Innumerable clues suggest that, even in the last years of his life, the Sun King still thought, and thought intensely, of his first love. A few examples will suffice to illustrate this. One day, he instructed Philidor, one of the court musicians, to draw up an inventory of all the works performed during his reign. The two often spoke together of this: Philidor admitted that he had, however, been unable to note down Pan's tale in the Ballet des Plaisirs. The Sun King then sang the verses at once from memory. "He still remembers an air to which he had danced almost sixty years before and which he had probably whistled for an entire season, as was his wont, when accompanying his dear Maria on their walks on the terrace of the Tuileries or, even further away, towards the Renard gardens" (Combescot, P., Les petites Mazarines, Paris 1999, p. 402).
In 1702, a self-styled Capuchin father was arrested and taken to the Bastille, suspected of espionage. His gaoler, Lieutenant d'Argenson, found on him letters and a mass of locks of hair from his former mistresses, including ladies from the cream of society. Among these, Maria's name came to light. Blinded by the adventurer's ambiguous charm, she had, indeed, had a relationship with him and had even gone so far as to present him to the new King of Spain, Philip V
Word of this reached the Sun King himself. Now, observe that the moment he heard that his former beloved had been among the Capuchin's conquests, he ordered that his interrogation should be taken to the limit. Maria, who was at that time in Avignon, learned of what had happened with disquiet; this might lead to her being accused of spying against France. But above all, she tried with trepidation to discover whether he too, the King, had learned of her liaison with the shady adventurer. Even in the face of far more pressing issues of espionage and trouble with the law, what preoccupied both her and the King was anxiety about what favours she might have accorded others and what he might have learned of this.
In 1705, after over forty years, Maria returned to Paris. Through the Due d'Harcourt, she received from the King an invitation to visit Versailles and an offer of economic assistance. She turned both down. She was too proud to give in or to show her former beloved the mark of time on her own face. They did not meet, nor would they ever do so again.
Maria wanted to be buried in the place where she found death. So it was: she died on 8th May 1715 in Pisa, struck down by a sudden indisposition. In accordance with her will, the epitaph on her tombstone was pulvis et cinis, dust and ashes. The plaque is still visible today near to the high altar of the church of the Holy Sepulchre.
It took a month for the news to reach Rome, where her children were, and thence to spread throughout Europe, where it came to the ears of Paris and the Sun King. It may be a coincidence, but when Louis XIV heard the news, he fell ill. A few days later, the King left Versailles and moved to his residence at Marly. At Whitsuntide, the tidings changed: the surgeon Mareschal advised Madame de Maintenon that the Sovereign too was moving inexorably to his death. His spouse became agitated and silenced him. But Louis's condition worsened visibly until in August none could continue to deny the evidence: it was gangrene. He died on 1st September.
If Abbot Melani had not died the year before, at a great age, he might perhaps have observed with feeling: "Louis and Maria could not live alongside one another but they departed together."
The Faithful Shepherd, which Louis and Maria read together and from which the verses cited in their letters are drawn, was one of the greatest literary successes of the past few centuries. From the moment of its first performance at the court of Ferrara in 1598, it enjoyed an unusually wide throughout Europe right down to the eighteenth century.
At the court of France, there were several tapestries with scenes taken from Guarini's poem, including those of Francois de la Planche, otherwise known as van der Plancken, mentioned by Atto in the book, and those of his son Raphael (cf. "Lobjet d'art", May 2001, article on the exhibition of tapestries "Delices et Tourments" at the Galerie Blondeel-Deroyan in Paris).
Even the words of thanks which Maria addressed to Fouquet in the gardens of the Vessel are authentic. The letter containing these words referred to by Atto Melani is kept in Paris (Bibliotheque Nationale, ms. Baluze 150, c. 237; cf. also Dulong, C., op. cit. p. 101).
The description of Maria Mancini, as she appears in her first apparation at the Vessel, is also authentic (cf. the description of her by an anonymous contemporary in the concluding letter contained in Memorie della S.P.M.M. Colonna, connestabilessa del regno di Napoli, Cologne 1678). Likewise, all the episodes and anecdotes concerning the Sun King's mistresses are true (cf. the innumerable writers of memoirs of the period and the exceedingly well-documented book by Simone Bertiere, Les Femmes du Roi-Soleil, Paris 1998).
All Maria's accounts of Charles II and the Spanish court are historically documented (cf. Pfandl, L., Karl II - Das Ende der spanischen Machtstellung, Munich 1940).
Solon's prediction, which Maria Mancini cites in her letters to Atto ("For oftentimes God gives men a gleam of happiness, and then plunges them into ruin.") was to come true: between 1711 and 1712, almost all the descendants of the Most Christian King died. The Grand Dauphin, father of the Dauphin and son of His Most Christian Majesty, died in 1711. The following year it was the turn of Marie-Adelaide of Burgundy, His Majesty's granddaughter, the mother of two children, the last heirs to the throne. Marie-Adelaide died of smallpox aged just twenty- six on 12th February 1712. Her husband the Dauphin, devastated by the bereavement, fell ill in his turn and died six days later. Their two children followed: first, little Louis, a fine boy of five, died, drained by blood-letting, on 5th March. His younger brother fell ill too, but survived. He was only two years old, had not yet been weaned, and was only just beginning to talk.
