When It Was Dark Part 31

During the days of darkness Helena's lot was hard, her heart heavy.

While Mr. Byars was at least active, militant, she must eat her heart out in sorrow at home. The doctor had forbidden any talk on those subjects which were agitating the world, between her and Basil. She was denied that consolation. So while her father was attending the conferences at the Bishop's palace, speaking at meetings, visiting the sick with pa.s.sionate, and, alas, how often useless! a.s.surance that the Truth would prevail and the Light of the World once more shine out undimmed, she must live and pray alone.

Helena's faith had never weakened. All through the trying days and nights it had burned steadily, clear, and pure. But all around her she saw the enemies of Christ prevailing. Nor was it with the slow movement of ordinary secularism, but with a great shout of triumph and exultation which resounded through the world. Men were deserting their posts, the Church she loved seemed tottering, a horrid confusion and anarchy was everywhere.

And all that she could do was to pray. But as the girl moved about her simple household duties, as she tended the sick man with an almost wifely care, her prayers went on unceasingly and every action was interwoven with supplication.

Pale, subdued, but with a quiet clearness and resolution in his eye, Basil came down to the meal. There was but little conversation during it. Afterwards, Helena went to her own room, knowing that her father and Gortre wished to be left alone.

In the study the two men sat on either side of the fireplace. Basil wore a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair. He would not smoke, the doctor had forbidden it, but Mr. Byars lit his pipe with a sigh of satisfaction.

"To think, Basil," the older man said in a broken voice, "to think that Christmas is upon us now! It's the vigil of Christmas, and never since our Lord's Pa.s.sion has the world been in such a state. And worse than all is our utter impotence!" His voice grew almost angry. "We _know_, know as surely as we know anything, that this terrible business is some stupendous mistake or fraud. But there isn't the slightest possibility of any one listening to us. On one side the weightiest expert proof, on the other nothing but a conviction to oppose to what appear to be the hardest facts. I cannot blame any non-Christian for acquiescing in this discovery. Viewing the thing clearly and without prejudice, I can't blame any one. It is only the smallest minority, even of professing Christians, whose faith is strong enough to keep them from an utter denial of our Lord's Divinity. It is simply a matter of long personal experience that gives you and me and Helena our confidence in this utter darkness. But in comparison to the rest of the world, how many have that confidence?"

He put down his pipe on the table and rested his head in his outstretched hands, a grey and venerable head. "It's awful, Basil," he said in a broken voice, and with his eyes full of tears. "In my old age I have seen this. I wish that I had gone with my dear wife. 'Help, Lord; for the G.o.dly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children of men.' But what is so bitter to me, my dear boy, is the sight of the utter overthrow of Faith. It all shows how terribly weak the majority of Christians are. Surface and symbol! symbol and surface!"

"It will not last long," said Gortre, gravely. "For my part, Father, I think that this terrible trial is allowed and permitted by G.o.d to bring about a great and future triumph for His Son, which will marshal, organise, and consolidate Faith as nothing has ever done before. I am convinced of it."

"Yes, it must be that," answered the vicar; "undoubtedly that is G.o.d's purpose. But I would that the light might come in my time. And I fear I shall not live to see it. I'm an old man now, Basil; this has aged me very much, and I shall not live much longer. It is G.o.d's will, but it is hard to know that one will die seeing Christ dethroned in the hearts of men, the Cross broken."

"While I have been quietly up-stairs," said Gortre, "many strange thoughts have come to me, of which I want to speak to you to-night. I have things to tell you which I have mentioned to no one as yet. But before I go into these matters--very dark and terrible ones, I fear--I want you to give me a _resume_ of the position of things as they are now. The present state is not clear in my mind. I have not read many of the papers, and I want a sort of bird's-eye view of what is going on."

"The position at present," said Mr. Byars, "from our point of view, is a kind of anarchy. Within every denomination those who absolutely refuse to credit the truth of the discovery are in the minority. Abroad, in France especially, wild free-thought of the rabid Tom Paine order has broken out everywhere in a kind of hysterical rage against Christianity.

