第 41 页

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.

Ah! that huge concert-audience, those thirty, forty thousand believers

from here, there, and everywhere, inflamed with curiosity, passion, or

faith, bestirring themselves, jostling one another, rising on tip-toe to

see the better! The clamour of a human sea arose, the crowd was as gay

and familiar as if it had found itself in some heavenly theatre where it

was allowable for one to chat aloud and recreate oneself with the

spectacle of religious pomp! At first Pierre was thunderstruck, he who

only knew of nervous, silent kneeling in the depths of dim cathedrals,

who was not accustomed to that religion of light, whose brilliancy

transformed a religious celebration into a morning festivity. Around him,

in the same tribune as himself, were gentlemen in dress-coats and ladies

gowned in black, carrying glasses as in an opera-house. There were German

and English women, and numerous Americans, all more or less charming,

displaying the grace of thoughtless, chirruping birds. In the tribune of

the Roman nobility on the left he recognised Benedetta and Donna

Serafina, and there the simplicity of the regulation attire for ladies

was relieved by large lace veils rivalling one another in richness and

elegance. Then on the right was the tribune of the Knights of Malta,

where the Grand Master stood amidst a group of commanders: while across

the nave rose the diplomatic tribune where Pierre perceived the

ambassadors of all the Catholic nations, resplendent in gala uniforms

covered with gold lace. However, the young priest's eyes were ever

returning to the crowd, the great surging throng in which the three

thousand pilgrims were lost amidst the multitude of other spectators. And

yet as the Basilica was so vast that it could easily contain eighty

thousand people, it did not seem to be more than half full. People came

and went along the aisles and took up favourable positions without

impediment. Some could be seen gesticulating, and calls rang out above

the ceaseless rumble of voices. From the lofty windows of plain white

glass fell broad sheets of sunlight, which set a gory glow upon the faded

damask hangings, and these cast a reflection as of fire upon all the

tumultuous, feverish, impatient faces. The multitude of candles, and the

seven-and-eighty lamps of the Confession paled to such a degree that they

seemed but glimmering night-lights in the blinding radiance; and

everything proclaimed the worldly gala of the imperial Deity of Roman

pomp.

All at once there came a premature shock of delight, a false alert. Cries

burst forth and circulated through the crowd: "Eccolo! eccolo! Here he

comes!" And then there was pushing and jostling, eddying which made the

human sea whirl and surge, all craning their necks, raising themselves to

their full height, darting forward in a frenzied desire to see the Holy

Father and the _cortege_. But only a detachment of Noble Guards marched

by and took up position right and left of the altar. A flattering murmur

accompanied them, their fine impassive bearing with its exaggerated

military stiffness, provoking the admiration of the throng. An American

woman declared that they were superb-looking fellows; and a Roman lady

gave an English friend some particulars about the select corps to which

they belonged. Formerly, said she, young men of the aristocracy had

greatly sought the honour of forming part of it, for the sake of wearing

its rich uniform and caracoling in front of the ladies. But recruiting

was now such a difficult matter that one had to content oneself with

good-looking young men of doubtful or ruined nobility, whose only care

was for the meagre "pay" which just enabled them to live.

When another quarter of an hour of chatting and scrutinising had elapsed,

the papal _cortege_ at last made its appearance, and no sooner was it

seen than applause burst forth as in a theatre--furious applause it was

which rose and rolled along under the vaulted ceilings, suggesting the

acclamations which ring out when some popular, idolised actor makes his

entry on the stage. As in a theatre, too, everything had been very

skilfully contrived so as to produce all possible effect amidst the

magnificent scenery of the Basilica. The _cortege_ was formed in the

wings, that is in the Cappella della Pieta, the first chapel of the right

aisle, and in order to reach it, the Holy Father, coming from his

apartments by the way of the Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, had been

stealthily carried behind the hangings of the aisle which served the

purpose of a drop-scene. Awaiting him in all readiness in the Cappella

della Pieta were the cardinals, archbishops, and bishops, the whole

pontifical prelacy, hierarchically classified and grouped. And then, as

at a signal from a ballet master, the _cortege_ made its entry, reaching

the nave and ascending it in triumph from the closed Porta Santa to the

altar of the Confession. On either hand were the rows of spectators whose

applause at the sight of so much magnificence grew louder and louder as

their delirious enthusiasm increased.

It was the _cortege_ of the olden solemnities, the cross and sword, the

Swiss Guard in full uniform, the valets in scarlet simars, the Knights of

the Cape and the Sword in Renascence costumes, the Canons in rochets of

lace, the superiors of the religious communities, the apostolic

prothonotaries, the archbishops, and bishops, all the pontifical prelates

in violet silk, the cardinals, each wearing the _cappa magna_ and draped

in purple, walking solemnly two by two with long intervals between each

pair. Finally, around his Holiness were grouped the officers of the

military household, the chamber prelates, Monsignor the Majordomo,

Monsignor the Grand Chamberlain, and all the other high dignitaries of

the Vatican, with the Roman prince assistant of the throne, the

traditional, symbolical defender of the Church. And on the _sedia

gestatoria_, screened by the _flabelli_ with their lofty triumphal fans

of feathers and carried on high by the bearers in red tunics broidered

with silk, sat the Pope, clad in the sacred vestments which he had

assumed in the Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, the amict, the alb, the