"He doesn't lead a humdrum life, that canon!" said Des Hermies, when
Durtal had related to him the details of the Black Mass. "It's a
veritable seraglio of hystero-epileptics and erotomaniacs that he has
formed for himself. But his vices lack warmth. Certainly, in the matter
of contumelious blasphemies, of sacrilegious atrocities, and sensual
excitation, this priest may seem to have exceeded the limits, to be
almost unique. But the bloody and investuous side of the old sabbats is
wanting. Docre is, we must admit, greatly inferior to Gilles de Rais.
His works are incomplete, insipid; weak, if I may say so."
"I like that. You know it isn't easy to procure children whom one may
disembowel with impunity. The parents would raise a row and the police
would interfere."
"Yes, and it is to difficulties of this sort that we must evidently
attribute the bloodless celebration of the Black Mass. But I am thinking
just now of the women you described, the ones that put their heads over
the chafing-dishes to drink in the smoke of the burning resin. They
employ the procedure of the Aissaouas, who hold their heads over the
braseros whenever the catalepsy necessary to their orgies is slow in
coming. As for the other phenomena you cite, they are known in the
hospitals, and except as symptoms of the demoniac effluence they teach
us nothing new. Now another thing. Not a word of this to Carhaix,
because he would be quite capable of closing his door in your face if he
knew you had been present at an office in honour of Satan."
They went downstairs from Durtal's apartment and walked along toward the
tower of Saint Sulpice.
"I didn't bring anything to eat, because you said you would look after
that," said Durtal, "but this morning I sent Mme. Carhaix--in lieu of
desserts and wine--some real Dutch gingerbread, and a couple of rather
surprising liqueurs, an elixir of life which we shall take, by way of
appetizer, before the repast, and a flask of crême de céléri. I have
discovered an honest distiller."
"Impossible!"
"You shall see. This elixir of life is manufactured from Socotra aloes,
little cardamom, saffron, myrrh, and a heap of other aromatics. It's
inhumanly bitter, but it's exquisite."
"I am anxious to taste it. The least we can do is fête Gévingey a little
on his deliverance."
"Have you seen him?"
"Yes. He's looking fine. We'll make him tell us about his cure."
"I keep wondering what he lives on."
"On what his astrological skill brings him."
"Then there are rich people who have their horoscopes cast?"
"We must hope so. To tell you the truth, I think Gévingey is not in very
easy circumstances. Under the Empire he was astrologer to the Empress,
who was very superstitious and had faith--as did Napoleon, for that
matter--in predictions and fortune telling, but since the fall of the
Empire I think Gévingey's situation has changed a good deal for the
worse. Nevertheless he passes for being the only man in France who has
preserved the secrets of Cornelius Agrippa, Cremona, Ruggieri, Gauric,
Sinibald the Swordsman, and Tritemius."
While discoursing they had climbed the stair and arrived at the
bell-ringer's door.
The astrologer was already there and the table was set. All grimaced a
bit as they tasted the black and active liqueur which Durtal poured.
Joyous to have all her family about her, Mama Carhaix brought the rich
soup. She filled the plates.
When a dish of vegetables was passed and Durtal chose a leek, Des
Hermies said, laughing, "Look out! Porta, a thaumaturge of the late
sixteenth century, informs us that this plant, long considered an emblem
of virility, perturbs the quietude of the most chaste."
"Don't listen to him," said the bell-ringer's wife. "And you, Monsieur
Gévingey, some carrots?"
Durtal looked at the astrologer. His head still looked like a
sugar-loaf, his hair was the same faded, dirty brown of hydroquinine or
ipecac powders, his bird eyes had the same startled look, his enormous
hands were covered with the same phalanx of rings, he had the same
obsequious and imposing manner, and sacerdotal tone, but he was
freshened up considerably, the wrinkles had gone out of his skin, and
his eyes were brighter, since his visit to Lyons.
Durtal congratulated him on the happy result of the treatment.
"It was high time, monsieur, I was putting myself under the care of Dr.
Johannès, for I was nearly gone. Not possessing a shred of the gift of
voyance and knowing no extralucid cataleptic who could inform me of the
clandestine preparations of Canon Docre, I could not possibly defend
myself by using the laws of countersign and of the shock in return."
"But," said Des Hermies, "admitting that you could, through the
intermediation of a flying spirit, have been aware of the operations of
the priest, how could you have parried them?"
