Chapter 22: A Seminary Priest

In the street was riot; confusion which momentarily threatened to become worse confounded. In the press were dignitaries of the Church; that Archbishop whom we met at dinner; Cardinal De Vere, whose grace of bearing ornaments the Roman establishment in England; with him a young seminary priest, one Father Nevill. The two high clerics were on a common errand. Their carriages encountering each other on the outskirts of the crowd, they had accepted the services of a friendly constable, who offered to pilot them through the excited people. At his heels they came, scarcely in the ecclesiastical state which their dignity desired.

As they neared the house they were met by the departing Mr. Walters and his friends. Recognising who they were, Walters stopped to shout at them in his stentorian tones:

‘So the High Priests have come! To do reverence to their Master? To prostrate themselves at His feet in the dust, or to play the patron? To you, perhaps, He’ll condescend; with these who, in their misery, trample each other under foot He’ll have no commerce; has not even a word with which to answer them. But you, Archbishop and Cardinal, Princes of His Most Holy Church, perhaps He’ll have a hand for each of you. For to those that have shall be given, and from those that have not shall be taken away. He’ll hardly do violence to that most excellent Christian doctrine. Tell Him how much you have that should be other men’s; maybe He’ll strip them of their skins to give you more.’

The constable thrust him aside.

‘Move on, there! move on! That’s enough of that nonsense!’

‘Oh yes,’ said Walters, as they forced him back into the seething throng; ‘oh yes, one soon has enough of nonsense of that kind. Christ has come! God help us all!’

On the steps that led up to the door a woman fought with the police. She was as a mad thing, screaming in her agony:

‘Let me see Christ! Let me see Him! My daughter’s dead! I brought her to be healed; she’s been killed in the crowd; I want Him to bring her back to life. Let me see Christ! Let me see Him!’

They would not. Lifting her off her feet, they bore her back among the people.

‘What a terrible scene!’ murmured the Archbishop. ‘What lamentable and dangerous excitement!’

‘You represent a Church, my dear Archbishop,’ replied the Cardinal, ‘which advocates the freedom of private judgment. These proceedings suggest that your advocacy may have met with even undesired success.’

The Archbishop, looking about him with dubious glances, said to the policeman who had constituted himself their guide:

‘This sort of thing almost makes one physically anxious. The people seem to be half beside themselves.’

‘You may well say that, my lord. I never saw a crowd in such a mood before; and I’ve seen a few. I hear they’ve sent for the soldiers.’

‘The soldiers? Dear, dear! how infinitely sad!’

When they were seen on the steps, guarded by the police, waiting for the door to open, the crowd yelled at them. The Archbishop observed to his companion:

‘I’m not sure, after all, that it was wise of me to come. Sometimes it is not easy to know what to do for the best. I certainly did not expect to find myself in the midst of such a scene of popular frenzy.’

Said the Cardinal:

‘It at least enables us to see one phase of Protestant England.’

They were admitted by Ada, to whom the Archbishop introduced himself.

‘I am the Archbishop, and this is Cardinal De Vere. We have come to see the person who is the cause of all this turmoil.’