Destiny then took its revenge on the man himself. The Most Christian King trembled: he was old and could not bear the thought of dying without an heir. So he turned to the King of Spain, the former Duke of Anjou who had come to the Spanish throne as Philip V He remained, of course, Louis' grandson; indeed he owed him his crown. But Philip refused, openly disdaining the possibility of succeeding his grandfather, preferring to remain in Madrid and reign over his new country.
Worn down by mourning, sequestered in disconsolate silence, by a strange retribution of history he found himself in the same predicament as Charles II of Spain twelve years earlier: at the head of the most powerful kingdom in Europe, but without heirs. It was certainly not his little barely two-year-old great-grandson, vulnerable to any number of diseases, who could be counted on to continue the lineage and maintain the kingdom.
Louis was to prove fortunate, albeit posthumously: the child survived and succeeded him on the throne as Louis XV But today, his dynasty is extinct (and the dynastic claimants to the throne are members of the Orleans line). The Bourbon dynasty in Spain, descended from Philip V is, however, as fecund and prolific as ever (Juan Carlos has several brothers and children).
So, Capitor's last prophecy also came true: by means of the forged will of Charles II, Louis XIV had taken the crown of Spain from its legitimate heir. He did not foresee that, by means of that same will, the crown of Spain would rob France of its heirs.
On 29 July 1714, one of Abbot Melani's great fears came true: Louis XIV promulgated an edict opening up the succession to his bastard children. From that moment on, as Atto put it, it was no longer necessary to be a queen's son to become king: anyone, literally anyone, could do so. So that every citizen might well ask: why not me? The answer to this question was one day to be settled by the guillotine.
Atto and Maria
Abbot Melani really was in love with Maria Mancini, even as an old man, and so he was to remain to the day of his death. He stayed in close correspondence with her, yet was never to see her again. The pair sent each other frequent and precious gifts (like the Bezoar stone and the shell from the Indies in silver and gold) and Maria stayed several times as a guest at Atto's properties in Pistoia. She even went to visit his relatives.
The relationship, which was hith
erto unknown, was discovered by the authors at the Biblioteca Marucelliana in Florence, to which the Ministry for Cultural Assets and Activities recently bestowed the nine volumes of Atto Melani's correspondence, acquired by the Italian state through an antique dealer. Maria Mancini's biographers had not previously known where she had spent the last years of her life: Atto's letters throw light on this too, showing that the Connestabilessa spent long periods at Atto's palazzo in Pistoia and, in summer, at his country residence.
This love, which lasted an entire lifetime, is evidenced by many letters from Atto: first, to his brother Jacopo and then to the latter's son Luigi, the heir to and continuer of the Melani line.
Even in the last letter which the old castrato wrote to his relatives on 27th November 1713, just a month before dying, his unrequited love for Maria still caused him to sigh (Bibl. Marucelliana, Manoscritti Melani, 3, pp. 423-24):
When I read your letter of the 4th of this month, I felt I must be dreaming,
hearing that the Signora Connestabilessa is still at Pistoia.
"I felt I must be dreaming. . .": moving and unexpected words on the lips of an old man of nearly ninety at the very end of his life. Maria made him dream to the very end. Then he was seized by the fear that his beloved might suffer from boredom during her stay in his palace at Pistoia:
"f...] I don't know what amusement you could have provided her with, unless she allowed visits by those ladies [those of the Melani household] to play a game of hombre.
Maria had for years wandered throughout Italy, especially in Tuscany, often staying at Atto's home, while he was kept in France by the Sun King, who repeatedly rejected the old Abbot's requests to return a while to Pistoia. Atto could no longer bear the torment and was assailed by an overpowering desire to see his Connestabilessa again. He therefore decided, although he was already at the end of his strength, to journey to Versailles at the end of the winter, to go and beg the King in person:
Pray God that I may go to Versailles next April because I absolutely want to take my leave of the King in order to come to you, and intend to request two years' leave of absence.
But destiny proved to be against him. Atto did not survive the winter. He died in his house in Paris on 4th January 1714.
Two years earlier, in a letter dated 27th June 1712 (Bibl. Marucelliana, Manoscritti Melani, 3, pp. 407-8) we find Maria at Atto's house, on the farm of Castel Nuovo in the Pistoia countryside. Here too, the octogenarian Abbot cannot conceal the excitement this news causes him and announces that he is sending a rich dressing gown as a gift for his friend:
I am most moved to hear that the Signora Connestabilessa has deigned to return to Pistoia, and I do hope that, during the great heat which I understand you have been having there, you will have enjoyed much of the good air at Castel Nuovo. The heat in these parts is so excessive that it has passed 33 degrees on the thermometer. . . At the earliest possible opportunity, I shall be sending the Signora Connestabilessa a dressing gown of ordinary taffeta, which was delivered to me by Madame la Duchesse de Nevers and is of her invention, so that she may make use of it if she likes this fashion.