"The law of countersigns consists, when you know in advance the day and
hour of the attack, in going away from home, thus throwing the spell off
the track and neutralizing it, or in saying an hour beforehand, 'Here I
am. Strike!' The last method is calculated to scatter the fluids to the
wind and paralyze the powers of the assailant. In magic, any act known
and made public is lost. As for the shock in return, one must also know
beforehand of the attempt if one is to cast back the spells on the
person sending them before one is struck by them.
"I was certain to perish. A day had passed since I was bewitched. Two
days more and I should have been ready for the cemetery."
"How's that?"
"Every individual struck by magic has three days in which to take
measures. That time past, the ill is incurable. So when Docre announced
to me that he condemned me to death by his own authority and when, two
hours later, on returning home, I felt desperately ill, I lost no time
packing my grip and starting for Lyons."
"And there?" asked Durtal.
"There I saw Dr. Johannès. I told him of Docre's threat and of my
illness. He said to me simply. 'That priest can dress the most virulent
poisons in the most frightful sacrileges. The fight will be bitter, but
I shall conquer,' and he immediately called in a woman who lives in his
house, a voyant.
"He hypnotized her and she, at his injunction, explained the nature of
the sorcery of which I was the victim. She reconstructed the scene. She
literally saw me being poisoned by food and drink mixed with menstrual
fluid that had been reinforced with macerated sacramental wafers and
drugs skilfully dosed. That sort of spell is so terrible that aside from
Dr. Johannès no thaumaturge in France dare try to cure it.
"So the doctor finally said to me, 'Your cure can be obtained only
through an invincible power. We must lose no time. We must at once
sacrifice to the glory of Melchisedek.'
"He raised an altar, composed of a table and a wooden tabernacle. It was
shaped like a little house surmounted by a cross and encircled, under
the pediment, by the dial-like figure of the tetragram. He brought the
silver chalice, the unleavened bread and the wine. He donned his
sacerdotal habits, put on his finger the ring which has received the
supreme benedictions, then he began to read from a special missal the
prayers of the sacrifice.
"Almost at once the voyant cried, 'Here are the spirits evoked for the
spell. These are they which have carried the venefice, obedient to the
command of the master of black magic, Canon Docre!'
"I was sitting beside the altar. Dr. Johannès placed his left hand on my
head and raising toward heaven his right he besought the Archangel
Michael to assist him, and adjured the glorious legions of the
invincible seraphim to dominate, to enchain, the spirits of Evil.
"I was already feeling greatly relieved. The sensation of internal
gnawing which tortured me in Paris was diminishing. Dr. Johannès
continued to recite his orisons, then when the moment came for the
deprecatory prayer, he took my hand, laid it on the altar, and three
times chanted:
"'May the projects and the designs of the worker of iniquity, who has
made enchantment against you, be brought to naught; may any influence
obtained by Satanic means, any attack directed against you, be null and
void of effect; may all the maledictions of your enemy be transformed
into benedictions from the highest summits of the eternal hills; may his
fluids of death be transmuted into ferments of life; finally, may the
Archangels of Judgment and Chastisement decide the fate of the miserable
priest who has put his trust in the works of Darkness and Evil.'
"'You,' he said to me, 'are delivered. Heaven has cured you. May your
heart therefore repay the living God and Jesus Christ, through the
glorious Mary, with the most ardent devotion.'
"He offered me unleavened bread and wine. I was saved. You who are a
physician, Monsieur Des Hermies, can bear witness that human science was
impotent to aid me--and now look at me!"
"Yes," Des Hermies replied, "without discussing the means, I certify the
cure, and, I admit, it is not the first time that to my knowledge
similar results have been obtained.--No thanks," to Mme. Carhaix, who
was inviting him to take another helping from a plate of sausages with
horseradish in creamed peas. "But," said Durtal, "permit me to ask you
several questions. Certain details interest me. What were the sacerdotal
ornaments of Dr. Johannès?"
"His costume was a long robe of vermilion cashmere caught up at the
waist by a red and white sash. Above this robe he had a white mantle of
the same stuff, cut, over the chest, in the form of a cross upside
down."
"Cross upside down?"
"Yes, this cross, reversed like the figure of the Hanged Man in the
old-fashioned Tarot card deck, signifies that the priest Melchisedek
must die in the Old Man--that is, man affected by original sin--and live
again the Christ, to be powerful with the power of the Incarnate Word
which died for us."
