Hadrian the Seventh

by Frederick Rolfe

  He paused: for He saw that people wanted to speak. He conceded the word to Gentilotto.

  “Has Your Holiness considered,” said the Red Pope, “that most of the treasures are consecrated to the service of the Church?”

  “Yes. We also have considered that the Church exists for the service of God in His creatures: that She does not serve either by keeping pretty and costly things shut-up in cupboards: that the Church which set these things apart by consecration, also can restore them to usefulness by desecration. Technically things consecrate can become desecrate by tapping them with intent to desecrate: We soon will descend to the treasury; and will tap all the sacred things into gems and bullion.”

  “That can be done;” the Cardinal-Prefect of Propaganda said. His heart pulled him one way: heredity and ecclesiastical prejudice, the other.

  “There is one thing which I think it right to mention,” put in della Volta: “the present officials of the treasury, and the buildings:—what will become of them?”

  “The officials will continue to enjoy the stipends of their benefices. They will have other and more useful occupation than the furbishing of plate provided for them. As for the building—when the cupboards are empty they will be removed; and, the treasury being no longer there, the building will remain the sacristy.”

  “I should like to get a word in edgeways if I may;” said Semphill. “Doesn’t Your Holiness think that the Italian Government will interfere? Isn’t there some law which prevents works-of-art from going out of Italy?”

  “We should like to see the Italian Government interfere with Us:” Hadrian responded with a strong and illuminating smile. “The Italian Government is neither a Fenian nor a fool.”

  “No, but——” the cardinal pursued.

  “Your Eminency need fear no opposition from that quarter.”

  “Is nothing to be exempted from this sale?” Sterling thoughtfully asked.

  “There will be some exemptions.” The Pope turned to Cardinal della Volta. “You will reserve one silver-gilt chalice and paten for every priest in the palace: one silver-gilt pyx for every tabernacle; and one plain set of pontifical regalia which We will indicate to you. Nothing more. Hereafter, the court can use ornaments which are the private possessions of individuals.”

  “I must say that I think the pontifical regalia deserves a better fate than conversion into bullion and gems,” said Gentilotto.

  “Nonsense,” the Pope sharply retorted. “The pontifical regalia is not sacrosanct like the Carthaginian zaïmph.” The frayed edges of His nerves shewed themselves.

  “I concede it,” the cardinal admitted.

  Hadrian rose. “We have summoned the Sacred Consistory for to-morrow morning, when We will issue Our decrees in this matter.”

  Semphill no longer could contain himself. He exploded with “Of course Your Holiness has seen the Catholic Hour?”

  Hadrian thought that He particularly liked this cardinal to-day for some reason. Yes of course, His Eminency looked better during Advent. The ordinary vermilion made his chubby rubicundity appear too blue. That was the reason.

  “Oh, yes:” the Pontiff replied.

  “Well really I never read anything more abominable in my life!”

  “Nor did We.”

  All the cardinalitial eyes were directed toward the Pope. He remained standing on the step of the throne; and seemed to be changing into alabaster. Semphill lashing himself to fury, continued “I should like to think that something will be done about it.”

  “So should We.”

  Semphill prolapsed and stared. “But surely Your Holiness will do something?”

  “No.”

  “What? Not answer them?”

  “No.”

  “One would have thought that there would be some canonical means of bringing the Catholic Hour to book for aspersions against the Pope:” Sterling said.

  “There is the bull Exsecrabilis of Pius II. But it is not the Pope Who is aspersed. It is George Arthur Rose:” imperturbably said Hadrian.

  “That’s drawing it rather fine:” Whitehead said, looking up for the first time.

  “Fine enough:” Carvale put in, with appreciation of the distinction.

  “Excommunicate the editor, printer, and publisher, by name, I say!” ejaculated Semphill.

  Sterling went on, “One finds it difficult to understand what can have persuaded the Catholic Hour to insert——”

  Hadrian interrupted, “Just ask yourself this. Is it likely that an Erse periodical,—and, when We say an Erse periodical, We mean a clerical periodical, (for, according to McCarthy, the Erse clergy hold the Catholic press in the hollow of their hand,)—is it likely that an Erse periodical, which has the infernal cheek to dub itself the ‘Organ of Catholic Opinion,’ and which once called Cardinal Semphill a—what was it, Eminency?—ah yes, ‘a scented masher,’—could be expected to forego an opportunity of increasing its circulation at the expense of the Vicar of Christ?”

