Lord of the World Read online

  II

  Percy stood motionless until he heard the automatic bell outside tellhim that Father Francis was really gone, then he went out himself andturned towards the long passage leading to the Cathedral. As he passedout through the sacristy he heard far in front the murmur of an organ,and on coming through into the chapel used as a parish church heperceived that Vespers were not yet over in the great choir. He camestraight down the aisle, turned to the right, crossed the centre andknelt down.

  It was drawing on towards sunset, and the huge dark place was lightedhere and there by patches of ruddy London light that lay on the gorgeousmarble and gildings finished at last by a wealthy convert. In front ofhim rose up the choir, with a line of white surpliced and furred canonson either side, and the vast baldachino in the midst, beneath whichburned the six lights as they had burned day by day for more than acentury; behind that again lay the high line of the apse-choir with thedim, window-pierced vault above where Christ reigned in majesty. He lethis eyes wander round for a few moments before beginning his deliberateprayer, drinking in the glory of the place, listening to the thunderouschorus, the peal of the organ, and the thin mellow voice of the priest.There on the left shone the refracted glow of the lamps that burnedbefore the Lord in the Sacrament, on the right a dozen candles winkedhere and there at the foot of the gaunt images, high overhead hung thegigantic cross with that lean, emaciated Poor Man Who called all wholooked on Him to the embraces of a God.

  Then he hid his face in his hands, drew a couple of long breaths, andset to work.

  He began, as his custom was in mental prayer, by a deliberate act ofself-exclusion from the world of sense. Under the image of sinkingbeneath a surface he forced himself downwards and inwards, till the pealof the organ, the shuffle of footsteps, the rigidity of the chair-backbeneath his wrists--all seemed apart and external, and he was left asingle person with a beating heart, an intellect that suggested imageafter image, and emotions that were too languid to stir themselves. Thenhe made his second descent, renounced all that he possessed and was, andbecame conscious that even the body was left behind, and that his mindand heart, awed by the Presence in which they found themselves, clungclose and obedient to the will which was their lord and protector. Hedrew another long breath, or two, as he felt that Presence surge abouthim; he repeated a few mechanical words, and sank to that peace whichfollows the relinquishment of thought.

  There he rested for a while. Far above him sounded the ecstatic music,the cry of trumpets and the shrilling of the flutes; but they were asinsignificant street-noises to one who was falling asleep. He was withinthe veil of things now, beyond the barriers of sense and reflection, inthat secret place to which he had learned the road by endless effort, inthat strange region where realities are evident, where perceptions go toand fro with the swiftness of light, where the swaying will catches nowthis, now that act, moulds it and speeds it; where all things meet,where truth is known and handled and tasted, where God Immanent is onewith God Transcendent, where the meaning of the external world isevident through its inner side, and the Church and its mysteries areseen from within a haze of glory.

  So he lay a few moments, absorbing and resting.

  Then he aroused himself to consciousness and began to speak.

  "Lord, I am here, and Thou art here. I know Thee. There is nothing elsebut Thou and I.... I lay this all in Thy hands--Thy apostate priest, Thypeople, the world, and myself. I spread it before Thee--I spread itbefore Thee."

  He paused, poised in the act, till all of which he thought lay like aplain before a peak.

  ... "Myself, Lord--there but for Thy grace should I be going, indarkness and misery. It is Thou Who dost preserve me. Maintain andfinish Thy work within my soul. Let me not falter for one instant. IfThou withdraw Thy hand I fall into utter nothingness."

  So his soul stood a moment, with outstretched appealing hands, helplessand confident. Then the will flickered in self-consciousness, and herepeated acts of faith, hope and love to steady it. Then he drew anotherlong breath, feeling the Presence tingle and shake about him, and beganagain.

  "Lord; look on Thy people. Many are falling from Thee. _Ne in aeternumirascaris nobis. Ne in aeternum irascaris nobis_.... I unite myself withall saints and angels and Mary Queen of Heaven; look on them and me, andhear us. _Emitte lucem tuam et veritatem tuam._ Thy light and Thy truth!Lay not on us heavier burdens than we can bear. Lord, why dost Thou notspeak!"

