CHAPTER XXVII
THE SAINT'S REST
Agnes entered the city of Rome in a trance of enthusiastic emotion,almost such as one might imagine in a soul entering the heavenlyJerusalem above. To her exalted ideas she was approaching not only theground hallowed by the blood of apostles and martyrs, not merely thetombs of the faithful, but the visible "general assembly and church ofthe first-born which are written in heaven." Here reigned the appointedrepresentative of Jesus,--and she imagined a benignant image of aprince clothed with honor and splendor, who was yet the righter of allwrongs, the redresser of all injuries, the friend and succorer of thepoor and needy; and she was firm in a secret purpose to go to thisgreat and benignant father, and on her knees entreat him to forgive thesins of her lover, and remove the excommunication that threatened atevery moment his eternal salvation. For she trembled to think of it,--asudden accident, a thrust of a dagger, a fall from his horse, might puthim forever beyond the pale of repentance,--he might die unforgiven,and sink to eternal pain.
If any should wonder that a Christian soul could preserve within itselfan image so ignorantly fair, in such an age, when the worldliness andcorruption in the Papal chair were obtruded by a thousand incidentalmanifestations, and were alluded to in all the calculations of simplecommon people, who looked at facts with a mere view to the guidance oftheir daily conduct, it is necessary to remember the nature of Agnes'sreligious training, and the absolute renunciation of all individualreasoning which from infancy had been laid down before her as the firstand indispensable prerequisite of spiritual progress. To believe,--tobelieve utterly and blindly,--not only without evidence, but againstevidence,--to reject the testimony even of her senses, when set againstthe simple affirmation of her superiors,--had been the beginning,middle, and end of her religious instruction. When a doubt assailed hermind on any point, she had been taught to retire within herself andrepeat a prayer; and in this way her mental eye had formed the habitof closing to anything that might shake her faith as quickly as thephysical eye closes at a threatened blow. Then, as she was of a poeticand ideal nature, entirely differing from the mass of those with whomshe associated, she had formed that habit of abstraction and mentalreverie which prevented her hearing or perceiving the true sense of agreat deal that went on around her. The conversations that commonlywere carried on in her presence had for her so little interest thatshe scarcely heard them. The world in which she moved was a glorifiedworld,--wherein to be sure, the forms of every-day life appeared,but appeared as different from what they were in reality as the oldmouldering daylight view of Rome is from the warm translucent glory ofits evening transfiguration.
So in her quiet, silent heart she nursed this beautiful hope of findingin Rome the earthly image of her Saviour's home above, of finding inthe head of the Church the real image of her Redeemer,--the friend towhom the poorest and lowliest may pour out their souls with as muchfreedom as the highest and noblest. The spiritual directors who hadformed the mind of Agnes in her early days had been persons in the samemanner taught to move in an ideal world of faith. The Mother Theresahad never seen the realities of life, and supposed the Church on earthto be all that the fondest visions of human longing could paint it.The hard, energetic, prose experience of old Jocunda, and the downrightway with which she sometimes spoke of things as a trooper's wife musthave seen them, were repressed and hushed down, as the imperfect faithof a half-reclaimed worldling,--they could not be allowed to awakenher from the sweetness of so blissful a dream. In like manner, whenLorenzo Sforza became Father Francesco, he strove with earnest prayerto bury his gift of individual reason in the same grave with his familyname and worldly experience. As to all that transpired in the realworld, he wrapped himself in a mantle of imperturbable silence; theintrigues of popes and cardinals, once well known to him, sank awayas a forbidden dream; and by some metaphysical process of imaginativedevotion, he enthroned God in the place of the dominant powers, andtaught himself to receive all that came from them in uninquiringsubmission, as proceeding from unerring wisdom. Though he had begunhis spiritual life under the impulse of Savonarola, yet so perfect hadbeen his isolation from all tidings of what transpired in the externalworld that the conflict which was going on between that distinguishedman and the Papal hierarchy never reached his ear. He sought and aimedas much as possible to make his soul like the soul of one dead, whichadores and worships in ideal space, and forgets forever the scenes andrelations of earth; and he had so long contemplated Rome under thecelestial aspects of his faith, that, though the shock of his firstconfession there had been painful, still it was insufficient to shakehis faith. It had been God's will, he thought, that where he lookedfor aid he should meet only confusion, and he bowed to the inscrutablewill, and blindly adored the mysterious revelation. If such could bethe submission and the faith of a strong and experienced man, who canwonder at the enthusiastic illusions of an innocent, trustful child?
Agnes and her grandmother entered the city of Rome just as thetwilight had faded into night; and though Agnes, full of faith andenthusiasm, was longing to begin immediately the ecstatic vision ofshrines and holy places, old Elsie commanded her not to think ofanything further that night. They proceeded, therefore, with severalother pilgrims who had entered the city, to a church specially setapart for their reception, connected with which were large dormitoriesand a religious order whose business was to receive and wait uponthem, and to see that all their wants were supplied. This religiousfoundation is one of the oldest in Rome; and it is esteemed a work ofespecial merit and sanctity among the citizens to associate themselvestemporarily in these labors in Holy Week. Even princes and princessescome, humble and lowly, mingling with those of common degree, and all,calling each other brother and sister, vie in kind attentions to theseguests of the Church.
