The Saint Part 27

Neither do I speak to this gentleman seated beside me, for I know he does not need my words. I speak to no one who is firmly grounded in the Catholic faith. I address myself solely to those young men who wrote to me in the following terms."

He took out a letter and read:

"'We were educated in the Catholic faith, and on attaining manhood we--by an act of our own free will--accepted its most arduous mysteries; we have laboured in the faith, both in the administrative and social field; but now another mystery rises in our way, and our faith falters before it. The Catholic Church, calling herself the fountain of truth, to-day opposes the research of truth, when her foundations, the sacred books, the formulae of her dogmas, her alleged infallibility, become objects of research. To us this signifies that she no longer has faith in herself. The Catholic Church, which proclaims herself the channel of life, to-day chains and stifles all that lives youthfully within her, to-day seeks to prop all that is tottering and aged within her, To us these things mean death, distant, but inevitable death. The Catholic Church, claiming to wish to renew all things through Christ, is hostile to us, who strive to wrest the direction of social progress from the enemies of Christ. This fact, with many others, signifies to us, that she has Christ on her lips but not in her heart. Such is the Catholic Church to-day. Can G.o.d desire our obedience to her to continue? We come to you with this question. What shall we do? You who profess to be a Catholic, who preach Catholicism, who have the reputation----'"

Here Benedetto broke off, saying;

"Only some unimportant words follow."

And he continued his discourse.

"I answer those who wrote to me, thus: Tell me, why have you appealed to me who profess to be a Catholic? Do you perhaps think me a superior of the superiors in the Church? Will you, perhaps for that reason, rest in peace upon my word, if my word be different from what you call the word of the Church? Listen to this allegory. Thirsty pilgrims draw near to a famous fountain. They find its basin full of stagnant water, disgusting to the taste. The living spring is at the bottom of the basin; they do not find it. Sadly they turn for aid to a quarryman, working in a neighbouring quarry. The quarryman offers them living water. They inquire the name of the spring. 'It is the same as the water in the basin,' he replies. 'Underground it is all one and the same stream. He who digs will find it.' You are the thirsty pilgrims, I am the humble quarryman, and Catholic truth is the hidden, underground current. The basin is not the Church; the Church is the whole field through which the living waters flow. You have appealed to me because you unconsciously recognise that the Church is not the hierarchy alone, but the universal a.s.semblage of all the faithful, _gens sancta;_ that from the bottom of any Christian heart the living waters of the spring itself, of truth itself, may rush forth. Unconscious recognition, for were it not unconscious you would not say, the Church opposes this, the Church stifles that, the Church is growing old, the Church has Christ on her lips and not in her heart.

"Understand me well. I do not pa.s.s judgment upon the hierarchy; I respect the authority of the hierarchy; I simply say that the Church does not consist of the hierarchy alone. Listen to another example.

In the thoughts of every man there is a species of hierarchy. Take the upright man. With him certain ideas, certain aims, are dominant thoughts, and control his actions. They are these: to fulfil his religious, moral, and civil duties. To these various duties he gives the traditional interpretations which have been taught him. Yet this hierarchy of firmly grounded opinions does not const.i.tute the whole man.

Below it there are in him a mult.i.tude of other thoughts, a mult.i.tude of other ideas, which are continually being changed and modified by the impressions and experiences of life. And below these thoughts there is another region of the soul, there is the subconsciousness, where occult faculties work at an occult task, where the mysterious contact with G.o.d comes to pa.s.s. The dominant ideas exercise authority over the will of the upright man, but all that other world of thought is of vast importance as well, because it is continually deriving truth from the experience of what is real externally, and from the experience of what is Divine internally, and therefore seems to rectify the superior ideas, the dominant ideas, in that in which their traditional element is not in perfect harmony with truth. And to them, it is a perennial fountain of fresh life which renews them, a source of legitimate authority, derived rather from the nature of things, from the true value of ideas, than from the decrees of men. The Church is the whole man, not one separate group of exalted and dominant ideas; the Church is the hierarchy, with its traditional views, and the laity, with its continual derivations from reality, its continual reaction upon tradition; the Church is official theology, and she is the inexhaustible treasure of Divine Truth, which reacts upon official theology; the Church does not die; the Church does not grow old; the Church has the living Christ in her heart rather than on her lips; the Church is a laboratory of truth, which is in continual action, and G.o.d commands you to remain in the Church, to become the Church fountains of living water."

Like a gust of wind, a feeling of emotion and of admiration swept over the audience. Benedetto, whose voice had been growing louder and louder, rose to his feet.

"But what manner of faith is yours!" he exclaimed excitedly, "if you talk of deserting the Church because you are displeased with certain antiquated doctrines of her rulers, with certain decrees of the Roman congregations, with certain tendencies in the government of a Pontiff?