The immediate social result has been an appalling increase in crimes of l.u.s.t and cruelty. Great alarm is felt by the authorities. All the papers are taking a horribly cynical view. They say that the delusion of Christianity has clouded men's brains for so long that they are now incapable of bearing the truth, and that the best way to govern the State is to go on making believe. On the other hand, the vast majority of Roman Catholics, both abroad and in England, have remained utterly uninfluenced. It is one of the most marvellous triumphs of discipline and order that history has ever witnessed. The Pope forbade the slightest notice of the discovery to be taken by priests or people in the first instance. Then, when the Report of the Committee was issued, with only one dissentient voice--Sir Michael Manichoe's--a Papal Bull was issued. Here it is, translated in _The Tablet_, magnificent in its brevity and serenity."

He took a paper from the table beside him and began to read:

"VENERABLE BRETHREN,--HEALTH AND APOSTOLIC BENEDICTION

"It has seemed good to Us to address you on certain points dealing with the decay of faith in divine things, which is the effect of pride and moral corruption. And this is the natural result of pride; for when this vice has taken possession of the heart it is inevitable that the Christian Faith, which demands a most willing docility, should languish, and that a murky darkness in regard to divine truths should close upon the mind, so that in the case of many these words should be made good, 'whatever things they know not they blaspheme' (St. Jude). We, however, so far from being hereby turned aside from the design which We have taken in hand, are, on the contrary, determined all the more zealously and diligently to guide the well-disposed, so that they may be saved from the perils of secular unbelief.

"And, with the help of the united prayers of the faithful, We earnestly implore forgiveness for those who speak evil of holy things.

"And inasmuch as certain persons not being members of the Holy Catholic Church have in an extremity of criminal madness laid claim to discoveries which are pretended and put forth as affecting the eternal Truths of the Faith, We command you, Venerable Brethren, that it shall be stated in all the churches such pretences are void of truth and utterly abominable. The enemies of Christ cry out, 'We will not have this man to reign over us' (Luke xix. 14), and make themselves loudly heard with the utterance of that wicked purpose, 'Let us make away with Him.'

"We therefore charge all Christians having peace and communion with the Holy Church that they shall give no ear or countenance to these onslaughts upon the Faith. It is forbidden for them to speak of these things among themselves, or to listen to others concerning them.

"With these injunctions, Venerable Brethren, We, as a presage of the divine liberality, and as a pledge of our own charity, most lovingly bestow on each of you, and on the clergy and flock committed to the care of each, our Apostolic Benediction."

"That is the gist of it," said Mr. Byars, "though I have missed out a few paragraphs. The result has been that, with a few exceptions, the whole army of Romanists, so to speak, have closed ranks and utterly refused to listen to what is going on."

"It's very fine, very fine indeed, as a spectacle," Gortre answered. "I wish we had something like that unity and discipline. But is that submission, possibly without the fire of an inward conviction, worth very much? I doubt it."

"It is not for us to judge," answered the vicar. "But the result has been that the Catholic Church, both here and on the Continent, is undergoing a storm of persecution and popular hatred. There have been fearful fights in Liverpool, and riots between the Irish dock-labourers and a mob of people who called themselves Protestants last year and 'Rationalists' to-day.

"The att.i.tude of the Low Church party is varied. Many of them are openly deserting to Unitarianism. Others have accepted the discovery as being a true one, and evolved an entirely new theory from it, while using it as a party weapon also. This att.i.tude is reflected in _The Tower_ in an article which says that, though the actual body of Christ is now proved never to have risen from the dead, the _spiritual_ body was what the Disciples saw. It is a clever piece of work, which has attracted an immense number of people, and is directed entirely against the Holy Eucharist.[1] The Moderate and High Church parties are in some ways in a worse position than any other. They find themselves unable to compromise. "At the great meeting in the Albert Hall the other day, which ended up in something like a free fight, all the conclusion the majority of the clergy could come to was that it was utterly impossible to accept the discovery and remain Christian. The result everywhere is chaos; men are resigning their livings, there have been several suicides--isn't it horrible to think of?--congregations are dwindling everywhere, and disestablishment seems a certainty in a very short time.