  He writhed himself forward in a passion of expectant desire, hearing hismuscles crack in the effort. Once more he relaxed himself; and the swiftplay of wordless acts began which he knew to be the very heart ofprayer. The eyes of his soul flew hither and thither, from Calvary toheaven and back again to the tossing troubled earth. He saw Christ dyingof desolation while the earth rocked and groaned; Christ reigning as apriest upon His Throne in robes of light, Christ patient and inexorablysilent within the Sacramental species; and to each in turn he directedthe eyes of the Eternal Father....

  Then he waited for communications, and they came, so soft and delicate,passing like shadows, that his will sweated blood and tears in theeffort to catch and fix them and correspond....

  He saw the Body Mystical in its agony, strained over the world as on across, silent with pain; he saw this and that nerve wrenched andtwisted, till pain presented it to himself as under the guise of flashesof colour; he saw the life-blood drop by drop run down from His head andhands and feet. The world was gathered mocking and good-humouredbeneath. "_He saved others: Himself He cannot save.... Let Christ comedown from the Cross and we will believe._" Far away behind bushes andin holes of the ground the friends of Jesus peeped and sobbed; Maryherself was silent, pierced by seven swords; the disciple whom He lovedhad no words of comfort.

  He saw, too, how no word would be spoken from heaven; the angelsthemselves were bidden to put sword into sheath, and wait on the eternalpatience of God, for the agony was hardly yet begun; there were athousand horrors yet before the end could come, that final sum ofcrucifixion.... He must wait and watch, content to stand there and donothing; and the Resurrection must seem to him no more than a dreamed-ofhope. There was the Sabbath yet to come, while the Body Mystical mustlie in its sepulchre cut off from light, and even the dignity of theCross must be withdrawn and the knowledge that Jesus lived. That innerworld, to which by long effort he had learned the way, was all alightwith agony; it was bitter as brine, it was of that pale luminosity thatis the utmost product of pain, it hummed in his ears with a note thatrose to a scream ... it pressed upon him, penetrated him, stretched himas on a rack.... And with that his will grew sick and nerveless.

  "Lord! I cannot bear it!" he moaned....

  In an instant he was back again, drawing long breaths of misery. Hepassed his tongue over his lips, and opened his eyes on the darkeningapse before him. The organ was silent now, and the choir was gone, andthe lights out. The sunset colour, too, had faded from the walls, andgrim cold faces looked down on him from wall and vault. He was backagain on the surface of life; the vision had melted; he scarcely knewwhat it was that he had seen.

  But he must gather up the threads, and by sheer effort absorb them. Hemust pay his duty, too, to the Lord that gave Himself to the senses aswell as to the inner spirit. So he rose, stiff and constrained, andpassed across to the Chapel of the Holy Sacrament.

  As he came out from the block of chairs, very upright and tall, with hisbiretta once more on his white hair, he saw an old woman watching himvery closely. He hesitated an instant, wondering whether she were apenitent, and as he hesitated she made a movement towards him.

  "I beg your pardon, sir," she began.

  She was not a Catholic then. He lifted his biretta.

  "Can I do anything for you?" he asked.

  "I beg your pardon, sir, but were you at Brighton, at the accident twomonths ago?"

  "I was."

  "Ah! I thought so: my daughter-in-law saw you then."

  Percy had a spasm of impatience: he was a little tired of beingid
entified by his white hair and young face.

  "Were you there, madam?"

  She looked at him doubtfully and curiously, moving her old, eyes up anddown his figure. Then she recollected herself.

  "No, sir; it was my daughter-in-law--I beg your pardon, sir, but---"

  "Well?" asked Percy, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

  "Are you the Archbishop, sir?"

  The priest smiled, showing his white teeth.

  "No, madam; I am just a poor priest. Dr. Cholmondeley is Archbishop. Iam Father Percy Franklin."

  She said nothing, but still looking at him made a little old-worldmovement of a bow; and Percy passed on to the dim, splendid chapel topay his devotions.