the care of a faithful servant, the Perere-entered the room, his face flushed, and his dark eyes flashing.

  'What miserable deception is this?' cried he. 'Is this the daring,headlong spirit I have been hearing of? Are these the parts to confrontan enterprise of peril?'

  'He is----'

  'He is dying,' broke in the Pere passionately.

  'Confess, at least, he is a Stuart, in every line and lineament.'

  'Ay, Carrol, even to the word failure, written in capitals on his brow.'

  'But you see him wasted by fever and long suffering; he rose from asick-bed to undertake this wearisome journey.'

  'Better had he kept his bed till death released him. I tell you it isnot of such stuff as this adventurers are made. His very appearancewould dash men with discouragement.'

  'Bethink you what he has gone through, Pere; the sights and scenesof horror that have met his eyes--the daily carnage amid which helived--himself, twice rescued from the scaffold, by what seems likea miracle--his days and nights of suffering in friendless misery too.Remember, also, how little of hope there was to cheer him through allthis. If ever there was one forlorn and destitute, it was he.'

  'I think not of _him_, but of the cause he should have served,' said thePere; 'and once more I say, this youth is unequal to "the event." Hisfather had faults enough to have wrecked a dozen enterprises: he wasrash, reckless, and unstable; but his rashness took the form of courage,and his very fickleness had a false air of versatility. Men regarded itas an element full of resources; but this sickly boy only recalls in hisfeatures every weakness of his race. What can we do with _him_?'

  'Men have fought valiantly for royalties that offered less to theirregard,' said Carrol.

  'Ay, Carrol, when the throne is fixed, men will rally to maintain it,even though he who wears the crown be little worthy of their reverence;but when the question is to reestablish a fallen dynasty--to replaceone branch by another, the individual becomes of immense importance;personal qualities assume then all the proportions of claims, and mencalculate on the future by the promises of the present. Tell me franklywhat could you augur for a cause of which this youth was to be thechampion?'

  Carrol did not break silence for some time; at length he said--

  'You told me once, and I have never forgotten it, a remarkable story ofMonsignor Saffi, the Bishop of Volterra-----'

  'I know what you allude to--how the simple-minded bishop became thecraftiest of cardinals. Ay, elevation will now and then work suchmiracles; but it is because they are miracles we are not to calculate ontheir recurrence.'

  'I would not say that this is not the case to hope for a similartransformation. They who knew Fitzgerald in his better, stronger days,describe him as one capable of the most daring exploits, full of heroismand of a boundless ambition, fed by some mysterious sentiment thatwhispers within him that he was destined for high achievement. These areinspirations that usually only die with ourselves.

  'When I look at him,' said the Pere sadly, 'I distrust them all.'

  'You are not wont to be so easily discouraged.' 'Easilydiscouraged--easily discouraged! It is a strange reproach to bringagainst me,' said the Pere, with a calm collectedness; 'nor is that thecharacter all Rome would give me. But why am I steadfast of purpose andfirm of plan? Because, ere I engage in an enterprise, I weigh well themeans of success, and canvass all its agencies. The smallest stream thatever dashed down a mountain has strength in the impulse of its course,while if it meandered through a plain it had been a rivulet. This is alesson we may reap profit from.'

  Carrol did not answer, and Massoni, covering his face with his hands,seemed lost in deep thought; at last he said--

  'What was your pretext to induce him to come back here?'

  'To hear tidings of his family and kindred.'

  'Did you intimate to him that they were of rank and station?'

  'Yes, of the very highest.'

  'How did the news affect him?'

  'It was hard at first to convince him that they could be true. He had,besides, been so often tricked and deceived by false intelligence,and made the sport of craftier heads, that it was difficult to win hisconfidence; nor did I succeed until I told him certain facts about hisearly life, whose correctness he acknowledged.'

  'I had imagined him most unlike what I see. If Charles Edward had left adaughter she might have resembled this.'

  'Still that very resemblance is of great value.'

  'What signifies that a thing may look like gold, when at the first touchof the chemist's test it blackens and betrays itself?'

  'He may be more of a Stuart even than he looks. It is too rash to judgeof him as we see him now.'

  'Be it so,' said the Pere, with a sort of resignation; 'but if I havenot lost my skill in reading temperament, this youth is not to ourpurpose. At all events,' resumed he, more rapidly, 'his Eminence neednot see him yet. Enough when I say that the fatigues of the road havebrought on some fever, and that he is confined to bed. Within a week, oreven less, I shall be able to pronounce if we may employ him. I have nomind to hear your news to-night; this disappointment has unmanned me;but to-morrow, Carrol, to-morrow the day will be all our own, and I allmyself. And so good-night, and good rest.'