Produced by Dagny [dagnypg@yahoo.com]
and David Widger [widger@cecomet.net]
THE THREE CITIES
ROME
BY
EMILE ZOLA
TRANSLATED BY ERNEST A. VIZETELLY
PART III
VII
On the following day as Pierre, after a long ramble, once more found
himself in front of the Vatican, whither a harassing attraction ever led
him, he again encountered Monsignor Nani. It was a Wednesday evening, and
the Assessor of the Holy Office had just come from his weekly audience
with the Pope, whom he had acquainted with the proceedings of the
Congregation at its meeting that morning. "What a fortunate chance, my
dear sir," said he; "I was thinking of you. Would you like to see his
Holiness in public while you are waiting for a private audience?"
Nani had put on his pleasant expression of smiling civility, beneath
which one would barely detect the faint irony of a superior man who knew
everything, prepared everything, and could do everything.
"Why, yes, Monsignor," Pierre replied, somewhat astonished by the
abruptness of the offer. "Anything of a nature to divert one's mind is
welcome when one loses one's time in waiting."
"No, no, you are not losing your time," replied the prelate. "You are
looking round you, reflecting, and enlightening yourself. Well, this is
the point. You are doubtless aware that the great international
pilgrimage of the Peter's Pence Fund will arrive in Rome on Friday, and
be received on Saturday by his Holiness. On Sunday, moreover, the Holy
Father will celebrate mass at the Basilica. Well, I have a few cards
left, and here are some very good places for both ceremonies." So saying
he produced an elegant little pocketbook bearing a gilt monogram and
handed Pierre two cards, one green and the other pink. "If you only knew
how people fight for them," he resumed. "You remember that I told you of
two French ladies who are consumed by a desire to see his Holiness. Well,
I did not like to support their request for an audience in too pressing a
way, and they have had to content themselves with cards like these. The
fact is, the Holy Father is somewhat fatigued at the present time. I
found him looking yellow and feverish just now. But he has so much
courage; he nowadays only lives by force of soul." Then Nani's smile came
back with its almost imperceptible touch of derision as he resumed:
"Impatient ones ought to find a great example in him, my dear son. I
heard that Monsignor Gamba del Zoppo had been unable to help you. But you
must not be too much distressed on that account. This long delay is
assuredly a grace of Providence in order that you may instruct yourself
and come to understand certain things which you French priests do not,
unfortunately, realise when you arrive in Rome. And perhaps it will
prevent you from making certain mistakes. Come, calm yourself, and
remember that the course of events is in the hands of God, who, in His
sovereign wisdom, fixes the hour for all things."
Thereupon Nani offered Pierre his plump, supple, shapely hand, a hand
soft like a woman's but with the grasp of a vice. And afterwards he
climbed into his carriage, which was waiting for him.
It so happened that the letter which Pierre had received from Viscount
Philibert de la Choue was a long cry of spite and despair in connection
with the great international pilgrimage of the Peter's Pence Fund. The
Viscount wrote from his bed, to which he was confined by a very severe
attack of gout, and his grief at being unable to come to Rome was the
greater as the President of the Committee, who would naturally present
the pilgrims to the Pope, happened to be Baron de Fouras, one of his most
bitter adversaries of the old conservative, Catholic party. M. de la
Choue felt certain that the Baron would profit by his opportunity to win
the Pope over to the theory of free corporations; whereas he, the
Viscount, believed that the salvation of Catholicism and the world could
only be worked by a system in which the corporations should be closed and
obligatory. And so he urged Pierre to exert himself with such cardinals
as were favourable, to secure an audience with the Holy Father whatever
the obstacles, and to remain in Rome until he should have secured the
Pontiff's approbation, which alone could decide the victory. The letter
further mentioned that the pilgrimage would be made up of a number of
groups headed by bishops and other ecclesiastical dignitaries, and would
comprise three thousand people from France, Belgium, Spain, Austria, and
even Germany. Two thousand of these would come from France alone. An
international committee had assembled in Paris to organise everything and
select the pilgrims, which last had proved a delicate task, as a
representative gathering had been desired, a commingling of members of
the aristocracy, sisterhood of middle-class ladies, and associations of
the working classes, among whom all social differences would be forgotten
in the union of a common faith. And the Viscount added that the
pilgrimage would bring the Pope a large sum of money, and had settled the
date of its arrival in the Eternal City in such wise that it would figure
as a solemn protest of the Catholic world against the festivities of
September 20, by which the Quirinal had just celebrated the anniversary
of the occupation of Rome.
The reception of the pilgrimage being fixed for noon, Pierre in all
simplicity thought that he would be sufficiently early if he reached St.
