Le Juif errant. English

  CHAPTER XX. THE RUPTURE.

  Plunged into a state of mortal anxiety, Father d'Aigrigny had takenmechanically the note written by Rodin, and held it in his hand withoutthinking of opening it. The reverend father asked himself in alarm, whatconclusion Gabriel would draw from these recriminations upon thepast; and he durst not make any answer to his reproaches, for fear ofirritating the young priest, upon whose head such immense interests nowreposed. Gabriel could possess nothing for himself, according to theconstitutions of the Society of Jesus. Moreover, the reverend father hadobtained from him, in favor of the Order, an express renunciation ofall property that might ever come to him. But the commencement of hisconversation seemed to announce so serious a change in Gabriel's viewswith regard to the Company, that he might choose to break through theties which attached him to it; and in that case, he would not be legallybound to fulfil any of his engagements.(16) The donation would thus becancelled de facto, just at the moment of being so marvellously realizedby the possession of the immense fortune of the Rennepont family, andd'Aigrigny's hopes would thus be completely and for ever frustrated.Of all these perplexities which the reverend father had experiencedfor some time past, with regard to this inheritance, none had been moreunexpected and terrible than this. Fearing to interrupt or questionGabriel, Father d'Aigrigny waited, in mute terror, the end of thisinterview, which already bore so threatening an aspect.

  The missionary resumed: "It is my duty, father, to continue this sketchof my past life, until the moment of my departure for America. You willunderstand, presently, why I have imposed on myself this obligation."

  Father d'Aigrigny nodded for him to proceed.

  "Once informed of the pretended wishes of my adopted mother, I resignedmyself to them, though at some cost of feeling. I left the gloomy abode,in which I had passed my childhood and part of my youth, to enter oneof the seminaries of the Company. My resolution was not caused by anirresistible religious vocation, but by a wish to discharge the sacreddebt I owed my adopted mother. Yet the true spirit of the religion ofChrist is so vivifying, that I felt myself animated and warmed by theidea of carrying out the adorable precepts of our Blessed Saviour. To myimagination, a seminary, instead of resembling the college where I hadlived in painful restraint, appeared like a holy place, where all thatwas pure and warm in the fraternity of the Gospel would be applied tocommon life--where, for example, the lessons most frequently taughtwould be the ardent love of humanity, and the ineffable sweets ofcommiseration and tolerance--where the everlasting words of Christwould be interpreted in their broadest sense--and where, in fine, bythe habitual exercise and expansion of the most generous sentiments, menwere prepared for the magnificent apostolic mission of making the richand happy sympathize with the sufferings of their brethren, by unveilingthe frightful miseries of humanity--a sublime and sacred morality, whichnone are able to withstand, when it is preached with eyes full of tears,and hearts overflowing with tenderness and charity!"

  As he delivered these last words with profound emotion, Gabriel's eyesbecame moist, and his countenance shone with angelic beauty.

  "Such is, indeed, my dear son, the spirit of Christianity; but one mustalso study and explain the letter," answered Father d'Aigrigny, coldly."It is to this study that the seminaries of our Company are speciallydestined. Now the interpretation of the letter is a work of analysis,discipline, and submission--and not one of heart and sentiment."

  "I perceive that only too well, father. On entering this new house, Ifound, alas! all my hopes defeated. Dilating for a moment, my heart soonsunk within me. Instead of this centre of life, affection, youth, ofwhich I had dreamed. I found, in the silent and ice-cold seminary,the same suppression of every generous emotion, the same inexorablediscipline, the same system of mutual prying, the same suspicion, thesame invincible obstacles to all ties of friendship. The ardor which hadwarmed my soul for an instant soon died out; little by little, I fellback into the habits of a stagnant, passive, mechanical life, governedby a pitiless power with mechanical precision, just like the inanimateworks of a watch."

  "But order, submission and regularity are the first foundations of ourCompany, my dear son."

  "Alas, father! it was death, not life, that I found thus organized. Inthe midst of this destruction of every generous principle, I devotedmyself to scholastic and theological studies--gloomy studies--a wily,menacing, and hostile science which, always awake to ideas of peril,contest, and war, is opposed to all those of peace, progress, andliberty."

