VI

He spent the first day at Castel Gandolfo in the garden, writing, enjoying the loveliness of late spring. He produced a score of sheets of swiftly-scribbled manuscript bristling with emendations. The second day He summoned Cardinal Courtleigh directly after breakfast; and addressed him with some formality.

“We desire to establish relations with Your Eminency, chiefly because You hold so responsible a position in England, a country dear above all countries to Us which We design to treat with singular favour. In pursuance of Our intention, and of Our desire, certain matters must be defined. If Our words are unpleasing, Your Eminency must take them in the light of Our said intention and desire.”

The cardinal put on his cardinalitial mask. He was to hear and to note this rash young man. If anything needed to be said, he was there to say it.

“It is Our wish to make England ‘a people prepared for The Lord.’ We will attempt it of the whole world; and for this reason We begin with the race which dominates the world. We find Ourself impeded at the outset by the present habitude and conduct of English Catholics, especially of the aboriginal English Catholics.”

At this unexpected fulguration, this feline scratch, the cardinalitial eyebrows shot upward with a jerk and horizontally came down again. His Eminency slightly bowed, and attended. The Pope fingered a volume of cuts from English newspapers: selected a cut; and continued,

“Kindly let Us have your opinion of this statement:⁠—‘A remarkable petition has been prepared for presentation to Parliament. The petitioners are the Roman Catholic laity resident in England; and they pray Parliament to set up some control over Roman Catholic moneys and interests. It is pointed out that the total capital invested in the Roman Catholic clergy in the United Kingdom must amount to nearly £50,000,000. It is alleged that no account is afforded by the Roman Catholic bishops of the management or disbursements of such property and moneys. And the petitioners also call attention to gross injustices which are of daily occurrence.’ ”

“That emanated from a priest of my archdiocese, Holiness. It was a terrible scandal: but we were successful in preventing it from spreading.”

“Then there was such a petition? At first, We were prepared to ascribe it to the imagination of one of Sir Notyet Apeer’s young men. And really were there many supporters of the petition?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Then you have rebellion within the camp. And was there any ground for these statements?”

“There was no ground whatever for the insinuation that we habitually misuse our trusteeship. The man had a grievance. His agitation was merely a means to compel us to solace him. He trusted, by making himself unpleasant to us, to make us pleasant to him. So he attacked our financial arrangements. It was a wicked stroke: for, you know, Holy Father, that we cannot be expected to account to any Tom-Dick-and-Harry for bequests and endowments which we administer.”

“Your accounts are properly audited, no doubt?”

“To a great extent, yes.”

“But not invariably? You trust much to the honesty and the financial ability of individual clerks? We do not presume for a moment that there is any systematic malversation of trust. You have had a lesson on that subject.”

“Lesson?”

“Yes: in 1886: after the notorious Carvale Case, when the infatuated imbecility of the Gaelic and Pictish bishops was shown to render them undesirable as trustees, the clergy simply dare not stray into illegal paths. Oh no. But are the clergy actually capable of financial administration?”

“As capable, I suppose, as other men.”

“Priests are not ‘as other men.’ However, We take it that you all believe yourselves to have acted conscientiously. We also take it that, in view of the power and influence which the position of trustee affords, your clergy eagerly become trustees and are unwilling to submit to supervision or to criticism. That is quite human. We entirely disapprove of it.”

“But what would your Holiness have?”

“We cannot say it in one sentence. You must collect Our mind from Our conduct as well as from our words. We entirely disapprove of the clergy competing for or using any secular power or dominance whatever, especially such power as inheres in the command of money. The clergy are ministers⁠—ministers⁠—not masters. And as to the other charge⁠—‘the gross injustices which are of daily occurrence’?”

“That, of course, is simply the scream of an opponent. It is spite.”

“Does Your Eminency mean that there are no injustices? Don’t you know of gross injustices?”

