POPE GANGANELLI (CLEMENT XIV)
Two men were walking up and down in the garden of the Quirinal, engagedin a lively discourse. One of them was an old man of more than sixtyyears. Long white locks waved about his forehead, falling like a halo onboth sides of his cheeks. An infinite mildness and clearness looked outfrom his dreamy eyes, and a smile of infinite kindness played about hismouth, but so full of sorrow and resignation that it filled one's heartwith sadness and his eyes with tears. His tall herculean form was bentand shrunken; age had broken it, but could not take away that noble anddignified expression which distinguished that old man and involuntarilyimpelled every one to reverence and a sort of adoration. To his friendsand admirers this old man seemed a super-terrestrial being, and often intheir enthusiasm they called him their Saviour, the again-visible Sonof God! The old man would smile at this, and say: "You are right in onerespect, I am indeed a son of God, as you all are, but when you compareme with our Saviour, it can only be to the crucified. I am, indeed, acrucified person like Him, and have suffered many torments. But I havealso overcome many."
And, when so speaking, there lay in his face an almost celestialclearness and joyfulness, which would impel one involuntarily to bowdown before him, had he not been, as he was, the vicegerent of God uponearth, the Pope Ganganelli.
The man who was now walking with him formed a singular contrast withthe mild, reverence-commanding appearance of the pope. He was a man offorty, with a wild, glowing-red face, whose eyes flashed with malice andrage, whose mouth gave evidence of sensuality and barbarity, and whoseform was more appropriate for a Vulcan than a prince of the Church. Andyet he was such, as was manifested by his dress, by the great cardinal'shat over his shoulder, and by the flashing cross of brilliants upon hisbreast. This cardinal was very well known, and whenever his name wasmentioned it was with secret curses, with a sign of the cross, and aprayer to God for aid in avoiding him, the terror of Rome, the CardinalAlbani.
Sighing and reluctantly had the pope finally resolved to have thecardinal near his person, that he might attempt by mild and gentlepersuasion to soften his stubborn disposition; but the cardinal hadreplied to all his gentle words only with a contemptuous shrug of theshoulders, with low murmured words, with a darkly clouded brow.
"It is in no one's power to change and make a new being of himself," hefinally said, in a harsh tone, as the pope continued his exhortationsand representations. "You, my blessed father, cannot convert yourselfinto a monster such as you describe me; and I, Cardinal Albani, cannotattain to the sublime godliness which we all admire in your holiness.Every one must walk in his own path, taking especial care not to disturbothers in theirs."
"But that is exactly what you do," gently replied Ganganelli. "All thestreets of Rome bear witness to it. Did you not yesterday, in one ofthose streets, with force and arms rescue a bandit from the hands ofjustice, and with your murderous dagger take the life of the servant ofthe law?"
"They wanted to lead one of my servants to death, who had done nothingmore than obey my commands," vehemently responded the cardinal. "Iliberated him from their hands as was natural; and if some of the_sbirri_ were killed in the encounter, that was their fault. Why didthey not voluntarily give up their prisoner and then run away?"
"And was it really your command that this bandit fulfilled?" asked thepope, shuddering. "You know he killed a young nobleman, the pride andhope of his family, and was caught in the act, which he did not attemptto deny?"
"That young nobleman had mocked and made a laughing-stock of me in apublic company," calmly replied the cardinal; "hence it was natural thathe must die. Revenge is the first duty of man, and whoever neglects totake it is dishonored!"
"And such men dare to call themselves Christians!" exclaimed Ganganelli,with uplifted arms--"and such men call themselves priests of thereligion of love!"
"I am a priest of love!" said Albani.
"But of what love?" responded the pope, with an appearance ofagitation--"the priest of a wild, beastly passion, of a rough animalinclination. You know nothing of the soft and silent love that ennoblesthe heart and strengthens it for holy resolutions; which inculcatesvirtue and decency, and lifts up the eyes to heaven--of that lovewhich is full of consolation and blessed hope, and desires nothing foritself."
"God save me from such a love!" said the cardinal, crossing himself."When I love, I desire much, and of virtue and perfection there is,thank God, no question."
"Repent, amend, Francesco," said the pope. "I promised your uncle, thevery worthy Cardinal Alessandro Albani, once more to attempt the courseof mildness, and exhort you to return to the path of virtue. Ah, couldyou have seen the poor old man, with tears streaming from his blindeyes--tears of sorrow for you, whom he called his lost son!"
