第 58 页

passage, and with a sudden inspiration asked him to step inside. He

realised that this thin little man with the saffron face, who always

trembled with fever and displayed such exaggerated, timorous discretion,

was in reality well informed, mixed up in everything. At one period it

had seemed to Pierre that the secretary purposely avoided him, doubtless

for fear of compromising himself; but recently Don Vigilio had proved

less unsociable, as though he were not far from sharing the impatience

which must be consuming the young Frenchman amidst his long enforced

inactivity. And so, on this occasion, he did not seek to avoid the chat

on which Pierre was bent.

"I must apologise," said the latter, "for asking you in here when things

are in such disorder. But I have just received some more linen and some

winter clothing from Paris. I came, you know, with just a little valise,

meaning to stay for a fortnight, and yet I've now been here for nearly

three months, and am no more advanced than I was on the morning of my

arrival."

Don Vigilio nodded. "Yes, yes, I know," said he.

Thereupon Pierre explained to him that Monsignor Nani had informed him,

through the Contessina, that he now ought to act and see everybody for

the defence of his book. But he was much embarrassed, as he did not know

in what order to make his visits so that they might benefit him. For

instance, ought he to call in the first place on Monsignor Fornaro, the

_consultore_ selected to report on his book, and whose name had been

given him?

"Ah!" exclaimed Don Vigilio, quivering; "has Monsignor Nani gone as far

as that--given you the reporter's name? That's even more than I

expected." Then, forgetting his prudence, yielding to his secret interest

in the affair, he resumed: "No, no; don't begin with Monsignor Fornaro.

Your first visit should be a very humble one to the Prefect of the

Congregation of the Index--his Eminence Cardinal Sanguinetti; for he

would never forgive you for having offered your first homage to another

should he some day hear of it." And, after a pause, Don Vigilio added, in

a low voice, amidst a faint, feverish shiver: "And he _would_ hear of it;

everything becomes known."

Again he hesitated, and then, as if yielding to sudden, sympathetic

courage, he took hold of the young Frenchman's hands. "I swear to you, my

dear Monsieur Froment," he said, "that I should be very happy to help

you, for you are a man of simple soul, and I really begin to feel worried

for you. But you must not ask me for impossibilities. Ah! if you only

knew--if I could only tell you of all the perils which surround us!

However, I think I can repeat to you that you must in no wise rely on my

patron, his Eminence Cardinal Boccanera. He has expressed absolute

disapproval of your book in my presence on several occasions. Only he is

a saint, a most worthy, honourable man; and, though he won't defend you,

he won't attack you--he will remain neutral out of regard for his niece,

whom he loves so dearly, and who protects you. So, when you see him,

don't plead your cause; it would be of no avail, and might even irritate

him."

Pierre was not particularly distressed by this news, for at his first

interview with the Cardinal, and on the few subsequent occasions when he

had respectfully visited him, he had fully understood that his Eminence

would never be other than an adversary. "Well," said he, "I will wait on

him to thank him for his neutrality."

But at this all Don Vigilio's terrors returned. "No, no, don't do that;

he would perhaps realise that I have spoken to you, and then what a

disaster--my position would be compromised. I've said nothing, nothing!

See the cardinals to begin with, see all the cardinals. Let it be

understood between us that I've said nothing more." And, on that occasion

at any rate, Don Vigilio would speak no further, but left the room

shuddering and darting fiery, suspicious glances on either side of the

corridor.

