AN UNEXPECTED VISIT.
Though Rodin had experienced much surprise on reading the second letter from Rome, he did not choose that his answer should betray any such amazement.Having finished his frugal breakfast, he took a sheet of paper, and rapidly wrote in cipher the following note, in the short, abrupt style that was natural to him when not obliged to restrain himself:
"The information does not surprise me.I had foreseen it all.
Indecision and cowardice always bear such fruit.This is not enough.
Heretical Russia murders Catholic Poland.Rome blesses the murderers, and curses the victims.[23]
"Let it pass.
"In return, Russia guarantees to Rome, by Austria, the bloody suppression of the patriots of Romagna.
"That, too, is well.
"The cut-throat band of good Cardinal Albani is not sufficient for the massacre of the impious liberals.They are weary of the task.
"Not so well.They must go on."
When Rodin had written these last words, his attention was suddenly attracted by the clear and sonorous voice of Rose-Pompon, who, knowing her Beranger by heart, had opened Philemon's window, and, seated on the sill, sang with much grace and prettiness this verse of the immortal song-writer:
"How wrong you are! Is't you dare say That heaven ever scowls on earth?
The earth that laughs up to its blue, The earth that owes it joy and birth?
Oh, may the wine from vines it warms, May holy love thence fluttering down, Lend my philosophy their charms, To drive away care's direful frown!
So, firm let's stand, Full glass in hand, And all evoke The God of honest folk!"
This song, in its divine gentleness, contrasted so strangely with the cold cruelty of the few lines written by Rodin, that he started and bit his lips with rage, as he recognized the words of the great poet, truly Christian, who had dealt such rude blows to the false Church.Rodin waited for some moments with angry impatience, thinking the voice would continue; but Rose-Pompon was silent, or only continued to hum, and soon changed to another air, that of the Good Pope, which she entoned, but without words.Rodin, not venturing to look out of his window to see who was this troublesome warbler, shrugged his shoulders, resumed his pen, and continued:
"To it again.We must exasperate the independent spirits in all countries--excite philosophic rage all over Europe make liberalism foam at the mouth--raise all that is wild and noisy against Rome.To effect this, we must proclaim in the face of the world these three propositions.
1.It is abominable to assert that a man may be saved in any faith whatever, provided his morals be pure.2.It is odious and absurd to grant liberty of conscience to the people.3.The liberty of the press cannot be held in too much horror.[24]
"We must bring the Pap-fed man to declare these propositions in every respect orthodox--show him their good effect upon despotic governments--
upon true Catholics, the muzzlers of the people.He will fall into the snare.The propositions once published, the storm will burst forth.A
general rising against Rome--a wide schism--the sacred college divided into three parties.One approves--the other blames--the third trembles.
The Sick Man, still more frightened than he is now at having allowed the destruction of Poland, will shrink from the clamors, reproaches, threats, and violent ruptures that he has occasioned.
"That is well--and goes far.
"Then, set the Pope to shaking the conscience of the Sick Man, to disturb his mind, and terrify his soul.
"To sum up.Make everything bitter to him--divide his council--isolate him--frighten him--redouble the ferocious ardor of good Albini--revive the appetite of the Sanfedists[25]--give them a gulf of liberals--let there be pillage, ****, massacre, as at Cesena--a downright river of Carbonaro blood--the Sick Man will have a surfeit of it.So many butcheries in his name--he will shrink, be sure he will shrink--every day will have its remorse, every night its terror, every minute its anguish;
and the abdication he already threatens will come at last--perhaps too soon.That is now the only danger; you must provide against it.
"In case of an abdication, the grand penitentiary has understood me.
Instead of confiding to a general the direction of our Order, the best militia of the Holy See, I should command it myself.Thenceforward this militia would give me no uneasiness.For instance: the Janissaries and the Praetorian Guards were always fatal to authority--why?--because they were able to organize themselves as defenders of the government, independently of the government; hence their power of intimidation.
"Clement XIV.was a fool.To brand and abolish our Company was an absurd fault.To protect and make it harmless, by declaring himself the General of the Order, is what he should have done.The Company, then at his mercy, would have consented to anything.He would have absorbed us, made us vassals of the Holy See, and would no longer have had to fear our services.Clement XIV.died of the cholic.Let him heed who hears.In a similar case, I should not die the same death."
Just then, the clear and liquid voice of Rose-Pompon was again heard.
Rodin bounded with rage upon his seat; but soon, as he listened to the following verse, new to him (for, unlike Philemon's widow, he had not his Beranger at his fingers' ends), the Jesuit, accessible to certain odd, superstitious notions, was confused and almost frightened at so singular a coincidence.It is Beranger's Good Pope who speaks--
"What are monarchs? sheepish sots!
Or they're robbers, puffed with pride, Wearing badges of crime blots, Till their certain graves gape wide.
If they'll pour out coin for me, I'll absolve them--skin and bone!
If they haggle--they shall see, My nieces dancing on their throne!
So laugh away!
Leap, my fay!
Only watch one hurt the thunder First of all by Zeus under, I'm the Pope, the whole world's wonder!"