The Saint by Antonio Fogazzaro

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She spoke hastily of her three guests, particularly of the Abbe
Marinier, saying she was much annoyed on account of her husband, who had
such faith in this cherished idea of a Catholic association, and who
would now find himself confronted with an unexpected opposition. She
wished Don Clemente to know this that he might be prepared. She herself
had come to explain to him, because her husband could not leave his
guests at that moment. At the same time she would say good-night to Don
Clemente, as she did not intend to be present at the meeting, being a
woman and so ignorant. Perhaps she should meet him at the monastery in a
few days. Was not he the Padre who received visitors? She would probably
be going to Santa Scolastica in three or four days, with her sister--

At this point Signora Selva involuntarily raised the light to observe
her companion's face more narrowly, but she at once repented of the
action, as if she had failed in respect towards that soul which was
surely holy, surely in harmony with the manly and virginal beauty of
the tall slender person, with the head habitually held erect, in a pose
almost military in its frank modesty; with the face so noble in its
spacious forehead, in its clear blue eyes, expressing at the same time
womanly sweetness and manly fire.

"There will also be an intimate friend of my sister's, a certain Signora
Dessalle," she added, in a low voice, as if ashamed.

Don Clemente turned his head away, starting violently, and Maria,
feeling the counter-shock, trembled. Then it was he? He at once turned
towards her again, his face slightly flushed, but composed.

"Pardon me," said he, "what is the lady's name?"

"Whose, Signora Dessalle's?"

"Yes."

"Her name is Jeanne."

"About what age is she?"

"I do not know. I should say from thirty to thirty-five."

Maria was now completely at a loss to understand. The Padre put these
questions with such indifference, such calmness! She herself risked a
question.

"Do you know her, Padre?"

Don Clemente made no answer. At this point poor, gouty Dane arrived,
having dragged himself up from the gate with great difficulty, leaning
on Professor Minucci's arm. They were both intimate friends, and Signora
Selva welcomed them kindly, but in a somewhat absent manner.

* * * * *

The meeting was held in Giovanni's little study. It was very small and
as--out of regard for Dane and his rheums--the windows could not be
opened, the fiery Don Fare felt he should stifle, and said as much, in
his outspoken Lombard fashion. The others pretended not to have heard,
except Leyni who signed to him not to insist, and Giovanni, who opened
the door leading to the corridor, and the one beyond opening upon the
terrace. Dane at once perceived an odour of damp woods, and the doors
had to be closed again. An old petroleum lamp was burning on the
writing-desk. Professor Minucci, who had weak eyes, asked timidly for a
shade; which was looked for, found, and put in place. Don Paolo grumbled
under his breath: "This is an infirmary!" His friend Leyni, who also
thought these numerous petty cares should be set aside at such a moment,
experienced an unpleasant sensation of coldness. Giovanni experienced
the same sensation, but in a reflex manner, for he knew the impression
that those present, who were strangers to them, must receive of Dane and
perhaps also of Minucci. He himself knew them well. Dane, with all his
colds and his nerves and his sixty-two years, possessed, besides great
learning, an indomitable vigour of mind and a steadfast moral courage.
Andrea Minucci, in spite of his disordered fair hair, his spectacles,
and a certain awkwardness in his movements, which gave him the
appearance of a learned German, was a youthful and most ardent soul,
tried in the fire of life, not sparkling on the surface like the soul
of the Lombard, but enveloped in its own flame, severe, and, probably,
stronger.

Giovanni began speaking in a frank, open way. He thanked those present
for coming, and excused the absent ones, the monk and the priest, at the
same time expressing regret for their absence. He said that in any case
their adherence was insured, and he insisted upon the importance of
their adherence. He added, speaking louder and more slowly, and fixing
his eyes on the Abbe Marinier, that for the time being he deemed it
prudent not to divulge anything regarding either the meeting, or
any measures which might be adopted; and he begged all to consider
themselves bound in honour to silence. He then explained, rather more
fully than he had done at supper, the idea he had conceived, and the
object of the meeting,

"And now," he concluded, "let each one express his opinion,"

A profound silence followed. The Abbe Marinier was about to speak when
Dane rose feebly to his feet. His pale, fleshless face, refined and full
of intellect, wore a look of solemn gravity. "I believe," said he in
Italian, which sounded foreign and formal, but which was nevertheless
warm with feeling, "that finding ourselves, as we now do, united at the
beginning of a religious movement, we should at once do two things. The
first is to concentrate our souls in God, silently each in his own way,
until we feel the presence in us of God Himself, the desire of Him, His
very glory, in our hearts. I will now do this, and I beg you to do it
with me."

