CHAPTER XXXIX
THE WORLD'S CATHEDRAL
Still gliding onward, Hilda now looked up into the dome, where thesunshine came through the western windows, and threw across long shaftsof light. They rested upon the mosaic figures of two evangelists abovethe cornice. These great beams of radiance, traversing what seemed theempty space, were made visible in misty glory, by the holy cloud ofincense, else unseen, which had risen into the middle dome. It was toHilda as if she beheld the worship of the priest and people ascendingheavenward, purified from its alloy of earth, and acquiring celestialsubstance in the golden atmosphere to which it aspired, She wondered ifangels did not sometimes hover within the dome, and show themselves, inbrief glimpses, floating amid the sunshine and the glorified vapor, tothose who devoutly worshipped on the pavement.
She had now come into the southern transept. Around this portion of thechurch are ranged a number of confessionals. They are small tabernaclesof carved wood, with a closet for the priest in the centre; and, oneither side, a space for a penitent to kneel, and breathe his confessionthrough a perforated auricle into the good father's ear. Observing thisarrangement, though already familiar to her, our poor Hilda was anewimpressed with the infinite convenience--if we may use so poor aphrase--of the Catholic religion to its devout believers.
Who, in truth, that considers the matter, can resist a similarimpression! In the hottest fever-fit of life, they can always find,ready for their need, a cool, quiet, beautiful place of worship. Theymay enter its sacred precincts at any hour, leaving the fret and troubleof the world behind them, and purifying themselves with a touch ofholy water at the threshold. In the calm interior, fragrant of rich andsoothing incense, they may hold converse with some saint, their awful,kindly friend. And, most precious privilege of all, whatever perplexity,sorrow, guilt, may weigh upon their souls, they can fling down the darkburden at the foot of the cross, and go forth--to sin no more, nor beany longer disquieted; but to live again in the freshness and elasticityof innocence.
"Do not these inestimable advantages," thought Hilda, "or some of themat least, belong to Christianity itself? Are they not a part of theblessings which the system was meant to bestow upon mankind? Can thefaith in which I was born and bred be perfect, if it leave a weak girllike me to wander, desolate, with this great trouble crushing me down?"
A poignant anguish thrilled within her breast; it was like a thing thathad life, and was struggling to get out.
"O help! O help!" cried Hilda; "I cannot, cannot bear it!"
Only by the reverberations that followed--arch echoing the sound toarch, and a pope of bronze repeating it to a pope of marble, as eachsat enthroned over his tomb--did Hilda become aware that she had reallyspoken above her breath. But, in that great space, there is no need tohush up the heart within one's own bosom, so carefully as elsewhere;and if the cry reached any distant auditor, it came broken into manyfragments, and from various quarters of the church.
Approaching one of the confessionals, she saw a woman kneeling within.Just as Hilda drew near, the penitent rose, came forth, and kissed thehand of the priest, who regarded her with a look of paternal benignity,and appeared to be giving her some spiritual counsel, in a low voice.She then knelt to receive his blessing, which was fervently bestowed.Hilda was so struck with the peace and joy in the woman's face, that, asthe latter retired, she could not help speaking to her.
"You look very happy!" said she. "Is it so sweet, then, to go to theconfessional?"
"O, very sweet, my dear signorina!" answered the woman, with moistenedeyes and an affectionate smile; for she was so thoroughly softened withwhat she had been doing, that she felt as if Hilda were her youngersister. "My heart is at rest now. Thanks be to the Saviour, and theBlessed Virgin and the saints, and this good father, there is no moretrouble for poor Teresa!"
"I am glad for your sake," said Hilda, sighing for her own. "I am a poorheretic, but a human sister; and I rejoice for you!"
She went from one to another of the confessionals, and, looking ateach, perceived that they were inscribed with gilt letters: on one,Pro Italica Lingua; on another, Pro Flandrica Lingua; on a third, ProPolonica Lingua; on a fourth, Pro Illyrica Lingua; on a fifth, ProHispanica Lingua. In this vast and hospitable cathedral, worthy to bethe religious heart of the whole world, there was room for all nations;there was access to the Divine Grace for every Christian soul; there wasan ear for what the overburdened heart might have to murmur, speak inwhat native tongue it would.
When Hilda had almost completed the circuit of the transept, she came toa confessional--the central part was closed, but a mystic room protrudedfrom it, indicating the presence of a priest within--on which wasinscribed, Pro Anglica Lingua.