When Agnes and Elsie arrived, several of these volunteer assistantswere in waiting. Agnes was remarked among all the rest of the companyfor her peculiar beauty and the rapt enthusiastic expression of herface.
Almost immediately on their entrance into the reception hall connectedwith the church, they seemed to attract the attention of a tall ladydressed in deep mourning, and accompanied by a female servant, withwhom she was conversing on those terms of intimacy which showedconfidential relations between the two.
"See!" she said, "my Mona, what a heavenly face is there!--that sweetchild has certainly the light of grace shining through her. My heartwarms to her."
"Indeed," said the old servant, looking across, "and well itmay,--dear lamb come so far! But, Holy Virgin, how my head swims! Howstrange!--that child reminds me of some one. My Lady, perhaps, maythink of some one whom she looks like."
"Mona, you say true. I have the same strange impression that I haveseen a face like hers, but who or where I cannot say."
"What would my Lady say, if I said it was our dear Prince?--God resthis soul!"
"Mona, it _is_ so,--yes," added the lady, looking more intently, "howsingular!--the very traits of our house in a peasant-girl! She is ofSorrento, I judge, by her costume,--what a pretty one it is! That oldwoman is her mother, perhaps. I must choose her for my care,--and,Mona, you shall wait on her mother."
So saying, the Princess Paulina crossed the hall, and, bending affablyover Agnes, took her hand and kissed her, saying,--
"Welcome, my dear little sister, to the house of our Father!"
Agnes looked up with strange, wondering eyes into the face that wasbent to hers. It was sallow and sunken, with deep lines of ill-healthand sorrow, but the features were noble, and must once have beenbeautiful; the whole action, voice, and manner were dignified andimpressive. Instinctively she felt that the lady was of superior birthand breeding to any with whom she had been in the habit of associating.
"Come with me," said the lady; "and this--your mother"--she added.
"She is my grandmother," said Agnes.
"Well, then, your grandmother, sweet child, shall be attended to by mygood sister Mona here."
The Princess Paulina dr
ew the hand of Agnes through her arm, and,laying her hand affectionately on it, looked down and smiled tenderlyon her.
"Are you very tired, my dear?"
"Oh, no! no!" said Agnes,--"I am so happy, so blessed to be here!"
"You have traveled a long way?"
"Yes, from Sorrento; but I am used to walking,--I did not feel it to belong,--my heart kept me up,--I wanted to come home so much."
"Home?" said the Princess.
"Yes, to my soul's home,--the house of our dear Father the Pope."
The Princess started, and looked incredulously down for a moment; thennoticing the confiding, whole-hearted air of the child, she sighed andwas silent.
"Come with me above," she said, "and let me attend a little to yourcomfort."
"How good you are, dear lady!" said Agnes.
"I am not good, my child,--I am only your unworthy sister in Christ;"and as the lady spoke, she opened the door into a room where were anumber of other female pilgrims seated around the wall, each attendedby a person whose peculiar care she seemed to be.
At the feet of each was a vessel of water, and when the seats were allfull, a cardinal in robes of office entered, and began reading prayers.Each lady present, kneeling at the feet of her chosen pilgrim, divestedthem carefully of their worn and travel-soiled shoes and stockings,and proceeded to wash them. It was not a mere rose-water ceremony, buta good hearty washing of feet that for the most part had great needof the ablution. While this service was going on, the cardinal readfrom the Gospel how a Greater than they all had washed the feet of Hisdisciples, and said, "If I, your Lord and Master, have washed yourfeet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet." Then all repeated inconcert the Lord's Prayer, while each humbly kissed the feet she hadwashed, and proceeded to replace the worn and travel-soiled shoes andstockings with new and strong ones, the gift of Christian love. Eachlady then led her charge into a room where tables were spread with aplain and wholesome repast of all such articles of food as the seasonof Lent allowed. Each placed her _protegee_ at table, and carefullyattended to all her wants at the supper, and afterwards dormitorieswere opened for their repose.
The Princess Paulina performed all these offices for Agnes with atender earnestness which won upon her heart. The young girl thoughtherself indeed in that blessed society of which she had dreamed, wherethe high-born and the rich become through Christ's love the servantsof the poor and lowly; and through all the services she sat in a sortof dream of rapture. How lovely this reception into the Holy City! howsweet thus to be taken to the arms of the great Christian family, boundtogether in the charity which is the bond of perfectness!
"Please tell me, dear lady," said Agnes, after supper, "who is thatholy man that prayed with us?"
"Oh, he--he is the Cardinal Capello," said the Princess.