Carhaix seemed ill at ease. His fanatical and suspicious Catholicism
refused to countenance any save the prescribed ceremonies. He made no
further contribution to the conversation, and in significant silence
filled the glasses, seasoned the salad, and passed the plates.
"What sort of a ring was that you spoke of?"
"It is a symbolic ring of pure gold. It has the image of a serpent,
whose head, in relief, set with a ruby, is connected by a fine chain
with a tiny circlet which fastens the jaws of the reptile."
"What I should like awfully to know is the origin and the aim of this
sacrifice. What has Melchisedek to do with your affair?"
"Ah," said the astrologer, "Melchisedek is one of the most mysterious of
all the figures in the Holy Bible. He was king of Salem, sacrificer to
the Most High God. He blessed Abraham and Abraham gave him tithes of the
spoil of the vanquished kings of Sodom and Gomorrah. That is the story
in Genesis 14:18-20. But Saint Paul cites him also, in Hebrews 7, and in
the third verse of that chapter says that Melchisedek, 'without father,
without mother, without descent, having neither beginning of day, nor
end of life, but made like unto the Son of God, abideth, a priest
continually.' In Hebrews 5:6 Paul, quoting Psalm 110:4, says Jesus is
called 'a priest forever after the order of Melchisedek.'
"All this, you see, is obscure enough. Some exegetes recognize in him
the prophetic figure of the Saviour, others, that of Saint Joseph, and
all admit that the sacrifice of Melchisedek offering to Abraham the
blood and wine of which he had first made oblation to the Lord
prefigures, to follow the expression of Isidore of Damietta, the
archetype of the divine mysteries, otherwise known as the holy mass."
"Very well," said Des Hermies, "but all that Scripture does not explain
the alexipharmacal virtues which Dr. Johannès attributes to the
sacrifice."
"You are asking more than I can answer. Only Dr. Johannès could tell
you. This much I can say. Theology teaches us that the mass, as it is
celebrated, is the re-enaction of the Sacrifice of Calvary, but the
sacrifice to the glory of Melchisedek is not that. It is, in some sort,
the future mass, the glorious office which will be known during the
earthly reign of the divine Paraclete. This sacrifice is offered to God
by man regenerated, redeemed by the infusion of the Love of the Holy
Ghost. Now, the hominal being whose heart has thus been purified and
sanctified is invincible, and the enchantments of hell cannot prevail
against him if he makes use of this sacrifice to dissipate the Spirits
of Evil. That explains to you the potency of Dr. Johannès, whose heart
unites, in this ceremony, with the divine heart of Jesus."
"Your exposition is not very clear," Carhaix mildly objected.
"Then it must be supposed that Johannès is a man amended ahead of time,
an apostle animated by the Holy Ghost?"
"And so he is," said the astrologer, firmly assured.
"Will you please pass the gingerbread?" Carhaix requested.
"Here's the way to fix it," said Durtal. "First cut a slice very thin,
then take a slice of ordinary bread, equally thin, butter them and put
them together. Now tell me if this sandwich hasn't the exquisite taste
of fresh walnuts."
"Well," said Des Hermies, pursuing his cross-examination, "aside from
that, what has Dr. Johannès been doing in this long time since I last
saw him?"
"He leads what ought to be a peaceful life. He lives with friends who
revere and adore him. With them he rests from the tribulations of all
sorts--save one--that he has been subjected to. He would be perfectly
happy if he did not have to repulse the attacks launched at him almost
daily by the tonsured magicians of Rome."
"Why do they attack him?"
"A thorough explanation would take a long time. Johannès is commissioned
by Heaven to break up the venomous practises of Satanism and to preach
the coming of the glorified Christ and the divine Paraclete. Now the
diabolical Curia which holds the Vatican in its clutches has every
reason of self-interest for putting out of the way a man whose prayers
fetter their conjurements and neutralize their spells."
"Ah!" exclaimed Durtal, "and would it be too much to ask you how this
former priest foresees and checks these astonishing assaults?"
"No indeed. The doctor can tell by the flight and cry of certain birds.
Falcons and male sparrow-hawks are his sentinels. If they fly toward him
or away from him, to East or West, whether they emit a single cry or
many; these are omens, letting him know the hour of the combat so that
he can be on guard. Thus he told me one day, the sparrow-hawks are
easily influenced by the spirits, and he uses them as the hypnotist
makes use of somnambulism, as the spiritist makes use of tables and
slates."