The papers are full of nothing else, of course. We are fighting tooth and nail upon the standpoint of personal spiritual experience, which nothing can alter, but in a material way how little that helps! The Methodists and Wesleyans are more successful than any one. They are holding revival meetings all over the country. Very few of these two bodies have joined the infidel ranks. Dissent has always implied an act of choice, which, at any rate, means a man is not indifferent to the whole thing. I suppose that is why the Wesleyans seem to be making a firmer and more spiritual stand than any of us. To my shame I say it, but the Churchmen of England are not bearing witness as these others are."

"And the Bishops?"

"Most of them don't know what to do. Of course, the great leaders of spiritual thought, W----, for instance, and G----, have written that which has brought comfort and conviction to hundreds. But see the horror of the position. The only way in which this awful thing can be combated is by just the methods which only scholars and cultivated people can understand. How are people who read the hard, material, logical speeches of people like Schuabe, or that abominable woman, Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, going to be convinced by the subtleties of the intellect or by the reiteration of a personal conviction which they cannot share? Then the Court party, the Archbishop, Walke, and all those, are leaning more and more towards the 'spiritual' body theory, though they hesitate to commit themselves as yet. It is all to be shelved until Convocation meets. They want to see how things will go in Parliament. The Erastian spirit is rampant. They are nearly all afraid of any ecclesiastical action. They are following the lead of Germany under the Kaiser."

"It is all very terrible to see how much less Christianity means to mankind than earnest Christians believed," said Gortre, sadly. "To see the edifice tumbling round one like a house of paper when one thought it so secure and strong. What a terrible lesson this will be in the future to every one; what frightful shame and humiliation will come to those who have denied their Lord when this is over!"

"When will that be, Basil?" said the vicar, wearily. "It seems as if the real hour of test were at hand, and that now, finally and for ever, G.o.d means to separate the true believers from the rest. I have thought that all this may be but a prelude to the Last Day of all, and that Christ's Second Coming is very near. But what I _cannot_ understand, what is utterly beyond the power of any of us to appreciate, is what this all _means_. How can this new tomb have been discovered after all these years? Can all these great experts have been deceived? There have been historical forgeries before, but surely this cannot be one. And yet, I _know_, you _know_, that our Lord rose from the dead."

"I believe that to me, of all men in England, The Hand of G.o.d has given the key to the mystery," said Gortre.

Mr. Byars started and looked uneasily at him.

"Basil," he said, "I have been thoughtless. We've talked too long. You are not quite clear as to what you are saying. Let us read compline together and go to bed."

He watched Basil as he spoke, but before he had finished his sentence he saw something in the young man's face which sent the blood leaping and tearing through his veins.

In a sudden, utterly unreasoning way, he saw a truth, a certain knowledge, in Gortre's eyes which flooded his whole heart and soul with exaltation and joy.

His good and almost saintly face looked as John's might have looked when, after the octave of the Resurrection Day, the eight heavy-hearted men were once more returning to the daily round and common task, and saw the Lord upon the sh.o.r.e.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FIRST LINKS

"I have been piecing things together gradually, as I lay silent up-stairs," said Gortre, drawing his chair a little closer to the fire.

"Slowly, little by little, I have added link and link to a chain of circ.u.mstantial evidence which has led me to an almost incredible conclusion. When you have heard what I have to say you will realise two things. One is that there are depths of human wickedness so abysmal and awful that the mind can hardly conceive of them. The other is that, for what reason it is not for us to try and divine, I have been led, by a most extraordinary series of events and coincidences, to something very near the truth about the discovery in Jerusalem. My story begins some months ago, on the night before I was struck down with brain-fever. You will remember that Constantine Schuabe"--he spoke the name with a shudder of horror that instinctively communicated itself to Mr.

