Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that those exchanging these remarks were two middle-aged prelates. The topic was of no little interest to me: where there are catchpolls there will be thieves, and anything that enlightened me on that subject might be of use for my purposes and those of Abbot Melani. Soon, however, the two prelates were lost from sight (and hearing); hoping to retrace them, I promised myself that I would mention their discussion to Atto.
The lofty and majestic vault which, moments before, had resounded with chatter now echoed with sounds of sipping, sucking and the smacking of tongues. None could bear to forego the taste of chocolate which the Steward - regardless of whatever Don Paschatio might have to say on the matter - had prepared with perfect judgment and mastery.
Suddenly, a space opened up in the formless throng of revellers. Cardinal Spada made his way forward, accompanied by the bridal pair. The master of the house had preferred to let talk die down before making his appearance, thus taking advantage of the gaiety produced by the refreshments.
"Hurrah! Long live the bride and groom!" All turned to applaud the couple, rushing forward to exchange compliments with Spada and to kiss his ring, while festive cheering broke out all around.
"A speech, Your Eminence, a speech!" cried several guests, beseeching the Cardinal.
"Very well, my friends, so be it," he replied with a smile, benevolently calming the hubbub with a clap of the hands. "But faced with such an assembly of the learned, my contribution will inevitably be scanty. You will, I hope, pardon me if, in the modest verses I am about to recite, the topic of which is certainly familiar to you, I should fail to measure up to the science which I have heard in these chambers, but, as the poet puts it, non datur omnibus adire Corinthum."
He begged silence and with jovial expression recited a sonnet.
He am I who through the unknown essence On fasting entered such an argument That to the schoolmen's great astonishment None knows to which of us to 'ward the sentence. One argues taste, the other, abstinence, Both to the Jesuit discipline assent;
If, saith the one, to liquors we consent,
We err, for then there is incontinence.
Balm for his scruples, t'other then suggests
Of amity a civil rite wherein the chalice
Containing no vanilla, each ingests.
Thus, betwixt innocence and malice
A wondrous middle way he then invests,
Which reconciles the fast with gusto and with avarice.
This gave rise to laughter and yet another burst of applause. Cardinal Spada had brilliantly exposed, and resolved, a burning question much debated among Jesuit doctrinal experts: does the drinking of chocolate constitute the breaking of a fast? Spada's proposal was, in keeping with the best style of the Society of Jesus, a sensible compromise: by all means drink chocolate, but let it be bitter, without vanilla, thus reconciling appetite, abstinence and thrift. Meanwhile, the academic chapels whose activities had been disrupted by the arrival of the chocolate were again forgathering. Around single orators or pairs engaged in verbal duels, idle knots of listeners were forming, some still sipping from their cups, some deep in conversation with their neighbours, others gesticulating in the direction of some acquaintance glimpsed in a nearby group. In the motley multitude of ladies, prelates and nobles, it was child's play to discern political allegiances; to identify the partisans of France, Spain or the Empire, one had but to look at where pocket handkerchiefs were placed, the colour of stockings or on which side of their bosom the ladies had pinned some little flower.
With the pretext of removing cups and jugs left on the tables, I moved away from my place to rejoin Abbot Melani whom I saw chatting somewhat disconsolately with a pair of elderly ladies while scanning the whole assembly for the least event worthy of interest or, better, suspicion. Seeing me approach he promptly left the two ladies and with a furtive gesture indicated that I was to join him outside, on the balcony above the stairs leading directly from the main salon down to the gardens.
The sun was still blazing, and we found ourselves providentially alone. I told him briefly of the conversation between the two churchmen and the planned reform of public order in Rome which I had overheard.
"Those two spoke the truth," he commented. "The Roman police have always been both corrupt and utterly shameless."
At that moment, a number of high-ranking prelates emerged from the salon onto the balcony, to take a few pinches of snuff. Some of the faces were known to me, but I could not put names to them. Only one did I remember perfectly and it was that, in fact, which startled me. It was His Eminence Cardinal Albani.
At a glance, Atto took in the situation. He continued what he was saying, gradually raising his voice as he spoke.
"No one is more corrupt than the catchpolls, my boy," he declared, speaking with mounting passion, turning now to address the cardinals who had just appeared.
There shone in his small eyes, perceptible only to those who knew him well, who knows what project or desire.
"And above all, than the judges," he continued, "because in our mad and supposedly modern times, which are nevertheless still the sucklings of a very recent past - times which I would call the Universal Republic of Verbiage - facts count only on the basis of the name they're given. The judges are honorary citizens of this republic, because their task is to satisfy the thirst for revenge of the powerless and the victims of injustice who have ever and will ever crowd their antechambers; antechambers which one leaves with few real facts in hand and many words, for it is precisely of words that this republic consists, as their eminences will be readily aware."