Peter's at eleven. The function was to take place in the Hall of
Beatifications, which is a large and handsome apartment over the portico,
and has been arranged as a chapel since 1890. One of its windows opens on
to the central balcony, whence the popes formerly blessed the people, the
city, and the world. To reach the apartment you pass through two other
halls of audience, the Sala Regia and Sala Ducale, and when Pierre wished
to gain the place to which his green card entitled him he found both
those rooms so extremely crowded that he could only elbow his way forward
with the greatest difficulty. For an hour already the three or four
thousand people assembled there had been stifling, full of growing
emotion and feverishness. At last the young priest managed to reach the
threshold of the third hall, but was so discouraged at sight of the
extraordinary multitude of heads before him that he did not attempt to go
any further.
The apartment, which he could survey at a glance by rising on tip-toe,
appeared to him to be very rich of aspect, with walls gilded and painted
under a severe and lofty ceiling. On a low platform, where the altar
usually stood, facing the entry, the pontifical throne had now been set:
a large arm-chair upholstered in red velvet with glittering golden back
and arms; whilst the hangings of the /baldacchino/, also of red velvet,
fell behind and spread out on either side like a pair of huge purple
wings. However, what more particularly interested Pierre was the wildly
passionate concourse of people whose hearts he could almost hear beating
and whose eyes sought to beguile their feverish impatience by
contemplating and adoring the empty throne. As if it had been some golden
monstrance which the Divinity in person would soon deign to occupy, that
throne dazzled them, disturbed them, filled them all with devout rapture.
Among the throng were workmen rigged out in their Sunday best, with clear
childish eyes and rough ecstatic faces; ladies of the upper classes
wearing black, as the regulations required, and looking intensely pale
from the sacred awe which mingled with their excessive desire; and
gentlemen in evening dress, who appeared quite glorious, inflated with
the conviction that they were saving both the Church and the nations. One
cluster of dress-coats assembled near the throne, was particularly
noticeable; it comprised the members of the International Committee,
headed by Baron de Fouras, a very tall, stout, fair man of fifty, who
bestirred and exerted himself and issued orders like some commander on
the morning of a decisive victory. Then, amidst the general mass of grey,
neutral hue, there gleamed the violet silk of some bishop's cassock, for
each pastor had desired to remain with his flock; whilst members of
various religious orders, superiors in brown, black, and white habits,
rose up above all others with lofty bearded or shaven heads. Right and
left drooped banners which associations and congregations had brought to
present to the Pope. And the sea of pilgrims ever waved and surged with a
growing clamour: so much impatient love being exhaled by those perspiring
faces, burning eyes, and hungry mouths that the atmosphere, reeking with
the odour of the throng, seemed thickened and darkened.
All at once, however, Pierre perceived Monsignor Nani standing near the
throne and beckoning him to approach; and although the young priest
replied by a modest gesture, implying that he preferred to remain where
he was, the prelate insisted and even sent an usher to make way for him.
Directly the usher had led him forward, Nani inquired: "Why did you not
come to take your place? Your card entitled you to be here, on the left
of the throne."
"The truth is," answered the priest, "I did not like to disturb so many
people. Besides, this is an undue honour for me."
"No, no; I gave you that place in order that you should occupy it. I want
you to be in the first rank, so that you may see everything of the
ceremony."
Pierre could not do otherwise than thank him. Then, on looking round, he
saw that several cardinals and many other prelates were likewise waiting
on either side of the throne. But it was in vain that he sought Cardinal
Boccanera, who only came to St. Peter's and the Vatican on the days when
his functions required his presence there. However, he recognised
Cardinal Sanguinetti, who, broad and sturdy and red of face, was talking
in a loud voice to Baron de Fouras. And Nani, with his obliging air,
stepped up again to point out two other Eminences who were high and
mighty personages--the Cardinal Vicar, a short, fat man, with a feverish
countenance scorched by ambition, and the Cardinal Secretary, who was
robust and bony, fashioned as with a hatchet, suggesting a romantic type
of Sicilian bandit, who, to other courses, had preferred the discreet,
smiling diplomacy of the Church. A few steps further on, and quite alone,
the Grand Penitentiary, silent and seemingly suffering, showed his grey,
lean, ascetic profile.
Noon had struck. There was a false alert, a burst of emotion, which swept
in like a wave from the other halls. But it was merely the ushers opening
a passage for the /cortege/. Then, all at once, acclamations arose in the
first hall, gathered volume, and drew nearer. This time it was the
/cortege/ itself. First came a detachment of the Swiss Guard in undress,
headed by a sergeant; then a party of chair-bearers in red; and next the
domestic prelates, including the four /Camerieri segreti partecipanti/.
And finally, between two rows of Noble Guards, in semi-gala uniforms,
walked the Holy Father, alone, smiling a pale smile, and slowly blessing
the pilgrims on either hand. In his wake the clamour which had risen in
the other apartments swept into the Hall of Beatifications with the
violence of delirious love; and, under his slender, white, benedictive
hand, all those distracted creatures fell upon both knees, nought
remaining but the prostration of a devout multitude, overwhelmed, as it
were, by the apparition of its god.