So saying, Professor Dane crossed his arms over his breast, bent his
head, and closed his eyes. The others rose, and all save Abbe Marinier
clasped their hands. The Abbe, with a sweeping gesture which embraced
the air, brought them together on his breast. The soft complaining of
the lamp, a step on the floor below could be distinctly heard. Marinier
was the first to glance up furtively, to ascertain if the others still
prayed. Dane raised his head, and said:

"Amen."

"The second thing!" he added. "We propose to ourselves to obey in all
things the legitimate ecclesiastical authority--"

Don Paolo Fare burst out, exclaiming: "That must depend!"

The vibration of sudden thought, the muffled rumbling of unspoken words,
shook all present. Dane said slowly: "Exercised according to just
principles." The movement shrunk to a murmur of assent, and then ceased.
Dane went on: "And now one thing more! Let there never be hatred of any
one on our lips nor in our hearts!"

Don Paolo burst out again: "No, not hatred but indignation!
'_Circumspiciens eos cum ira_!'"

"Yes," said Don Clemente in his sweet, soft voice; "when we shall have
enthroned Christ within us; when we shall feel the wrath of pure love."

Don Paolo, who was near him, made no answer; he looked at him, his eyes
suffused with tears, and, seizing his hand, carried it to his lips. The
Benedictine drew back, startled, his face aflame.

"And we shall not enthrone Christ within us," said Giovanni, much moved,
and pleased with the mystic breath he seemed to feel passing over the
assembly, "If we do not purify our ideas of reform through love; if,
when the time comes to operate, we do not first purify our hands and
our instruments. This indignation, this wrath of which you, Don Paolo,
speak, is really a powerful snare which the evil one uses against
us; powerful precisely because it bears the semblance of virtue and
sometimes, as is the case with the saints really has the substance of
virtue. In us it is nearly always pure malevolence, because we do not
know how to love. The prayer I love best, after the _Pater Noster_, is
the prayer of Unity, which unites us all in the spirit of Christ, when
He prays thus to the Father: '_Ut et ipsi in nobis unum sint._' The
desire and hope are always strong within us of a union in God with those
of our brothers whose beliefs separate them from us. Therefore say now
whether you accept my proposal to found this association. First discuss
the question, and then, if the proposal be accepted we will examine the
means of promoting it."

Don Paolo exclaimed impetuously, that the principle needed no
discussion; and Minucci observed, in a submissive tone, that the object
of the meeting was known to all before they came; therefore, by their
presence, they had implied their approval and their willingness to bind
themselves together in a common action; the question of ways and means
remaning still undecided. Abbe Marinier asked permission to speak. "I am
really very sorry," he said smiling, "but I have not brought even the
smallest thread with which to bind myself. I also am one of those who
see many things going wrong in the Church. Still, when Signor Selva
carefully explained his views to me (first at supper and then here),
views which I had not clearly understood from my friend Professor Dane's
explanation, certain objections, which I consider serious, forced
themselves upon me."

"Exactly," thought Minucci, who had heard how ambitious Marinier was;
"if you look for promotion, you must not join us;" and he added aloud:
"Let us hear them."

"In the first place, gentlemen," the clever Abbe said, "it seems to me
you have begun with the second meeting. I may say, with all due respect,
that you remind me of a party of good people who sit down to a game of
cards, and cannot get on because one holds Italian, one French, another
German cards, and therefore they cannot understand one another. I have
heard unanimity of opinions mentioned; but there exists perhaps among us
rather a unanimity of negative opinions. We are probably unanimous in
believing that the Catholic Church has grown to resemble a very ancient
temple, originally of great simplicity, of great spirituality, which
the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries have crowded with
superfluities. Perhaps the more malicious among you will say that only a
dead language may be spoken aloud in this temple, that living languages
may only be whispered there, and that the sun itself takes on false
colours when it shines through the windows. But I cannot believe we are
all of one mind as regards the quantity and quality of the remedies to
be applied. Therefore before initiating this catholic freemasonry, I
think it would be wiser to come to an understanding respecting these
reforms. I will go even farther; I believe that, were it possible to
establish perfect harmony of opinion among you, it would still be
inexpedient to bind yourselves together with visible fetters, as Signor
Selva proposes. My objection is of a most delicate nature. You doubtless
expect to be able to swim in safety, below the surface, like
wary fishes, and you do not reflect that the vigilant eye of the
Sovereign-Fisherman, or rather Vice-Fisherman, may very easily spy you
out, and spear you with a skilful thrust of the harpoon. Now I should
never advise the finest, most highly flavoured, most desirable fishes to
bind themselves together. You will easily understand what might happen
should one be caught and landed. Moreover, you know very well that the
great Fisherman of Galilee put the small fishes into his vivarium, but
the Great Fisherman of Rome fries them."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Don Paolo with a laugh. The others maintained a
frigid silence. The Abbe continued:

