Hadrian the Seventh · Chapter 17 (1/2)

XVII

In the morning, Hadrian summoned Gentilotto, Sterling, Whitehead, Carvale, della Volta, Semphill, Van Kristen. He fancied that the gentlemen-of-the-chamber curiously eyed Him. That was so. He guessed in a moment that now He always would have to stand the fire of curious eyes, to overhear the ostentatious whispers of people who wished to be known for nasty thinkers⁠—of people who wished to see the Roman Pontiff wriggling on a white-hot gridiron. Very well. He would stand fire: perhaps, up to a certain point, He would answer questions of general (but not of particular) interest. But there should be no merely human contortuplications.

Their Eminencies came into the throne-room, where the Pope was sitting rather rigidly in a hieratic attitude, His hands on the arms of the chair, His feet and knees closed, His back straight and His head erect. He was a shade more pallid than usual. They each paid their respects in a different manner. Gentilotto’s mild pure visage expressed compassion mingled with a sense of personal injury. The assailants of the Pope also had wounded him. Sterling’s dark face was locked-up with the look of one who is determined to be righteous under all circumstances, while willing to forward to the proper quarter a recommendation to mercy on behalf of the prisoner at the bar. The Cardinal of St. George-of-the-Golden-Sail contained himself in personal innocence which precluded him from prancing to believe in the guilt of others. Della Volta’s pose indicated ordinary but sympathetic curiosity. Carvale was white, and Semphill was red, with impatient indignation. Like Gentilotto, they both were hurt by the attack on their superior: but they were up in arms. Van Kristen was very very sad. His great melancholy eyes swam in a mist of commiseration; and Hadrian noted that his lips rested just an instant longer than usual on the cold pontifical hand.

Chamberlains placed stools for the cardinals and retired. The Pope began to speak in His usual swift and concise tone. By way of emphasizing the essential difference between the Church (a purely missionary association) and the World, He had determined to disperse the Vatican treasures. This was not at all what Their Eminences had expected to hear; and they were rather taken aback. Hadrian gave them a moment; and then went-on.

“Does anyone know whether dear old Cabelli is Minister of Public instruction now?”

Della Volta gave a negative.

“So much the better, because he will be at leisure to do Us a favour. And now” (His Holiness directly addressed the last speaker) “We place this matter in Your Eminency’s hands. You shall have a breve of commission; and this is what you will do. First, you will collect Cabelli and Longhi and Manciani as your board of advisers. Secondly, with their assistance, you will procure the services of the chief experts of the world⁠—say five. Thirdly, you will cause these five experts to estimate the maximum and minimum values of each separate piece in the treasury. This list of values you will submit to Us. Fourthly, you will have the pieces arranged, (and the arrangement must be indicated on the list of values,) in three divisions, the historic, the artistic, and the merely valuable on account of weight or character. Fifthly, you instantly will publish everywhere a note to the effect that the sale at fixed prices of these things will take place here from the first to the sixth of January following.”

He paused: for He saw that people wanted to speak. He conceded the word to Gentilotto.

“Has Your Holiness considered,” said the Red Pope, “that most of the treasures are consecrated to the service of the Church?”

“Yes. We also have considered that the Church exists for the service of God in His creatures: that She does not serve either by keeping pretty and costly things shut-up in cupboards: that the Church which set these things apart by consecration, also can restore them to usefulness by desecration. Technically things consecrate can become desecrate by tapping them with intent to desecrate: We soon will descend to the treasury; and will tap all the sacred things into gems and bullion.”

“That can be done;” the Cardinal-Prefect of Propaganda said. His heart pulled him one way: heredity and ecclesiastical prejudice, the other.

“There is one thing which I think it right to mention,” put in della Volta: “the present officials of the treasury, and the buildings:⁠—what will become of them?”

“The officials will continue to enjoy the stipends of their benefices. They will have other and more useful occupation than the furbishing of plate provided for them. As for the building⁠—when the cupboards are empty they will be removed; and, the treasury being no longer there, the building will remain the sacristy.”

“I should like to get a word in edgeways if I may;” said Semphill. “Doesn’t Your Holiness think that the Italian Government will interfere? Isn’t there some law which prevents works-of-art from going out of Italy?”

“We should like to see the Italian Government interfere with Us:” Hadrian responded with a strong and illuminating smile. “The Italian Government is neither a Fenian nor a fool.”

“No, but⁠—” the cardinal pursued.

“Your Eminency need fear no opposition from that quarter.”