“ ‘It needs must that offences come.’ ”

“ ‘But woe to him by whom the offence cometh.’ Eminency, why not frankly face the predicament? The clergy are more than less human; and they certainly are not even the pick of humanity. Now, don’t they attempt too much in the first instance; and, in the second, don’t they invariably refuse to admit or amend their blunders? Listen to this. The Pall Mall Gazette states, on the authority of the Missiones Catholicae that, in Australia, during the last five years, we have increased our numbers from 3,008,399 to 4,507,980. But the government census taken last year gives the total population of Australia at 4,555,803. That leaves only 47,823 for the other religious and irreligious bodies. As a matter of fact, the latest Roman Catholic record is 916,880. Therefore an overstatement of 3,591,100 has been made. Which is absurd. And perpetuated. Which is damnable.”

“I do not precisely see Your Holiness’s point.”

“No? Well, let us go to another.” The Pope produced a small green ticket on which was printed,

“Church of the Sacred Heart⁠—Quest Road⁠—Admit Bearer to⁠—Midnight Service⁠—New Year’s Eve 1900⁠—Middle Seat 6d.”

“This comes from Your Eminency’s archdiocese,” he said.

The cardinal looked at the thing, as one looks at the grass of the field. There it is. One has seen it all before.

“We disapprove of that,” said the Pope.

“What would Your Holiness suggest then to prevent improper persons from attending these services?”

“Improper persons should be encouraged to attend. No obstacle should be placed in their way.”

The cardinal was irritated. “Then we should have scenes of disorder, to say nothing of profanation.”

“That is where Your Eminency and all the aboriginals err. Your opinion is formed upon the apprehensive sentimentality of pious old-ladies-of-both-sexes whose ideal of Right is the Not-obviously Wrong. When a thing is unpleasant, they go up a turning: wipe their mouths; and mistake evasion for annihilation. They don’t annihilate the evil: they avoid it. Now, we are here to seek and to save that which was lost: and our churches must be more free to the lost than to the saved⁠—if any be saved. Experience proves that your pious fears have no sure warranty. Wesleyan schismatics have performed Watch-night services for more than a century. Anglican schismatics have done the same: and, in later years, they have celebrated their mysteries at midnight on Christmas Eve. We Ourself have assisted at these functions. The temples were open and free: and We never saw or heard a sign of the profanation of which you speak. Sots and harlots undoubtedly were present: but they were not disorderly: they were cowed, they were sleepy, they were curious, but they made no noise. Even though they had shouted, it only would have been in protest against some human ordinance; and a human ordinance must give way the moment it becomes a barrier between one soul and that soul’s Creator. Supposing means of grace to be obtainable in a church, who durst deny them to those who chiefly need them? The position which you clergy take up is an essentially false one. We are not here to establish conventions, or to enforce conformity. We are here to serve⁠—only to serve. We especially disapprove of any system which bars access to the church, or which makes it difficult;⁠—this admission-fee, for example.”

“Holy Father, the clergy must live.”

“You lead Us to infer that they cannot live without these sixpences?”

“We are so poor: we have no endowments: the fee is no more than a pew-rent for a single service⁠—”

“Lord Cardinal, be accurate. You have endowments: not equal to those of which you are thinking, the ‘stolen property’ enjoyed by the Church-of-England-as-by-Law-Established: but you have endowments. You mean that they are meagre. But pew-rents are abominable: so are pews, for that matter. Abolish them both.”

“I am bound to obey Your Holiness: but I must say that this quixotic impossible idealism will be the ruin of the Church⁠—”

“That is impossible: because Her Founder promised to be with Her always even unto the end of the world.”

“God helps those who help themselves⁠—”

“But not those who help themselves out of other people’s pockets.”

“The workman is worthy of his hire⁠—”

“Perfectly. But he accepts the wage: he does not dictate it. The builder of London’s new concert-hall in Denambrose Avenue did not let his masons domineer. He offered work at a certain wage. They took it, or left it. You confuse the functions of the buyer with those of the seller, as the clergy always do. Besides, as you seem fond of Scripture, ‘provide neither gold nor silver nor brass in your purses,’ and ‘take no thought for the morrow⁠—’ ”

“This is simply Tolstoy!”

“No. We never have read a line of Tolstoy. We studiously avoid doing so. We give you the commands of Christ Himself as reported by St. Matthew. Lord Cardinal, you are all wrong⁠—”

“Your Holiness speaks as though You were not one of us.”