What manner of sons are you who talk of denying your mother because her dress is not to your taste? Can a dress change the maternal bosom? When resting there, you tearfully confess your infirmities to Christ, and Christ heals you, do you speculate concerning the authenticity of a pa.s.sage in St. John, the true author of the Fourth Gospel, or the two Isaiahs? When, gathered there, you unite yourselves to Christ in the sacrament, are you disturbed by the decrees of the Index, or of the Holy Office? When, lying there, you pa.s.s into the shadows of death, is the peace it sheds about you any less sweet because a Pope is opposed to Christian Democracy?

"My friends, you say 'We have rested in the shade of this tree, but now its bark is splitting, is being dried up, the tree will die; let us seek another tree.' The tree will not die. If you had ears you would hear the movement of the new bark which is forming, which will have its span of life, which will crack, will be dried up in its turn only to be replaced by another coat of bark. The tree does not perish, the tree grows."

Benedetto sat down, exhausted, and was silent. There was a movement among the audience like the shuddering of waves surging towards him.

Raising his hands, he stopped them.

"Friends," he said, in a weary, sweet voice, "listen to me once more.

Scribes and Pharisees, elders and princes among priests, have striven in all times against innovations, as they strive to-day. It is not for me to speak to you of them; G.o.d will judge them. We pray for all those who know not what they do. But perhaps those of the other Catholic camp, the militant camp, are not entirely without sin. In the other camp they are intoxicated with the idea of modernity. Modernity is good, but the eternal is better. I fear that there they do not esteem the eternal at its just value. It is expected that the Church of Christ will derive much strength from united Catholic action in the fields of administration and politics, action resulting in strife, through which the Father will suffer insult at the hands of men, while not enough reliance is placed on the strength to be derived from the light shed by the good deeds of each individual Christian, through which light the Father is glorified. The supreme object of humanity is to glorify the Father. Now men glorify the Father of such as possess the spirit of charity, of peace, of wisdom, of purity, of fort.i.tude, who give their vital strength for the good of others. One such just man, who professes and practises Catholicism, contributes more largely to the glory of the Father, of Christ, of the Church, than many congresses, many clubs, many Catholic victories in politics.

"A moment ago I heard some one murmur: 'And what about the social action?' The social action, my friends, is certainly salutary, as a work of justice, of fraternisation; but like the Socialists, some Catholics put upon it the seal of their own religious and political opinions, and refuse to admit well-intentioned men, if they do not accept that seal; they repulse the good Samaritan, and this is an abomination in the eyes of G.o.d. They also set the seal of Catholicism upon works which are instruments of gain, and this again is an abomination in the eyes of G.o.d. They preach the just distribution of riches, and that is well; but they too often forget to preach also poverty of the heart, and if they are deterred from doing this by mercenary motives, then this is another abomination in the eyes of G.o.d. Purge your actions of these abominations. Call all well-intentioned men to help, especially in works of justice and of love, satisfied yourselves to have initiated these labours. By your words and by your example preach poverty of the heart to rich and poor alike."

The audience swayed confusedly, drawn in different directions. Benedetto covered his face with his hands, while he collected his thoughts.

"You ask me what you are to do?" he said uncovering his face.

He reflected a moment longer and then continued:

"I see, In the future, Catholic laymen striving zealously for Christ and for truth, and finding a means of inst.i.tuting unions different from those of the present. They will one day take arms as knights of the Holy Spirit, banding together for the united defence of G.o.d and of Christian morality in the scientific, artistic, civil, and social fields; for the united defence of legitimate liberty in the religious field. They shall be under certain special obligations, not however of community of living, or of celibacy, integrating the office of the Catholic clergy, to which they will not belong as an Order but only as persons, in the individual practice of Catholicism. Pray that G.o.d's will may be made manifest concerning this work in the souls of those who contemplate it.

Pray that these souls may willingly strip themselves of all pride in having conceived this work, and of all hope of witnessing its completion, should G.o.d manifest disapproval of it. If G.o.d manifest His approval of it, then pray that men may be taught to organise its every detail to His greater glory, and to the greater glory of the Church.

Amen!"

He had finished, but no one moved. All eyes were fixed upon him, anxious and eager for other words to follow these last, unexpected ones, which had sounded so mysterious and grand. Many would have liked to break the silence, but no one ventured to do so. When Benedetto rose, and all gathered round him in a respectful circle, the old gentleman with the red face and the white hair rose also, and said, his voice shaking with emotion.

"You will suffer insult and blows; you will be crowned with thorns and given gall to drink; you will be derided by the Pharisees and the heathen; you will not see the future you long for, but the future is yours; the disciples of your disciples will see it!"