“Is nothing to be exempted from this sale?” Sterling thoughtfully asked.

“There will be some exemptions.” The Pope turned to Cardinal della Volta. “You will reserve one silver-gilt chalice and paten for every priest in the palace: one silver-gilt pyx for every tabernacle; and one plain set of pontifical regalia which We will indicate to you. Nothing more. Hereafter, the court can use ornaments which are the private possessions of individuals.”

“I must say that I think the pontifical regalia deserves a better fate than conversion into bullion and gems,” said Gentilotto.

“Nonsense,” the Pope sharply retorted. “The pontifical regalia is not sacrosanct like the Carthaginian zaïmph.” The frayed edges of His nerves showed themselves.

“I concede it,” the cardinal admitted.

Hadrian rose. “We have summoned the Sacred Consistory for tomorrow morning, when We will issue Our decrees in this matter.”

Semphill no longer could contain himself. He exploded with “Of course Your Holiness has seen the Catholic Hour?”

Hadrian thought that He particularly liked this cardinal today for some reason. Yes of course, His Eminency looked better during Advent. The ordinary vermilion made his chubby rubicundity appear too blue. That was the reason.

“Oh, yes:” the Pontiff replied.

“Well really I never read anything more abominable in my life!”

“Nor did We.”

All the cardinalitial eyes were directed toward the Pope. He remained standing on the step of the throne; and seemed to be changing into alabaster. Semphill lashing himself to fury, continued “I should like to think that something will be done about it.”

“So should We.”

Semphill prolapsed and stared. “But surely Your Holiness will do something?”

“No.”

“What? Not answer them?”

“No.”

“One would have thought that there would be some canonical means of bringing the Catholic Hour to book for aspersions against the Pope:” Sterling said.

“There is the bull Exsecrabilis of Pius II. But it is not the Pope Who is aspersed. It is George Arthur Rose:” imperturbably said Hadrian.

“That’s drawing it rather fine:” Whitehead said, looking up for the first time.

“Fine enough:” Carvale put in, with appreciation of the distinction.

“Excommunicate the editor, printer, and publisher, by name, I say!” ejaculated Semphill.

Sterling went on, “One finds it difficult to understand what can have persuaded the Catholic Hour to insert⁠—”

Hadrian interrupted, “Just ask yourself this. Is it likely that an Erse periodical⁠—and, when We say an Erse periodical, We mean a clerical periodical, (for, according to McCarthy, the Erse clergy hold the Catholic press in the hollow of their hand,)⁠—is it likely that an Erse periodical, which has the infernal cheek to dub itself the ‘Organ of Catholic Opinion,’ and which once called Cardinal Semphill a⁠—what was it, Eminency?⁠—ah yes, ‘a scented masher,’⁠—could be expected to forego an opportunity of increasing its circulation at the expense of the Vicar of Christ?”

“Oh very good indeed!” exclaimed Semphill, with a hearty reminiscent shout of laughter.

“But, Holiness,” Sterling gravely continued, “one knows that the statements are not true. One knows that the article mispresents You entirely.”

“They are not wholly true; and the article entirely mispresents Us.”

“One would recommend that that should be made known.”

“It is known. Hundreds know it. They are not prevented from saying what they know.⁠—If they dare.” Hadrian came down from the throne. A grey shadow hardened the sharpness of the face. The brows and the eyes were drawn into parallels, the latter half-shut; and the thin lips were straight and cruel. Their Eminencies mindfully retired. Van Kristen lingered till the others were gone. “Holy Father,” he said, “I guess that You’re feeling it about as bad as the next man?”

Hadrian pressed the slim brown hand, on which the cardinalitial sapphire looked so absolutely lovely,

“Perhaps, Percy:” He said.

“I think I won’t go back to Dynam House this fall,” the cardinal continued. “They can do without me, Holiness. If I’m any good to You here, I’m no quitter so long as my eyes remain black.”

“You always are good and useful to Us, Venerable Father,” the Pope very stiffly said, as He quickly passed through the curtains of the secret antechamber.