The Connestabilessa must by now have been at home with Atto's nephews: in a letter dated 3rd May 1712, the Grand Duke of Tuscany Cosimo III writes to Melani that she even went to see the Abbot's new-born great-nephew (Archivio di Stato di Firenze, Mediceo del Prin- cipato, filza 4813a):
I can tell you that the Signora Connestabilessa, who is in this city [i.e. Florence] heaped praises on your fine house and the villa you have in Pistoia, but far more so on the splendid little nephew whom God has bestowed on Your Worship, telling me that he looked like the little Child Jesus of Lucca.
In the same correspondence (Bibl. Marucelliana, Manoscritti Melani, 3, pp. respectively 148-49; 156-57; 192-93), there also appear the Be- zoar stone, useful against poison, and the little gold and silver seashell pill-box: Maria's two gifts which Atto has with him at Villa Spada:
Paris, 21th December 1694
Madama Colonna has sent me a very beautiful oriental Bezoar stone, as I had requested, to guard against the distempers with spotted fevers which have been prevalent around here during recent months.
Paris, 14th February 1695
Madama Colonna has sent me a stone which was given to the Queen Mother
and is almost as big as a hen's egg. It is priceless, being a real oriental stone, and all the Nuncios returning from Spain try to obtain these, since thq are highly regarded in cases of malignant fevers, as thq provoke sweating, and are against poisons. This stone is to be found in the body of an animal, and I have been promised a paper on its properties.
Paris, 14th January 1696
[. . . ] citron pastilles. Marchese Salviati gave me some of these in the past few days to put in a little gold and silver sea-shell which comes from the Indies, beautiful, as gorgeous as can be, and which was sent to me by Madama Colonna.
They were never to meet again, although in the end they seemed like a harmonious old couple. A fine walking stick of great value and cost, Atto writes proudly on 11th February 1697, was given him "by Madama Colonna, who paid eighty francs for it". He trusted her as he trusted no one else: when Maria recommended him medicinal remedies, the Abbot believed her so strongly as even to contradict his own nephews (7th December 1711).
Capitor, the portrait with the parrot, Virgilio Spada
The Bastard did in fact visit Paris in March 1659, bringing the madwoman Capitor in his retinue. It is also true that, immediately after this visit, Mazarin drastically changed his attitude towards Louis and Maria and did all in his power to separate them; no one has ever understood why.
The little song which Atto sings before Mazarin with Capitor is called "Passacalli della vita", by an anonymous author, published in Canzonette spirituali e morali, Milan, 1677.
The Still Life with a Globe and a Parrot by the Flemish painter Pieter Boel, which was among Capitor's gifts, is in Vienna at the Gemalde- galerie der Akademie fiir bildende Ktinste (inv. nr.757). Boel had only recently been living in Paris when Capitor's visit took place, and it is not surprising that he should have been able to paint the presents intended for Mazarin. The description in the book of the two marine deities depicted on the charger and of their strangely overlapping legs which do not seem to belong either to the one torso or the other, is completely faithful to the picture (visible on the Internet at the site: http://www. ruhr-uni-bochum.de/pressemitteilungen-2002/jpg00046.jpg).
The other depiction of Capitor's gifts (commissioned by the Bastard, according to Atto's tale) is a painting by Jan Davidszoon de Heem, formerly in the Koetser Collection and to be found today in the Kunsthaus at Zurich. It is interesting to note that this second painting contains the celestial globe (the counterpart of the terrestrial one given to Mazarin) and the goblet with a stem in the form of a centaur, but not the most important subject: the golden charger is half covered with a drapery, so that one can only see the team of sea horses drawing the chariot of Neptune and Amphitrite, while the two deities, the finest and most interesting part of the dish, are hidden. Might the intention perhaps have been to hide the secret of the Tetrachion?
The characters
The personal relations between Elpidio Benedetti and Abbot Melani are clearly established. Benedetti did in fact go to France in order to visit Vaux-Ie-Vicomte, the chateau of Nicolas Fouquet (cf. Di Castro Moscati, D., "Cabate Elpidio Benedetti", in Antologia di Belle Arti, new series, nos. 33-34, 1988, pp. 78-95), as affirmed by Atto in the book. In his will, Benedetti did leave the Abbot "four large oval-shaped pictures of marine scenes, in their frames carved from walnut and gold, and two other roundels, one of Galatea and the other of Europa, in their gilded frames, as well as a small picture of an idealised coronation of the present King of France when he was a boy, designed by Romanelli, like the other two above, together with a studioletto [a kind of bureau] in semi-precious stones [...], begging him to accept these as small mementos expressing my appreciation of the many
favours which he did me during my long stay in Paris". (Archivio di Stato di Roma, Trenta Notai Capitolini, uff. 30, notaio Thomas Octavianus, vol. 305, c.479v).
Secretum Page 93