It was the word in season! If she had heard her mother's voice fromwithin the tabernacle, calling her, in her own mother-tongue, to comeand lay her poor head in her lap, and sob out all her troubles, Hildacould not have responded with a more inevitable obedience. She did notthink; she only felt. Within her heart was a great need. Close at hand,within the veil of the confessional, was the relief. She flung herselfdown in the penitent's place; and, tremulously, passionately, with sobs,tears, and the turbulent overflow of emotion too long repressed, shepoured out the dark story which had infused its poison into her innocentlife.
Hilda had not seen, nor could she now see, the visage of the priest.But, at intervals, in the pauses of that strange confession, half chokedby the struggle of her feelings toward an outlet, she heard a mild, calmvoice, somewhat mellowed by age. It spoke soothingly; it encouraged her;it led her on by apposite questions that seemed to be suggested by agreat and tender interest, and acted like magnetism in attracting thegirl's confidence to this unseen friend. The priest's share in theinterview, indeed, resembled that of one who removes the stones,clustered branches, or whatever entanglements impede the current of aswollen stream. Hilda could have imagined--so much to the purpose werehis inquiries--that he was already acquainted with some outline of whatshe strove to tell him.
Thus assisted, she revealed the whole of her terrible secret! The whole,except that no name escaped her lips.
And, ah, what a relief! When the hysteric gasp, the strife between wordsand sobs, had subsided, what a torture had passed away from her soul! Itwas all gone; her bosom was as pure now as in her childhood. She was agirl again; she was Hilda of the dove-cote; not that doubtful creaturewhom her own doves had hardly recognized as their mistress and playmate,by reason of the death-scent that clung to her garments!
After she had ceased to speak, Hilda heard the priest bestirhimself with an old man's reluctant movement. He stepped out of theconfessional; and as the girl was still kneeling in the penitentialcorner, he summoned her forth.
"Stand up, my daughter," said the mild voice of the confessor; "what wehave further to say must be spoken face to face."
Hilda did his bidding, and stood before him with a downcast visage,which flushed and grew pale again. But it had the wonderful beauty whichwe may often observe in those who have recently gone through a greatstruggle, and won the peace that lies just on the other side. We seeit in a new mother's face; we see it in the faces of the dead; andin Hilda's countenance--which had always a rare natural charm for herfriends--this glory of peace made her as lovely as an angel.
On her part, Hilda beheld a venerable figure with hair as white as snow,and a face strikingly characterized by benevolence. It bore marks ofthought, however, and penetrative insight; although the keen glances ofthe eyes were now somewhat bedimmed with tears, which the aged shed, oralmost shed, on lighter stress of emotion than would elicit them fromyounger men.
"It has not escaped my observation, daughter," said the priest, "thatthis is your first acquaintance with the confessional. How is this?"
"Father," replied Hilda, raising her eyes, and again letting them fall,"I am of New Eng land birth, and was bred as what you call a heretic."
"From New England!" exclaimed the priest. "It was my own birthplace,likewise; nor ha
ve fifty years of absence made me cease to love it. Buta heretic! And are you reconciled to the Church?"
"Never, father," said Hilda.
"And, that being the case," demanded the old man, "on what ground, mydaughter, have you sought to avail yourself of these blessed privileges,confined exclusively to members of the one true Church, of confessionand absolution?"
"Absolution, father?" exclaimed Hilda, shrinking back. "O no, no! Inever dreamed of that! Only our Heavenly Father can forgive my sins; andit is only by sincere repentance of whatever wrong I may have done, andby my own best efforts towards a higher life, that I can hope for hisforgiveness! God forbid that I should ask absolution from mortal man!"
"Then wherefore," rejoined the priest, with somewhat less mildness inhis tone,--"wherefore, I ask again, have you taken possession, as I mayterm it, of this holy ordinance; being a heretic, and neither seeking toshare, nor having faith in, the unspeakable advantages which the Churchoffers to its penitents?"
"Father," answered Hilda, trying to tell the old man the simple truth,"I am a motherless girl, and a stranger here in Italy. I had only Godto take care of me, and be my closest friend; and the terrible, terriblecrime, which I have revealed to you, thrust itself between him and me;so that I groped for him in the darkness, as it were, and found himnot,--found nothing but a dreadful solitude, and this crime in the midstof it! I could not bear it. It seemed as if I made the awful guilt myown, by keeping it hidden in my heart. I grew a fearful thing to myself.I was going mad!"