He embraced Benedetto and kissed him on the brow. Two or three of those nearest him clapped their hands timidly, and then a burst of applause swept through the room. Benedetto, greatly agitated, signed to a fair-haired young man, who had come to the house with him, and who now hastened to his side, his face radiant with emotion and joy. Some one whispered:

"A disciple!"

Some one else added, softly:

"Yes, and the favourite!"

The master of the house almost prostrated himself before Benedetto, pouring out words of deference and grat.i.tude. Then one of the priests ventured to come forward, and said in a tremulous voice:

"Master, have you no word of counsel for us?"

"Do not call me master!" Benedetto replied, still much agitated. "Pray that light may be shed upon these young men, upon our shepherds, and also upon me!"

When he had left the room, a crackle of voices arose, some resonant, others short and hoa.r.s.e, for astonishment still held these agitated minds in check. Presently, here and there, the intense excitement burst forth, and spread in every direction. Exclamations of admiration broke from all lips, some praising this or that expression the speaker had used, this or that thought he had uttered, while others remarked upon his glance, his accent, or marvelled at the spirit of holiness which shone in his face, and which seemed to emanate from his very hands.

Soon, however, the master of the house dismissed the guests, and though his apologies were profuse, and his words very gracious, still his haste was such as to be almost discourteous. As soon as he was alone he unlocked the door, and, pushing it open, stood bowing on the threshold.

"Ladies!" said he, and threw the door wide open.

A swarm of ladies fluttered into the empty hall. A middle-aged spinster literally flung herself towards the young man, and, clasping her hands, exclaimed:

"Oh! how grateful we are to you! Oh! what a saint! I don't know what prevented us from rushing in and embracing him!"

"_Cara!_ My good creature!" said another with the quiet irony of the Venetian, her fine large eyes sparkling. "It was probably because the door was locked, fortunately for him!"

The ladies were twelve in number. The master of the house, Professor Guarnacci, son of the general-agent of one of them--the Marchesa Fermi, a Roman--had spoken to her about the meeting which was to take place at his house, and had mentioned the discourse to be p.r.o.nounced by that strange personage about whom all Rome was already talking, knowing him as an enthusiastic religious agitator and miracle worker, most popular in the Testaccio district. The Marchesa was determined to hear him without being seen. She had arranged everything with Guarnacci, and had admitted three or four friends into the conspiracy, each in her turn obtaining permission to introduce others. They appeared a strangely a.s.sorted company. Many were in evening _toilettes_, two were dressed precisely like Friends, while only one lady wore black.

The two Friends, who were foreigners, seemed quite beside themselves with enthusiasm, and were highly incensed against the Marchesa, a sceptical, very sarcastic old woman, who remarked calmly:

"Yes, yes, he spoke very well; but I should have liked to see his face while he was speaking."

Declaring she could judge men far better by their faces than by their words, the old Marchesa reproached Guarnacci for not having made a hole in the door, or at least left the key in the lock.

"You are too holy," she said. "You do not understand women!"

Guarnacci laughed, apologising with all the consideration due to his father's employer, and a.s.sured her that Benedetto was as beautiful as an angel. A rather insipid young woman who had come, "Goodness only knows why!" the two Friends thought angrily, announced, in quiet tones, that she had seen him twice, and that he was ugly.

"That is, of course, according to _your_ idea of beauty, signora!" one of the Friends remarked sourly, while the other added in a low tone, intended to enhance its sting, a poisonous _"Naturellement!"_

The insipid young woman, her colour deepening with embarra.s.sment and vexation, replied that he was pale and thin, and the two Friends exchanged glances and smiles of tacit contempt. But where had she seen him? Two other insipid young women were curious to know this.

"Why, on both occasions in my sister-in-law's garden," she answered.

"He is always in the garden!" the Marchesa exclaimed. "Does the angel grow in a flower-bed or in a pot?"

The insipid young woman laughed, and the Friends shot furious glances at the Marchesa.

Tea, which had been included in Guarnacci's invitation, was then brought in.

"A delightful conversation, is it not?" Signora Albacina, wife of the Honourable Albacina, Undersecretary of the Home Office, said softly to the lady in black, who had not once spoken. She now smiled sadly without answering.

Tea was served by the Professor and his sister, and put an end to conversation for a few moments. It soon burst forth again, however, the topic being Benedetto's discourse. There ensued such a confusion of senseless remarks, of worthless opinions, of would-be wise sayings devoid of wisdom that the lady in black proposed to Signora Albacina, in whose company she had come, that they should take their departure. But at that point the Marchesa Fermi, having discovered a small bell on the mantel-shelf, began ringing it, to obtain silence. "I should like to hear about this garden," she said.