“Oh no! The head looks down at the hands; and says ‘Your knuckles and your nails are dirty.’ ”

The cardinal really was angry. Hadrian paused: fixed him with a taming look: and continued “Is it right or even desirable that the clergy should engage in trade⁠—actually engage in trade? Look at your ‘Catholic Directory’; and see the advertisement of a priest who, with archiepiscopal sanction, is prepared to pay bank interest on investments, in plain words to borrow money upon usury in direct contravention of St. Luke’s statement of The Lord’s words on this subject. Look at the Catholic Hour; and see the advertisement of a priest who actually trades as a tobacconist. Look in the precincts of your churches; and see the tables of the Fenian-literature-sellers and the seats of them that sell tickets for stage-plays and bazaars where palmistry is practiced⁠—”

“I merely interrupt to remind Your Holiness that Your august predecessor traded as a fisherman.”

“Very neat,” the Pope applauded, enjoying the retort: “but not neat enough. A fisherman’s trade is an open-air trade, and a healthy trade, by the way: but⁠—did Our predecessor St. Peter trade as a fisherman after He had entered upon the work of the apostolature? We think not. No, Lord Cardinal, the clergy attempt too much. They might be excellent priests. As tradesmen, variety-entertainers, entrepreneurs, they are failures. As a combination, they are catastrophes. These two things must be kept apart, the clerical and the secular, God and Mammon. The difference must be emphasized. By attempts at compromise, the clergy fail in both. As priests, they are mocked: and as for their penny-farthing peddling⁠—”

“But Holy Father, do think for one minute. What are the clergy to live on?”

“The freewill offerings of the faithful; and one must keep the other.”

“But suppose the faithful do not give freewill offerings?”

“Then starve and go to Heaven, as Ruskin says. That is what We are going to do, if possible.”

“How are we to build our churches?”

“Don’t build them, unless you have the means freely given. Avoid beggary. That way you sicken the faithful⁠—you prevent generosity⁠—”

“How shall we keep up those we have? For example, the cathedral⁠—”

“Yes, the cathedral⁠—a futile monument of one vain man’s desire for notoriety. How many lives has it ruined? One, at least, We know. How many evil passions has it inspired?⁠—the passion for advertisement by means of the farthing journalist, the critical passion which is destroying our creative faculty, the passions of envy and covetousness, the passion of competition, the passion of derision⁠—for you know that the world is mocking the ugly veneered pretentious monstrosity now. Better that it never had been. As it is, and in regard to the churches which exist, you must do what you can. If the faithful freely give you enough, then let them stand. If not, you must let them go. England never will lack altars. In any case, encumber yourselves with no more unpaid-for buildings. Accept what is given: but ask for nothing and suggest nothing. Lord Cardinal, the clergy do not act as though they trusted the Divine Disposer of Events. They mean well: but their whole aim and object seems to be to serve God by conciliating Mammon. There is nothing more criminally futile. Instead of winning England’s admiration, you secure Her scornful toleration. Instead of consolidating the faithful, multitudes have become disaffected, and multitudes leave you day by day. Instead of improving the clerical character, (and, by consequence, the character of all who look to the clergy for example,) the clergy ever more and more assimilate themselves to the laity. The clergy should cultivate the virtues, not the vices, of humanity. Not one of us can tell which of our actions is important or unimportant. By a thoughtless word or deed, we may lead-astray a brother for whom Christ died. That is what is to be feared from your worldly clergy. Teach them that magna ars which St. Thomas of Aquino says est conversari Jesu. Teach them to rise above the world.”

“Surely, Holy Father, they do.”

“Some members of the clergy do, no doubt. We never met them. The tone of the clergy is distinctly worldly. Here is an illustration from your own newspaper. The very first thing which The Slab thinks worthy of note is ‘How Monsignor Cateran signally vindicated his honour and suitably punished his traducer, the proprietor of “The Fatherland.” The terms of the apology which Sir Frederick Smithers has had to publish in his own journal are set forth as a warning to evildoers.’ It is on p. 397. You know the particulars?”

“I have read them.”