Quivering, carried away, Pierre had knelt like the others. Ah! that
omnipotence, that irresistible contagion of faith, of the redoubtable
current from the spheres beyond, increased tenfold by a /scenario/ and a
pomp of sovereign grandeur! Profound silence fell when Leo XIII was
seated on the throne surrounded by the cardinals and his court; and then
the ceremony proceeded according to rite and usage. First a bishop spoke,
kneeling and laying the homage of the faithful of all Christendom at his
Holiness's feet. The President of the Committee, Baron de Fouras,
followed, remaining erect whilst he read a long address in which he
introduced the pilgrimage and explained its motive, investing it with all
the gravity of a political and religious protest. This stout man had a
shrill and piercing voice, and his words jarred like the grating of a
gimlet as he proclaimed the grief of the Catholic world at the spoliation
which the Holy See had endured for a quarter of a century, and the desire
of all the nations there represented by the pilgrims to console the
supreme and venerated Head of the Church by bringing him the offerings of
rich and poor, even to the mites of the humblest, in order that the
Papacy might retain the pride of independence and be able to treat its
enemies with contempt. And he also spoke of France, deplored her errors,
predicted her return to healthy traditions, and gave it to be understood
that she remained in spite of everything the most opulent and generous of
the Christian nations, the donor whose gold and presents flowed into Rome
in a never ending stream. At last Leo XIII arose to reply to the bishop
and the baron. His voice was full, with a strong nasal twang, and
surprised one coming from a man so slight of build. In a few sentences he
expressed his gratitude, saying how touched he was by the devotion of the
nations to the Holy See. Although the times might be bad, the final
triumph could not be delayed much longer. There were evident signs that
mankind was returning to faith, and that iniquity would soon cease under
the universal dominion of the Christ. As for France, was she not the
eldest daughter of the Church, and had she not given too many proofs of
her affection for the Holy See for the latter ever to cease loving her?
Then, raising his arm, he bestowed on all the pilgrims present, on the
societies and enterprises they represented, on their families and
friends, on France, on all the nations of the Catholic world, his
apostolic benediction, in gratitude for the precious help which they sent
him. And whilst he was again seating himself applause burst forth,
frantic salvoes of applause lasting for ten minutes and mingling with
vivats and inarticulate cries--a passionate, tempestuous outburst, which
made the very building shake.
Amidst this blast of frantic adoration Pierre gazed at Leo XIII, now
again motionless on his throne. With the papal cap on his head and the
red cape edged with ermine about his shoulders, he retained in his long
white cassock the rigid, sacerdotal attitude of an idol venerated by two
hundred and fifty millions of Christians. Against the purple background
of the hangings of the /baldacchino/, between the wing-like drapery on
either side, enclosing, as it were, a brasier of glory, he assumed real
majesty of aspect. He was no longer the feeble old man with the slow,
jerky walk and the slender, scraggy neck of a poor ailing bird. The
simious ugliness of his face, the largeness of his nose, the long slit of
his mouth, the hugeness of his ears, the conflicting jumble of his
withered features disappeared. In that waxen countenance you only
distinguished the admirable, dark, deep eyes, beaming with eternal youth,
with extraordinary intelligence and penetration. And then there was a
resolute bracing of his entire person, a consciousness of the eternity
which he represented, a regal nobility, born of the very circumstance
that he was now but a mere breath, a soul set in so pellucid a body of
ivory that it became visible as though it were already freed from the
bonds of earth. And Pierre realised what such a man--the Sovereign
Pontiff, the king obeyed by two hundred and fifty millions of
subjects--must be for the devout and dolent creatures who came to adore
him from so far, and who fell at his feet awestruck by the splendour of
the powers incarnate in him. Behind him, amidst the purple of the
hangings, what a gleam was suddenly afforded of the spheres beyond, what
an Infinite of ideality and blinding glory! So many centuries of history
from the Apostle Peter downward, so much strength and genius, so many
struggles and triumphs to be summed up in one being, the Elect, the
Unique, the Superhuman! And what a miracle, incessantly renewed, was that
of Heaven deigning to descend into human flesh, of the Deity fixing His
abode in His chosen servant, whom He consecrated above and beyond all
others, endowing him with all power and all science! What sacred
perturbation, what emotion fraught with distracted love might one not
feel at the thought of the Deity being ever there in the depths of that
man's eyes, speaking with his voice and emanating from his hand each time
that he raised it to bless! Could one imagine the exorbitant absoluteness
of that sovereign who was infallible, who disposed of the totality of
authority in this world and of salvation in the next! At all events, how
well one understood that souls consumed by a craving for faith should fly
towards him, that those who at last found the certainty they had so
ardently sought should seek annihilation in him, the consolation of
self-bestowal and disappearance within the Deity Himself.