"My uncle did very wrong so to weep," said the cardinal. "Blind as hewas he yet kept a mistress. How, then, can he wonder that I, who cansee, kept several? Two eyes see more than none; that is natural!"
"But do you, then, so wholly forget your solemn oath of chastity andvirtue?" excitedly exclaimed the pope. "Look upon the cross that coversyour breast, and fall upon your knees to implore the pardon of God."
"This cross was laid upon my breast when I was yet a boy," gloomilyresponded the cardinal; "the fetters were attached to me before I hadthe strength to rend them; my will was not asked when this stone waslaid upon my breast! Now I ask not about your will when I seek, underthis weight, to breathe freely as a man! And, thank God, this weight hasnot crushed my heart--my heart, that yet glows with youthful freshness,and in which love has found a lurking-hole which your cross cannot fillup. And in this lurking-hole now dwells a charming, a wonderful woman,whom Rome calls the queen of song, and whom I call the queen of beautyand love! All the world adjudges her the crown of poesy, and only yourefuse it to her."
"Again this old complaint!" said the pope, with a slight contraction ofhis brow. "You again speak of her--"
"Of Corilla," interposed the cardinal--"yes of Corilla I speak, of thatheavenly woman whom all the world admires; to whose beautiful versesphilosophers and poets listen with breathless delight, and who welldeserves that you should reward her as a queen by bestowing upon her thepoetic crown!"
"I crown a Corilla!" mockingly exclaimed the pope. "Shall a Corilladesecrate the spot hallowed by the feet of Tasso and Petrarch? No, Isay, no; when art becomes the plaything of a courtesan, then may thesacred Muses veil their heads and mourn in silence, but they must notdegrade themselves by throwing away the crown which the best and noblestwould give their heart's blood to obtain. This Corilla may bribe youpoor earthly fools with her smiles and amorous verses, but she will notbe able to deceive the Muses!"
"You refuse me, then, the crowning of the renowned improvisatriceCorilla?" asked the cardinal, with painfully suppressed rage.
"I refuse it!"
"And why, then, did you send for me?" exclaimed the cardinal withvehemence. "Was it merely to mock me?"
"It was for the purpose of warning you, my son!" mildly responded thepope. "For even the greatest forbearance must at length come to anend; and when I am compelled to forget that you are Alessandro Albani'snephew, I shall then only have to remember that you are the criminalFrancesco Albani, whom all the world condemns, and whom I must judge!Repent and reform, my son, while there is yet time; and, above allthings, renounce this love, which heaps new disgrace upon your familyand overwhelms your relatives with sorrow and anxiety!"
"Renounce Corilla!" cried the cardinal. "I tell you I love her, I adoreher, this heavenly, beautiful woman! How can you ask me to renounceher?"
"Nevertheless I do demand it," said the pope with solemnity, "demand itin the name of your father, in the name of God, against whose holy lawsyou have sinned--you, His consecrated priest."
"But that is an impossibility!" passionately exclaimed Francesco. "Onemust bear a heart of stone in his bosom to require it; and that you cando so only proves that you have never known what it is to love!"
"And that I can do so
should prove to you that I have indeed known it,my son!" sadly responded the pope.
"Whoever has known love knows that there can be no renunciation!"
"And whoever has known love can renounce!" exclaimed the pope, withanimation. "Listen to me, my son, and may the sad story of a shorthappiness and long expiation serve you as a warning example! You thinkI cannot have known love? Ah, I tell you I have experienced all its joysand all its sorrows--that in the intoxication of rapture I once forgotmy vows, my duties, my holy resolutions, and, doubly criminal, I alsotaught her whom I loved to forget her own sacred duties and to sin! Ah,you call me a saint, and yet I have been the most abject of sinners!Under this Franciscan vesture beat a tempestuous, fiery heart thatderided God and His laws; a heart that would have given my soul to theevil one, had he promised to give me in exchange the possession of mybeloved! She was beautiful, and of a heavenly disposition; and hence,when she passed through the aisles of the church, with her slight fairyform, her angelic face veiled by her long dark locks, her eyes beamingwith love and pleasure, a heavenly smile playing about her lips--ah,when she thus passed through the church, her feet scarcely touching thefloor, then I, who awaited her in the confessional, felt myself nearlyfrantic with ecstasy, my brain turned, my eyes darkened, there was abuzzing in my ears, and I attempted to implore the aid and support ofGod."
