(IV)
London went soberly mad with enthusiasm that night, andMonsignor Masterman, standing on the cathedral roofs with halfa dozen priests, watched what could be seen of the excitementfor half an hour, before going downstairs for the _Te Deum_ inthe great church.
The cathedral was, indeed, largely, the centre round whichthe-enthusiasm concentrated itself. Two other whirlpools eddiedin Parliament Square, and round St. Paul's, where the Archbishopof London preached a sermon from the steps. Even these facts,although in a sense he knew they must be so, drove home into thepriest's mind the realization of how the Church was, once again,as five hundred years ago, the centre and not merely a departmentof the national life.
In every direction, as he leaned over Ambrosden Avenue, as helooked down Francis Street to right and left, everywhere nothingof the streets was visible under the steadily moving pavement ofheads. Every space between the tall houses resembled the flow ofan intricate stream, with its currents, its eddies, itsback-waters, beneath the clear radiance of the artificial light.Here and there actors were seen gesticulating in dumb show, forall sounds were drowned in the steady subdued roar of voices.There was no delirium, no horse-play; the citizens were too welldisciplined. Occasionally from this point or that a storm ofcheering broke out as some great man was recognized.
About half-past nine mounted policemen began to make theirappearance from Victoria Street, and an open way was graduallyformed leading to a cleared space in front of the Cathedral. Tenminutes later cars began to follow, as the great folks began toarrive for the _Te Deum_, and almost simultaneously the bellsbroke out, led by the solemn crash of the great "St. Edward"from the campanile.
The Dawn of All Page 29