  "Theology, my dear son," said Father d'Aigrigny, sternly, "is at oncea buckler and a sword; a buckler, to protect and cover the Catholicfaith--a sword, to attack and combat heresy."

  "And yet, father, Christ and His apostles knew not this subtle science:their simple and touching words regenerated mankind, and set freedomover slavery. Does not the divine code of the Gospel suffice to teachmen to love one another? But, alas! far from speaking to us thislanguage, our attention was too often occupied with wars of religion,and the rivers of blood that had flowed in honor of the Lord, and forthe destruction of heresy. These terrible lessons made our life stillmore melancholy. As we grew near to manhood, our relations at theseminary assumed a growing character of bitterness, jealousy andsuspicion. The habit of tale bearing against each other, applied to moreserious subjects, engendered silent hate and profound resentments. Iwas neither better nor worse than the others. All of us, bowed downfor years beneath the iron yoke of passive obedience, unaccustomed toreflection or free-will, humble and trembling before our superiors, hadthe same pale, dull, colorless disposition. At last I took orders; oncea priest, you invited me, father, to enter the Company of Jesus, orrather I found myself insensibly brought to this determination. How,I do not know. For a long time before, my will was not my own. I wentthrough all my proofs; the most terrible was decisive; for some months,I lived in the silence of my cell, practicing with resignation thestrange and mechanical exercises that you ordered me. With the exceptionof your reverence, nobody approached me during that long space of time;no human voice but yours sounded in my ear. Sometimes, in the night,I felt vague terrors; my mind, weakened by fasting, austerity, andsolitude, was impressed with frightful visions. At other times, on thecontrary, I felt a sort of quiescence, in the idea that, having oncepronounced my vows, I should be delivered for ever from the burden ofthought and will. Then I abandoned myself to an insurmountable torpor,like those unfortunate wretches, who, surprised by a snow-storm,yield to a suicidal repose. Thus I awaited the fatal moment. At last,according to the rule of discipline, choking with the death rattle,(17)I hastened the moment of accomplishing the final act of my expiringwill--the vow to renounce it for ever."

  "Remember, my dear son," replied Father d'Aigrigny, pale and tortured byincreasing anguish, "remember, that, on the eve of the day fixed forthe completion of your vows; I offered, according to the rule of ourCompany, to absolve you from joining us--leaving you completely free,for we accept none but voluntary vocations."

  "It is true, father," answered Gabriel, with sorrowful bitterness;"when, worn out and broken by three months of solitude and trial, I wascompletely exhausted, and unable to move a step, you opened the doorof my cell, and said to me: 'If you like, rise and walk; you are free;Alas! I had no more strength. The only desire of my soul, inert andparalyzed for so long a period, was the repose of the grave; andpronouncing those irrevocable vows, I fell, like a corpse, into yourhands."

  "And, till now, my dear son, you have never failed in this corpse--likeobedience,--to use the expression of our glorious founder--because, themore absolute this obedience, the more meritorious it must be."

  After a moment's silence, Gabriel resumed: "You had always concealedfrom me, father, the true ends of the Society into which I entered. Iwas asked to abandon my free-will to my superiors, in the name of theGreater Glory of God. My vows once pronounced, I was to be in your handsa docile and obedient instrument; but I was to be employed, you told me,in a holy, great and beauteous work. I believed you, fa
ther--how shouldI not have believed you? but a fatal event changed my destiny--a painfulmalady caused by--"

  "My son," cried Father d'Aigrigny, interrupting Gabriel, "it is uselessto recall these circumstances."

  "Pardon me, father, I must recall them. I have the right to be heard. Icannot pass over in silence any of the facts, which have led me to takethe immutable resolution that I am about to announce to you."

  "Speak on, my son," said Father d'Aigrigny, frowning; for he was muchalarmed at the words of the young priest, whose cheeks, until now pale,were covered with a deep blush.

  "Six months before my departure for America," resumed Gabriel, castingdown his eyes, "you informed me, that I was destined to confesspenitents; and to prepare then for that sacred ministry, you gave me abook."