Meantime, the ceremony was drawing to an end; Baron de Fouras was now
presenting the members of the committee and a few other persons of
importance. There was a slow procession with trembling genuflections and
much greedy kissing of the papal ring and slipper. Then the banners were
offered, and Pierre felt a pang on seeing that the finest and richest of
them was one of Lourdes, an offering no doubt from the Fathers of the
Immaculate Conception. On one side of the white, gold-bordered silk Our
Lady of Lourdes was painted, while on the other appeared a portrait of
Leo XIII. Pierre saw the Pope smile at the presentment of himself, and
was greatly grieved thereat, as though, indeed, his whole dream of an
intellectual, evangelical Pope, disentangled from all low superstition,
were crumbling away. And just then his eyes met those of Nani, who from
the outset had been watching him with the inquisitive air of a man who is
making an experiment.
"That banner is superb, isn't it?" said Nani, drawing near. "How it must
please his Holiness to be so nicely painted in company with so pretty a
virgin." And as the young priest, turning pale, did not reply, the
prelate added, with an air of devout enjoyment: "We are very fond of
Lourdes in Rome; that story of Bernadette is so delightful."
However, the scene which followed was so extraordinary that for a long
time Pierre remained overcome by it. He had beheld never-to-be-forgotten
idolatry at Lourdes, incidents of naive faith and frantic religious
passion which yet made him quiver with alarm and grief. But the crowds
rushing on the grotto, the sick dying of divine love before the Virgin's
statue, the multitudes delirious with the contagion of the
miraculous--nothing of all that gave an idea of the blast of madness
which suddenly inflamed the pilgrims at the feet of the Pope. Some
bishops, superiors of religious orders, and other delegates of various
kinds had stepped forward to deposit near the throne the offerings which
they brought from the whole Catholic world, the universal "collection" of
St. Peter's Pence. It was the voluntary tribute of the nations to their
sovereign: silver, gold, and bank notes in purses, bags, and cases.
Ladies came and fell on their knees to offer silk and velvet alms-bags
which they themselves had embroidered. Others had caused the note cases
which they tendered to be adorned with the monogram of Leo XIII in
diamonds. And at one moment the enthusiasm became so intense that several
women stripped themselves of their adornments, flung their own purses on
to the platform, and emptied their pockets even to the very coppers they
had about them. One lady, tall and slender, very beautiful and very dark,
wrenched her watch from about her neck, pulled off her rings, and threw
everything upon the carpet. Had it been possible, they would have torn
away their flesh to pluck out their love-burnt hearts and fling them
likewise to the demi-god. They would even have flung themselves, have
given themselves without reserve. It was a rain of presents, an explosion
of the passion which impels one to strip oneself for the object of one's
cult, happy at having nothing of one's own that shall not belong to him.
And meantime the clamour grew, vivats and shrill cries of adoration arose
amidst pushing and jostling of increased violence, one and all yielding
to the irresistible desire to kiss the idol!
But a signal was given, and Leo XIII made haste to quit the throne and
take his place in the /cortege/ in order to return to his apartments. The
Swiss Guards energetically thrust back the throng, seeking to open a way
through the three halls. But at sight of his Holiness's departure a
lamentation of despair arose and spread, as if heaven had suddenly closed
again and shut out those who had not yet been able to approach. What a
frightful disappointment--to have beheld the living manifestation of the
Deity and to see it disappear before gaining salvation by just touching
it! So terrible became the scramble, so extraordinary the confusion, that
the Swiss Guards were swept away. And ladies were seen to dart after the
Pope, to drag themselves on all fours over the marble slabs and kiss his
footprints and lap up the dust of his steps! The tall dark lady suddenly
fell at the edge of the platform, raised a loud shriek, and fainted; and
two gentlemen of the committee had to hold her so that she might not do
herself an injury in the convulsions of the hysterical fit which had come
upon her. Another, a plump blonde, was wildly, desperately kissing one of
the golden arms of the throne-chair, on which the old man's poor, bony
elbow had just rested. And others, on seeing her, came to dispute
possession, seized both arms, gilding and velvet, and pressed their
mouths to wood-work or upholstery, their bodies meanwhile shaking with
their sobs. Force had to be employed in order to drag them away.
When it was all over Pierre went off, emerging as it were from a painful
dream, sick at heart, and with his mind revolting. And again he
encountered Nani's glance, which never left him. "It was a superb
ceremony, was it not?" said the prelate. "It consoles one for many
iniquities."
"Yes, no doubt; but what idolatry!" the young priest murmured despite
himself.
Nani, however, merely smiled, as if he had not heard the last word. At
that same moment the two French ladies whom he had provided with tickets
came up to thank him, and. Pierre was surprised to recognise the mother
and daughter whom he had met at the Catacombs. Charming, bright, and
healthy as they were, their enthusiasm was only for the spectacle: they
declared that they were well pleased at having seen it--that it was
really astonishing, unique.