Now the world had something to talk about beside the chances of universal war, and the inferiority of the present Pope. When the dispersal of the treasures of the Vatican was announced in the Sacred Consistory, five cardinals walked straight out to swear, four burst into tears, eight spoke their minds quite freely and (in the case of two) at the top of their voices, and the rest were dumb. Ragna, Berstein, Cacciatore, and Vivole came to the conclusion that Hadrian’s new move was a pontifical red-herring intended to divert the scent from the newspaper-calumnies against George Arthur Rose. They went about trying to make people see the thing from their point of view. Celts and Catholics throughout the world set up howls; and compared Hadrian to Honorius to the advantage of the latter. “From a Catholic point of view,” wrote one clerical gentleman (who in youth, as an attaché in Paris, had been known as La Belle Anthropophage), “it is impossible to blame Hadrian too severely.” He was ruined, they said with unctuous rectitude; and He was going to sell the Vatican Treasures in order to provide an iniquitous provision for a disreputable and private old age. Naturally they judged by their own standard. All Catholics do.

The Liblab Fellowship congratulated itself on the possession of such a Fellowshipper as Sant. His diplomacy was thought cute. Socialists hourly expected to hear that the Scarlet Unutterable, in sheer despair, had asked to be allowed to seek a refuge in their ranks. Jerry Sant sat-up all night at the Hotel Nike, in case the Pope should be moved to escape from a throne which had been made too hot for Him. In the event of such an escape, of course “His Most Reverent Lordship” would come and try and make peace with them as He had put to so much unnecessary trouble and expense. So the Liblab cut and dried his plans. He would administer the oaths to God’s Vicegerent: take His entrance-fee and annual subscription in advance; and admit Him as a Fellowshipper. Then, as His senior comrade, He would order Him back to Vatican to use His popery for carrying out the schemes of Labor against Capital. Incidentally he would take the opportunity of transferring some of the pontifical capital from a man as didn’t to a man as did deserve it. However, Jerry gave himself two sleepless nights for nothing. He would have been better, though perhaps not quite so comely, in bed. And then, on the third day, Mrs. Crowe rushed in, displaying a tantrum which was a blend of joy and hate and fear.

“I suppose this is your work, Mr. Sant?” she said, bringing a cutting from the Catholic Hour out of her chain-bag.

“Imphm,” Jerry grinned like an oblong gargoyle.

“Oh how could you say such things about Him! I do think it shocking of you!”

“Wumman, hae ye nat telled me maist o’ they things yersel’?”

“Yes of course. But I never thought you’d put it all in the papers.”

“A havena pit them a’. There’s a plenty more⁠—if He hasna had His paiks yet.”

“O but I’m sure He has, I expect you’ve simply stunned Him.”

“Maybe I have.”

“Haven’t you heard from Him yet?”

“A havena. A’m expecting to hear the now.”

“Mr. Sant if you’ve killed my George I’ll⁠—I don’t know what I’ll do: but I’ll never forgive you.”

“Hech wumman, that won’t kill Him: but it may make Him a bit sore and I’ll let you know that He’ll come here for His plaster.”

“I don’t mind Him being sore. He deserves it after the way He’s behaved to me. But⁠—”

“Now just you tak’ yersel’ away. I can’t have you messing about here when Rose comes. When I’m through with Him I’ll forward Him to you. So you be off with you.”

“Clumsy beast!” said Mrs. Crowe to herself when she stood in Two Shambles Street again. “You’d much better have left it to me to arrange. I shouldn’t be surprised if Georgie did something desperate now. It ’ld be just like Him. And I believe I could have coaxed Him⁠—” She hailed a victoria; and drove to St. Peter’s Square to have another look at the window.

The Pope gave the holy order of priesthood to Cardinal Van Kristen on Innocents’ Day. His Holiness felt that the sacerdotal prayer of so innocent a one would benefit all. The English and American invasion of Rome beat the record for the winter season. At a carp-and-punch supper at Palazzo Caffarelli on Christmas Eve, it was remarked that the City just then contained all the world’s multimillionaires. If war had been carried on in the antique manner, i.e. for ransoms and spoils, and if any power had possessed a sufficient military equipment, a new sack of Rome would have been an exceedingly lucrative undertaking. However, as it was, Rome sacked the multimillionaires. Despite the fact that the coming spring was likely to see the dawn of Armageddon, an astonishing number of people was unable to resist the temptation to purchase the treasures of the Vatican. The list of prices assigned by the experts had been submitted to Hadrian, Who struck the mean between maximum and minimum, greatly to the disgust of curialists who (when once the idea was grasped) were anxious to drive good bargains. They suggested an auction, which the Pope incontinently refused, saying that He was going to compete neither with tradesmen nor with brigands. He made it easy for museums to acquire historic specimens: the merely artistic chiefly went to private collectors; and the world acquired the valuables. The collection of lace alone fetched £785,000; and the total takings, amounting to four-and-thirty millions sterling, were deposited in the Bank of Italy.