  Gabriel again hesitated. His blushes increased. Father d'Aigrigny couldscarcely restrain a start of impatience and anger.

  "You gave me a book," resumed the young priest, with a great effortto control himself, "a book containing questions to be addressed bya confessor to youths, and young girls, and married women, when theypresent themselves at the tribunal of penance. My God!" added Gabriel,shuddering at the remembrance. "I shall never forget that awful moment.It was night. I had retired to my chamber, taking with me this book,composed, you told me, by one of our fathers, and completed by a holybishop.(18) Full of respect, faith, and confidence, I opened thosepages. At first, I did not understand them--afterwards I understood--andthen I was seized with shame and horror--struck with stupor--and hadhardly strength to close, with trembling hand, this abominable volume.I ran to you, father, to accuse myself of having involuntarily cast myeyes on those nameless pages, which, by mistake, you had placed in myhands."

  "Remember, also, my dear son," said Father d'Aigrigny, gravely, "that Icalmed your scruples, and told you that a priest, who is bound tohear everything under the seal of confession, must be able to know andappreciate everything; and that our Company imposes the task of readingthis Compendium, as a classical work, upon young deacons seminarists,and priests, who are destined to be confessors."

  "I believed you, father. In me the habit of inert obedience was sopowerful, and I was so unaccustomed to independent reflection, that,notwithstanding my horror (with which I now reproached myself as witha crime), I took the volume back into my chamber, and read. Oh, father!what a dreadful revelation of criminal fancies, guilty of guiltiest intheir refinement!"

  "You speak of this book in blamable terms," skid Father d'Aigrigny,severely; "you were the victim of a too lively imagination. It is to itthat you must attribute this fatal impression, and not to an excellentwork, irreproachable for its special purpose, and duly authorized by theChurch. You are not able to judge of such a production."

  "I will speak of it no more, father," said Gabriel: and he thus resumed:"A long illness followed that terrible night. Many times, they fearedfor my reason. When I recovered, the past appeared to me like a painfuldream. You told me, then, father, that I was not yet ripe for certainfunctions; and it was then that I earnestly entreated you to be allowedto go on the American missions. After having long refused my prayer,you at length consented. From my childhood, I had always lived in thecollege or seminary, to a state of continual restraint and subjection.By constantly holding down my head and eyes, I had lost the habit ofcontemplating the heavens and the splendors of nature. But, oh!what deep, religious happiness I felt, when I found myself suddenlytransported to the centre of the imposing grandeur of the seas-half-waybetween the ocean and the sky!--I seemed to come forth from a place ofthick darkness; for the first time, for many years, I felt my heart beatfreely in my bosom; for the first time, I felt myself master of my ownthoughts, and ventured to examine my past life, as from the summit ofa mountain, one looks down into a gloomy vale. Then strange doubts rosewithin me. I asked myself by what right, and for what end, any beingshad so long repressed, almost annihilated, the exercise of my will, ofmy liberty, of my reason, since God had endowed me with these gifts. ButI said to myself, that perhaps, one day, the great, beauteous, and holywork, in which I was to have my share, would be revealed to me, andwould recompense my obedience and resignation."

  At this moment, Rodin re-entered the room. Father d'Aigrigny questionedhim with a significant look. The socius approached, and said to him ina low voice, so, that Gabriel could not hear: "Nothing serious. It wasonly to inform me, that Marshal Simon's father is arrived at M. Hardy'sfactory."

  Then, glancing at Gabriel, Rodin appeared to interrogate Fatherd'Aigrigny, who hung his head with a desponding air. Yet he resumed,again addressing Gabriel, whilst Rodin took his old place, with hiselbow on the chimney-piece: "Go on, my dear son. I am anxious to learnwhat resolution you have adopted."