"I should like to have spoken with him," said Agnes.
"Why, my child?"
"I wanted to ask him when and how I could get speech with our dearFather the Pope, for there is somewhat on my mind that I would laybefore him."
"My poor little sister," said the Princess, much perplexed, "you do notunderstand things. What you speak of is impossible. The Pope is a greatking."
"I know he is," said Agnes,--"and so is our Lord Jesus; but every soulmay come to him."
"I cannot explain to you now," said the Princess,--"there is not timeto-night. But I shall see you again. I will send for you to come tomy house, and there talk with you about many things which you need toknow. Meanwhile, promise me, dear child, not to try to do anything ofthe kind you spoke of until I have talked with you."
"Well, I will not," said Agnes, with a glance of docile affection,kissing the hand of the Princess.
The action was so pretty,--the great, soft, dark eyes looked sofawn-like and confiding in their innocent tenderness, that the ladyseemed much moved.
"Our dear Mother bless thee, child!" she said, laying her hand on herhead, and stooping to kiss her forehead.
She left her at the door of the dormitory.
The Princess and her attendant went out of the church-door, where herlitter stood in waiting. The two took their seats in silence, andsilently pursued their way through the streets of the old dimly-lightedcity and out of one of its principal gates to the wide Campagna beyond.The villa of the Princess was situated on an eminence at some distancefrom the city, and the night-ride to it was solemn and solitary. Theypassed along the old Appian Way over pavements that had rumbled underthe chariot-wheels of the emperors and nobles of a bygone age, whilealong their way, glooming up against the clear of the sky, were vastshadowy piles,--the tombs of the dead of other days. All mouldering andlonely, shaggy and fringed with bushes and streaming wild vines throughwhich the night-wind sighed and rustled, they might seem to be pervadedby the restless spirits of the dead; and as the lady passed them, sheshivered, and, crossing herself, repeated an inward prayer againstwandering demons that walk in desolate places.
Timid and solitary, the high-born lady shrank and cowered withinherself with a distressing feeling of loneliness. A childless widowin delicate health, whose paternal family had been for the most partcruelly robbed, exiled, or destroyed by the reigning Pope and hisfamily, she felt her own situation a most unprotected and precariousone, since the least jealousy or misunderstanding might bring uponher, too, the ill-will of the Borgias, which had proved so fatalto the rest of her race. No comfort in life remained to her but herreligion, to whose practice she clung as to her all; but even in thisher life was embittered by facts to which, with the best dispositionin the world, she could not shut her eyes. Her own family had beentoo near the seat of power not to see all the base intrigues by whichthat sacred and solemn position of Head of the Christian Church hadbeen traded for as a marketable commodity. The pride, the indecency,the cruelty of those who now reigned in the name of Christ came overher mind in contrast with the picture painted by the artless, trustingfaith of the peasant-girl with whom she had just parted. Her mind hadbeen too thoroughly drilled in the non-reflective practice of her faithto dare to put forth any act of reasoning upon facts so visible and sotremendous,--she rather trembled at herself for seeing what she saw andfor knowing what she knew, and feared somehow that this very knowledgemight endanger her salvation; and so she rode homeward cowering andpraying like a frightened child.
"Does my Lady feel ill?" said the old servant, anxiously.
"No, Mona, no,--not in body."
"And what is on my Lady's mind now?"
"Oh, Mona, it is only what is always there. To-morrow is Palm Sunday,and how can I go to see the murderers and robbers of our house inholy places? Oh, Mona, what can Christians do, when such men handleholy things? It was a comfort to wash the feet of those poor simplepilgrims, who tread in the steps of the saints of old; but how I feltwhen that poor child spoke of wanting to see the Pope!"
"Yes," said Mona, "it's like sending the lamb to get spiritual counselof the wolf."
"See what sweet belief the poor infant has! Should not the head of theChristian Church be such as she thinks? Ah, in the old days, when theChurch here in Rome was poor and persecuted, there were Popes who wereloving fathers and not haughty princes."
"My dear Lady," said the servant, "pray, consider, the very stones haveears. We don't know what day we may be turned out, neck and heels, tomake room for some of their creatures."
"Well, Mona," said the lady, with some spirit, "I'm sure I haven't saidany more than you have."
"Holy Mother! and so you haven't, but somehow things look moredangerous when other people say them. A pretty child that was, as yousay; but that old thing, her grandmother, is a sharp piece. She is aRoman, and lived here in her early days. She says the little one wasborn hereabouts; but she shuts up her mouth like a vise, when one wouldget more out of her."
"Mona, I shall not go out to-morrow; but you go to the services, andfind the girl and her grandmother, and bring them out to me. I want tocounsel the child."
"You may be sure," said Mona, "that her gr
andmother knows the ins andouts of Rome as well as any of us, for all she has learned to screw upher lips so tight."
"At any rate, bring her to me, because she interests me."
"Well, well, it shall be so," said Mona.