‘Who is that?’ was the eager question I received in each case.
‘You will see in the next scrutiny. Unless you stand firm, and refuse to accede, you will have a Jesuit Pope.’
This threat was necessary, because when a candidate obtains so large a proportion of votes as to make his election seem certain at the next ballot, it is a very usual thing for the supporters of the beaten candidates to go over at once, in order to have the credit of voting for the new Pope.
The next scrutiny was taken. The name of Salvatierra came out high upon the list, wanting only four votes of the two-thirds majority. The Franciscan and Dominican Cardinals stood firm. But the unsuspecting Archbishop of Venice, who did not dream that his own candidature was anything but a side manœuvre, earnestly implored his own few supporters to accede to Salvatierra, and thus complete the election of a Pope.
Fortunately I had anticipated this action on his part, and had obtained the most binding pledges from the few Cardinals I had won over. There was no election, and Salvatierra returned to his cell, unable to conceal his mortification.
‘Luigi,’ he said to me that night, ‘you have seen how things are going. Against my will I am destined to receive the tiara. This places us both in a different position. You have done your best to serve the personage who desired me to take you into my service, and it is not your fault that you have failed to secure the election of a pro-Italian Cardinal. Now I can place it in your power to achieve the same end by another means. If you will give me the King’s votes in the next ballot, I will pledge myself to negotiate in a friendly and liberal spirit for the settlement of the differences between the Papacy and the Kingdom.’
‘Your Eminence can escape from the burden of the triple crown,’ I replied, with affected simplicity, ‘by causing your own supporters to accede to any one of the other candidates.’
‘You mean to Cardinal Sarto,’ his Eminence retorted. ‘You do not suppose that my friends would elect a Dominican or Franciscan puppet? Let me warn you, my dear Signor Luigi, or Monsieur V——, that the Cardinal on whom your master places his reliance, is not strong enough to carry out the reconciliation you desire. Giuseppe Sarto is a saint, not a statesman.’
I felt there was some truth in this warning, but I had my instructions, and I could not in this case look beyond them. I promised to weigh his Eminence’s words, and retired to sound the feeling of the Conclave.
I found that the election was already virtually decided. The extraordinary leap upward of Salvatierra, following on my warning, had convinced the two Mendicant Orders of their danger. They had communicated their own fears and suspicions to the rest of the College, and the fatal whisper—‘The Jesuit candidate’—had already run round the Conclave. The two Orders having agreed to withdraw their champions, there remained only one candidate in the field.