"It was a grievous trial, my poor child!" observed the confessor. "Yourrelief, I trust, will prove to be greater than you yet know!"
"I feel already how immense it is!" said Hilda, looking gratefully inhis face. "Surely, father, it was the hand of Providence that led mehither, and made me feel that this vast temple of Christianity, thisgreat home of religion, must needs contain some cure, some ease, atleast, for my unutterable anguish. And it has proved so. I have told thehideous secret; told it under the sacred seal of the confessional; andnow it will burn my poor heart no more!"
"But, daughter," answered the venerable priest, not unmoved by whatHilda said, "you forget! you mistake!--you claim a privilege to whichyou have not entitled yourself! The seal of the confessional, do yousay? God forbid that it should ever be broken where it has been fairlyimpressed; but it applies only to matters that have been confided to itskeeping in a certain prescribed method, and by persons, moreover, whohave faith in the sanctity of the ordinance. I hold myself, and anylearned casuist of the Church would hold me, as free to disclose all theparticulars of what you term your confession, as if they had come to myknowledge in a secular way."
"This is not right, father!" said Hilda, fixing her eyes on the oldman's.
"Do not you see, child," he rejoined, with some little heat, "with allyour nicety of conscience, cannot you recognize it as my duty to makethe story known to the proper authorities; a great crime against publicjustice being involved, and further evil consequences likely to ensue?"
"No, father, no!" answered Hilda, courageously, her cheeks flushing andher eyes brightening as she spoke. "Trust a girl's simple heart soonerthan any casuist of your Church, however learned he may be. Trust yourown heart, too! I came to your confessional, father, as I devoutlybelieve, by the direct impulse of Heaven, which also brought you hitherto-day, in its mercy and love, to relieve me of a torture that I couldno longer bear. I trusted in the pledge which your Church has alwaysheld sacred between the priest and the human soul, which, through hismedium, is struggling towards its Father above. What I have confided toyou lies sacredly between God and yourself. Let it rest there, father;for this is right, and if you do otherwise, you will perpetrate a greatwrong, both as a priest and a man! And believe me, no question, notorture, shall ever force my lips to utter what would be necessary,in order to make my confession available towards the punishment of theguilty ones. Leave Providence to deal with them!"
"My quiet little countrywoman," said the priest, with half a smile onhis kindly old face, "you can pluck up a spirit, I perceive, when youfancy an occasion for one."
"I have spirit only to do what I think right," replied Hilda simply. "Inother respects I am timorous."
"But you confuse yourself between right feelings and very foolishinferences," continued the priest, "as is the wont of women,--so muchI have learnt by long experience in the confessional,--be they young orold. However, to set your heart at rest, there is no probable needfor me to reveal the matter. What you have told, if I mistake not, andperhaps more, is already known in the quarter which it most concerns."
"Known!" exclaimed Hilda. "Known to the authorities of Rome! And whatwill be the consequence?"
"Hush!" answered the confessor, laying his finger on his lips. "I tellyou my supposition--mind, it is no assertion of the fact--in orderthat you may go the more cheerfully on your way, not deeming yourselfburdened with any responsibility as concerns this dark deed. And now,daughter, what have you to give in return for an old man's kindness andsympathy?"
"My grateful remembrance," said Hilda, fervently, "as long as I live!"
"And nothing more?" the priest inquired, with a persuasive smile. "Willyou not reward him with a great joy; one of the last joys that he mayknow on earth, and a fit one to take with him into the better world? Ina word, will you not allow me to bring you as a stray lamb into the truefold? You have experienced some little taste of the relief and comfortwhich the Church keeps abundantly in store for all its faithfulchildren. Come home, dear child,--poor wanderer, who hast caught aglimpse of the heavenly light,--come home, and be at rest."
"Father," said Hilda, much moved by his kindly earnestness, inwhich, however, genuine as it was, there might still be a leaven ofprofessional craft, "I dare not come a step farther than Providenceshall guide me. Do not let it grieve you, therefore, if I never returnto the confessional; never dip my fingers in holy water; never sign mybosom with the cross. I am a daughter of the Puritans. But, in spite ofmy heresy," she added with a sweet, tearful smile, "you may one daysee the poor girl, to whom you have done this great Christian kindness,coming to remind you of it, and thank you for it, in the Better Land."
The old priest shook his head. But, as he stretched out his hands at thesame moment, in the act of benediction, Hilda knelt down and receivedthe blessing with as devout a simplicity as any Catholic of them all.