"You should have appealed to Cupid!" said the cardinal, laughing. "Insuch a case aid could come only from the god of ancient Rome, not of themodern!"
The old man noticed not his words. Wholly absorbed in his reminiscences,he listened only to the voice of his own breast, saw only the form ofthe beautiful woman he had once so dearly loved!
"God listened not to my fervent prayers," he continued, with a sigh, "orperhaps my stormily beating heart heard not the voice of God, because Ilistened only to her; because with intoxicated senses I was listeningto the modest, childishly pure confession which she, kneeling in theconfessional, was whispering in my ears; because I felt her breathupon my cheeks and in every trembling nerve of my being. And one day,overcome by his glowing passion, the monk so far forgot his sworn dutyas to confess his immodest and insane love for the wife of another man!"
"Ah, she was, then, married?" remarked the cardinal.
"Yes, she was married; sold by her own parents, sacrificed at the shrineof mammon, married to a man whom she did not and could not love, and whopursued her with an insane jealousy. Ah, she suffered and suffered withthe uncomplaining calmness of an angel. And I, did I not also suffer? Wewept together, we complained together, until our hearts at length forgotcomplaining, and an unspeakable, a terrible happiness, made us forgetour troubles. I had forgotten all--my God, my clerical vows; she alsohad forgotten all--her husband, her vow of fidelity; and if a thought ofthese things sometimes intruded upon our moments of happiness, it onlycaused us to plunge into new delights, and to lull ourselves anew into ablessed forgetfulness!"
"And the good, jealous husband remarked nothing?" asked the cardinal.
"He remarked nothing! He loved me, he confided in me, he called me hisfriend; and when he was compelled to take a long journey, he confided tome his house and his wife, establishing me as the guard of her virtue!"
The cardinal broke out into loud laughter. "These good husbands," saidhe, "they are all alike to a hair. Every one has a friend in whom heconfides, and it is that very friend who betrays him. They must allfulfil their destinies, these good husbands! Relate further, holyfather! Your story is very entertaining. I am curious to hear the end!"
"The end was terrible, replete with horror and shame," said the pope."We lived blessed days, heavenly nights. Oh, we were so happy that wehardly had a thought for our criminality, but only for our love. Onenight there was a knocking at the closed door of the house, and weshudderingly recognized the voice of the husband demanding admission."
"And you were not at all in a situation to grant it to him," laughinglyinterposed the cardinal. "He might, perhaps, have been not a littleastonished, this good husband, that you watched by night as well as byday the temple of his wedded happiness."
"With tears of anguish and terror she conjured me to fly, to save herfrom the derision of the world and the anger of her husband. She led meto a secret stairway, and I, like a madman pursued by the furies, washastening to descend, when my foot slipped and I fell down the stairswith a loud clattering noise. I felt the blood oozing from my breastand pouring from my mouth in a warm stream--my limbs pained mefrightfully--but I picked myself up and with extremest suffering fledto my cloister, when, having reached my cell, I fell senseless. A longillness now confined me to my bed and tortured my body with frightfulpains; but far more frightful were the tortures of my soul, morefrightful the voices that day and night whispered to me of my crime andguiltiness! My conscience was fully awakened; it spoke to me in a voiceof thunder, and like a worm I turned upon my bed of pain, imploring ofGod a little mercy for the torments that burned my brain! This time Godpermitted Himself to be found by me; I heard his voice, saying: 'Go andrepent, and thy sins shall be forgiven thee! Shake off the sinfulnessthat weighs upon thy head, and peace will return to thy bosom.' I heardthis voice of God, and wept with repentant sorrow. I vowed to obey andreconcile myself to God by renouncing my love and never again seeing itsobject! It was a great sacrifice, but God demanded it, and I obeyed!"
"That is, this sickness had restored you from intoxication to sobriety;you were tired of your mistress!"