"Furthermore, I do not believe any good can be achieved through this
league. Associations may be useful in helping to raise salaries, they
may promote industries and commerce; but science and truth, never.
Reforms will surely be brought about some day, because ideas are
stronger than men, and are always pressing forward; but by arraying them
in armour, and marching them forward in companies, you expose them to a
terrible fire, which will check their progress for a long time to come.
Science and religion progress only through the individual, through the
Messiah. Have you a saint among you? Do you know where to look for one?
Then find him and let him march forward. Fiery language, broad charity,
two or three little miracles, and your Messiah alone will achieve more
than all of you together."

The Abbe was silent, and Giovanni rose to speak.

"Perhaps the Abbe," said he, "has not yet been able to form a true
conception of the value of the union we desire. We have just prayed
together, seeking to stand united in the Divine Presence. This is
sufficient to indicate the character of our union. In consideration of
the ills afflicting the Church--which in substance are the result of
discord between her mutable human element and her immutable element of
Divine Truth--we wish, in our desire that He may remove these discords,
to become one in the God of Truth; and we wish to feel ourselves united.
Such a union has no need of community of opinion on certain subjects,
although many of us hold many opinions in common. We do not propose to
create a collective movement, either public or private, in order to
bring about this or that reform. I am old enough to remember the time of
the Austrian domination. If the Lombard and Venetian patriots called us
together in those days to talk of politics, it was by no means always in
order to conspire, nor to determine revolutionary acts; it was to enable
us to communicate news, to become acquainted, to keep the flame of the
idea alive. This is what we wish to do in the religious field. The Abbe
Marinier may rest assured that that negative accord of which he spoke
will amply suffice. We must strive to widen it, that it may embrace
the majority of the intelligent faithful; that it may even reach
the Hierarchy. He will see that positive accord will ripen in it,
mysteriously, as the seed of life ripens in the decaying body of the
fruit. Yes, yes, the negative accord is sufficient. The feeling that the
Church of Christ is suffering is sufficient to unite us in the love of
our Mother, and to move us at least to pray for her, we and our brothers
who, like us, feel her sufferings! What is your answer, Abbe?"

The Abbe murmured with a faint smile:

"_C'est beau, mais ce n'est pas la logique_."

Don Paolo started up:

"Logic has nothing to do with it." "Ah!" Marinier replied, assuming a
contrite expression, "if you intend to forego logic----!"

Don Paolo, all on fire, wished to protest, but Professor Dane signed to
him to be calm.

"We do not intend to forego logic," said he, "but it is not as easy to
measure the logical value of a conclusion in questions of sentiment, of
love of faith, as it is to measure the logical value of a conclusion in
geometrical problems. In the questions which interest us the logical
process is hidden. Surely my dear friend Marinier, one of the most
acute-minded men I know, when he answered my dear friend Selva, did not
intend to imply that when a person very dear to us falls ill, it is
necessary for us to decide what method of treatment to adopt before
hastening to his bedside together."

"These are very fine figures," said the Abbe Marinier with vehemence;
"but you are all aware that similes are not arguments!"

Don Clemente, standing in the corner between the door leading into the
corridor and the window, and Professor Minucci, seated near him, began
to speak at the same moment, but both stopped short; each wishing to
allow the other to speak first. Selva proposed that the monk be heard
first. All eyes were fixed on that noble face, the face of an archangel:
Don Clemente's colour deepened, but he held his head erect. After a
moment of hesitation he spoke in his soft, modest voice. "The Abbe
Marinier made an observation which seemed to me very just. He said that
we need a saint. I also believe this, I do not despair of finding one,
for perhaps, even now, he exists. Who knows?"

"Himself," murmured Don Paolo,

"Now," Don Clemente went on, "I wish the Abbe Marinier to understand
this: that we are, in a manner, the prophets of this saint, of this
Messiah, preparing the way for him; which simply means that we point out
the necessity of a renovation of all that, in our religion, is outward
clothing, and not the body of truth, even should such a renovation cause
suffering to many consciences. _Ingemiscit et parturit!_ We must point
out this necessity, standing the while on absolutely Catholic ground,
looking for the new laws from the old authorities, bringing proofs that
if these garments which have been worn so long and in such stormy times,
be not changed, no decent person will come near us; and God forbid that
some among us should be driven to cast them off without permission, out
of a loathing not to be borne. I wish furthermore to say, if the Abbe
Marinier will permit me, that we have very few human fears."

