Part 51 (1/2)
Fronting the Pope, with his fair head thrown back, and his blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng with all the soul-light of a swift, unwarped intelligence, he stood,--and the white shrunken figure of the old man in the gilded chair raised itself as if by some interior electric force, slowly, slowly--higher and higher--the deep-set old eyes staring into the brilliant youthful ones--staring--staring till they seemed to protrude and tremble under their shelving brows, like the last sparks of a flame about to fall into extinction. Gherardi made a quick step forward.
”My lord Cardinal!” he said significantly, ”Should not your waif and stray have been taught how to comport himself before he came here? He does not kneel to the Holy Father!”
The Cardinal opened his lips to speak, but Manuel stayed him by a slight gesture.
”I may not kneel to any man!” he said, ”But to G.o.d only! For it is written,' Call no man your Father upon the earth, for One is your Father which is in Heaven. Neither be ye called Masters, for One is your Master, even Christ.' How then,” and he came nearer to the Pope's foot-stool, ”can you be called 'Father'? or 'Holy'? For there is none Holy but G.o.d!”
The deep silence which had fallen like a spell upon them all in the antechamber, fell now with redoubled impressiveness. The Pope, gripping the arms of his gilded chair, forced himself fully upright, and his lips trembled.
”Whence came you, and of what parentage are you?” he asked slowly, enunciating his words with even more than his usual harsh distinctness.
”That is my own secret!” answered the boy--”The Cardinal accepted me without question!”
”Which is but a fresh proof of the Cardinal's unwisdom,” said the Pope severely, ”And we shall not follow his example in this or in any other matter!” And turning to Moretti he enquired, ”Does this boy understand he is here as a witness to the miracle effected at Rouen?”
”As a witness to the Truth--yes! I understand!” said Manuel quickly, before Moretti could answer. ”The miracle was no miracle!”
”No miracle!” exclaimed the Pope, moved at last from his usual inflexibility, ”Do you hear that, Domenico?” turning excitedly to Gherardi, ”No miracle!”
”No miracle!” repeated Manuel, steadily--”Nothing but the law of Nature working in response to the law of G.o.d, which is Love! The child was healed of his infirmity by the power of unselfish prayer. Are we not told 'Ask and ye shall receive'? But the asking must be pure! The prayer must be untainted by self-interest! G.o.d does not answer prayer that is paid for in this world's coin! No miracle was ever wrought for a fee! Only when perfect love and perfect faith exist between the creature and the Creator, are all things possible!”
A nervous twitching of the Pope's features showed his suppressed irritation at this reply.
”The boy jests with us!” he said angrily, ”He defends his benefactor, but he either does not understand, or else is regardless of our authority!”
”What, do you not also believe?” asked Manuel, placing one foot on the first step of the Pope's throne, and looking him straightly in the face, ”Do you not even affirm that G.o.d answers prayers? Do YOU not pray? Do you not a.s.sert that you yourself are benefited and helped--nay, even kept alive by the prayers of the faithful? Then why should you doubt that Cardinal Bonpre has, by his prayer, rescued one life--the life of a little child? Is not your Church built up for prayer? Do you not command it? Do you not even insist upon the 'vain repet.i.tions' which Christ forbade? Do you not summon the people to pray in public?--though Christ bade all who truly sought to follow Him to pray in secret? And amid all the false prayers, the unthinking, selfish pet.i.tions, the blasphemous demands for curses and confusion to fall upon enemies and contradictors, the cowardly cryings for pardon from sinners who do not repent, that are sent up to the throne of the Most High,--is it marvellous that one prayer, pure of all self and sophistry, ascending to G.o.d, simply to ask for the life of a child should be heard and granted?”
His voice rang through the silence with a pure intonation, unlike any human voice in the world--and as he spoke, the Pope slowly drew back in his chair, further and further away from the young, beautiful face that confronted his own so steadily. The dumb sense of stupefaction that had before possessed Gherardi and Moretti in the presence of this child, seized them again now,--and slow tears welled up into the Cardinal's eyes, as, clasping his withered hands, he waited in fear and awe, listening and wondering,--overwhelmed by the strangeness of the scene.