“You cannot approve of the savage triumph of the letter on p. 416, in which Monsignor Cateran describes his victory: you cannot approve of the sneer at his enemy who ‘could not be punished by damages⁠—he has no means to pay,’ or the gibe at the freemasonry of the libeller, or the vicious malignant spite of the whole disgraceful document⁠—”

“But, Holiness, the libel was a dreadful one and grossly unjust.”

“But, Eminency, the accused was bound by his Christianity to suffer revilings and persecutions and the saying of all manner of evil falsely. He forgot that. In vindicating himself, he behaved, not as a minister of God but, as a common human animal. However, besides the so-called triumphant vindication of Monsignor Cateran, which The Slab glorifies in three separate columns, this same number bristles with improprieties. On p. 415, you have Dominican and Jesuit controversialists calling each other liars, and otherwise politely hating and abusing one another⁠—”

“Oh, Jesuits and Dominicans!”

The Pope put down the paper, and looked. The cardinal collected himself for a sally in force.

“Your Holiness will permit me to say that all this is extremely unusual. I myself was consecrated bishop in 1872, fourteen years before You were a Christian; and it seems to me that You should give Your seniors credit for having consciences at least⁠—”

“Dear Lord Cardinal, if We had seen a sign of the said consciences⁠—”

The cardinal tottered: but made one more thrust.

“I am not the only member of the Sacred College who thinks that Your Holiness’s attitude partakes of⁠—shall I say singularity⁠—and⁠—ha⁠—arrogance.”

“Singularity? Oh, We sincerely hope so. But arrogance⁠—We cannot call it arrogance to assume that We know more of a particular subject, which We eagerly have studied from Our childhood, than those do who never have studied it at all. Eminency, We began by saying that We desired to establish relations with you. Now, have We shown you something of Our frame of mind?”

“Certainly, Holy Father: You wish me to⁠—”

“We wish you to act upon the sum of Our words and conduct, in order that England may have a good and not a bad example from English Catholics. No more than that. We may call Ourselves Christendom till We are black in the face: but the true character of a Christendom is wanting to Us because the great promises of prophecy still lack fulfilment. The Barque of Peter has been trying to reach harbour. Muting within, storms without, have driven Her hither and thither. Is She as far-off from port today as ever? Who knows? But the new captain is trying to set the course again from the old chart. His look is no longer backward but onward. Lord Cardinal, can the captain count on the loyal support of his lieutenant?”

“Holy Father, I assure You that You may count on me.” It was an immense effort: but, when it came to so fine a point, the nature and the pride of the man gave way to the grace of his Divine Vocation.

“Well now, only one more blow from the flail, and then We will take up the crook. Do stop your Catholics from toadying the German Emperor. Read that. It’s perfectly absurd for them to tell him that ‘the whole Catholic world would be delighted if the protection of Catholics in the Orient were confided to him.’ He’s an admirable person: but We are not going to confide the protection of Catholics in the Orient to him. England is the only power which can manage Orientals. And what right have these Erse and Gaelic Catholics to speak for ‘the whole Catholic world’? Do neither England nor Italy count? Do make these pious fat-wits mind their own business⁠—make them understand that when they tell the Kaiser that ‘they will exert themselves to remove all misunderstandings between Germany and England’⁠—England last, you note⁠—they would be comical if they were not impertinent and entirely stupid⁠—and of course disloyal as usual.”

Hadrian collected His documents and the book of newspaper-cuts: swept them all into a portfolio; and abruptly changed the subject.

“Will Your Eminency be good enough to tell Us the circumstances which led to Our extraordinary election?”

Barely recovered from his commotion of mind, and posed point-blank like this, Cardinal Courtfield hesitated and said something about the Acts of the Conclave. His aboriginally tardy temperament was incapable of keeping pace with the feline agility of the Pontiff. Hadrian perceived his difficulty, and intently pursued the inquiry from another footing.

“We know all about the Acts of the Conclave, which We shall read at Our leisure. But We want the more human light which Your Eminency can throw upon the subject. Perhaps it will be simpler if We use the Sokratic method. By what means did Our name, did the mere fact of Our existence become known to the Sacred College?”

“By my means, Holiness.”

