Hadrian the Seventh

by Frederick Rolfe

  “Sir Syndic, are We free?” He mewed.

  “But free, Holy Father.”

  “Let your soldiers precede and not surround Us; and let no one come within ten paces of Us. We go by Via Giulia and Monte Celio.”

  The squadron moved to the head of the line. The Pope took His train from the Bishop: threw it over His left arm: and came-on alone. Acting as though the ideal were real, He made it real. If Jews and Freemasons would slay Him, well and good: it was part of the day’s work, no doubt. He was by no means anxious to be martyred; and He sincerely hoped that, if it should come to Him, it would not be very painful or distorting. But, as it was His Own affair, a piece of the part He was fulfilling, He displayed Himself alone. Ten paces before Him went Prince Pilastro, looking back from time to time. Ten paces behind Him came the bishop, ruddy and strong in white and purple, wondering. The vermilion nine followed in a compact phalanx, very venerable and grand; and, after a great deal of bustle and noise, seventeen other cardinals added their magnificence. A motley of patriarchs, archbishops, bishops, prelates, and pontifical guards closed the rear.

  A tremendous shout greeted Hadrian’s first appearance in the square. It was quite incoherent: for the real significance of the pageant was not immediately realized. No Pope had set His foot in Rome since 1870: but here undoubtedly was the Pope, with a gentle inflexible face,—a lonely white figure Whose left hand lay on the little cross on His breast, Whose right hand gravely scattered the same sign. This crowd was not the even human parallels which authority is wont to describe on streets when the Great go by. It was a concurrence from side-ways coalescing with loafers and ordinary passers-by, suddenly dipping its knees, gazing, panting, and emitting howls of delirious onomatopes. Cabs and carts swept to the side of the road; and the drivers kneeled on the boxes. Here and there, some dowdy alien said “What mockery” and patronizingly explained that the Salvation Army did these things much more properly. Here and there, some sour sorry incapable stood spitting in praise of secret societies. Here and there some godless worldling scoffed in an undertone. But Hadrian went-on, walking at that deceptive pace of His, which seemed so leisurely and was so swift. His movements resembled the running of a perfectly-geared machine: they had the smooth and forceful grace of the athlete whose muscles are supple and strong: even the occasional impulse had no jerkiness. It was the manner with which He disguised His natural timidity. He sometimes glanced from side to side. Once He smiled at a barelegged rascalt of brown boys who kneeled by one of Bernini’s angels on the parapet of the bridge. He adored children, although He was so desperately afraid of them. Going up the hill by the Church of Sts. John and Paul, a little girl dabbed an indescribable rag on her head: rushed into the road, dashing primroses; and remained transfixed by her own audacity. He led her by the hand to her mother; and blessed them both. All His life long He had yearned to be giving. Now, under any circumstances, He always had something to give, ten words and a gesture; and people seemed so thankful for it. He was glad.

  In the porch of the Mother and Mistress of All Churches in the City and the World, He sat on the low throne while canons made shift to intone, He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth the needy out of the dunghill; that He may set Him with the Princes, even with the princes of His people. They gave Him gold and silver keys. They attended Him to the throne of precious marbles in the centre of the apse. They intoned Te Deum. Ascending to the lodge of benediction, He blessed the mobile vulgar in the Square of St. John; and anon returned in the way by which He came, Bishop of Rome in act and deed, and Supreme Pontiff.

  CHAPTER V

  Being physically tired with the exertion of withstanding the concentrated gaze of Rome, He rested all the afternoon. The palace was a scene of commotion. Cardinals and their familiars cackled and cooed and squeaked and growled in corners: or arranged for return to their distant sees. Workmen cleared-away the structure of the Conclave. Hadrian made an attempt to get-into the gardens with a book: but, obsequious black velvet chamberlains with their heads in frills like saucers made themselves so extremely necessary, and Auditors of the Ruota scudded along bye-paths with such obvious secrecy and bounded out of box-hedges before Him by carefully calculated accident so very frequently, that at last He took refuge in the pontifical apartment. He rang the gong and sent for Caerleon.

