A SEMINARY PRIEST
In the street was riot; confusion which momentarily threatened to
become worse confounded. In the press were dignitaries of the Church;
that Archbishop whom we met at dinner; Cardinal De Vere, whose grace
of bearing ornaments the Roman establishment in England; with him a
young seminary priest, one Father Nevill. The two high clerics were
on a common errand. Their carriages encountering each other on the
outskirts of the crowd, they had accepted the services of a friendly
constable, who offered to pilot them through the excited people. At
his heels they came, scarcely in the ecclesiastical state which their
dignity desired.
As they neared the house they were met by the departing Mr. Walters
and his friends. Recognising who they were, Walters stopped to shout
at them in his stentorian tones:
'So the High Priests have come! To do reverence to their Master? To
prostrate themselves at His feet in the dust, or to play the patron?
To you, perhaps, He'll condescend; with these who, in their misery,
trample each other under foot He'll have no commerce; has not even a
word with which to answer them. But you, Archbishop and Cardinal,
Princes of His Most Holy Church, perhaps He'll have a hand for each
of you. For to those that have shall be given, and from those that
have not shall be taken away. He'll hardly do violence to that most
excellent Christian doctrine. Tell Him how much you have that should
be other men's; maybe He'll strip them of their skins to give you
more.'
The constable thrust him aside.
'Move on, there! move on! That's enough of that nonsense!'
'Oh yes,' said Walters, as they forced him back into the seething
throng; 'oh yes, one soon has enough of nonsense of that kind. Christ
has come! God help us all!'
On the steps that led up to the door a woman fought with the police.
She was as a mad thing, screaming in her agony:
'Let me see Christ! Let me see Him! My daughter's dead! I brought her
to be healed; she's been killed in the crowd; I want Him to bring her
back to life. Let me see Christ! Let me see Him!'
They would not. Lifting her off her feet, they bore her back among
the people.
'What a terrible scene!' murmured the Archbishop. 'What lamentable
and dangerous excitement!'
'You represent a Church, my dear Archbishop,' replied the Cardinal,
'which advocates the freedom of private judgment. These proceedings
suggest that your advocacy may have met with even undesired success.'
The Archbishop, looking about him with dubious glances, said to the
policeman who had constituted himself their guide:
'This sort of thing almost makes one physically anxious. The people
seem to be half beside themselves.'
'You may well say that, my lord. I never saw a crowd in such a mood
before; and I've seen a few. I hear they've sent for the soldiers.'
'The soldiers? Dear, dear! how infinitely sad!'
When they were seen on the steps, guarded by the police, waiting for
the door to open, the crowd yelled at them. The Archbishop observed
to his companion:
'I'm not sure, after all, that it was wise of me to come. Sometimes
it is not easy to know what to do for the best. I certainly did not
expect to find myself in the midst of such a scene of popular
frenzy.'
Said the Cardinal:
'It at least enables us to see one phase of Protestant England.'
They were admitted by Ada, to whom the Archbishop introduced himself.
'I am the Archbishop, and this is Cardinal De Vere. We have come to
see the person who is the cause of all this turmoil.'
Ada stopped before the open door of a room.
'This is the Lord!'
Within stood the Stranger, as one who listens to that which he
desires, yet fears he will not hear: who looks for that for which he
yearns, yet knows he will not see. The Archbishop fitted his glasses
on his nose.
'Is this the person? Really! How very interesting! You don't say so!'
Since the Stranger had paid no heed to their advent, the Archbishop
addressed himself to Him courteously:
'Pardon me if this seems an intrusion, or if I have come at an
inconvenient moment, but I have received such extraordinary accounts
of your proceedings that, as head of the English Church, I felt bound
to take them, to some extent, under my official cognisance.'
The Stranger, looking at him, inquired:
'In your churches whom do you worship?'
'My dear sir! What an extraordinary question!'
'What idol have you fashioned which you call after My Name?'
'Idol! Really, really!'
'Why do you cry continually: "Come quickly!" when you would not I
should come?'
'What very peculiar questions, betraying a complete ignorance of the
merest rudiments of common knowledge! Is it possible that you are
unaware that I am the head of the Christian hierarchy?'
Said the Cardinal:
'Of the English branch of the Protestant hierarchy, I think,
Archbishop, you should rather put it. You are hardly the undisputed
head of even that. Do your Nonconformist friends admit your primacy?
They form a not inconsiderable section of English Protestantism. When
informing ignorance let us endeavour to be accurate.'
'The differences are not essential. We are all branches of one tree,
whose stem is Christ. To return to the point. This is hardly a
moment, Cardinal, for theological niceties.'
'You were tendering information; I merely wished it to be correct,
for which I must ask you to forgive me.'
'Your Eminence is ironical. However, as I said, to return to the
point. The public mind appears to be in a state of most lamentable
excitement. The exact cause I do not pretend to understand. But if
your intentions are what I hope they are, you can scarcely fail to
perceive that you owe it to yourself to remedy a condition of affairs
which already promises to be serious. I am told that there is a
notion abroad that you have advanced pretensions which I am almost
convinced you have not done. I wish you to inform me, and to give me
authority to inform the public, who and what you are, and what is the
purport of your presence here.'
'I am He that you know not of.'
'That, my dear sir, is the very point. I am advised that you are
possessed of some singular powers. I wish to know who the person is
who has these powers, and how he comes to have them.'
'There is one of you that knows.'
The young priest advanced, saying:
'I know You, Lord!'
The Stranger held out to him His hand.
'Welcome, friend!'
'My Lord and my Master!'
While they still stood hand in hand, the Stranger said:
'There are those that know Me, nor are they few. Yet what are they
among so many? In all the far places of the world men call upon My
Name, yet know so little of what is in their hearts that they would
destroy Me for being He to whom they call.'