"They are the telegraph wires for magic despatches."
"Yes. And of course you know that the method is not new. Indeed, its
origin is lost in the darkness of the ages. Ornithomancy is world-old.
One finds traces of it in the Holy Bible, and the Zohar asserts that one
may receive numerous notifications if one knows how to observe the
flight and distinguish the cries of birds."
"But," said Durtal, "why is the sparrow-hawk chosen in preference to
other birds?"
"Well, it has always been, since remotest antiquity, the harbinger of
charms. In Egypt the god with the head of a hawk was the one who
possessed the science of the hieroglyphics. Formerly in that country the
hierogrammatists swallowed the heart and blood of the hawk to prepare
themselves for the magic rites. Even today African chiefs put a hawk
feather in their hair, and this bird is sacred in India."
"How does your friend go about it," asked Mme. Carhaix, "raising and
housing birds of prey?--because that is what they are."
"He does not raise them nor house them. They nest in the high bluffs
along the Saône, near Lyons. They come and see him in time of need."
Durtal, looking around this cozy dining-room and recalling the
extraordinary conversations which had been held here, was thinking, "How
far we are from the language and the ideas of modern times.--All that
takes us back to the Middle Ages," he said, finishing his thought aloud.
"Happily!" exclaimed Carhaix, who was rising to go and ring his bells.
"Yes," said Des Hermies, "and what is mighty strange in this day of
crass materialism is the idea of battles fought in space, over the
cities, between a priest of Lyons and prelates of Rome."
"And between this priest and the Rosicrusians and Canon Docre."
Durtal remembered that Mme. Chantelouve had assured him that the chiefs
of the Rosicrucians were making frantic efforts to establish connections
with the devil and prepare spells.
"You think that the Rosicrucians are satanizing?"
"They would like to, but they don't know how. They are limited to
reproducing, mechanically, the few fluidic and veniniferous operations
revealed to them by the three brahmins who visited Paris a few years
ago."
"I am thankful, myself," said Mme. Carhaix, as she took leave of the
company, "that I am not mixed up in any of this frightful business, and
that I can pray and live in peace."
Then while Des Hermies, as usual, prepared the coffee and Durtal brought
the liqueur glasses, Gévingey filled his pipe, and when the sound of the
bells died away--dispersed and as if absorbed by the pores of the
wall--he blew out a great cloud of smoke and said, "I passed some
delightful days with the family with whom Dr. Johannès is living. After
the shocks which I had received, it was a privilege without equal to
complete my convalescence in that sweet atmosphere of Christian Love.
And, too, Johannès is of all men I have ever met the most learned in the
occult sciences. No one, except his antithesis, the abominable Docre,
has penetrated so far into the arcana of Satanism. One may even say that
in France these two are the only ones who have crossed the terrestrial
threshold and obtained, each in his field, sure results. But in addition
to the charm of his conversation and the scope of his knowledge--for
even on the subject in which I excel, that of astrology, he surprised
me--Johannès delighted me with the beauty of his vision of the future
transformation of peoples. He is really, I swear, the prophet whose
earthly mission of suffering and glory has been authorized by the Most
High."
"I don't doubt it," said Durtal, smiling, "but his theory of the
Paraclete is, if I am not mistaken, the very ancient heresy of Montanus
which the Church has formally condemned."
"All depends on the manner in which the coming of the Paraclete is
conceived," interjected the bell-ringer, returning at that moment. "It
is also the orthodox doctrine of Saint Irenæus, Saint Justin, Scotus
Erigena, Amaury of Chartres, Saint Doucine, and that admirable mystic,
Joachim of Floris. This was the belief throughout the Middle Ages, and I
admit that it obsesses me and fills me with joy, that it responds to the
most ardent of my yearnings. Indeed," he said, sitting down and crossing
his legs, "if the third kingdom is an illusion, what consolation is left
for Christians in face of the general disintegration of a world which
charity requires us not to hate?"
"I am furthermore obliged to admit," said Des Hermies, "that in spite of
the blood shed on Golgotha, I personally feel as if my ransom had not
been quite effected."