  “We have a more or less distinct remembrance of a place on the Lake of Albano, called Castel something.”

  “Castel Gandolfo, Holiness.”

  “Yes. And it used to be a pontifical villa?”

  “It is a pontifical villa now: but since 1870 an order of religious women have used part of it as a convent.”

  “Which part?”

  “They, I believe, keep the pontifical suite in statu quo, hoping for the day when the Holy Father shall come to His Own again.”

  “Good. Now will you at once telegraph to those nuns that the Pope is coming to His Own to-morrow for the inside of a week. And please arrange everything on a plain and private scale. That is the first thing.”

  “Perhaps I’d better do that at once whatever.”

  “Yes, but don’t be long.”

  When the bishop returned, Hadrian invited him to take a tour of observation round the rooms. They were accentedly antipathetic, too red, too ormolu, too floridly renascent, too distractingly rococo. He could not work in them. Yes, work,—nothing was going to interfere with that. How, in the name of heaven, could anyone work under these painted ceilings, among all these violently ineffectual curves? Now that He was able, He must have what He wanted. He was going to move on to the top-floor, where people could not stamp on His head, and where there was a better view from the windows. He would have clean bare spaces and simplicity without frippery. Then His mind could move. By the clothes-presses, He damned red velvet. That should go. The feeling of it made Him squirm. The sight of it on His person reminded Him of the barking of malodorous dogs and the braying of assertive donkeys. White was all right, if it fitted properly. He would stick to white, soft flannelly white, not this shiny cloth: with a decent surplice (which did not resemble the garments of David’s servants after the attentions of the children of Ammon)—a surplice and the pallium, and the pontifical red stole in public: but no lace—that should be left to ladies. How delicious to have plenty of white clothes to wear! How delicious to wear white in the sun! Well, He was going to work to earn all these amenities. And now, talking of work, something would have to be done to the rooms upstairs: and certain things would have to be settled regarding the domestic arrangements. To what official ought directions to be given?

  “The Major-domo is the head of the household; and the Master of the Chamber has immediate charge of Your Holiness’s person.”

  “That set man? Look now, he shall continue to be Master of the Chamber. We will not repeat the mistake of Pius IX., or interfere with any of their offices. But he must not come near Us. We should feel bound to assist his decrepitude; and Our idea is to be so free from secular cares that We can concentrate undivided attention upon Our Apostolature. There is the root of the matter. That man is a stranger: his age makes it certain that he has got into a groove: he is full of prior experiences and opinions which he cannot, and ought not to be expected to, change for a new-comer. But, if he remains here, it will be Ourself Who will have to obey him. That would distract Us. Therefore, We must interpose someone whom We know—someone who is young enough to suit himself to Us. There are two young ruffians of about twenty-five years old, who, like most of his other acquaintances, formerly loved and hated George Arthur Rose. Their circumstances are disagreeable: they never had a chance: they are hot-headed passionate people, always in love with some woman or other, because they have no means of amusing themselves innocently, being tied and bound with the chains of respectable poverty. They really have no opportunity of leading godly righteous and sober lives. They’re insane, unhealthy, because civilization gives them no opportunity to live sane healthy lives unless they crush all the most salient an
d most admirable characteristics of their individuality. Please send for them—John Devine, 107, Arkwright Street, Preston—Iulo Carrino, 95, Bloomsbury Square, London,—and let Us give them some service and much freedom, and a little wholesome neglect to strengthen and develop their characters and to give play to their individual natures, as good old Jowett says. We believe in making it, not difficult but, easy to be good—— Look, Frank, tell Iulo Carrino to bring with him that yellow cat which you may remember. By the bye, both these men cannot move without money. Take this cheque for George Arthur Rose’s balance at Coutts’s: use what is generous—generous, mind you,—and account to Us later. And now, about the other things, We had better see Centrina and the Major-domo upstairs.”