“We understand that Your Eminency actually proposed us to the Conclave?”

“That is so.”

“And We infer that you also recommended Us: or at least described Us in such a way that the cardinals knew whom they were electing?”

“Yes, Holy Father.”

“Why did Your Eminency propose Us?” the Pope purred.

The cardinal seemed to be at a loss again. He appeared to have a difficulty in expression, not a lack of material for expression. Hadrian made a dash for the rudiments.

“There were other names before the College? Why were none of their owners chosen?”

“It was impossible to agree about their merits, Holiness.”

“Several attempts, no doubt, were made?”

“The Ways of Scrutiny and Access were tried seven times.”

“And then?”

“And then came a deadlock. None of the candidates obtained a sufficiency of suffrages: and none of the electors were willing to change their opinion.”

“And then?”

“The Way of Compromise was tried.”

“And, through Your Eminency’s means, the Compromissaries were induced to impose Us on the Sacred College?”

“Yes, Holiness.”

“Eminency, at the time when the Conclave first was immured, We hardly can have been in Your mind. It is improbable that you could have thought of Us then in this connection. At what point did We come into your calculations?”

“I ought perhaps to say that Your name had been brought before me some weeks before the demise of Holiness’s predecessor.”

“That would be in connection with the matter of which we treated in London.”

“Yes.”

“Precisely in what way was Our name brought before Your Eminency?”

“It was brought before me in a letter from Edward Lancaster⁠—a perfectly frantic letter accusing himself of all sorts of crimes. Your Holiness perhaps is aware what a queer person he is, rather inclined to be scrupulous, and most impulsive.”

“Yes, We know him. We Ourself would have said ‘unscrupulous’: Your Eminency uses the word ‘scrupulous’ in the Catholic sense, whereas We prefer frank English.”

“I mean that he is given to tormenting himself about fancied sins⁠—”

“And We mean that as a rule, he does nothing of the kind: but, like a good many others, is singularly successful in lulling his conscience. At least, for fifteen years he contrived to do so in this case. However, he now has made amends; and there is nothing more to be said. Let us continue. You received a self-accusing letter from Edward Lancaster. And then?”

“Not one letter, Holiness: a dozen at least. The injustice, of which You had been the victim, was on his nerves. He wrote me several letters; and came to see me several times. He is, as you know, a person of some importance and a great benefactor to the Church; and so I was obliged to take the matter up. I promised to investigate the case myself.”

“Yes. And you did.”

“I instituted an inquisitorial process among some of the persons who had had to do with Your Holiness; and I am bound to say that their replies gave me grounds for thought.”

“Why?”

“They differed materially as to the details of Your history; and yet their opinion of You seemed to be fairly unanimous.”

“It was not a desirable opinion.”

“No, Holiness.”

“It would not be. We never were able to arrange to be loved. To be disagreeable was a sort of habit of Ours. But is Your Eminency able, from memory, to give Us an idea of these differences in regard to facts? Opinions do not matter.”

The cardinal pondered for a minute. “Yes, Holiness, I can give you three examples from Oxford. Fr. Benedict Bart said that he had met You twice personally: but that he had heard much of You from his friends, priests as well as laymen. He stated that all that could be done for You had been done; and that You were⁠—ha⁠—Your Holiness will pardon me⁠—a very incapable and ungrateful person.”

The Pope gave the little leaden weight of His pallium a swing: and beamed with delight. The cardinal went on.

“Fr. Perkins who received You into the Church said ‘I’m afraid he’s a genius, poor fellow!’ ”

“What rank blasphemy!”

“Blasphemy, Holiness?”

“Yes: blasphemy. Almighty God happens to make something a little out of the common; and, instead of praising Him for the privilege of tending a singular work of His, Fr. Perkins actually bewails the fact! But continue.”

“I confess I never thought of it in that light before⁠—”

“No: nor did Fr. Perkins. Continue.”

“I also took the opinion of a certain Dr. Strong who appears to be one of the superiors of the university.”

“He was senior Public Examiner in Honour Greats, if you know what that means.”

“Quite so. Well: he said that You had been his intimate and valued friend for more than twenty years, that You had had no influential friends to encourage You, and that Your abilities were no less distinguished than Your moral character.”

