The cardinal said something about being unworthy of the honour.
“That of course,” the Pontiff responded: “but We place you there because you know or ought to know more of Our mind than any man: and your task is to make that known to England. It at least never can be said, if you should err, that you erred through ignorance of Our will. You have health, you have youth, you have a dominant presence. People will listen to you. Your danger and your fault are due to your national habit of suspicion. That can be conquered. Act up to your name: be frank: suspect no one: be ready to renounce:—but your heart should tell you all that We would say. Now for Caerleon. Whom would you like to succeed Your Eminency there?”
Talacryn said something about the right of the clergy to elect: but that was swept aside. Then he dwelled on the difficulty of finding a suitable priest who could speak the native language.
“The last is not essential,” said Hadrian: “you yourself cannot speak and cannot even learn that frightful jargon, although you are a native of the dreadful place: and, after your habit of suspecting people, and—yes, it had better be said—a slight tendency to the habit of officious lying—(the cardinal went purple)—there, it is said and done with: you have had your lesson, and you know better now:—after those things, the only reason why your episcopate has not been a very brilliant one is that you started with the false idea of the necessity of speaking that corrupt and obsolete dialect.”
“But does not Your Holiness think that a foreigner—”
“No: England is the dominant race: her language is the language of all her colonies. Why a triplet of little conquered countries should refuse to learn English—should be permitted to insist on their barbarous and unliterary languages, We never could understand. They are conquered countries, annexed to their conqueror. They have lost their national existence for centuries. They have no national existence, or any kind of existence apart from England. No. Nationality does not come into the question of your successor at all. That is where the Church of Christ differs from all religions. Rome can do, and does do, what no other ecclesiastical power durst do. Our predecessors sent an Italian to Canterbury, and even a Greek, Theodore; and We are sending a Kelt to Pimlico. As for Caerleon—do you remember John Jennifer, the priest of Selce? You do:—he was a white man at Maryvale:—and since? Good. He is Bishop of Caerleon.”
“He speaks the language, Holy Father,” said Talacryn, laughing.
“The merest accident. We selected him for his steadfast sturdy goodness under great difficulty at Maryvale. Oh, we remember—”
And the Pope’s gaze went far away into the past.
Cardinal Talacryn mentioned that the Secretary of State desired to know whether His Holiness would require the services of the Patriarch of Byzantion at the present juncture.
“The Patriarch of Byzantion?”
“It was thought that as he had negotiated with England during the reign of Your Holiness’s predecessors—”
“Oh. Then, no. The services of the Patriarch of Byzantion are not required. When His Grace is not smirking in ‘black’ drawing-rooms, or writing defamatory letters to duchesses—”
“Defamatory letters, Holy Father!”
“Yes: defamatory letters, such as this one which he wrote in 1890.”
The Pope got up, took off His episcopal ring, unlocked and dived into an alphabetical letter-case, and handed a most ingeniously suggestive and lethific note to the cardinal. “Well, when His Grace is not engaged in these disedifying pastimes, he has his patriarchate to attend-to. In fact unless he can see his way to become a resident patriarch in Byzantion within the month, he may look for a decree of deposition.” The Supreme Pontiff’s aspect was austere. “Your Eminency will convey that response to Cardinal Ragna’s obliging suggestion.”
Talacryn made haste to kneel. “Give me a blessing, Holy Father, and I will immediately proceed to my new see, whatever.”
Hadrian smiled. “God bless you, son. But do not go yet. Pimlico has been in the hands of the Vicar-General and the Coadjutor for years; and the Vicar-Capitular can manage for the present. Stay here a little while. We shall need you. We shall not need you long.”
And Talacryn went out from the Presence, glad, yet grave.
During a few days, questions and answers incessantly passed between the Vatican and Windsor Castle. Hadrian consulted sovereigns: discussed difficulties with statesmen. Baron de Boucert expressed the opinion that it would be futile to oppose the inevitable expansion of Germany. Signor Barconi himself officiated at an instrument installed in the apostolic antechamber, until he was carried away in nervous collapse. Hadrian envied him: and forced Himself to resist temptation. He had much to do yet. Messages, messages, study of maps, collation of MS. notes, filled a score of each twenty-four hours. There was need of profound thought, so that the clairvoyant undazzled eye like a