  The Pope and the bishop inspected a series of empty rooms on the top-floor. They occupied the N.E. and the S.E. sides of the palace. Hadrian chose the large room in the angle with windows on two sides, for the secret chamber. It was approached from the N.E. corridor by way of fifteen antechambers and a large room suitable for private receptions. Beyond the antechambers there was another series of apartments which He also took. The private room in the angle, sitting-room, or work-shop (as He called it), led into some smaller rooms on the S.E. face of the palace. Here he fixed upon a bed-room, bath-room, dressing-room, oratory, and sundry store-rooms, accessible by a single door in the last room which led into the corridor over-looking the court of St. Damasus.

  The Major-domo and the Master-of-the-Chamber attended. The latter was quaking about his situation. Hadrian rapidly reassured him and came to the point. “You are confirmed in your benefice until such time as you choose to retire. The emoluments and the pension are at your disposal. In a few days, two gentlemen will arrive from England. You will prepare a parlour and a bedroom for each, adjoining the first antechamber. Fix a bell in each parlour communicating with this room. (They were standing in the room which had been selected as a workshop.) You will provide two servants for them. They will take their meals in their parlours. After their arrival, Our commandments will come to you through them.” (He turned and addressed Himself to the Major-domo.) “These two gentlemen must be given some official status.”

  “If I understand aright, Your Holiness is appointing two Gentlemen-in-Waiting-in-the-Apostolic-Chamber.”

  “That will do. When they arrive, see that they have diplomas of appointment as Gentlemen of the Apostolic Chamber. The Bishop of Caerleon will arrange with you about their emoluments. Now, let Us furnish these rooms.”

  They went out into the corridor; and re-entered the apartment by the first antechamber.

  “Cover all the walls and ceilings with brown-packing paper—yes, brown-packing paper—carta straccia,” the Pope repeated. “Stain all the woodwork with a darker shade of brown. The gilding of the cornices can remain as it is. No carpets. These small greenish-blue tiles are clean; and they soothe the eye. Curtains? You may hang very voluminous linen curtains on the doors and windows, greenish-blue linen to match the tiles, and without borders. Furnish all those antechambers with rush chairs and oaken tables. Remember that everything is to be plain, without ornament.—In this room you may place the usual throne and canopy: and that crucifix from down-stairs—(how exquisite the mother-of-pearl Figure is!)—and the stools, and twelve large candlesticks—iron or brass.—Now this room is to be a workshop. Let Us have a couch and three armchairs, all large and low and well-cushioned, covered with undyed leather. Get some of those large plain wooden tables which are used in kitchens, about three yards long and one-and-a-half wide. Put writing-materials on one of them, there, on the right of the window. Leave the middle of the room empty. Put three small book-cases against that wall and a cupboard here.—Make a bedroom of this room. Let the bed be narrow and long, with a husk mattress; and let the back of the head be toward the window. Put one of the large wooden tables here and a dozen rush-chairs.—(He spoke to the bishop.) Do you know that there is no water here at all, except in little jugs? (He continued to the Major-domo.) Line the walls of this room with greenish-blue tiles, like those on the floor. Put several pegs on both doors. In this corner put a drain-pipe covered with a grating; and, six feet above it, let a water-pipe and tap project rectangularly two feet from the wall. Yes. Six feet from the floor, two feet from the wall; and let there be a constant and copious supply of water—rain-water, if possible. Do you understand?”

  The Major-domo understood. The Master-of-the-Chamber shivered.

  “And lamps. Get two plain oil-lamps for each room, with copper shades: large lamps, to give a very strong light. Paint over both doors of the bedroom, on the outside of each, Intrantes excommunicantur ipso facto. When We have finished here,” (He addressed the Master-of-the-Chamber again), “you will parade your staff; and We will select one person and provide him with a dispensation from that rule as long as he behaves himself well. He will have charge of the bedroom and the sole right to enter it.” (The Pope passed into the next room: paused, and whispered explicit directions to the Major-domo; and moved on to the farther room.) “The clothes-presses from down-stairs can be moved into this room. They will serve. And you had better make a door here, so that it can be entered from the corridor.” (He went on again.) “This room is to be the vestry;—and this the oratory. Let Us have a plain stone altar and the stations, and the bare necessaries for mass, all of the simplest. Let everything, walls, floor, ceiling, everything, be white—natural white, not painted; and make a door here, also leading into the corridor, a large double-door convenient for the faithful who assist at the pontifical mass. The rooms beyond—you will take order about them at a convenient occasion.”