"There are three kingdoms," the astrologer resumed, pressing down the
ashes of his pipe with his finger. "Of the Old Testament, that of the
Father, the kingdom of fear. Of the New Testament, that of the Son, the
kingdom of expiation. Of the Johannite Gospel, that of the Holy Ghost,
the kingdom of redemption and love. They are the past, present and
future; winter, spring and summer. The first, says Joachim of Floris,
gives us the blade, the second, the leaf, and the third, the ear. Two of
the Persons of the Trinity have shown themselves. Logically the Third
must appear."
"Yes, and the Biblical texts abound, conclusive, explicit, irrefutable,"
said Carhaix. "All the prophets, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, Zachariah,
Malachi, speak of it. The Acts of the Apostles is very precise on this
point. In the first chapter you will read these lines, 'This same Jesus,
which is taken up from you into heaven shall so come in like manner as
ye have seen him go into heaven.' Saint John also announces the tidings
in the Apocalypse, which is the gospel of the second coming of Christ,
'Christ shall come and reign a thousand years.' Saint Paul is
inexhaustible in revelations of this nature. In the epistle to Timothy
he invokes the Lord 'who shall judge the quick and the dead at his
appearance and his kingdom.' In the second epistle to the Thessalonians
he writes, 'And then shall that Wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall
consume with the Spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the
brightness of his coming.' Now, he declares that the Antichrist is not
yet, so the coming which he prophesies is not that already realized by
the birth of the Saviour at Bethlehem. In the Gospel according to Saint
Matthew, Jesus responds to Caiaphas, who asks Him if He is the Christ,
Son of God, 'Thou hast said, and nevertheless I say unto you, Hereafter
shall ye see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power and
coming in the clouds of heaven.' And in another verse He says to His
apostles, 'Watch, therefore, for ye know not what hour your Lord doth
come.'
"And there are other texts I could put my finger on. No, there is no use
in talking, the partisans of the glorious kingdom are supported with
certitude by inspired passages, and can, under certain conditions and
without fear of heresy, uphold this doctrine, which, Saint Jerome
attests, was in the fourth century a dogma of faith recognized by all.
But what say we taste a bit of this crême de céléri which Monsieur
Durtal praises so highly?"
It was a thick liqueur, sirupy like anisette, but even sweeter and more
feminine, only, when one had swallowed this inert semi-liquid, there
lingered in the roots of the papillæ a faint taste of celery.
"It isn't bad," said the astrologer, "but there's no life to it," and he
poured into his glass a stiff tot of rum.
"Come to think of it," said Durtal, "the third kingdom is also announced
in the words of the Paternoster, 'Thy kingdom come.'"
"Certainly," said the bell-ringer.
"But you see," interjected Gévingey, "heresy would gain the upper hand
and the whole belief would be turned into nonsense and absurdity if we
admitted, as certain Paracletists do, an authentic fleshly incarnation.
For instance, remember Fareinism, which has been rife, since the
eighteenth century, in Fareins, a village of the Doubs, where Jansenism
took refuge when driven out of Paris after the closing of the cemetery
of Saint Médard. There a priest, François Bonjour, reproduced the
'convulsionist' orgies which, under the Regency, desecrated the tomb of
Deacon Paris. Then Bonjour had an affair with a woman and she claimed to
be big with the prophet Elijah, who, according to the Apocalypse, is to
precede the last arrival of Christ. This child came into the world, then
there was a second who was none other than the Paraclete. The latter did
business as a woolen merchant in Paris, was a colonel in the National
Guard under Louis-Philippe, and died in easy circumstances in 1866. A
tradesman Paraclete, a Redeemer with epaulettes and gold braid!
"In 1886 one Dame Brochard of Vouvray affirmed to whoever would listen
that Jesus was reincarnate in her. In 1889 a pious madman named David
published at Angers a brochure entitled _The Voice of God_, in which he
assumed the modest appellation of 'only Messiah of the Creator Holy
Ghost,' and informed the world that he was a sewer contractor and wore a
beard a yard and a half long. At the present moment his throne is not
empty for want of successors. An engineer named Pierre Jean rode all
over the Mediterranean provinces on horseback announcing that he was the
Holy Ghost. In Paris, Bérard, an omnibus conductor on the
Panthéon-Courcelles line, likewise asserts that he incorporates the
Paraclete, while a magazine article avers that the hope of Redemption
has dawned in the person of the poet Jhouney. Finally, in America, from
time to time, women claim to be Messiahs, and they recruit adherents
among persons worked up to fever pitch by Advent revivals."