  “Oh very good indeed!” exclaimed Semphill, with a hearty reminiscent shout of laughter.

  “But, Holiness,” Sterling gravely continued, “one knows that the statements are not true. One knows that the article mispresents You entirely.”

  “They are not wholly true; and the article entirely mispresents Us.”

  “One would recommend that that should be made known.”

  “It is known. Hundreds know it. They are not prevented from saying what they know.—If they dare.” Hadrian came down from the throne. A grey shadow hardened the sharpness of the face. The brows and the eyes were drawn into parallels, the latter half-shut; and the thin lips were straight and cruel. Their Eminencies mindfully retired. Van Kristen lingered till the others were gone. “Holy Father,” he said, “I guess that You’re feeling it about as bad as the next man?”

  Hadrian pressed the slim brown hand, on which the cardinalitial sapphire looked so absolutely lovely, “Perhaps, Percy:” He said.

  “I think I won’t go back to Dynam House this fall,” the cardinal continued. “They can do without me, Holiness. If I’m any good to You here, I’m no quitter so long as my eyes remain black.”

  “You always are good and useful to Us, Venerable Father,” the Pope very stiffly said, as He quickly passed through the curtains of the secret antechamber.

  Now the world had something to talk about beside the chances of universal war, and the inferiority of the present Pope. When the dispersal of the treasures of the Vatican was announced in the Sacred Consistory, five cardinals walked straight out to swear, four burst into tears, eight spoke their minds quite freely and (in the case of two) at the top of their voices, and the rest were dumb. Ragna, Berstein, Cacciatore, and Vivole came to the conclusion that Hadrian’s new move was a pontifical red-herring intended to divert the scent from the newspaper-calumnies against George Arthur Rose. They went about trying to make people see the thing from their point of view. Kelts and Catholics throughout the world set up howls; and compared Hadrian to Honorius to the advantage of the latter. “From a Catholic point of view,” wrote one clerical gentleman (who in youth, as an attaché in Paris, had been known as La Belle Anthropophage), “it is impossible to blame Hadrian too severely.” He was ruined, they said with unctuous rectitude; and He was going to sell the Vatican Treasures in order to provide an iniquitous provision for a disreputable and private old age. Naturally they judged by their own standard. All Catholics do.

  The Liblab Fellowship congratulated itself on the possession of such a Fellowshipper as Sant. His diplomacy was thought cute. Socialists hourly expected to hear that the Scarlet Unutterable, in sheer despair, had asked to be allowed to seek a refuge in their ranks. Jerry Sant sat-up all night at the Hotel Nike, in case the Pope should be moved to escape from a throne which had been made too hot for Him. In the event of such an escape, of course “His Most Reverent Lordship” would come and try and make peace with them as He had put to so much unnecessary trouble and expense. So the Liblab cut and dried his plan
s. He would administer the oaths to God’s Vicegerent: take His entrance-fee and annual subscription in advance; and admit Him as a Fellowshipper. Then, as His senior comrade, He would order Him back to Vatican to use His popery for carrying out the schemes of Labor against Capital. Incidentally he would take the opportunity of transferring some of the pontifical capital from a man as didn’t to a man as did deserve it. However, Jerry gave himself two sleepless nights for nothing. He would have been better, though perhaps not quite so comely, in bed. And then, on the third day, Mrs. Crowe rushed in, displaying a tantrum which was a blend of joy and hate and fear.

  “I suppose this is your work, Mr. Sant?” she said, bringing a cutting from the Catholic Hour out of her chain-bag.

  “Imphm,” Jerry grinned like an oblong gargoyle.

  “Oh how could you say such things about Him! I do think it shocking of you!”

  “Wumman, hae ye nat telled me maist o’ they things yersel’?”

  “Yes of course. But I never thought you’d put it all in the papers.”

  “A havena pit them a’. There’s a plenty more—if He hasna had His paiks yet.”

  “O but I’m sure He has, I expect you’ve simply stunned Him.”

  “Maybe I have.”

  “Haven’t you heard from Him yet?”

  “A havena. A’m expecting to hear the now.”