The Pope laughed again. “Dr. Strong is an experienced writer of testimonials.”

“But I should hardly think that a man in his position⁠—”

“Certainly not. Dr. Strong is one of the two honest men known to Us. Well: and how did the discrepancy between his statement and Fr. Benedict’s strike you?”

“It struck me in this way. How did so many worthy priests arrive at practically the same opinion, (for what Fr. Benedict said, others said also,) when their knowledge of facts seemed to be so superficial and so doubtful. I mean, Fr. Benedict and the rest spoke from an exceedingly casual acquaintance: but Dr. Strong from more than twenty years’ intimacy. However, just when I was pondering these contradictory statements, Your Holiness’s predecessor died; and I was obliged to come to Rome.”

“Did Your Eminency ever note that very few clergymen are capable⁠—capable⁠—of forming an unprejudiced proper original opinion⁠—of judging on the evidence before them and on nothing else.”

“I have excellent reason to believe that what Your Holiness says is correct.”

“It is so much easier to echo than to discriminate. Now, if you please, we will go back to the Compromise. What brought Us again to Your Eminency’s remembrance in the Conclave?”

“Holy Father, that was most strange. We Compromissaries were quite as unable to agree as the Sacred College had been. And then, at the end of one of our sessions, I was struck by the extraordinary likeness of Cardinal della Volta to someone whom I remembered having seen, but whose name I had forgotten. It was the merest accident: but I came away wracking my brains about it. Another curious thing happened the same night. Having some papers to sign, I happened to go to my dispatch-box; and, quite by accident, I came across Edward Lancaster’s letters about Your Holiness⁠—”

“We do not call these things ‘accidents.’ ”

“Nor do I, Holy Father, now. Well: for want of something better to do, I suppose, I looked over half-a-dozen of the letters: and I determined to go further into the matter on my return to England. But, early the very next morning, it suddenly flashed across my mind that I myself had seen Your Holiness⁠—”

“In 1894.”

“Ah yes, in 1894; and that Cardinal della Volta was Your Holiness’s Double. This sent me back to the letters again; and I became more and more convinced that an immense and almost irreparable wrong had been done. I cannot tell You how strongly I felt that, Holy Father.”

“But what made you⁠—well, practically impose Us on the Compromissaries?”

“That I cannot say: although in my own mind there is very little doubt but that⁠—However, these are the facts. I was so full of the case, that I narrated it at our morning conference as an instance of the fallibility of what⁠—I think it was Your Holiness Who gave it the name⁠—yes, it was⁠—as an instance of the fallibility of the Machine. I shall never forget the effect of my words upon Cardinal Mundo. It was most extraordinary. He said⁠—I shall remember what he said as long as I live⁠—he said ‘My Lord Cardinal, you owe it to that man to propose him for the paparchy; yes you owe it!’ He rather upset me. I replied that Your Holiness was not even in sacred orders. He answered ‘Whose fault is that?’ I may say that the point was a very keen one. No one could fail to perceive its relevancy. To use a vulgar expression, it touched the thing with a needle. The others did not help me at all; and I considered the matter for a few minutes. Mundo went on, ‘If that man had a real Vocation, he will have persevered: if he has persevered, the twenty years or more of waiting will have purified⁠—’ ”

“Pray do not quote Cardinal Mundo.”

“Well, in short, I was irresistibly moved to propose Your Holiness⁠—”

“And then, because no other candidate was forthcoming: because⁠—We understand. You came to Us, found Us persistent⁠—”

“Yes, Holiness.”

“Well: shall we take a little stroll in the garden, and say some Office?”

Cardinal Courtleigh jumped. “I’m sure⁠—if Your Holiness doesn’t mind walking by the side of my bath-chair⁠—”

“Oh, but We do. It is Our invariable custom to walk behind bath-chairs and push them.”

“Indeed I could not for one moment permit⁠—”

“No: but for an hour you will submit. Nonsense man, do you suppose that one never has pushed a bath-chair before! Now sit-down quietly and open your breviary and read the Office; and We will look over your shoulder and make the responses. It’s awfully good exercise, you know.”