“Yes, We know him. We Ourself would have said ‘unscrupulous’: Your Eminency uses the word ‘scrupulous’ in the Catholic sense, whereas We prefer frank English.”
“I mean that he is given to tormenting himself about fancied sins—”
“And We mean that as a rule, he does nothing of the kind: but, like a good many others, is singularly successful in lulling his conscience. At least, for fifteen years he contrived to do so in this case. However, he now has made amends; and there is nothing more to be said. Let us continue. You received a self-accusing letter from Edward Lancaster. And then?”
“Not one letter, Holiness: a dozen at least. The injustice, of which You had been the victim, was on his nerves. He wrote me several letters; and came to see me several times. He is, as you know, a person of some importance and a great benefactor to the Church; and so I was obliged to take the matter up. I promised to investigate the case myself.”
“Yes. And you did.”
“I instituted an inquisitorial process among some of the persons who had had to do with Your Holiness; and I am bound to say that their replies gave me grounds for thought.”
“Why?”
“They differed materially as to the details of Your history; and yet their opinion of You seemed to be fairly unanimous.”
“It was not a desirable opinion.”
“No, Holiness.”
“It would not be. We never were able to arrange to be loved. To be disagreeable was a sort of habit of Ours. But is Your Eminency able, from memory, to give Us an idea of these differences in regard to facts? Opinions do not matter.”
The cardinal pondered for a minute. “Yes, Holiness, I can give you three examples from Oxford. Fr. Benedict Bart said that he had met You twice personally: but that he had heard much of You from his friends, priests as well as laymen. He stated that all that could be done for You had been done; and that You were—ha—Your Holiness will pardon me—a very incapable and ungrateful person.”
The Pope gave the little leaden weight of His pallium a swing: and beamed with delight. The cardinal went on.
“Fr. Perkins who received You into the Church said ‘I’m afraid he’s a genius, poor fellow!’ ”
“What rank blasphemy!”
“Blasphemy, Holiness?”
“Yes: blasphemy. Almighty God happens to make something a little out of the common; and, instead of praising Him for the privilege of tending a singular work of His, Fr. Perkins actually bewails the fact! But continue.”
“I confess I never thought of it in that light before—”
“No: nor did Fr. Perkins. Continue.”
“I also took the opinion of a certain Dr. Strong who appears to be one of the superiors of the university.”
“He was senior Public Examiner in Honour Greats, if you know what that means.”
“Quite so. Well: he said that You had been his intimate and valued friend for more than twenty years, that You had had no influential friends to encourage You, and that Your abilities were no less distinguished than Your moral character.”
The Pope laughed again. “Dr. Strong is an experienced writer of testimonials.”
“But I should hardly think that a man in his position—”
“Certainly not. Dr. Strong is one of the two honest men known to Us. Well: and how did the discrepancy between his statement and Fr. Benedict’s strike you?”
“It struck me in this way. How did so many worthy priests arrive at practically the same opinion, (for what Fr. Benedict said, others said also,) when their knowledge of facts seemed to be so superficial and so doubtful. I mean, Fr. Benedict and the rest spoke from an exceedingly casual acquaintance: but Dr. Strong from more than twenty years’ intimacy. However, just when I was pondering these contradictory statements, Your Holiness’s predecessor died; and I was obliged to come to Rome.”
“Did Your Eminency ever note that very few clergymen are capable—capable—of forming an unprejudiced proper original opinion—of judging on the evidence before them and on nothing else.”
“I have excellent reason to believe that what Your Holiness says is correct.”
“It is so much easier to echo than to discriminate. Now, if you please, we will go back to the Compromise. What brought Us again to Your Eminency’s remembrance in the Conclave?”
“Holy Father, that was most strange. We Compromissaries were quite as unable to agree as the Sacred College had been. And then, at the end of one of our sessions, I was struck by the extraordinary likeness of Cardinal della Volta to someone whom I remembered having seen, but whose name I had forgotten. It was the merest accident: but I came away wracking my brains about it. Another curious thing happened the same night. Having some papers to sign, I happened to go to my dispatch-box; and, quite by accident, I came across Edward Lancaster’s letters about Your Holiness—”
“We do not call these things ‘accidents.’ ”
“Nor do I, Holy Father, now. Well: for want of something better to do, I suppose, I looked over half-a-dozen of the letters: and I determined to go further into the matter on my return to England. But, early the very next morning, it suddenly flashed across my mind that I myself had seen Your Holiness—”
“In 1894.”
“Ah yes, in 1894; and that Cardinal della Volta was Your Holiness’s Double. This sent me back to the letters again; and I became more and more convinced that an immense and almost irreparable wrong had been done. I cannot tell You how strongly I felt that, Holy Father.”
“But what made you—well, practically impose Us on the Compromissaries?”
“That I cannot say: although in my own mind there is very little doubt but that—However, these are the facts. I was so full of the case, that I narrated it at our morning conference as an instance of the fallibility of what—I think it was Your Holiness Who gave it the name—yes, it was—as an instance of the fallibility of
