(I)
"I'm afraid it's been a great shock," said Father Jervissoothingly. "And I'm not surprised, after your illness. . . . YesI quite see your point. Of course it must seem verystrange. . . . Now what about coming over to Ireland for a week?The Cardinal will be delighted, I'm sure."
The blow had fallen this morning--a fortnight after thetrial had ended.
First, the answer had come back from Rome that the sentence wasratified--a sentence simply to the effect that the Church couldno longer protect this tonsured and consecrated son of hers fromthe secular laws. But, as Monsignor knew privately, an urgentappeal had been made by Rome to remit the penalty in thisinstance, as in others. Then the formalities of handing over themonk to the secular authorities had taken place, in accordancewith the Clergy Discipline Amendment Act of 1964--an Act bywhich the secular houses of Representatives had passed a code ofpenalties for clerks condemned by the ecclesiasticalcourts--clerks, that is to say, who had availed themselves ofBenefit of Clergy and had submitted themselves to ecclesiasticaljurisdiction. Under that Act Dom Adrian had been removed to asecular prison, his case had been re-examined and, in spite ofthe Pope's appeal, the secular sentence passed. And this morningMonsignor had read that the sentence had been carried out. . . .He neither knew nor dared to ask in what form. It was enoughthat it was death.
There had been a scene with the startled secretaries. FortunatelyMonsignor had been incoherent. One of them had remained with himwhile the other ran for Father Jervis. Then the two laymen hadleft the room, and the priests alone together.
Things were quieter now. Monsignor had recovered himself, and wassitting white and breathless with his friend beside him.
"Come to Ireland for a week," said the old man again, watchinghim with those large, steady, bright eyes of his. "It isperfectly natural, under the circumstances, that the thingshould be a shock. To us, of course----"
He broke off as Monsignor looked up with a strange whiteglare in his eyes.
"Well, well," said the old man. "You must give yourself a chance.You've been working magnificently; I think perhaps a little toohard. And we don't want another breakdown. . . . Then I takeyou'll come to Ireland? We'll spend a perfectly quiet week, andbe back in time for the meeting of Parliament."
Monsignor made a small movement of assent with his head. (He hadhad Ireland explained to him before.)
"Then I'll leave you quietly here for a little. Call me up if youwant me. I'll tell the secretaries to work in the next room. I'llsee the Cardinal at once, and we'll go by the five o'clock boat.I'll arrange everything. You needn't give it a thought."
A curious process seemed to have been at work upon the mind ofthe man who had lost his memory, since his interview with themonk immediately after the trial. At first a kind of numbness haddescended upon him. He had gone back to his business, hiscorrespondence, his interviews, his daily consultation with theCardinal, and had conducted all these things efficiently enough.Yet, underneath, the situation arranged itself steadily andirresistibly. It had become impressed upon him that, whether forgood or evil, the world was as it was; that Christiancivilization had taken the form which he perceived round him, andthat to struggle against it was as futile, from a mental point ofview, as to resent the physical laws of the universe. Nothingfollowed upon such resistance except intense discomfort tooneself. It might be insupportably unjust that one could not flywithout wings, yet the fact remained. It might be intolerablyunchristian that a tonsured clerk should be put to death forheresy, yet he was put to death, and not a soul, it seemed (noteven the victim himself) resented it. Dom Adrian's protest hadbeen not against the execution of heretics, but against thestatement that he was a heretic. But he had refused to submit toa decision which he acknowledged as authoritative, and found nofault therefore with the consequence of such refusal. Thecondemnation, he granted, was perfectly legal and thereforeextrinsically lust; and it was the penalty he had to pay for anindividualism which the responsible authorities of the Stateregarded as dangerous to the conditions on which society rested.And the rest was the business of the State, not of the Church.
The scheme then was beginning to grow clear to this man'sindignant eyes. Even the "repression" of the Socialists fittedin, logically and inexorably. And he began to understand a littlemore what Dom Adrian had meant. There stood indeed, imminent overthe world (whether ideally or actually was another question) atremendous Figure that was already even more Judge thanSaviour--a Personality that already had the Power and reigned;one to whose feet all the world crept in silence, who spokeordinarily and normally through His Vicar on earth, who wasrepresented on this or that plane by that court or the other; onewho was literally a King of kings; to whose model all must beconformed; to whose final judgment every creature might appeal ifhe would but face that death through which alone that appealmight be conveyed. Such was the scheme which this priest began todiscern; and he saw how the explanation of all that bewilderedhim lay within it. Yet none the less he resented it; none the lesshe failed to recognize in it that Christianity he seemed once tohave known, long ago. Outwardly he conformed and submitted.Inwardly he was a rebel.
He sat on silent for a few minutes when his friend had left him,gradually recovering balance. He knew his own peril well enough,but he was not yet certain enough of his own standpoint--andperhaps not courageous enough--to risk all by declaring it. Hefelt helpless and powerless--like a child in a new school--beforethe tremendous forces in whose presence he found himself. For thepresent, at least, he knew that he must obey. . . .