*CHAPTER XVI*
*THE CONCLAVE*
A vast concourse surrounded the portals of the Vatican. It seemed as ifthe entire population of Rome, from the Porta del Popolo to theColiseum, from the baths of Diocletian to Castel San Angelo, hadassembled by appointment in the Piazza of St. Peter. For so dense wasthe multitude, that its pressure filled the adjacent thoroughfares, thecrowds clinging round columns, winding along the broken outlines of thewalls, and grouping themselves among the ruins of temples and fallenporticoes.
The eyes of all were fixed upon that wing of the pontifical palace wherethe Conclave, hurriedly convoked, was assembled, and as Gregory V hadnow been dead sixteen days, the cardinals were proceeding with theelection of a new Pope. Never possibly, from the hour when the firstsuccessor of St. Peter mounted the throne of the Apostle, had there beenexhibited so much unrest and disquietude as there was in this instanceto be observed among the masses. The rumour that Gregory had died ofpoison had proved true, and the Romans had been seized with a strangefear, urging all ranks towards the Vatican or Monte Cavallo, accordingas the scarlet assembly held its sittings in one place or another.During the temporary interregnum, the Cardinal of Sienna, president ofthe Apostolic Chamber, had assumed the pontifical authority.
For three days the eyes of the Romans had been fixed upon a chimney inthe Vatican, whence the first signal should issue, proclaiming theresult of the pending election. Yet at the hour when the Ave Mariaannounced the close of day, a small column of smoke, ascending like afleecy cloud of vapour to the sky, had been the only reward for theiranxiety, and with cries mingled with shouts of menace, discordantmurmurs of raillery and laughter the crowds had each day dispersed. Forthe smoke announced that the Romans were still without a Pontiff, thatthe ballot-list had been burnt, and that the Sacred College had not yetchosen a successor to Gregory.
The day had been spent in anxious expectation. Hour passed after hour,without a sign either to destroy or to excite the hope, when the firststroke of five was heard. Slowly the bells tolled the hour, every notefalling on the hearts of the people, whose anxious gaze was fixed on thechimney of the Vatican. The last stroke sounded; its vibrations faintlyfading on the silent air of dusk, when a thunderous clamour, echoingfrom thousands of throats, shook the Piazza of St. Peter, succeeded by adeath-like silence of expectation as with a voice, loud and penetrating,Cardinal Colonna, who had stepped out upon the balcony, announced to thebreathless thousands:
"I announce to you tidings of great joy: Gerbert of Aurillac, Archbishopof Rheims, Bishop of Ravenna and Vice-Chancellor of the Church, has beenelected to the exalted office of Pontiff and has ascended the chair ofSt. Peter under the name of Sylvester II."
As the Cardinal finished his announcement a monk in the grey habit ofthe Penitent friars was seen to pale and to totter, as if he were aboutto fall. Declining the aid of those endeavouring to assist him hestaggered through the crowds, covering his face with his arms and wassoon lost to sight.
The thunderous applause at the welcome tidings was followed by sighs ofrelief, as the people retired to their houses and hovels. The place,where a few minutes before a nation seemed collected, was againdeserted, save for a few groups, composed of such whom curiosity mightdetain or others who, residing in the immediate neighbourhood, were lesseager to depart. Even these imperceptibly diminished, and when the hourof eight was repeated from cloisters and convents, the lights in thehouses gradually disappeared, save in one window of the Vatican, whencea lamp still shed its fitful light through the nocturnal gloom.
*Book the Second*
*The Sorceress*
"As I came through the desert, thus it was As I came through the desert: I was twain; Two selves distinct, that cannot join again. One stood apart and knew but could not stir, And watched the other stark in swoon and her; And she came on and never turned aside, Between such sun and moon and roaring tide: And as she came more near, My soul grew mad with fear." --_James Thomson_.