'But shall the day never come when they shall know You?'
'Of themselves they must find Me out. Not by a miracle shall a man be
brought unto the knowledge of God.'
Cardinal De Vere said to the young priest:
'Your stock of information appears to be greater than that of your
spiritual superiors, Father. At Louvain do they teach such
forwardness, or is this an acquaintance of your seminary days?'
'Yes, Eminence, indeed, and of before them too. For this is our Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ, who died for us, yet lives again, to whose
service I have dedicated my life, and your Eminence your life also.'
'My son, let not your tongue betray you into speaking folly. For
shame, my son, for shame!'
'But does not your Eminence know this is the Lord? Can you look upon
His face and not see that it is He, or enter into His presence and
not know that He is here?'
'Put a bridle upon that insolent tongue of yours. Come from that
dangerous fellow.'
'Fellow? Eminence, it is the Lord! It is the Lord!' He turned to the
Stranger. 'Lord Jesus, open the eyes of his Eminence, that he may see
You, and his heart, that he may know that You are here!'
'Did I not say that no miracle shall bring a man to the knowledge of
Me? If of himself he knows Me not, he will not know Me though I raise
him out of hell to heaven.'
The young priest turned again to the Cardinal.
'But, Eminence, it is so strange! so wonderful! Your vocation is for
Christ; you point always to His cross; you keep your eyes upon His
face; and yet--and yet you do not know Him now that He is here! Oh,
it is past believing! and you, sir, you are also a religious. Surely
you know this is the Lord?'
This was to the Archbishop, who began to stammer:
'I--I know, my dear young friend, that you--you are saying some
very extraordinary things--things which you--you ought to carefully
consider before you--you utter them. Especially when I consider
your--your almost tender years.'
'Extraordinary things! It is the Lord! it is the Lord! How shall you
wonder at those who denied Him at the first if you, who preach Him,
deny Him now? Oh, Eminence! oh, sir! look and see. It is the Lord!'
'Silence, sir! Another word of the sort and you are excommunicated.'
'For knowing it is the Lord?'
'For one thing, sir--for not knowing that on such matters Holy Church
pronounces. Did they teach you so badly at Louvain that you have
still to learn that in the presence of authority it is the business
of a little seminary priest to preserve a reverent silence? It is not
for you to oppose your variations of the creed upon your spiritual
superiors, but to receive, with a discreet meekness, and in silence,
your articles of faith from them.'
'If the Lord proclaims Himself, are His children to refuse Him
recognition until the Church commands?'
'You had better return to your seminary, my son--and shall--to
receive instruction in the rudiments of the Catholic faith.'
'If for any cause the Church withholds its command, is the Lord to
depart unrecognised?'
'Say nothing further, sir, till you have been with your confessor. I
command you to be silent until then.'
'Is, then, the Church against the Lord? It cannot be--it cannot be!'
The young priest turned to the Stranger with on his face surprise,
fear, wonder. 'Lord, of those that are here are You known to me
alone?'
Ada came forward with her sisters.
'We also know the Lord.'
The Stranger said:
'Is it not written that many are called, but few chosen? As it was,
is now, and ever will be. It is well that you know Me, and these that
are the daughters of one who knows Me as I would be known; and there
are those that know Me nearly.' With that He looked at Mr. Kinloch.
'Also here and there among the multitudes whom God has fashioned in
His own image am I known, and in the hidden places of the world.
Where quiet is, there am I often. Men that strive with their fellows
in the midst of the tumult for the seats of the mighty call much upon
My Name, but have Me little in their hearts; there is not room. Those
that make but little noise, but are content with the lower seats,
waiting upon My Father's will, they have Me much in their hearts, for
there is room. Wherefore I beseech you to continue a little priest in
a seminary, great in the knowledge of My Father, rather than a pillar
of the Church, holding up heaven on your hands: for he that seeks to
bear up heaven is of a surety cast down into hell. Would, then, that
all men might be little men, since in My Father's presence they might
have a better chance of standing high.'
The Cardinal, holding himself very straight, went closer to the young
priest. His voice was stern.
'Father Nevill, your parents were my friends; because of that I have
attached you to my person; because, also, of that I am unwilling to
see you put yourself outside the pale of Holy Church as becomes a
fool rather than a man of sense. What hallucination blinds you I
cannot say. Your condition is probably one which calls for a medical
diagnosis rather than for mine. How you can be the even momentary
victim of so poor an impostor is beyond my understanding. But it ill
becomes such as I am to seek for explanations from such as you. Your
part is to obey, and only to obey. Therefore I bid you instantly to
leave this--fellow; bow your head, and seek with shame absolution for
your grievous sin. Do this at once, or it will be too late.'
When the young priest was about to reply, the Stranger, going to the
Cardinal, looking him in the face, asked: 'Am I an impostor?'
The Cardinal did his best to meet His look, and return Him glance for
glance. Presently his eyes faltered; he looked down. His lips
twitched as if to speak. His gaze returned to the Stranger's
countenance. But only for a moment. Suddenly he put up his hands
before his face as if to shield it from the impact of the pain and
sorrow which were in His eyes. He muttered:
'What have I to do with you?'
'Nothing; verily, and alas!'
'Why have you come to judge me before my time?'
'Your time comes soon.'
The Cardinal, dropping his hands, straightened himself again, as if
endeavouring to get another grip upon his courage.
'I lean on Holy Church. She will sustain me.'
'Against Me?'
The Cardinal staggered against the wall, trembling so that he could
hardly stand. The Archbishop cried, also trembling:
'What ails your Eminence? Cardinal, what is wrong?'
His Eminence replied, as if he all at once were short of breath:
'The rock--on which--the Church is founded--slips beneath my feet!'
The Archbishop surveyed him with frightened eyes.