As the crowd slowly withdrew Pierre all at once felt a tap on his
shoulder, and, on turning his head, perceived Narcisse Habert, who also
was very enthusiastic. "I made signs to you, my dear Abbe," said he, "but
you didn't see me. Ah! how superb was the expression of that dark woman
who fell rigid beside the platform with her arms outstretched. She
reminded me of a masterpiece of one of the primitives, Cimabue, Giotto,
or Fra Angelico. And the others, those who devoured the chair arms with
their kisses, what suavity, beauty, and love! I never miss these
ceremonies: there are always some fine scenes, perfect pictures, in which
souls reveal themselves."
The long stream of pilgrims slowly descended the stairs, and Pierre,
followed by Nani and Narcisse, who had begun to chat, tried to bring the
ideas which were tumultuously throbbing in his brain into something like
order. There was certainly grandeur and beauty in that Pope who had shut
himself up in his Vatican, and who, the more he became a purely moral,
spiritual authority, freed from all terrestrial cares, had grown in the
adoration and awe of mankind. Such a flight into the ideal deeply stirred
Pierre, whose dream of rejuvenated Christianity rested on the idea of the
supreme Head of the Church exercising only a purified, spiritual
authority. He had just seen what an increase of majesty and power was in
that way gained by the Supreme Pontiff of the spheres beyond, at whose
feet the women fainted, and behind whom they beheld a vision of the
Deity. But at the same moment the pecuniary side of the question had
risen before him and spoilt his joy. If the enforced relinquishment of
the temporal power had exalted the Pope by freeing him from the worries
of a petty sovereignty which was ever threatened, the need of money still
remained like a chain about his feet tying him to earth. As he could not
accept the proffered subvention of the Italian Government,* there was
certainly in the Peter's Pence a means of placing the Holy See above all
material cares, provided, however, that this Peter's Pence were really
the Catholic /sou/, the mite of each believer, levied on his daily income
and sent direct to Rome. Such a voluntary tribute paid by the flock to
its pastor would, moreover, suffice for the wants of the Church if each
of the 250,000,000 of Catholics gave his or her /sou/ every week. In this
wise the Pope, indebted to each and all of his children, would be
indebted to none in particular. A /sou/ was so little and so easy to
give, and there was also something so touching about the idea. But,
unhappily, things were not worked in that way; the great majority of
Catholics gave nothing whatever, while the rich ones sent large sums from
motives of political passion; and a particular objection was that the
gifts were centralised in the hands of certain bishops and religious
orders, so that these became ostensibly the benefactors of the papacy,
the indispensable cashiers from whom it drew the sinews of life. The
lowly and humble whose mites filled the collection boxes were, so to say,
suppressed, and the Pope became dependent on the intermediaries, and was
compelled to act cautiously with them, listen to their remonstrances, and
even at times obey their passions, lest the stream of gifts should
suddenly dry up. And so, although he was disburdened of the dead weight
of the temporal power, he was not free; but remained the tributary of his
clergy, with interests and appetites around him which he must needs
satisfy. And Pierre remembered the "Grotto of Lourdes" in the Vatican
gardens, and the banner which he had just seen, and he knew that the
Lourdes fathers levied 200,000 francs a year on their receipts to send
them as a present to the Holy Father. Was not that the chief reason of
their great power? He quivered, and suddenly became conscious that, do
what he might, he would be defeated, and his book would be condemned.
* 110,000 pounds per annum. It has never been accepted, and the
accumulations lapse to the Government every five years, and
cannot afterwards be recovered.--Trans.
At last, as he was coming out on to the Piazza of St. Peter's, he heard
Narcisse asking Monsignor Nani: "Indeed! Do you really think that
to-day's gifts exceeded that figure?"
"Yes, more than three millions,* I'm convinced of it," the prelate
replied.
* All the amounts given on this and the following pages are
calculated in francs. The reader will bear in mind that a
million francs is equivalent to 40,000 pounds.--Trans.
For a moment the three men halted under the right-hand colonnade and
gazed at the vast, sunlit piazza where the pilgrims were spreading out
like little black specks hurrying hither and thither--an ant-hill, as it
were, in revolution.
Three millions! The words had rung in Pierre's ears. And, raising his
head, he gazed at the Vatican, all golden in the sunlight against the
expanse of blue sky, as if he wished to penetrate its walls and follow
the steps of Leo XIII returning to his apartments. He pictured him laden
with those millions, with his weak, slender arms pressed to his breast,
carrying the silver, the gold, the bank notes, and even the jewels which
the women had flung him. And almost unconsciously the young priest spoke
aloud: "What will he do with those millions? Where is he taking them?"
Narcisse and even Nani could not help being amused by this strangely
expressed curiosity. It was the young /attache/ who replied. "Why, his
Holiness is taking them to his room; or, at least, is having them carried
there before him. Didn't you see two persons of his suite picking up
everything and filling their pockets? And now his Holiness has shut
himself up quite alone; and if you could see him you would find him
counting and recounting his treasure with cheerful care, ranging the
rolls of gold in good order, slipping the bank notes into envelopes in
equal quantities, and then putting everything away in hiding-places which
are only known to himself."