"They are no worse than the people who deny God and Creation," said
Carhaix. "God is immanent in His creatures. He is their Life principle,
the source of movement, the foundation of existence, says Saint Paul. He
has His personal existence, being the 'I AM,' as Moses says.
"The Holy Ghost, through Christ in glory, will be immanent in all
beings. He will be the principle which transforms and regenerates them,
but there is no need for him to be incarnate. The Holy Ghost proceeds
from the Father through the Son. He is sent to act, not to materialize
himself. It is downright madness to maintain the contrary, thus falling
into the heresies of the Gnostics and the Fratricelli, into the errors
of Dulcin de Novare and his wife Marguerite, into the filth of abbé
Beccarelli, and the abominations of Segarelli of Parma, who, on pretext
of becoming a child the better to symbolize the simple, naïf love of the
Paraclete, had himself diapered and slept on the breast of a nurse."
"But," said Durtal, "you haven't made yourself quite clear to me. If I
understand you, the Holy Ghost will act by an infusion into us. He will
transmute us, renovate our souls by a sort of 'passive purgation'--to
drop into the theological vernacular."
"Yes, he will purify us soul and body."
"How will he purify our bodies?"
"The action of the Paraclete," the astrologer struck in, "will extend to
the principle of generation. The divine life will sanctify the organs
which henceforth can procreate only elect creatures, exempt from
original sin, creatures whom it will not be necessary to test in the
fires of humiliation, as the Holy Bible says. This was the doctrine of
the prophet Vintras, that extraordinary unlettered man who wrote such
impressive and ardent pages. The doctrine has been continued and
amplified, since Vintras's death, by his successor, Dr. Johannès."
"Then there is to be Paradise on earth," said Des Hermies.
"Yes, the kingdom of liberty, goodness, and love."
"You've got me all mixed up," said Durtal. "Now you announce the
arrival of the Holy Ghost, now the glorious advent of Christ. Are these
kingdoms identical or is one to follow the other?"
"There is a distinction," answered Gévingey, "between the coming of the
Paraclete and the victorious return of Christ. They occur in the order
named. First a society must be recreated, embraced by the third
Hypostasis, by Love, in order that Jesus may descend, as He has
promised, from the clouds and reign over the people formed in His
image."
"What rôle is the Pope to play?"
"Ah, that is one of the most curious points of the Johannite doctrine.
Time, since the first appearance of the Messiah, is divided, as you
know, into two periods, the period of the Victim, of the expiant
Saviour, the period in which we now are, and the other, that which we
await, the period of Christ bathed in the spittle of mockery but radiant
with the superadorable splendour of His person. Well, there is a
different pope for each of these eras. The Scriptures announce these two
sovereign pontificates--and so do my horoscopes, for that matter.
"It is an axiom of theology that the spirit of Peter lives in his
successors. It will live in them, more or less hidden, until the
longed-for expansion of the Holy Ghost. Then John, who has been held in
reserve, as the Gospel says, will begin his ministry of love and will
live in the souls of the new popes."
"I don't understand the utility of a pope when Jesus is to be visible,"
said Des Hermies.
"To tell the truth, there is no use in having one, and the papacy is to
exist only during the epoch reserved for the effluence of the divine
Paraclete. The day on which, in a shower of meteors, Jesus appears, the
pontificate of Rome ceases."
"Without going more deeply into questions which we could discuss the
rest of our lives," said Durtal, "I marvel at the placidity of the
Utopian who imagines that man is perfectible. There is no denying that
the human creature is born selfish, abusive, vile. Just look around you
and see. Society cynical and ferocious, the humble heckled and pillaged
by the rich traffickers in necessities. Everywhere the triumph of the
mediocre and unscrupulous, everywhere the apotheosis of crooked politics
and finance. And you think you can make any progress against a stream
like that? No, man has never changed. His soul was corrupt in the days
of Genesis and is not less rotten at present. Only the form of his sins
varies. Progress is the hypocrisy which refines the vices."
"All the more reason," Carhaix rejoined, "why society--if it is as you
have described it--should fall to pieces. I, too, think it is putrefied,
its bones ulcerated, its flesh dropping off. It can neither be poulticed
nor cured, it must be interred and a new one born. And who but God can
accomplish such a miracle?"