Byars--"that Schuabe called here on that night about the school scholarships. When I went away, I left the house with him. He invited me to go on to Mount Prospect and I did so. Earlier in the evening we had been talking of the antichrist and I had said to you that I saw in Schuabe a modern type of the old mediaeval idea. My mind was peculiarly sensitive on these points that night, awake, alert, and inquiring. When Schuabe invited me to his house, something impelled me to go, something outside of myself. I went, feeling that I was on the threshold of some discovery."

He paused for a moment, white and tired with the intensity of his narrative.

"When we got to Schuabe's house we began upon the controversial points which we had carefully avoided here. At first our talk was quite quiet, mere argument between two people having different points of view on religion. He went out to get some supper--the servants were all in bed.

While he was gone, again I felt the strange a.s.surance of something by me directing my actions. I felt a sense of direct spiritual protection. I went to the bookshelf and took down a Bible. I opened it, half ashamed of myself for the tinge of superst.i.tion, and my eyes fell upon the text:

"'WATCH AND PRAY.'

"I could not help taking it as a direct message. Schuabe came back.

Gradually, as I saw his bitter hatred and contempt for our Lord and the Christian Church becoming revealed, I was uplifted to rebuke him. He had dropped the veil of an _intellectual_ disagreement. Some power was given to me to see far into the man's soul. He knew that also, and all pretence between us was utterly swept away. Then I told him that his hate was real and active, that I saw him as he was. And these were the words in which he answered me, standing like Lucifer before me. For months they have haunted me. They are burnt in upon my brain for all time. '_I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man leading the blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly and be swept utterly away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your Faith, stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene shall die among the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as he died two thousand years ago, and no man nor woman shall resurrect him.

You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind!_'"

Mr. Byars started. As yet he realised nothing of where Basil's story was to lead. "A prophecy!" he cried. "It is as if he were gifted to know the future. Something of what he said has already come to pa.s.s."

"My story is a long one, Father," said Gortre, "and as yet it is only begun. You will see plainer soon. Well, as he said these words I knew with certainty that this man was _afraid of G.o.d_. I saw his awful secret in his eyes, this man, antichrist indeed, _believes in our Lord_, and in terrible presumption dares to lift his hand against Him. Little more of importance happened upon that night. The next day, as you know, I fell ill and was so for some weeks. When I recovered and remembered perfectly all that had happened--do you remember how the picture of Christ fell and broke when Schuabe came?--I saw that I must keep all these things locked within my own brain. What could I do or say more than that I, a fanatical curate--that is what people would have said--had had a row with the famous agnostic millionaire and politician? I could not hope to explain to any one the reality of that evening, the certain knowledge I had of its being only a prelude to some horror that I could not foresee or name. So I kept my own counsel. Perhaps you may remember that on the night of the tea-party when I said good-bye to the people I urged them to keep fast hold on faith, made a special point of it?"

Again Mr. Byars showed his intense interest by a sudden movement of the muscles of his face. But he did not speak, and Gortre continued:

"Now we come to Dieppe when we were all there together. You will, of course, remember how Spence introduced us to Sir Robert Llwellyn, and how we talked over dinner at the _Pannier d'Or_. Since then, we must remember, Sir Robert's evidence in favour of the absolute authenticity of Hands's discovery has had more weight with the world than that of any one else. He is, of course, known to be the greatest living expert. And that fact also has a very important bearing on my story. After dinner, the conversation turned upon discoveries in exactly the direction that the recent discovery _has_ been made. Llwellyn expressed himself as believing that--I think I remember something like his actual words--'We are on the eve of stupendous discoveries in this direction.' None of us liked to pursue the discussion further. There was a little pause."

"Yes!" said the vicar, "I remember it perfectly now; it all comes back to me quite vividly. But do you know that, beyond of course remembering that we were introduced to Sir Robert at Dieppe, the subject of our conversation had almost escaped my memory. Certainly I never thought of it in detail. But go on, Basil."