While his companion was speaking Pierre again raised his eyes to the
windows of the Pope's apartments, as if to follow the scene. Moreover,
Narcisse gave further explanations, asserting that the money was put away
in a certain article of furniture, standing against the right-hand wall
in the Holy Father's bedroom. Some people, he added, also spoke of a
writing table or secretaire with deep drawers; and others declared that
the money slumbered in some big padlocked trunks stored away in the
depths of the alcove, which was very roomy. Of course, on the left side
of the passage leading to the Archives there was a large room occupied by
a general cashier and a monumental safe; but the funds kept there were
simply those of the Patrimony of St. Peter, the administrative receipts
of Rome; whereas the Peter's Pence money, the voluntary donations of
Christendom, remained in the hands of Leo XIII: he alone knew the exact
amount of that fund, and lived alone with its millions, which he disposed
of like an absolute master, rendering account to none. And such was his
prudence that he never left his room when the servants cleaned and set it
in order. At the utmost he would consent to remain on the threshold of
the adjoining apartment in order to escape the dust. And whenever he
meant to absent himself for a few hours, to go down into the gardens, for
instance, he double-locked the doors and carried the keys away with him,
never confiding them to another.
At this point Narcisse paused and, turning to Nani, inquired: "Is not
that so, Monsignor? These are things known to all Rome."
The prelate, ever smiling and wagging his head without expressing either
approval or disapproval, had begun to study on Pierre's face the effect
of these curious stories. "No doubt, no doubt," he responded; "so many
things are said! I know nothing myself, but you seem to be certain of it
all, Monsieur Habert."
"Oh!" resumed the other, "I don't accuse his Holiness of sordid avarice,
such as is rumoured. Some fabulous stories are current, stories of
coffers full of gold in which the Holy Father is said to plunge his hands
for hours at a time; treasures which he has heaped up in corners for the
sole pleasure of counting them over and over again. Nevertheless, one may
well admit that his Holiness is somewhat fond of money for its own sake,
for the pleasure of handling it and setting it in order when he happens
to be alone--and after all that is a very excusable mania in an old man
who has no other pastime. But I must add that he is yet fonder of money
for the social power which it brings, the decisive help which it will
give to the Holy See in the future, if the latter desires to triumph."
These words evoked the lofty figure of a wise and prudent Pope, conscious
of modern requirements, inclined to utilise the powers of the century in
order to conquer it, and for this reason venturing on business and
speculation. As it happened, the treasure bequeathed by Pius IX had
nearly been lost in a financial disaster, but ever since that time Leo
XIII had sought to repair the breach and make the treasure whole again,
in order that he might leave it to his successor intact and even
enlarged. Economical he certainly was, but he saved for the needs of the
Church, which, as he knew, increased day by day; and money was absolutely
necessary if Atheism was to be met and fought in the sphere of the
schools, institutions, and associations of all sorts. Without money,
indeed, the Church would become a vassal at the mercy of the civil
powers, the Kingdom of Italy and other Catholic states; and so, although
he liberally helped every enterprise which might contribute to the
triumph of the Faith, Leo XIII had a contempt for all expenditure without
an object, and treated himself and others with stern closeness.
Personally, he had no needs. At the outset of his pontificate he had set
his small private patrimony apart from the rich patrimony of St. Peter,
refusing to take aught from the latter for the purpose of assisting his
relatives. Never had pontiff displayed less nepotism: his three nephews
and his two nieces had remained poor--in fact, in great pecuniary
embarrassment. Still he listened neither to complaints nor accusations,
but remained inflexible, proudly resolved to bequeath the sinews of life,
the invincible weapon money, to the popes of future times, and therefore
vigorously defending the millions of the Holy See against the desperate
covetousness of one and all.
"But, after all, what are the receipts and expenses of the Holy See?"
inquired Pierre.
In all haste Nani again made his amiable, evasive gesture. "Oh! I am
altogether ignorant in such matters," he replied. "Ask Monsieur Habert,
who is so well informed."
"For my part," responded the /attache/, "I simply know what is known to
all the embassies here, the matters which are the subject of common
report. With respect to the receipts there is, first of all, the treasure
left by Pius IX, some twenty millions, invested in various ways and
formerly yielding about a million a year in interest. But, as I said
before, a disaster happened, and there must then have been a falling off
in the income. Still, nowadays it is reported that nearly all
deficiencies have been made good. Well, besides the regular income from
the invested money, a few hundred thousand francs are derived every year
from chancellery dues, patents of nobility, and all sorts of little fees
paid to the Congregations. However, as the annual expenses exceed seven
millions, it has been necessary to find quite six millions every year;
and certainly it is the Peter's Pence Fund that has supplied, not the six
millions, perhaps, but three or four of them, and with these the Holy See
has speculated in the hope of doubling them and making both ends meet. It
would take me too long just now to relate the whole story of these
speculations, the first huge gains, then the catastrophe which almost
swept everything away, and finally the stubborn perseverance which is
gradually supplying all deficiencies. However, if you are anxious on the
subject, I will one day tell you all about it."
