The Dawn of All

  (II)

  An hour later they took their places at the central window of thelong sala on the third floor, looking out immediately upon thenarrow street, which, opposite, fell back into a tiny square, andfurther up to the right, upon the enormous piazza of St. Peter'sand the basilica itself behind.

  It was a real Roman day--not yet at its full heat, but intenselyclear and bright; and Monsignor congratulated himself on havingelected to remain as a spectator. The return journey from theLateran about noon would be something of an ordeal.

  The street and the piazza presented an astonishingly brilliantappearance. Beneath, the roadway was now one sheet ofgreenery--box, myrtle, and bay. The houses opposite, as well aswithin the little square, of which every window was packed withheads, were almost completely hidden under the tapestries, thecarpets, the banners. Behind the barriers on either side of thegarlanded masts was one mass of heads resembling a cobbledpavement. So much for sight. For sound, the air was filled withone steady low roar of voices; for down to where the street openedfar away to the left into the space above the river, the samevista presented itself. The Campagna since twenty-four hoursbefore had been emptying every living inhabitant into Rome; andthere was not a town in Italy, and scarcely in Europe, whencespecial volors and trains had not carried the fervent to the Feastof the Apostles in Holy Rome. And, for scent, the air was sweetand fragrant with the aromatic herbs of the roadway, alreadybruised a little by the feet of the galloping horses of those thatwent up and down to guard the route or to carry messages.

  It was a little hard to make out the arrangements of the vastcircular piazza in front of St. Peter's. The front of thebasilica was hung, in usual Roman fashion, with gigantic garlandsand red cloth; and the carpet of greenery lined with troops ranstraight up the centre of the space, rippled over the steps, andceased only beneath the towering portico of the church. But oneither side of this, with spaces between, stood enormous groupsof men and horses, marshalled, no doubt, in order to take theirplaces at the proper moment in the procession.

  At the right, immovable and tremendous, rose up the great palaceof the Vatican itself, unadorned except where a glint of somecolour showed itself at the Bronze Doors; and above all, like abenediction in stone, against the vivid blue of the sky, hung thedome of the basilica.

  Monsignor Masterman made a long, keen survey of all this. Then heleaned back and sighed.

  "What was the first year that the Pope came out of theVatican like this?"

  "The year after the conquest of United Italy. It was Austria that----"

  "I know all that. And you mean he never came out so long as theold state of affairs continued?"

  "How could he? Don't you see that the one thing, humanlyspeaking, absolutely necessary if the world was to haveconfidence in the Church, was that the Pope should be reallysupra-national? Of course, for many years he had to be anItalian--that's obvious, since he was at the mercy of Italy, andthe Romans would never have stood a foreigner; and that made itall the more essential that he should be cut clean off, ineverything else, from Italian sympathies. He had to be twothings simultaneously, so to speak--emphatically an Italian forthe sake of Italy and indeed his own existence in Rome; andemphatically not an Italian for the sake of the rest ofChristendom. And can you suggest any other way of accomplishingthis paradox? I can't."

  Monsignor sighed again and began to meditate.

  For somewhere at the back of his mind there ran an undercurrentof thought, or as of some one talking, to the effect that thePope's old method of remaining as a prisoner in the Vatican was afoolish and unhumble pose. (He supposed he must have read it allsomewhere in history.) Surely even Catholics used to talk likethat! They used to say how much more spiritual and Christian itwould have been, had the Vicar of Christ acquiesced and beencontent to live as a simple Italian subject, neither claiming nordesiring a position such as Peter had never enjoyed. Why all thisfuss, it used to be asked, about a Temporal Power on behalf of a"Kingdom that was not of this world"?

  Yet, somehow, now as he looked back on it all, with his friend'scomment in his mind, he began to see, not how clever ordiplomatic had been the old attitude, but how absolutely andobviously essential. It was possible indeed for Peter to be asubject of Nero in things pertaining to Caesar; but how couldthat be possible to Peter's successor when the Kingdom of Christwhich he ruled on earth had become a Supra-national Society towhich the nations of the earth looked for guidance?

  The phrase he had just heard ran in his mind.

  "An Italian for the sake of Italy and his own existence in Rome.Not an Italian for the sake of the rest of Christendom."

  It seemed simple, somehow, just like that.

  He was roused by a touch on his knee, and simultaneously wasaware of a new sound from the piazza.

  "Look," said the old priest sharply. "They're beginning to move."