  “Mr. Sant if you’ve killed my George I’ll—I don’t know what I’ll do: but I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Hech wumman, that won’t kill Him: but it may make Him a bit sore and I’ll let you know that He’ll come here for His plaster.”

  “I don’t mind Him being sore. He deserves it after the way He’s behaved to me. But——”

  “Now just you tak’ yersel’ away. I can’t have you messing about here when Rose comes. When I’m through with Him I’ll forward Him to you. So you be off with you.”

  “Clumsy beast!” said Mrs. Crowe to herself when she stood in Two Shambles Street again. “You’d much better have left it to me to arrange. I shouldn’t be surprised if Georgie did something desperate now. It ’ld be just like Him. And I believe I could have coaxed Him——” She hailed a victoria; and drove to St. Peter’s Square to have another look at the window.

  The Pope gave the holy order of priesthood to Cardinal Van Kristen on Innocents’ Day. His Holiness felt that the sacerdotal prayer of so innocent a one would benefit all. The English and American invasion of Rome beat the record for the winter season. At a carp-and-punch supper at Palazzo Caffarelli on Christmas Eve, it was remarked that the City just then contained all the world’s multimillionaires. If war had been carried on in the antique manner, i.e. for ransoms and spoils, and if any power had possessed a sufficient military equipment, a new sack of Rome would have been an exceedingly lucrative undertaking. However, as it was, Rome sacked the multimillionaires. Despite the fact that the coming spring was likely to see the dawn of Armageddon, an astonishing number of people was unable to resist the temptation to purchase the treasures of the Vatican. The list of prices assigned by the experts had been submitted to Hadrian, Who struck the mean between maximum and minimum, greatly to the disgust of curialists who (when once the idea was grasped) were anxious to drive good bargains. They suggested an auction, which the Pope incontinently refused, saying that He was going to compete neither with tradesmen nor with brigands. He made it easy for museums to acquire historic specimens: the merely artistic chiefly went to private collectors; and the world acquired the valuables. The collection of lace alone fetched £785,000; and the total takings, amounting to four-and-thirty millions sterling, were deposited in the Bank of Italy.

  Signor Panciera made it a great deal more than convenient to accept another invitation to the Vatican. This time, it was a short visit which he paid, and a fairly momentous one. The Pope did all the talking. His Holiness spoke dryly and concisely from a sheet of manuscript which He afterwards handed to the ambassador, and seemed to be consumed by some internal fire, the signs of which appeared in His white pain-drawn face. He said that He had noted with approbation the scheme of Signor Gigliotti, by which innoculated convicts were employed in the reclamation of malarious Apulia and Calabria. He wished Italy to establish and endow farm-colonies in eucalyptus groves on the Roman Campagna, where a wholesome and industrious life could be found for inoculated boys and girls. He wished Italy to establish and endow almshouses for old people, and free schools where handicrafts would be taught to children. He wished Italy to establish and endow scholarships for the study of Italian archæology, the idea being to foster a spirit of enthusiastic patriotism, by excavating and studying and preserving the buried cities and monuments and treasures of antiquity with which the sacred and glorious and inviolate soil of Italy simply teems. Lastly, He wished Italy to give rewards, say of a thousand lire in cash to every man and woman between twenty and thirty years of age, who had served one master or secular firm since Lady-day 1899, and who cared to claim such a reward. To give effect to His four wishes, He handed to Signor Panciera an order on the Bank of Italy payable to the Prime Minister of Italy for the time being. The value of the order was thirty-three millions sterling. It was an offering in honour of the thirty-three years during which God as Man had laboured for the Love of men. It was to be the nucleus of a national fund which was to be called “The Household of Christ.” This fund was to be administered, on the lines stated, by one male member of the Royal Family of Italy, the Prime Minister, and the Minister of the Interior for the time being, and by nine trustees drawn in rotation from the list of nobles in the Golden Book. The first of these twelve was to hold his trusteeship for life, and was to be nominated by the King’s Majesty within one year from the present date. The second and third were to be ex-officio trusteeships. Of the nine nobles three would retire each year; and the next three on the roll would succeed them. No ecclesiastics were to be concerned with the fund in any way, unless they were nobles eligible for trusteeship, or unless they were paid servants appointed as chaplains by the Trustees. Hadrian’s particular desire was that the “Household of Christ” should become in every sense a department of the government of Italy.