Atto's sally had cast all in the blackest embarrassment. He was at one and the same time addressing the highest wearers of the purple and myself, a mere plebeian. But such insolence, already grave and unusual, was as nothing beside the factious content of his discourse, which sounded like a hymn to mischief making.
"Through the judges' hands passes the world's future," he continued, "for when man counts for little, as in our times, the law is triumphant. Being intrinsically void of any substance, like insanity, it takes up whatever free space it can find. If you should read in a gazette, 'The Judges have ordered the arrest of the alleged swindler Such-and-Such', you will at once think that good has triumphed over evil, for the judges are called judges and the newspaper has called the man they've arrested a swindler. This being said, even before his trial, the death blow against Such-and-Such has already been struck, for fame has plenty of breath and immense wings and aims the darts that are placed in its quiver at whomsoever it will, without paying the slightest attention to any poison in which they may have been dipped. So no one will tell you that those Judges often lie or accept bribes, that they are marionettes, dolls, dummies created out of nothingness and manipulated so as to strike at adversaries, to create diversions, to subvert and to distract public opinion."
I looked around me. The cardinals present during Atto's rash coup de theatre were grey in the face with consternation. The afternoon was supposed to be dedicated to academies, not the justification of revolt.
"Take careful note, however, the Universal Republic of Verbiage is certainly populated by puppets and marionettes, yet it is built of stones as massive as those of the walls of Ilium; these are called justice, truth, public health, security. . . Each one of these is a cyclopic mass that can neither be discussed nor moved, because the power of words is the only sovereign in our times. Whosoever stands up against seeming truth and seeming Justice will always be called deceitful and dishonest, whoever resists public health will be labelled a spreader of the plague, and if they take on security, they will be damned as subversives. Any attempt to convince others, many others, that behind those words there often, oh so often, lies concealed their very opposite, will be as effective as trying to lift those walls and transport them over a thousand leagues. Better by far to put one's hands over one's eyes and simply keep going, like those who have always decided the fate of nations, the soverei
gns and their occult counsellors: well they know that perverse wheel of fortune, and indeed they encourage it, for they want the judges, the catchpolls and all the other marionettes of that sad and grotesque Republic of Verbiage to remain their slaves, and our butchers. Until, perhaps, one day they too are hanged on the orders of a judge."
"Abbot Melani, you are challenging the order of things."
It was Albani. As on the evening before, Atto was being menacingly called to order by His Holiness' Secretary for Breves.
"I am challenging nothing and nobody," Atto replied amiably, "I am merely meditating on. . ."
"You are here to provoke, to stir up trouble and confusion. You are promoting disorder, inviting people to mistrust judges, to disobey the police. All that, I heard quite clearly."
"Stirring up trouble? Far from it, Your Eminence. As a French subject..."
"That you are on the side of the Most Christian King, that, everybody knows by now," Albani interrupted him yet again, "but there are limits you should not overstep. The Papal See is not some land to be overrun by this or that power. The Holy City is the universal haven of peace, open to all men of goodwill."
His tone admitted of no reply.
"I bow down to Your Eminence," was Atto's sole response as he made a deep bow to his contradictor, and attempted to kiss his ring.
To complete the insult, however, Albani did not see (or wish to see) the gesture and turned sharply towards the rest of his company, commenting harshly on what had just taken place.
"Incredible! To come here, to the home of the Secretary of State, making propaganda for France, and then spreading ideas . . ." he exclaimed indignantly to his fellow cardinals.
Atto was thus left kneeling before Albani's back. Someone among the latter's friends noticed this and sniggered. The humiliation was as grave as it was comic.
Moments later, Melani had returned to the salon; I followed him discreetly. His rash speech had been made in my presence too. It might appear to be the ravings of one beside himself, which I had witnessed by pure chance. But one must not go too far: we must avoid word getting around that I was in his service, otherwise I too would come under a cloud of suspicion and mistrust. I did not want to protect his interests but my own. What if Cardinal Spada were to decide that I was mixed up with with a troublemaker? I ran the risk of dismissal.
We crossed the salon, still crowded with guests, keeping our distances. Melani gestured that I was to follow him to his lodgings on the upper floors.
"So, have you understood how the Republic of Verbiage works?" he resumed, as though his speech had never been interrupted.
"But Signor Atto..."
"You have doubts, I know. You would like to say to me: if what you say is really true, how do you know, and how do others like you know, that the police are not to be trusted and that judges too are sometimes corrupt, and at the service of the powerful?"
"Well, if, among other things..."
"These are clandestine truths, my boy, banished from the Republic of Verbiage and thus utterly worthless. And remember," said he with an admonitory grin, "if order is to be maintained in states and in kingdoms, the people must never know the truth about two things: what there really is in sausages and what takes place in the courts of law."
I had no time to contradict him and prolong the discussion, for by then we had reached his doorway. He opened the door, telling me to wait outside a moment, then returned with a basket of soiled underwear.
