Hence the idea that I might sell Bianco not only a few scraps of gossip I had picked up here and there, but an entire document taken from the Jesuits. Obviously, I’d have to change a few details, removing Father Rodin, whom somebody would probably remember as a fictional character, and bringing in Father Bergamaschi, wherever he may be, though someone in Turin might well have heard mention of him. Also, the superior general of the order was Father Roothaan when Sue was writing, whereas a certain Father Beckx was now said to have taken over.
The document would have to seem like an almost word-for-word transcript of information passed on by a reliable informer, and the informer should not appear as a spy (since it is well known that the Jesuits never betray the Society) but rather as an old friend of my grandfather who had confided these matters to him as proof of the greatness and power of his order.
I’d have liked to have included the Jews in the story, as a tribute to my grandfather, but Sue made no mention of them and I could find no way of fitting them in with the Jesuits—and anyway, the Jews in Piedmont were then of little importance to anyone. It is better not to fill the heads of government agents with too much information. All they want is clear, simple ideas—black and white, good and bad, and there must be only one villain.
Still, I didn’t want to leave the Jews completely out of it, so I used them for the setting. All the same, it was a way of arousing suspicion in Bianco’s mind about the Jews.
An event set in Paris—or, worse still, in Turin—could, I thought, have been checked out. I had to bring my Jesuits together in a place out of the reach of the Piedmont secret service, about which even they had only apocryphal news. The Jesuits, however, were everywhere—the Lord’s octopuses, with their tentacles coiling out even into Protestant countries.
Anyone falsifying documents must always be well informed, which is why I used to spend time in libraries. Libraries are fascinating places: sometimes you feel you are under the canopy of a railway station, and when you read books about exotic places there’s a feeling of traveling to distant lands.
This is how I came across a book with some fine engravings of the Jewish cemetery at Prague. Now abandoned, the cemetery had almost twelve thousand gravestones in a very cramped area, but there must have been far more burials, because many layers of earth had been added over the course of several centuries. Once the cemetery had been abandoned, someone had lifted a few of the buried stones, with their inscriptions, so as to create an irregular mass of gravestones leaning in all directions (or perhaps the Jews themselves had dug them up, without any consideration, uninterested as they are in beauty and order).
The abandoned site seemed appropriate, not least for its incongruity. By what cunning had the Jesuits decided to gather in a place that had been sacred to the Jews? And what control did they have over this place that was forgotten by everyone, and perhaps inaccessible? All questions without an answer, which would have given credibility to the story, since I reckoned Bianco would be firmly convinced that when all the facts appear fully explainable and likely, the story is false.
As a faithful reader of Dumas, I felt a certain pleasure in describing that night, and that dark and fearful company, with that burial ground, sparsely lit by a deathly pale crescent moon, and the Jesuits massed in a semicircle so that, when seen from above in their flowing black robes, the ground would appear as if it were crawling with cockroaches—or, there again, describing Father Beckx’s devilish leer as he proclaimed the sinister designs of these enemies of humanity (and my father’s ghost would rejoice from the heavens above—I mean from the depths of hell, where the Almighty probably casts Mazzinians and republicans), and then describing the vile messengers as they dispersed, like evil crows flying away into the pallid dawn, carrying news to all their various houses about the new and diabolical plan to conquer the world, and so bringing to an end that fiendish night.
… or, there again, describing Father Beckx’s devilish leer as he proclaimed the sinister designs of these enemies of humanity (and my father’s ghost would rejoice from the heavens above—I mean from the depths of hell, where the Almighty probably casts Mazzinians and republicans).
But I had to be succinct and to the point, as is fitting for a secret report, since it is well known that police agents are not great readers and can handle no more than two or three pages.
My presumed informant therefore described how the Society’s representatives from various countries had gathered in Prague that night to hear Father Beckx, and how he had presented Father Bergamaschi, who through a series of providential circumstances had become an adviser to Napoleon III.
Father Bergamaschi told of how Louis Napoleon Bonaparte demonstrated his submissiveness to the Society’s orders.
«We must,» he said, «admire the cunning with which Bonaparte has deceived the revolutionaries by pretending to support their doctrines, and his skill in conspiring against Louis Philippe, bringing about the fall of that godless government, and his trust in our counsel, when in 1848 he presented himself as a true republican, so as to be elected president of the republic. Nor should it be forgotten how he helped to destroy Mazzini’s Roman Republic and restore the Holy Father to his throne.
«Napoleon,» Bergamaschi continued, «had sought once and for all to destroy the socialists, revolutionaries, philosophers, atheists and all those vile rationalists who espouse national sovereignty, free inquiry and religious, political and social freedom. He had sought to dissolve the legislative assembly, to arrest the representatives of the people on allegations of conspiracy, to decree a state of siege in Paris, to shoot without trial those bearing arms at the barricades, to ship the most dangerous figures to Cayenne, to crush freedom of association and of the press, to send the army into its fortresses and then to bombard the capital, reducing it to ashes, until no stone was left standing, and thereby bringing victory to the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church on the ruins of modern Babylon. Then he had called upon the people by universal suffrage to extend his presidential power for ten years, and afterward transformed the republic back into an empire, universal suffrage being the only remedy against democracy because it includes the rural populations still loyal to the voice of their priests.»
Most interesting of all was what Bergamaschi had to say in conclusion about their policy toward Piedmont. Here I got him to set out the Society’s future intentions, though by the time I was compiling the report, these had already been fully realized.
«That faint-hearted king, Vittorio Emanuele, dreams about the Kingdom of Italy, his minister Cavour encourages his ambitions, and both of them seek not only to drive Austria from the peninsula but also to destroy the temporal power of the Holy Father. They will look to France for support, so it will be easy to drag them first into a war against Russia by promising to help them against Austria, but asking at the same time for Savoy and Nice in exchange. Then the emperor will pretend to help Piedmont but—after some insignificant local victory—will sue for peace with the Austrians without consulting them, and will promote the formation of an Italian confederation presided over by the pope, which Austria will join while keeping the rest of its possessions in Italy. In this way Piedmont, the only liberal government on the peninsula, will remain subject both to France and to Rome and will be controlled by French troops occupying Rome or garrisoned in Savoy.»
This was the document. I didn’t know how much the Piedmont government would appreciate the accusation that Napoleon III was an enemy of the Kingdom of Piedmont, but I had already sensed what experience would confirm—that men in the secret service find it useful to have some document they can use (even if they don’t produce it immediately) to blackmail government officials, create confusion or upset the course of events.
Bianco read the report with great care, looked up from what he had been reading, fixed me in the eye and said it was material of the greatest importance. Once again, he had confirmed my view that when a spy sells something entirely new, all he need do is recount something you could find in any secondhand book stall.
But even though Bianco didn’t know much about literature, he knew plenty about me, and he added with a sly expression, «All this stuff you’ve invented, of course.»
«I beg your pardon!» I said, sounding scandalized.
He raised his hand to stop me. «Not to worry, Avvocato Simonini. Even if this document is all your own handiwork, it suits me and my superiors to present it to the government as genuine. You will be aware—since it is widely known—that our minister Cavour was convinced he had Napoleon III in his power, all because he’d sent Contessa Castiglione to be his, shall we say, companion. She is without question a beautiful woman, and the Frenchman enjoyed her favors without needing to be asked twice. But it’s clear now that Napoleon is not prepared to