  "I will tell you in a moment, father. I arrived at Charleston. Thesuperior of our establishment in that place, to whom I imparted mydoubts as to the object of our Society, took upon himself to clear themup, and unveiled it all to me with alarming frankness. He told me thetendency not perhaps of all the members of the Company, for a greatnumber must have shared my ignorance--but the objects which our leadershave pertinaciously kept in view, ever since the foundation of theOrder. I was terrified. I read the casuists. Oh, father! that was anew and dreadful revelation, when, at every page, I read the excuse andjustification of robbery, slander, adultery, perjury, murder, regicide.When I considered that I, the priest of a God of charity, justice,pardon, and love, was to belong henceforth to a Company, whose chiefsprofessed and glorified in such doctrines, I made a solemn oath to breakfor ever the ties which bound me to it!"(19)

  On these words of Gabriel, Father d'Aigrigny and Rodin exchanged a lookof terror. All was lost; their prey had escaped them. Deeply moved bythe remembrances he recalled, Gabriel did not perceive the action ofthe reverend father and the socius, and thus continued: "In spite of myresolution, father, to quit the Company, the discovery I had made wasvery painful to me. Oh! believe me, for the honest and loving soul,nothing is more frightful than to have to renounce what it has longrespected!--I suffered so much, that, when I thought of the dangers ofmy mission, I hoped, with a secret joy, that God would perhaps take meto Himself under these circumstances: but, on the contrary, He watchedover me with providential solicitude."

  As he said this, Gabriel felt a thrill, for he remembered a MysteriousWoman who had saved his life in America. After a moment's silence, heresumed: "My mission terminated, I returned hither to beg, father, thatyou would release me from my vows. Many times but in vain, I solicitedan interview. Yesterday, it pleased Providence that I should have a longconversation with my adopted mother; from her I learned the trick bywhich my vocation had been forced upon me--and the sacrilegious abuseof the confessional, by which she had been induced to entrust to otherpersons the orphans that a dying mother had confided to the care ofan honest soldier. You understand, father, that, if even I had beforehesitated to break these bonds, what I have heard yesterday must haverendered my decision irrevocable. But at this solemn moment, father,I am bound to tell you, that I do not accuse the whole Society; manysimple, credulous, and confiding men, like myself, must no doubt formpart of it. Docile instruments, they see not in their blindness the workto which they are destined. I pity them, and pray God to enlighten them,as he has enlightened me."

  "So, my son," said Father d'Aigrigny, rising with livid and despairinglook, "you come to ask of me to break the ties which attach you to theSociety?"

  "Yes, father; you received my vows--it is for you to release me fromthem."

  "So, my son, you understand that engagements once freely taken by you,are now to be considered as null and void?"

  "Yes, father."

  "So, my son, there is to be henceforth nothing in common between you andour Company?"

  "No, father--since I request you to absolve me of my vows."

  "But, you know, my son, that the Society may release you--but that youcannot release yourself."

  "The step I take proves to you, father, the importance I attach to ano
ath, since I come to you to release me from it. Nevertheless, wereyou to refuse me, I should not think myself bound in the eyes of God orman."

  "It is perfectly clear," said Father d'Aigrigny to Rodin, his voiceexpiring upon his lips, so deep was his despair.

  Suddenly, whilst Gabriel, with downcast eyes, waited for the answerof Father d'Aigrigny, who remained mute and motionless, Rodin appearedstruck with a new idea, on perceiving that the reverend father stillheld in his hand the note written in pencil. The socius hastilyapproached Father d'Aigrigny, and said to him in a whisper, with a lookof doubt and alarm: "Have you not read my note?"

  "I did not think of it," answered the reverend father, mechanically.

  Rodin appeared to make a great effort to repress a movement of violentrage. Then he said to Father d'Aigrigny, in a calm voice: "Read it now."

  Hardly had the reverend father cast his eyes upon this note, thana sudden ray of hope illumined his hitherto despairing countenance.Pressing the hand of the socius with an expression of deep gratitude, hesaid to him in a low voice: "You are right. Gabriel is ours."

  (16) The statutes formally state that the Company can expel all dronesand wasps, but that no man can break his ties, if the Order wishes toretain him.

  (17) This is their own command. The constitution expressly bids thenovice wait for this decisive climax of the ordeal before taking thevows of God.

  (18) It is impossible, even in Latin, to give our readers an idea ofthis infamous work.

  (19) This is true. See the extracts from the Compendium for the use ofSchools, published under the title of "Discoveries by a Bibliophilist."Strasburg, 1843. For regicide, see Sanchez and others.