SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI
On the following day there was a solemn high office in St. Peter's. AllRome flocked there, to see this great and touching spectacle. A densecrowd thronged the streets, and all shouted and cried when the pope,surrounded by his Swiss guard, appeared in their midst in his gildedarmchair, and received the greetings of the people with a bland smile.
Toward St. Peter's waved the human throng, and to St. Peter's the popewas borne. The features of Ganganelli had an expression of sadness, andas he now glanced down upon the thousands of his subjects who,shouting, followed him, he asked in his heart, "Who among you will bemy murderers? And how long will you yet allow me to live? Ah, were Iyet the poor Franciscan monk I was, then no one would take the pains toassassinate me. Why, then, does the world, precisely now, seem so fairto me, now, when I know that I must leave it so soon?" And the popeshed a secret tear while, surrounded by royal splendor, he imparted hisblessing to the thousands who reverently knelt at his feet.
The bells rang, the organ resounded, the wide halls of St. Peter's werepenetrated by the marvellous singing of the Sistine chapel. Thousandsand thousands of wax tapers lighted the noble space of the church,thousands and thousands of people pressed into the sacred halls. Underhis canopy, opposite the high altar, sat the vicegerent of God uponhis golden throne, surrounded by the consecrated cardinals and bishops,protected by the Swiss guard! Who could have ventured to attack the holyfather--who would have been so foolhardy as to attempt to penetrate thatthick wall of Swiss guards and princes of the Church--who could havebeen successful in such an attempt? No human being! But where the peoplecould not penetrate, where there was no room for the swinging of adagger, there the malignant poison lurked unseen!
Ganganelli sat upon his golden throne, intoxicated by the clang ofthe organ and charmed by the singing of the high choir, and the pope,looking down upon the human crowd, again asked himself: "Who among youare my murderers?"
The singing ceased, the organ was silent, and only the solemn tones ofall the bells of St. Peter's resounded through the church. A death-likestillness else; the people lay upon their knees and crossed themselves;before the altar kneeling priests murmured prayers.
It was a solemn, a sublime moment, for the pope must now receive thecommunion--the vicegerent of God must drink the blood of the Lamb. Butstill the pope remains sacred; he cannot, like other mortals, make useof his earthly feet; he must not, like them, approach the altar. Sittingupon his throne, he has partaken of the holy wafer, and, as it wasunbecoming his dignity to descend to the altar in order to come toChrist, the latter must decide to come to him!
The golden chalice at the high altar contains the blood of the Lamb; theCardinal Francesco Albani performs the holy office. He has the blessedhost, and under his consecrated hand will now be effected the miracle ofturning the wine into the blood of Christ!
And Cardinal Albani lays the golden tube in the cup, and anothercardinal passes the other end of the tube to the pope.
Through this sacred tube will he sip the consecrated wine, the blood ofthe Redeemer!
Rushing and thundering recommences the high office, the trumpets renewtheir blasts, the drums roll, the bells ring, the organ rattles itssong of jubilee, the trombones crash in unison. It is the greatest, mostsublime moment of the whole ceremony. The pope, having put the goldentube to his lips, sips the wine changed into blood.
While the pope drinks the two cardinals who to-day are on serviceapproach the sacred throne. They hold a torch in the right hand and asmall bundle of tow in the left, and according to the custom, set thetow on fire.
It flashes up in a bright flame, is soon extinguished, and a small,almost imperceptible quantity of ashes floats from it to the feet of thepope.
"_Sic transit gloria mundi!_" (So passes the glory of the world!)exclaimed Francesco Albani, with proud presumptuousness and withmaliciously scornful glances, while with an expression of savage triumphhe stares in the paling face of the pope. "_Sic transit gloria mundi!_"repeated Albani, in a yet louder and more thundering voice.
The bells ring, the hymn resounds, the trombone and organ clang; theaudience are on their knees in prayer. A bustle arises, a suppressedmurmur--the holy father of Christendom has fainted upon his throne likeany common mortal man.