Pierre had listened with deep interest. "Six millions--even four!" he
exclaimed, "what does the Peter's Pence Fund bring in, then?"
"Oh! I can only repeat that nobody has ever known the exact figures. In
former times the Catholic Press published lists giving the amounts of
different offerings, and in this way one could frame an approximate
estimate. But the practice must have been considered unadvisable, for no
documents nowadays appear, and it is absolutely impossible for people to
form any real idea of what the Pope receives. He alone knows the correct
amount, keeps the money, and disposes of it with absolute authority.
Still I believe that in good years the offerings have amounted to between
four and five millions. Originally France contributed one-half of the
sum; but nowadays it certainly gives much less. Then come Belgium and
Austria, England and Germany. As for Spain and Italy--oh! Italy--"
Narcisse paused and smiled at Monsignor Nani, who was wagging his head
with the air of a man delighted at learning some extremely curious things
of which he had previously had no idea.
"Oh, you may proceed, you may proceed, my dear son," said he.
"Well, then, Italy scarcely distinguishes itself. If the Pope had to
provide for his living out of the gifts of the Italian Catholics there
would soon be a famine at the Vatican. Far from helping him, indeed, the
Roman nobility has cost him dear; for one of the chief causes of his
pecuniary losses was his folly in lending money to the princes who
speculated. It is really only from France and England that rich people,
noblemen and so forth, have sent royal gifts to the imprisoned and
martyred Pontiff. Among others there was an English nobleman who came to
Rome every year with a large offering, the outcome of a vow which he had
made in the hope that Heaven would cure his unhappy idiot son. And, of
course, I don't refer to the extraordinary harvest garnered during the
sacerdotal and the episcopal jubilees--the forty millions which then fell
at his Holiness's feet."
"And the expenses?" asked Pierre.
"Well, as I told you, they amount to about seven millions. We may reckon
two of them for the pensions paid to former officials of the pontifical
government who were unwilling to take service under Italy; but I must add
that this source of expense is diminishing every year as people die off
and their pensions become extinguished. Then, broadly speaking, we may
put down one million for the Italian sees, another for the Secretariate
and the Nunciatures, and another for the Vatican. In this last sum I
include the expenses of the pontifical Court, the military establishment,
the museums, and the repair of the palace and the Basilica. Well, we have
reached five millions, and the two others may be set down for the various
subsidised enterprises, the Propaganda, and particularly the schools,
which Leo XIII, with great practical good sense, subsidises very
handsomely, for he is well aware that the battle and the triumph be in
that direction--among the children who will be men to-morrow, and who
will then defend their mother the Church, provided that they have been
inspired with horror for the abominable doctrines of the age."
A spell of silence ensued, and the three men slowly paced the majestic
colonnade. The swarming crowd had gradually disappeared, leaving the
piazza empty, so that only the obelisk and the twin fountains now arose
from the burning desert of symmetrical paving; whilst on the entablature
of the porticus across the square a noble line of motionless statues
stood out in the bright sunlight. And Pierre, with his eyes still raised
to the Pope's windows, again fancied that he could see Leo XIII amidst
all the streaming gold that had been spoken of, his whole, white, pure
figure, his poor, waxen, transparent form steeped amidst those millions
which he hid and counted and expended for the glory of God alone. "And
so," murmured the young priest, "he has no anxiety, he is not in any
pecuniary embarrassment."
"Pecuniary embarrassment!" exclaimed Monsignor Nani, his patience so
sorely tried by the remark that he could no longer retain his diplomatic
reserve. "Oh! my dear son! Why, when Cardinal Mocenni, the treasurer,
goes to his Holiness every month, his Holiness always gives him the sum
he asks for; he would give it, and be able to give it, however large it
might be! His Holiness has certainly had the wisdom to effect great
economies; the Treasure of St. Peter is larger than ever. Pecuniary
embarrassment, indeed! Why, if a misfortune should occur, and the
Sovereign Pontiff were to make a direct appeal to all his children, the
Catholics of the entire world, do you know that in that case a thousand
millions would fall at his feet just like the gold and the jewels which
you saw raining on the steps of his throne just now?" Then suddenly
calming himself and recovering his pleasant smile, Nani added: "At least,
that is what I sometimes hear said; for, personally, I know nothing,
absolutely nothing; and it is fortunate that Monsieur Habert should have
been here to give you information. Ah! Monsieur Habert, Monsieur Habert!
Why, I fancied that you were always in the skies absorbed in your passion
for art, and far removed from all base mundane interests! But you really
understand these things like a banker or a notary. Nothing escapes you,
nothing. It is wonderful."