  Hadrian and the bishop returned to the pontifical apartments downstairs.

  “Your Holiness will excuse me——”

  “Yes?”

  “—but have You ever contemplated the present situation?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Well, Your Holiness seems to have everything cut and dried.”

  The Pope laughed. “You shall know that George Arthur Rose has had plenty of time for thinking and scheming. His schemes never came to anything, except once; and he certainly never schemed for this. But you understand perhaps that the last twenty years have rendered Hadrian conscious both of His abilities and His limitations, as well as of His requirements; and hence He is able at a glance to describe in detail what He wants. When He wants something, without knowing what He wants, He asks questions. For example, what is that hinged arrangement under Cardinal Courtleigh’s ring?”

  “A master-key, Holiness; I have just got one too.” The bishop shewed his own ring.

  “What is that?”

  “I have several places which I have to keep locked, safes, cupboards, and that sort of thing; and the keys, which are all different, have to be entrusted to my various chaplains, and so on. Well, each of these can only open the lock of the thing which concerns him: but, with that master-key, I can unlock everything and no one else in the world can do that.”

  “Capital! Where do you get these things made?”

  “At a place in Bond Street—Bramah I think the name is.”

  “Tell them to—— ” The voice sank, for some scarlet gentleman began to bring in tables with the sealed dishes of the pontifical supper. Hadrian’s eyes lingered on the intruders for a moment. They were so slim, so robust, so deft, so grave, so Roman. He drew the bishop into the embrasure of a window.

  “Aren’t they lovely?” He said. “Isn’t the world full of lovely things, lovely live things? It’s the dead and the stagnant that are ugly.”

  This was so rapid a change of mood that Talacryn could not follow it. As soon as the servants were gone, Hadrian continued, returning the episcopal ring, “Tell your Bramah people to fit all the doors upstairs with locks which have separate keys, and to send another score of locks also with separate keys; and also to send a man here who is capable of making an episcopal ring for Us which shall contain a master-key to all those locks.”

  “Very well, Holy Father
.”

  “Don’t go. Supper can wait a minute. Look here: We desire to be in direct communication with the Sacred College. We chiefly are curious to know the nine compromissaries: but distinctions sometimes are invidious. At all events, We must have a long and secret conference with Cardinal Courtleigh. So will you please make it known to Their Eminencies that We will receive them after supper. Ask Pimlico to remain after the others. And—who manages the finances here?”

  “The Cardinal-Deacon of Santa Maria Nuova is Apostolic Treasurer; and the Major-domo is responsible for the household expenses.”

  “Ask the Treasurer particularly to come? Don’t come yourself. Good-night: God bless you.”

  Caerleon firmly had believed that he knew George Arthur Rose to be charming—perhaps somewhat incomprehensible, and therefore perhaps somewhat dangerous. But as for Hadrian—Caerleon felt about him as M. and Mme. Curie felt when they first put a penny on a piece of radium and observed the penetrative energy incessantly thrown off from a source which was both concrete and inexhaustible.

  The Pope’s evening party was well attended. Some of the older members of the Sacred College, who really had suffered from the discomforts of the Conclave, had left the Vatican. Most of the French absented themselves, as they had every right to do in view of the informality of the invitation. The Secretary of State stayed away on a plea of business. But a mixed motive, in which inquisitiveness was the dominant ingredient, impelled thirty-two vermilion princes into the Pontiff’s throne-room. The Cardinal-Dean, notwithstanding his age and infirmity, came with glee. Next to succeeding to the paparchy himself, nothing suited him better than to have a perfect stranger for a Pope, Who evidently was about to subvert every single act of Leo’s. He said almost as much to Hadrian, bustling up to the throne and using a stool.