Like a shrunken white mummy set in a gilded sarcophagus, the representative of St. Peter huddled himself together, reflections of the daylight on the crimson hangings around him casting occasional gleams of crimson athwart his bony hands and cadaverous features;--while on the first step of his throne the aerial form of the beautiful boy, with his fair face, full flas.h.i.+ng eyes, and radiant hair, stood like an Angel suddenly descended at the portal of the mummy's tomb.
”Faith must surely be weaker in these days than in the days of Christ,”
continued Manuel, ”The disciples were not always wise or brave; but they believed in the power of their Master! You,--with so many centuries of prayer behind you,--will surely not say as John did--'Master, we saw one casting out devils in Thy name, and he followeth not us!' Because this miracle is unexpected and exceptional, do you say of your good Cardinal, 'He followeth not us'? Remember how Christ answered,--'Forbid him not, for there is no man which shall do a miracle in my name that can speak evil of me!'”
Still the same silence reigned. A shaft of sunlight falling through the high oriel window, touched the boy's hair with a Pentecostal flame of glory.
”You sent for me,” he went on, ”and I have come! They say I must be taught. Will you teach me? I would know many things! Tell me for one, why are You here, shut away from the cities, and the people? Should you not be among them? Why do you stay here all alone? You must be very unhappy!”
A sudden quivering light illumined the jewel-like dark eyes of the seeming mummy in the chair--its lips moved--but no sound came from them.
”To be here all alone!” went on Manuel, ”And a whole world outside waiting to be comforted! To have vast wealth lying about you unused--with millions and millions of poor, starving, struggling, dying creatures, near at hand, cursing the G.o.d whom they have never been taught to know or to bless! To be safely sheltered while others are in danger! To know that even kings and emperors are trembling on their thrones because of the evil days that are drawing near in punishment for evil deeds!--to feel the great pulsating ache of the world's heart beating through every hour of time, and never to stretch forth a hand of consolation! Surely this must make you very sad! WILL YOU NOT COME OUT WITH ME?”
With a strong effort the Pope raised himself and looked into the pleading Angel-face. With his sudden movement, Gherardi and Moretti also stirred from their frozen att.i.tudes of speechless amazement, and would have approached, but that the Pope signed them away with so fierce and impatient a gesture that they shrank back appalled. And still he gazed at Manuel as if his very soul were pa.s.sing through his eyes.
”Come out with you!” he said, in a hoa.r.s.e, faint whisper--”Come out with you!”
”Yes!--come out with me!” repeated Manuel, his accents vibrating with a strange compelling sweetness, ”Come out and see the poor lying at the great gates of St. Peter's--the lame, the halt, the blind--come and heal them by a touch, a prayer! You can, you must, you shall heal them!--if you WILL! Pour money into the thin hands of the starving!--come with me into the miserable places of the world,--come and give comfort! Come freely into the courts of kings, and see how the brows ache under the crowns!--and the hearts break beneath the folds of velvet and ermine! Why stand in the way of happiness, or deny even emperors peace when they crave it? Your mission is to comfort, not to condemn! You need no throne! You want no kingdom!--no settled place--no temporal power! Enough for you to work and live as the poorest of all Christ's ministers,--without pomp, without ostentation or public ceremonial, but simply clothed in pure holiness! So shall G.o.d love you more! So shall you pa.s.s unscathed through the thick of battle, and command Brotherhood in place of Murder! Go out and welcome Progress!--take Science by the hand!--encourage Intellect!--for all these things are of G.o.d, and are G.o.d's gifts divine! Live as Christ lived, teaching the people personally and openly;--loving them, pitying them, sharing their joys and sorrows, blessing their little children!
Deny yourself to no man;--and make of this cold temple in which you now dwell selfimprisoned, a home and refuge for the friendless and the poor! COME OUT WITH ME!”
As he thus spoke, with a living, breathing enthusiasm of entreaty, which might have moved even the dry bones in the valley of the prophet's vision to rise up and become a great standing army, the Pope's figure seemed to grow more and more attenuated,--his worn white hands grasping the gilt arms of his chair, looked like the claws of a dead bird--and his face, shrunken and withered, like a Chinese ivory carving of some forgotten idol.