Narcisse must have felt the sting of the prelate's delicate sarcasm. At
bottom, beneath this make-believe Florentine all-angelicalness, with long
curly hair and mauve eyes which grew dim with rapture at sight of a
Botticelli, there was a thoroughly practical, business-like young man,
who took admirable care of his fortune and was even somewhat miserly.
However, he contented himself with lowering his eyelids and assuming a
languorous air. "Oh!" said he, "I'm all reverie; my soul is elsewhere."
"At all events," resumed Nani, turning towards Pierre, "I am very glad
that you were able to see such a beautiful spectacle. A few more such
opportunities and you will understand things far better than you would
from all the explanations in the world. Don't miss the grand ceremony at
St. Peter's to-morrow. It will be magnificent, and will give you food for
useful reflection; I'm sure of it. And now allow me to leave you,
delighted at seeing you in such a fit frame of mind."
Darting a last glance at Pierre, Nani seemed to have observed with
pleasure the weariness and uncertainty which were paling his face. And
when the prelate had gone off, and Narcisse also had taken leave with a
gentle hand-shake, the young priest felt the ire of protest rising within
him. What fit frame of mind did Nani mean? Did that man hope to weary him
and drive him to despair by throwing him into collision with obstacles,
so that he might afterwards overcome him with perfect ease? For the
second time Pierre became suddenly and briefly conscious of the stealthy
efforts which were being made to invest and crush him. But, believing as
he did in his own strength of resistance, pride filled him with disdain.
Again he swore that he would never yield, never withdraw his book, no
matter what might happen. And then, before crossing the piazza, he once
more raised his eyes to the windows of the Vatican, all his impressions
crystallising in the thought of that much-needed money which like a last
bond still attached the Pope to earth. Its chief evil doubtless lay in
the manner in which it was provided; and if indeed the only question were
to devise an improved method of collection, his dream of a pope who
should be all soul, the bond of love, the spiritual leader of the world,
would not be seriously affected. At this thought, Pierre felt comforted
and was unwilling to look on things otherwise than hopefully, moved as he
was by the extraordinary scene which he had just beheld, that feeble old
man shining forth like the symbol of human deliverance, obeyed and
venerated by the multitudes, and alone among all men endowed with the
moral omnipotence that might at last set the reign of charity and peace
on earth.
For the ceremony on the following day, it was fortunate that Pierre held
a private ticket which admitted him to a reserved gallery, for the
scramble at the entrances to the Basilica proved terrible. The mass,
which the Pope was to celebrate in person, was fixed for ten o'clock, but
people began to pour into St. Peter's four hours earlier, as soon,
indeed, as the gates had been thrown open. The three thousand members of
the International Pilgrimage were increased tenfold by the arrival of all
the tourists in Italy, who had hastened to Rome eager to witness one of
those great pontifical functions which nowadays are so rare. Moreover,
the devotees and partisans whom the Holy See numbered in Rome itself and
in other great cities of the kingdom, helped to swell the throng, all
alacrity at the prospect of a demonstration. Judging by the tickets
distributed, there would be a concourse of 40,000 people. And, indeed, at
nine o'clock, when Pierre crossed the piazza on his way to the Canons'
Entrance in the Via Santa Marta, where the holders of pink tickets were
admitted, he saw the portico of the facade still thronged with people who
were but slowly gaining admittance, while several gentlemen in evening
dress, members of some Catholic association, bestirred themselves to
maintain order with the help of a detachment of Pontifical Guards.
Nevertheless, violent quarrels broke out in the crowd, and blows were
exchanged amidst the involuntary scramble. Some people were almost
stifled, and two women were carried off half crushed to death.
A disagreeable surprise met Pierre on his entry into the Basilica. The
huge edifice was draped; coverings of old red damask with bands of gold
swathed the columns and pilasters, seventy-five feet high; even the
aisles were hung with the same old and faded silk; and the shrouding of
those pompous marbles, of all the superb dazzling ornamentation of the
church bespoke a very singular taste, a tawdry affectation of pomposity,
extremely wretched in its effect. However, he was yet more amazed on
seeing that even the statue of St. Peter was clad, costumed like a living
pope in sumptuous pontifical vestments, with a tiara on its metal head.
He had never imagined that people could garment statues either for their
glory or for the pleasure of the eyes, and the result seemed to him
disastrous.
The Pope was to say mass at the papal altar of the Confession, the high
altar which stands under the dome. On a platform at the entrance of the
left-hand transept was the throne on which he would afterwards take his
place. Then, on either side of the nave, tribunes had been erected for
the choristers of the Sixtine Chapel, the Corps Diplomatique, the Knights
of Malta, the Roman nobility, and other guests of various kinds. And,
finally, in the centre, before the altar, there were three rows of
benches covered with red rugs, the first for the cardinals and the other
two for the bishops and the prelates of the pontifical court. All the
rest of the congregation was to remain standing.