"Brothers, when Christ Himself was on the earth going up to Jerusalem,
He rode on the colt of an ass, and the blind and the lame and the sick
came to Him, and He healed them. Humanity is sick and blind and lame
to-day, brothers, but the Vicar of Christ goes on."
At the words an audible murmur came from the crowd, such as goes before
the clapping of hands in a Roman theatre, a great upheaval of the heart
of the audience to the actor who has touched and stirred it.
"Brothers, in a little Eastern village a long time ago, there arose
among the poor and lowly a great Teacher, and the only prayer He taught
His followers was the prayer 'Our Father who art in Heaven.' It was the
expression of man's utmost need, the expression of man's utmost hope.
And not only did the Teacher teach that prayer--He lived according to
the light of it. All men were His brothers, all women His sisters; He
was poor, He had no home, no purse, and no second coat; when He was
smitten He did not smite back, and when He was unjustly accused He did
not defend Himself. Nineteen hundred years have passed since then,
brothers, and the Teacher who arose among the poor and lowly is now a
great Prophet. All the world knows and honours Him, and civilised
nations have built themselves upon the religion He founded. A great
Church calls itself by His name, and a mighty kingdom, known as
Christendom, owes allegiance to His faith. But what of His teaching? He
said: 'Resist not evil,' yet all Christian nations maintain standing
armies. He said: 'Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth,' yet
the wealthiest men are Christian men, and the richest organisation in
the world is the Christian Church. He said: 'Our Father who art in
Heaven,' yet men who ought to be brothers are divided into states, and
hate each other as enemies. He said: 'Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done
on earth as it is done in Heaven,' yet he who believes it ever will come
is called a fanatic and a fool."
Some murmurs of dissent were drowned in cries of "Go on!" "Speak!"
"Silence!"
"Foremost and grandest of the teachings of Christ are two inseparable
truths--the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. But in Italy,
as elsewhere, the people are starved that king may contend with king,
and when we appeal to the Pope to protest in the name of the Prince of
Peace, he remembers his temporalities and passes on!"
At these words the emotion of the crowd broke into loud shouts of
approval, with which some groans were mingled.
Roma had turned her face aside from the speaker, and her profile was
changed--the gay, sprightly, airy, radiant look had given way to a
serious, almost a melancholy expression.
"We have two sovereigns in Rome, brothers, a great State and a great
Church, with a perishing people. We have soldiers enough to kill us,
priests enough to tell us how to die, but no one to show us how to
live."
"Corruption! Corruption!"
"Corruption indeed, brothers; and who is there among us to whom the
corruptions of our rulers are unknown? Who cannot point to the wars made
that should not have been made? to the banks broken that should not have
broken? And who in Rome cannot point to the Ministers who allow their
mistresses to meddle in public affairs and enrich themselves by the ruin
of all around?"
The little Princess on the balcony was twisting about.
"What! Are you deserting us, Roma?"
And Roma answered from within the house, in a voice that sounded strange
and muffled:
"It was cold on the balcony, I think."
The little Princess laughed a bitter laugh, and David Rossi heard it and
misunderstood it, and his nostrils quivered like the nostrils of a
horse, and when he spoke again his voice shook with passion.
"Who has not seen the splendid equipages of these privileged ones of
fortune--their gorgeous liveries of scarlet and gold--emblems of the
acid which is eating into the public organs? Has Providence raised this
country from the dead only to be dizzied in a whirlpool of scandal,
hypocrisy, and fraud--only to fall a prey to an infamous traffic without
a name between high officials of low desires and women whose reputations
are long since lost? It is men and women like these who destroy their
country for their own selfish ends. Very well, let them destroy her; but
before they do so, let them hear what one of her children says: The
Government you are building up on the whitened bones of the people shall
be overthrown--the King who countenances you, and the Pope who will not
condemn you, shall be overthrown, and then--and not till then--will the
nation be free."
At this there was a terrific clamour. The square resounded with confused
voices. "Bravo!" "Dog!" "Dog's murderer!" "Traitor!" "Long live David
Rossi!" "Down with the Vampire!"
The ladies had fled from the balcony back to the room with cries of
alarm. "There will be a riot." "The man is inciting the people to
rebellion!" "This house will be first to be attacked!"
"Calm yourselves, ladies. No harm shall come to you," said the Baron,
and he rang the bell.
There came from below a babel of shouts and screams.
"Madonna mia! What is that?" cried the Princess, wringing her hands; and
the American Ambassador, who had remained on the balcony, said:
"The Carabineers have charged the crowd and arrested David Rossi."
"Thank God!"
"They're going through the Borgo," said Don Camillo, "and kicking and
cuffing and jostling and hustling all the way."
"Don't be alarmed! There's the Hospital of Santo Spirito round the
corner, and stations of the Red Cross Society everywhere," said the
Baron, and then Felice answered the bell.
"See our friends out by the street at the back, Felice. Good-bye,
ladies! Have no fear! The Government does not mean to blunt the weapons
it uses against the malefactors who insult the doctrines of the State."
"Excellent Minister!" said the Princess. "Such canaglia are not fit to
have their liberty, and I would lock them all up in prison."
And then Don Camillo offered his arm to the little lady with the white
plumes, and they came almost face to face with Roma, who was standing by
the door hung with curtains, fanning herself with her handkerchief, and
parting from the English Ambassador.
"Donna Roma," he was saying, "if I can ever be of use to you, either now
or in the future, I beg of you to command me."
"Look at her!" whispered the Princess. "How agitated she is! A moment
ago she was finding it cold in the Loggia! I'm so happy!"
At the next instant she ran up to Roma and kissed her. "Poor child! How
sorry I am! You have my sympathy, my dear! But didn't I tell you the man
was a public nuisance, and ought to be put down by the police?"
"Shameful, isn't it?" said Don Camillo. "Calumny is a little wind, but
it raises such a terrible tempest."
"Nobody likes to be talked about," said the Princess, "especially in
Rome, where it is the end of everything."
"But what matter? Perhaps the young man has learned freedom of speech in
a free country!" said Don Camillo.
"And then he is so interesting and so handsome," said the Princess.
Roma made no answer. There was a slight drooping of the lovely eyes and
a trembling of the lips and nostrils. For a moment she stood absolutely
impassive, and then with a flash of disdain she flung round into the
inner room.