"Now I have an important meeting, I want to change my shirt. I must put myself in order, I am in a disastrous state. Count Lamberg, the Ambassador of the Empire, is on the point of returning to the villa and I shall approach him. He is a little late, soon he'll be here. I want to ask him to receive me. You, meanwhile, take these clothes and have them washed and ironed for me, otherwise I shall soon be left without any clean apparel. Now, leave me."
As I made my way to the laundry with Atto's dirty clothing in my hands, a swarm of thoughts crossed my mind. Melani's words accused sovereigns and the highly select circle (counsellors, ministers of state. ..) to which he was so proud to belong. It was almost as though with those words he really did mean to excite, to provoke, to stir up rebellion, as Albani said. With the Cardinal's double reprimand, Atto had acquired for himself the reputation of a rash fellow and an agitator to boot, all of which was what he least needed to be able to manoeuvre in peace. He was a spy and spies need discretion. Whatever could have got into him that he should have made such an exhibition of himself while, what was more, bruiting abroad his connections with the French party? Surely, those who had been present during the second clash between him and Albani must have spread that tasty piece of gossip among the other guests. The damage was done.
Strangely, Atto seemed oblivious of this. Hardly had we been alone than, instead of commenting on the humiliation he had suffered at Albani's hands when the latter had turned his back on him as he knelt at his feet, he had resumed his bizarre discourse on the Universal Republic of Verbiage.
Perhaps I had got everything wrong, said I to myself. No longer was I to expect from Abbot Melani the implacable lucidity I had found in him seventeen years before. He had aged, that was all. With the loss of his intellectual and moral faculties, imprudence, poor judgment and intemperance had taken over. From being sharp-witted he had grown quarrelsome, from being prudent, he had become rash, instead of coldly calculating, confused. I knew that men rarely improve with age. That he should have worsened somewhat should not, I thought, come as a surprise to me.
Meanwhile, I observed from afar a large company of persons entering the great house, accompanied by an impressive escort of men-at-arms. I heard the other servants being told that Cardinal Spada was coming to receive an important personage. I knew who this must be.
Moments later, the guest made his entrance into the salon, while Fabrizio Spada, accompanied by the bridal couple, advanced to meet him with obsequious and benevolent pomp. Many among the guests were those who rushed to meet the new arrival: the Count von Lamberg, Ambassador of the Emperor.
Cardinal Spada, so I subsequently learned, had sent one of his personal carriages to fetch him, preceded by that of the Cardinal de' Medici. In order to avoid grave problems of form, the other two representatives of the powers, the Spanish Count of Uzeda and the French Prince of Monaco, had tacitly arranged with their imperial counterpart that they were to be present at the same time only on the wedding day and to make a second visit on different days from one another. This would avoid conflicts of honour and precedence, as well as violence and brawls (such as occurred daily in Rome) between their respective lackeys, ever on the lookout for the best places to station their master's carriage.
The ambassadors of the other two great powers (France and Spain) would therefore not be present on that day, so that all attention would focus on Lamberg.
Because of my modest stature, obstructed as I was by the dense barrier of backs, heads and necks, I was obviously unable to witness the fatal moment of Lamberg's arrival in the salon. Nevertheless, the guests formed almost at once into two wings, between which the Imperial Ambassador made his way forward. He was accompanied by a great retinue of lackeys in yellow livery and men-at-arms in dress uniform. Cardinal Spada was at his side, respectfully leading him to the centre of the salon. Ladies and gentlemen, to show their respect, bowed as he passed, seeking to attract attention by paying tribute to him and heaping blessings upon his head.
"Excellency. .."
"May God preserve you!"
"May Your Excellency always keep as well."
Amidst the psalmody of obsequious expressions accompanying bows and curtsies, an unexpected note however arose.
“Si Deus et Caesar pro me, quis contra?"
I had no difficulty in recognising the voice which had pronounced that Latin phrase. It was Atto. He too must have knelt in homage to the powerful Austrian diplomat. "If God and the Emperor are with me, who'll be against me?" he had said. I tiptoed as far as I coul
d, staring over some churchman's shining pate and at last I was able to witness the scene.
Atto was indeed on his knees before Lamberg, but in an elegant, controlled posture which manifested the desire to be courteous without indulging in self-abasement.
Before him stood the Imperial Ambassador, whose face I was able to see distinctly better than the day before. His eyes were coal-black; not deep, but cold and shifting. His expression was tenebrous, evasive and full of disquiet, as though indicative of a soul given to lies and dissimulation. The forehead was high enough, the oval of his face, regular, yet his complexion was ashen and dull, as though it had been rendered opaque by a surfeit of lugubrious cogitations. A slender, well-trimmed moustache gave his visage an airy touch of almost extreme elegance, designed only to mark off the distance from his inferiors. All in all, his presence inspired deference and respect but, above all, suspicion.
"Those are wise words," replied Lamberg, visibly intrigued. "Who are you?"
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