Pierre at once went out to call on Cardinal Sanguinetti. It was ten

o'clock, and there was a chance that he might find him at home. This

cardinal resided on the first floor of a little palazzo in a dark, narrow

street near San Luigi dei Francesi.* There was here none of the giant

ruin full of princely and melancholy grandeur amidst which Cardinal

Boccanera so stubbornly remained. The old regulation gala suite of rooms

had been cut down just like the number of servants. There was no

throne-room, no red hat hanging under a _baldacchino_, no arm-chair

turned to the wall pending a visit from the Pope. A couple of apartments

served as ante-rooms, and then came a _salon_ where the Cardinal

received; and there was no luxury, indeed scarcely any comfort; the

furniture was of mahogany, dating from the empire period, and the

hangings and carpets were dusty and faded by long use. Moreover, Pierre

had to wait a long time for admittance, and when a servant, leisurely

putting on his jacket, at last set the door ajar, it was only to say that

his Eminence had been away at Frascati since the previous day.

* This is the French church of Rome, and is under the protection

of the French Government.--Trans.

Pierre then remembered that Cardinal Sanguinetti was one of the suburban

bishops. At his see of Frascati he had a villa where he occasionally

spent a few days whenever a desire for rest or some political motive

impelled him to do so.

"And will his Eminence soon return?" Pierre inquired.

"Ah! we don't know. His Eminence is poorly, and expressly desired us to

send nobody to worry him."

When Pierre reached the street again he felt quite bewildered by this

disappointment. At first he wondered whether he had not better call on

Monsignor Fornaro without more ado, but he recollected Don Vigilio's

advice to see the cardinals first of all, and, an inspiration coming to

him, he resolved that his next visit should be for Cardinal Sarno, whose

acquaintance he had eventually made at Donna Serafina's Mondays. In spite

of Cardinal Sarno's voluntary self-effacement, people looked upon him as

one of the most powerful and redoubtable members of the Sacred College,

albeit his nephew Narcisse Habert declared that he knew no man who showed

more obtuseness in matters which did not pertain to his habitual

occupations. At all events, Pierre thought that the Cardinal, although

not a member of the Congregation of the Index, might well give him some

good advice, and possibly bring his great influence to bear on his

colleagues.

The young man straightway betook himself to the Palace of the Propaganda,

where he knew he would find the Cardinal. This palace, which is seen from

the Piazza di Spagna, is a bare, massive corner pile between two streets.

And Pierre, hampered by his faulty Italian, quite lost himself in it,

climbing to floors whence he had to descend again, and finding himself in

a perfect labyrinth of stairs, passages, and halls. At last he luckily

came across the Cardinal's secretary, an amiable young priest, whom he

had already seen at the Boccanera mansion. "Why, yes," said the

secretary, "I think that his Eminence will receive you. You did well to

come at this hour, for he is always here of a morning. Kindly follow me,

if you please."

Then came a fresh journey. Cardinal Sarno, long a Secretary of the

Propaganda, now presided over the commission which controlled the

organisation of worship in those countries of Europe, Africa, America,

and Oceanica where Catholicism had lately gained a footing; and he thus

had a private room of his own with special officers and assistants,

reigning there with the ultra-methodical habits of a functionary who had

grown old in his arm-chair, closely surrounded by nests of drawers, and

knowing nothing of the world save the usual sights of the street below

his window.

The secretary left Pierre on a bench at the end of a dark passage, which

was lighted by gas even in full daylight. And quite a quarter of an hour

went by before he returned with his eager, affable air. "His Eminence is

conferring with some missionaries who are about to leave Rome," he said;

"but it will soon be over, and he told me to take you to his room, where

you can wait for him."

As soon as Pierre was alone in the Cardinal's sanctum he examined it with

curiosity. Fairly spacious, but in no wise luxurious, it had green paper

on its walls, and its furniture was of black wood and green damask. From

two windows overlooking a narrow side street a mournful light reached the

dark wall-paper and faded carpets. There were a couple of pier tables and

a plain black writing-table, which stood near one window, its worn

mole-skin covering littered with all sorts of papers. Pierre drew near to

it for a moment, and glanced at the arm-chair with damaged, sunken seat,

the screen which sheltered it from draughts, and the old inkstand

splotched with ink. And then, in the lifeless and oppressive atmosphere,

the disquieting silence, which only the low rumbles from the street

disturbed, he began to grow impatient.