"If we admit," said Des Hermies, "that the infamousness of the times is
transitory, it is self-evident that only the intervention of a God can
wash it away; for neither socialism nor any other chimera of the
ignorant and hate-filled workers will modify human nature and reform the
peoples. These tasks are above human forces."
"And the time awaited by Johannès is at hand," Gévingey proclaimed.
"Here are some of the manifest proofs. Raymond Lully asserted that the
end of the old world would be announced by the diffusion of the
doctrines of Antichrist. He defined these doctrines. They are
materialism and the monstrous revival of magic. This prediction applies
to our age, I think. On the other hand, the good tidings was to be
realized, according to Our Lord, as reported by Saint Matthew, 'When ye
shall see the abomination of desolation ... stand in the holy place.'
And isn't it standing in the holy place now? Look at our timorous,
skeptical Pope, lukewarm and politic, our episcopate of simonists and
cowards, our flabby, indulgent clergy. See how they are ravaged by
Satanism, then tell me if the Church can fall any lower."
"The promises are explicit and cannot fail," and with his elbows on the
table, his chin in his hands, and his eyes to heaven, the bell-ringer
murmured, "Our father--thy kingdom come!"
"It's getting late," said Des Hermies, "time we were going."
While they were putting on their coats, Carhaix questioned Durtal. "What
do you hope for if you have no faith in the coming of Christ?"
"I hope for nothing at all."
"I pity you. Really, you believe in no future amelioration?"
"I believe, alas, that a dotard Heaven maunders over an exhausted
Earth."
The bell-ringer raised his hands and sadly shook his head.
When they had left Gévingey, Des Hermies, after walking in silence for
some time, said, "You are not astonished that all the events spoken of
tonight happened at Lyons." And as Durtal looked at him inquiringly, he
continued, "You see I am well acquainted with Lyons. People's brains
there are as foggy as the streets when the morning mists roll up from
the Rhone. That city looks magnificent to travellers who like the long
avenues, wide boulevards, green grass, and penitentiary architecture of
modern cities. But Lyons is also the refuge of mysticism, the haven of
preternatural ideas and doubtful creeds. That's where Vintras died, the
one in whom, it seems, the soul of the prophet Elijah was incarnate.
That's where Naundorff found his last partisans. That is where
enchantment is rampant, because in the suburb of La Guillotière you can
have a person bewitched for a louis. Add that it is likewise, in spite
of its swarms of radicals and anarchists, an opulent market for a dour
Protestant Catholicism; a Jansenist factory, richly productive of
bourgeois bigotry.
"Lyons is celebrated for delicatessen, silk, and churches. At the top of
every hill--and there's a hill every block--is a chapel or a convent,
and Notre Dame de Fourvière dominates them all. From a distance this
pile looks like an eighteenth century dresser turned upside down, but
the interior, which is in process of completion, is amazing. You ought
to go and take a look at it some day. You will see the most
extraordinary jumble of Assyrian, Roman, Gothic, and God knows what,
jacked together by Bossan, the only architect for a century who has
known how to create a cathedral interior. The nave glitters with inlays
and marble, with bronze and gold. Statues of angels diversify the rows
of columns and break up, with impressive grace, the known harmonies of
line. It's Asiatic and barbarous, and reminds one of the architecture
shown in Gustave Moreau's Hérodiade.
"And there is an endless stream of pilgrims. They strike bargains with
Our Lady. They pray for an extension of markets, new outlets for
sausages and silks. They consult her on ways and means of getting rid of
spoiled vegetables and pushing off their shoddy. In the centre of the
city, in the church of Saint Boniface, I found a placard requesting the
faithful, out of respect for the holy place, not to give alms. It was
not seemly, you see, that the commercial orisons be disturbed by the
ridiculous plaints of the indigent."
"Well," said Durtal, "it's a strange thing, but democracy is the most
implacable of the enemies of the poor. The Revolution, which, you would
think, ought to have protected them, proved for them the most cruel of
régimes. I will show you some day a decree of the Year II, pronouncing
penalties not only for those who begged but for those who gave."
"And yet democracy is the panacea which is going to cure every ill,"
said Des Hermies, laughing. And he pointed to enormous posters
everywhere in which General Boulanger peremptorily demanded that the
people of Paris vote for him in the coming election.
Durtal shrugged his shoulders. "Quite true. The people are very sick.
Carhaix and Gévingey are perhaps right in maintaining that no human
agency is powerful enough to effect a cure."