This was no election, but a comedy. Even the pretexts which Albani devised when they told him that he was about to become pope seem somehow improbable. He said he was assailed by qualms of conscience; that perhaps he would be unable to accept, and that he did not feel up to the task. The other day, he even became unwell and took to his bed, apparently throwing up, with traces of bile in his vomit. Yesterday, he got up again but, amidst tears, said that he would be unable to accept. One can see from a mile off that this is all put on, everyone says so. As an old lion of politics, he wants to be begged to be pope, to pass himself off as a modest man and thus to silence his critics. He knows perfectly well that everywhere they are already carving portrait busts of him in pontifical garb, and on the fagades of churches and public buildings, his family arms are already appearing. At Saint Peter's, the stage for the ceremony of investiture has already been set up; the arms of the Albani have already been carved on the chair on which the new pope will be borne into the basilica.
At this juncture, in order to put an end to the hypocritical refusal, Albani has consulted four theologians who have patiently illustrated for him the ratio precipua that obliges him to accept the tiara, and today the election has been made public.
25th November
At six in the evening, a courier arrived at the Spanish Embassy with the second great tidings.
A few hours after the death of the Catholic King of Spain, his will was opened and read: as successor to the Spanish throne, it designated Philip of Anjou, the second son of the French Dauphin and grandson of the Most Christian King. The news was kept secret until the 10th, when Louis XIV at Versailles officially accepted the will. It seems he exclaimed with satisfaction: ' Il n'y a plus de Pyrenees!'''' It is true, the Pyrenees no longer bar the way to Madrid: the whole Spanish monarchy will now pass into French hands.
The Spanish Ambassador, the Duke of Uzeda, immediately brought the news to the Pope, even going so far as to wake him up. The Pontiff was so delighted that he awarded Uzeda's Maestro di Cappella a benefice as canon at Valladolid.
But knots do not dissolve, they get caught up in the teeth of the comb. It is already being bruited abroad that the Empire does not accept the verdict and is threatening to send its armies to Italy, in order to take over the Spanish possessions in the peninsula. France cannot stand by without reacting. The fuse of war has been lit.
I alone in the city see the concealed and unsavoury links between the facts. The bargain was clear: Louis XIV had promised Albani the papacy. As a quid pro quo, he wanted his grandson on the Spanish throne.
Atto, Buvat and Maria had provided the signature for a forged will. However, in the months leading up to his death, Charles had asked Innocent XII to mediate, and from his request it was quite clear that he had no intention of designating a Frenchman as his heir. It was therefore necessary to send him an answer which did not give away the conspiracy which was taking shape; one that, on the contrary, played into the conspirators' hands. Spada, Spinola and Albani had seen to this. They had prepared a suitable answer in which — instead of responding to the request for mediation — Charles II was advised to appoint outright as his successor a grandson of the Most Christian King. This way, when the false will was opened in Spain, no one would be surprised that Charles should have chosen a Frenchman: even the Pope had recommended him so to do… The two forgeries, the opinion and the will, were in fact so designed as to corroborate one another. Once the opinion had been drawn up, the three cardinals had experienced no difficulty in assuming the authority of the Pontiff and had obtained the task of replying to the Spanish Sovereign's request.
Counterfeiting the missive from the Pope was all too simple: he in fact never signed letters or wrote in person to princes and sovereigns. These, he dictated to a secretary and then had sealed by a cardinal. It is no accident that Albani, now that he has become Pope, should have put an end to this custom. He has already proclaimed that, in order to be both humble and expeditious, he will personally draft and sign all the most important documents…
And where do I stand in all this? By following Atto, I had become a pawn in these very games. Without being a cardinal, I too had made the new Pope.
But above all, this had been the work of Abbot Melani. Thanks to his rows with Albani during the festivities at Villa Spada, Atto had succeeded in cancelling out the only shadow over that Cardinal's person: his reputation as a Francophile.
That explained why, when I asked Atto how he dared scandalise the company with his shameless speeches, he had not answered me. The fact is that he had to appear in the guise of a fanatical Francophile, while Albani, by quarrelling with him, was meant to gain himself the reputation of a man above all factions. So, it had worked out. And from that play-acting, there had emerged the new Holy Father.
Thus, Atto had pulled off his wager. As he had announced at the outset, he had succeeded in leaving his decisive mark on the destiny of the papacy. What was more, he had succeeded in doing so before the conclave even began.
It was no accident that Albani should have chosen to be pope under the name Clement XI: was not Clement IX the Pope whose election Atto boasted he had arranged thirty years previously?
Abbot Melani had not then lied to me. He had also come to Rome for the election of the new pontiff. What he had told me at the outset had seemed to me a pack of lies, but now turned out to be true. Yet, no one in his place could have simultaneously manipulated both the Spanish succession and the conclave, navigating between the King of France, Maria Mancini and the thousand dangers which we had faced together. He, this shrivelled old man, had accomplished just that.
March 1702
Maria Mancini was right: it had all been pointless.
As I pen these lines, Italy has for the past year been the scene of a horrible war which will soon spread everywhere. The astrologers have announced that the conjunction of Mars and Jupiter this month presages many battles and calamities.
Last spring, the Empire invaded the north-west, advancing on the Grand Duchy of Milan. In July, the French led by Catinat, a mediocre general, were defeated at Carpi and had to abandon their positions between the Adige and the Mincio. The Austrians then crossed the Po and seized the fortress of Mirandola. They were not even stopped by the entry into the war of Piedmont and the French squadrons of the Marechal de Villeroy, who was taken prisoner at Verona. Events were not turned around until the arrival of Vendome. He fielded eighty thousand fresh and well-equipped troops, regained Modena and saved Mantua and Milan, while the Austrian forces were tired and their reserves used up. At this point, it is possible that by opening up a passage through the passes of Tyrol, the French may advance on Bavaria and join up with their army of the Rhine to move against Vienna and strike a mortal blow at the Empire.
Not even this, however, can bring the war to an end. France is on the point of being attacked by England and Holland, who cannot wait to see her humbled: the Most Christian King has deceived them. He had signed with them a treaty for the partition of the immense Spanish monarchy; then, instead, using Charles II's will, he grabbed everything for himself, reneging on his agreements. Thus, the conflict will soon spread to every corner of the continent.
Curiously, the hero of this war has Italian blood in his veins. He is Prince Eugene of Savoy, the son of the Duke of Savoy and a woman whom by now I know well from Atto's account: Olimpia Mancini, Maria's terrible sister.
Prince Eugene should have become a Frenchman, but when he was still very young, Louis XIV neglected and humiliated him, causing him to leave his kingdom. He placed himself at the Emperor's service and has now become the greatest general of all time. At France's expense. Ah, Silvio, Silvio…
The Connestabilessa thus proves to have really been the woman of destiny: Eugene, her nephew, dominates the conflict which will decide the fate of the world. Her evil sister Olimpia has thus at last found an outlet for her malignity: her son is the military genius who sows terror wherever he turns.
As at every decisive turning point in history, prophecies are coming true. Maria Mancini's father had read in her horoscope that she would be the cause of tumults, rebellions and even a war. He had seen rightly: if the young King had married her and not the Spanish Infanta, he could not have laid claim to the succession of Charles II. And