  Signor Panciera came out reeling; and furiously drove in the direction of Monte Citorio. Here, he picked up Signor Zanatello; and the two carried their little basketful of news to the Queen-Regent in the Quirinale. Eleven minutes in Her Majesty’s music-room sufficed to send the three quickly through the Hall of Birds, and upstairs to the marconigraph office, by which means they announced the scheme to Victor Emanuel at Windsor Castle. The Sovereign’s reply was characteristically Italian, and (therefore) splendid.

  “I add a million: the Queen adds a million: the Prince of Naples adds a million: all sterling.”

  The Prime Minister sent the nation’s thanks and asked His Majesty to nominate himself as trustee. He got this gorgeous answer.

  “The Trustees will be nicknamed the Pope’s Twelve Apostles. The Voce della Verità and the Osservatore Romano instantly would assign to me the role of Judas.”

  Signor Panciera sent this message “Sire, there was a thirteenth apostle.”

  The King retorted “But he was an after-thought.” That made Queen Elena laugh. The King continued. “Zanatello, take this money: give a receipt in the name of Italy. The Queen-Regent will issue a royal decree constituting the Household of Christ as a government department: I nominate the Duke of Aosta as the royal trustee: this scheme is just what Italy wants at this moment: give it effect at once.”

  Zanatello implored His Majesty to become trustee. “No,” came the final response. “I will assist most strenuously in an unofficial capacity: when there is room for a thirteenth apostle, I will perpend: meanwhile I engage to double the fund within one year. The King of England will assist.”

  Hadrian first read about the acceptance of the gift to Italy in the next day’s Populo Romano—one of the most respectable papers in the world, He used to say. He felt that He had achieved another step; and instantly proceeded to
the next. He summoned the Syndic of Rome, and made over to him, as a free gift to the City, all the moveable sculpture, paintings, tapestry, and archæological specimens then present in the Vatican. Simultaneously, He canonized Dom Bosco and Dante Alighieri and published the Epistle to the Italians. This document was mainly hortatory, and directed against disbelief and secret societies. He bade Italy to consider Herself as the temple of art in Europe; and to set Herself, by the contemplation of masterpieces of human workmanship already in her possession, or to be added to Her possession by future discovery, to produce Herself as a country and a people prepared for The Lord Who is Altogether Lovely. He spoke of the “Mafia” with admiration and with horror. It was a brotherhood rather than a society, He said. It was a brotherhood of individualists each devoted to the service of his brother. Its essential virtues were honesty, mutual help, self-restraint. Nothing could be better. But the Devil had distorted the operation of so excellent a scheme. His Iniquity tempted the “Mafiosi” not only to help each other in good deeds, but in evil—chiefly in evil deeds. They murdered and screened murderers; and forgot “Thou shalt do no murder.” They robbed and screened robbers; and forgot “Thou shalt not steal.” They alleged that Mazzini had welded them into a corporate body for political purposes; and had given them for a motto “Mazzini Autorizza Furti Incendi Avvelenamenti,” from the initials of which phrase they drew their corporate name. In place of that wicked and abominable sentence, He gave them “Madonnina Applaude Fraternita Individualita Amore.” Let the Mafia flourish with that motto for its ruling principle.

  Italy was seeing the burden of poverty removed from Her children, was seeing Her youth enabled to cultivate talents, was seeing the honest labour of Her manhood and womanhood rewarded, was seeing refuge and provision prepared for old age. Rome set herself nobly to work at housing the treasures of art which Hadrian had given. Immense and splendid palaces were planned for them and began to rise on the Esquiline and Celian Hills; and the gracious forms of the old gods were to stand beneath arcades of marble, white and pure as lilies without, mosaic of bright gold within, amid the groves upon Janiculum. Honest men came by their own. There were no unemployed. Consequently, no hearts were soured while hands were used; and anarchy began to fade away into the obscurity of bad old rubbish rejected. The Epistle to the Italians too! They were in the mood to listen to anything and everything from that dear little piece of omniscient omnipotent omnipresent aloofness whom they called “Papa Inglese.” To the strong and simple Italian temper, His words carried conviction by reason of their own essential simplicity and strength.