"I had, perhaps, never loved her more warmly, more intensely, than inthose dreadful hours when I was struggling with my poor tortured heartand imploring God for strength to renounce her and separate myself fromher forever. But God was merciful and aided my weakness with His ownstrength. Letters came from her, and I had the cruel courage to readthem; I had condemned myself to do it as an expiation, and while I readher soft complainings, her love-sorrows, I felt in my heart the samesorrows, the same disconsolate wretchedness; tears streamed from myeyes, and I flayed my breast with my nails in utter despair! Ah, at suchmoments how often did I forget God and my repentance; how often didI press those letters to my lips and call my beloved by the tenderestnames; my whole soul, my whole being flew to her, and, forgetting all,all, I wanted to rush to her presence, fall down at her feet, and beblessed only through her, even if my eternal salvation was thereby lost!But what was it, what then restrained my feet, what suddenly arrestedthose words of insane passion upon my lips and irresistibly drew medown upon my knees to pray? It was God, who then announced Himself tome--God, who called me to Himself--God, who finally gave me strength tounderstand my love and always leave her letters unanswered until theyfinally ceased to come--until her complaints, which, however, hadconsoled me, were no longer heard! The sacrifice was made, God acceptedit, my sin was expiated, and I was glad, for my heart was foreverbroken, and never, since then, has a smile of happiness played uponmy lips. But in my soul has it become tranquil and serene, God dwellsthere, and within me is a peace known only to those who have struggledand overcome, who have expiated their sins with a free will and flayedbreast."
"And your beloved, what became of her?" asked the cardinal. "Did shepardon your treason, and console herself in the arms of another?"
"In the arms of death!" said Ganganelli, with a low voice. "My silenceand my apparent forgetfulness of her broke her heart; she died of grief,but she died like a saint, and her last words were: 'May God forgivehim, as I do! I curse him not, but bless him, rather; for through himam I released from the burden of this life, and all sorrow is overcome!'She therefore died in the belief of my unfaithfulness; she did, indeed,pardon me, but yet she believed me a faithless betrayer! And theconsciousness of this was to me a new torment and a penance which Ishall suffer forever and ever! This is the story of my love," continuedGanganelli, after a short silence. "I have truly related it to you asit is. May you, my son, learn from it that, when we wish to do right, wecan always succeed, in spite of our own hearts and sinful natures, andthat with God's help we can overcome all a
nd suffer all. You see thatI have loved, and nevertheless had strength to renounce. But it was Godwho gave me this strength, God alone! Turn you, also, to God; pray toHim to destroy in you your sinful love; and, if you implore Him with theright words, and with the right fervor, then will God be near you withHis strength, and in the pains of renunciation will He purify your soul,preparing it for virtue and all that is good!"
"And do you call that virtue?" asked the cardinal. "May Heaven preserveme from so cruel a virtue! Do you call it serving God when this virtuemakes you the murderer of your beloved, and, more savage than a wildbeast, deaf to the amorous complaints of a woman whom you had led intolove and sin, whose virtue you sacrificed to your lust, and whom youafterward deserted because, as you say, God called to yourself,but really only, because satiated, you no longer desired her. Yourfaithfulness cunningly clothes itself in the mantle of godliness,nothing further. No, no, holy father of Christendom, I envy you not thisvirtue which has made you the murderer of God's noblest work. That is asacrilege committed in the holy temple of nature. Go your way, and thinkyourself great in your bloodthirsty, murderous virtue! You will notconvert me to it. Let me still remain a sinner--it at least will notlead me to murder the woman I love, and provide for her torment andsuffering, instead of the promised pleasure. Believe me, Corilla hasnever yet cursed me, nor have her fine eyes ever shed a tear of sorrowon my account. You have made your beloved an unwilling saint andmartyr--possibly that may have been very sublime, and the angels mayhave wept or rejoiced over it. I have lavished upon my beloved onesnothing but earthly happiness. I have not made them saints, but onlyhappy children of this world; and even when they have ceased to love me,they have always continued to call me their friend, and blessed me formaking them rich and happy. You have set of crown of thorns upon thehead of your beloved, I would bind a laurel-crown upon the beautifulbrow of my Corilla, which will not wound her head, and will not causeher to die of grief. You are not willing to aid me in this, my work?You refuse me this laurel-wreath because you have only martyr-crowns todispose of? Very well, holy father of Christendom, I will neverthelesscompel you to comply with my wishes, and you shall have no peace in yourholy city from my mad tricks until you promise me to crown the greatimprovisatrice in the capitol. Until then, _addio_, holy father ofChristendom. You will not see me again in the Vatican or Quirinal, butall Rome shall ring with news of me!"
With a slight salutation, and without waiting for an answer from thepope, the cardinal departed with hasty steps, and soon his herculeanform disappeared in the shadow of the pine and olive trees. But his loudand scornful laugh long resounded in the distance.