However, whilst he was softly walking up and down he suddenly espied a

map affixed to one wall, and the sight of it filled him with such

absorbing thoughts that he soon forgot everything else. It was a coloured

map of the world, the different tints indicating whether the territories

belonged to victorious Catholicism or whether Catholicism was still

warring there against unbelief; these last countries being classified as

vicariates or prefectures, according to the general principles of

organisation. And the whole was a graphic presentment of the long efforts

of Catholicism in striving for the universal dominion which it has sought

so unremittingly since its earliest hour. God has given the world to His

Church, but it is needful that she should secure possession of it since

error so stubbornly abides. From this has sprung the eternal battle, the

fight which is carried on, even in our days, to win nations over from

other religions, as it was in the days when the Apostles quitted Judaea

to spread abroad the tidings of the Gospel. During the middle ages the

great task was to organise conquered Europe, and this was too absorbing

an enterprise to allow of any attempt at reconciliation with the

dissident churches of the East. Then the Reformation burst forth, schism

was added to schism, and the Protestant half of Europe had to be

reconquered as well as all the orthodox East.

War-like ardour, however, awoke at the discovery of the New World. Rome

was ambitious of securing that other side of the earth, and missions were

organised for the subjection of races of which nobody had known anything

the day before, but which God had, nevertheless, given to His Church,

like all the others. And by degrees the two great divisions of

Christianity were formed, on one hand the Catholic nations, those where

the faith simply had to be kept up, and which the Secretariate of State

installed at the Vatican guided with sovereign authority, and on the

other the schismatical or pagan nations which were to be brought back to

the fold or converted, and over which the Congregation of the Propaganda

sought to reign. Then this Congregation had been obliged to divide itself

into two branches in order to facilitate its work--the Oriental branch,

which dealt with the dissident sects of the East, and the Latin branch,

whose authority extended over all the other lands of mission: the two

forming a vast organisation--a huge, strong, closely meshed net cast over

the whole world in order that not a single soul might escape.

It was in presence of that map that Pierre for the first time became

clearly conscious of the mechanism which for centuries had been working

to bring about the absorption of humanity. The Propaganda, richly dowered

by the popes, and disposing of a considerable revenue, appeared to him

like a separate force, a papacy within the papacy, and he well understood

that the Prefect of the Congregation should be called the "Red Pope," for

how limitless were the powers of that man of conquest and domination,

whose hands stretched from one to the other end of the earth. Allowing

that the Cardinal Secretary held Europe, that diminutive portion of the

globe, did not he, the Prefect, hold all the rest--the infinity of space,

the distant countries as yet almost unknown? Besides, statistics showed

that Rome's uncontested dominion was limited to 200 millions of Apostolic

and Roman Catholics; whereas the schismatics of the East and the

Reformation, if added together, already exceeded that number, and how

small became the minority of the true believers when, besides the

schismatics, one brought into line the 1000 millions of infidels who yet

remained to be converted. The figures struck Pierre with a force which

made him shudder. What! there were 5 million Jews, nearly 200 million

Mahommedans, more than 700 million Brahmanists and Buddhists, without

counting another 100 million pagans of divers creeds, the whole making

1000 millions, and against these the Christians could marshal barely more

than 400 millions, who were divided among themselves, ever in conflict,

one half with Rome and the other half against her?* Was it possible that

in 1800 years Christianity had not proved victorious over even one-third

of mankind, and that Rome, the eternal and all-powerful, only counted a

sixth part of the nations among her subjects? Only one soul saved out of

every six--how fearful was the disproportion! However, the map spoke with

brutal eloquence: the red-tinted empire of Rome was but a speck when

compared with the yellow-hued empire of the other gods--the endless

countries which the Propaganda still had to conquer. And the question

arose: How many centuries must elapse before the promises of the Christ

were realised, before the whole world were gained to Christianity, before

religious society spread over secular society, and there remained but one