A murmur of hearty assent answered him, and Minucci started up, every
nerve vibrating. While the Abbe Marinier had been speaking, di Leyni
and Selva had watched Minucci, who was fuming, with knitted brows; and
Giovanni, knowing well the violent temper of this ascetic mystic, had
intended to give him time to control himself by requesting Don Clemente
to speak first. He now sprang up excitedly. His words did not flow
smoothly, their very impetus causing them to tremble and break, and,
broken, they poured from his lips in a torrent, precise, nevertheless,
and powerful, with their vigorous Roman accent.

"That is true! We have no human fears. We are striving for things too
great, and we desire them too intensely to feel human fears! We wish
to be united in the living Christ, all among us who feel that the
understanding of the Way, the Truth, and the Life--is--is--is--growing,
yes, is growing in our hearts, in our minds! And this understanding
bursts so many--what shall I call them?--so many bonds of ancient
formulas which press us, which suffocate us; which would suffocate
the Church were the Church mortal! We wish to be united in the living
Christ, all among us who thirst--who thirst, Abbe Marinier! who
thirst! thirst!--that our faith, if it lose in extent, may gain in
intensity--gain a hundredfold--for God's glory! And may it irradiate
from us, and may it, I say, be as a purifying fire, purifying first
Catholic thought and then Catholic action! We wish to be united in the
living Christ, all among us who feel that He is preparing a slow
but tremendous reformation, through the prophets and the saints; a
transformation to be accomplished by sacrifice, by sorrow, by the
severing of affections; all who know that the prophets are consecrated
to suffering, and that these things are revealed to us not by flesh and
blood, but by God Himself, dwelling in our souls. We wish to be united,
all of us, from many lands, and to regulate our course of action.
Catholic freemasonry? Yes; the freemasonry of the Catacombs. You are
afraid, Abbe? You fear that many heads will fall at one blow? I answer.
Where is the sword mighty enough for such a blow? One at a time, all in
turn may be struck; to-day, for instance, Professor Dane; to-morrow, Don
Fare; the next day, this Padre here. But should the day come on which
Abbe Marinier's fantastic harpoon should bring up, all bound by a common
cord, famous laymen, priests, monks, bishops, perhaps even cardinals,
what fisherman is there great or small, who would not be terrified,
and who would not cast back into the water harpoon and all the rest?
Moreover, I must beg you to pardon me, Abbe Marinier, if I ask you and
other prudent persons like you, where is your faith? Would you hesitate
to serve Christ from fear of Peter? Let us band together against the
fanaticism which crucified Him and which is now poisoning His Church;
and if suffering be our reward, let us give thanks to the Father:
_'Beati estis cum persecuti vos fuerint et dixerint omne malum adversum
vos, mentientes, propter me_.'"

Don Paolo Fare started to his feet and embraced the orator. Di Leyni
fixed upon him eyes aflame with enthusiasm. Dane, Selva, Don Clemente,
and the other monk were silent and embarrassed, feeling--especially the
three ecclesiastics--that Minucci had gone too far, that his words
concerning the extent and intensity of faith, concerning the fear of
Peter, were not weighed; that the whole tone of his discourse was too
aggressive, and not in harmony with Dane's mystical exhortation, or with
the language Selva had used in delineating the character of the proposed
association. The Genevese abbe had never for a moment removed his small
bright eyes from Minucci's face while he was speaking. He watched Don
Paolo's demonstration with an expression of mingled irony and pity; then
he rose:

"Very well," he said; "I do not know whether my friend Dane, in
particular, shares this gentleman's views. Indeed, I am inclined to
doubt it. The speaker mentioned Peter. In truth it seems to me the
present company is preparing to leave Peter's bark, in the hope perhaps
of being able to walk upon the waves. I humbly declare that my faith is
not sufficient, and I should sink at once. I intend to remain in the
bark, at the most plying a small oar, according to my light, for, as
this gentleman says, I am very timid. It is therefore necessary for us
to part, and it only remains for me to beg you to pardon my coming. I
feel the need of a stroll to aid my digestion. Dear friend," said he
addressing Dane, "we shall meet at the Aniene." He approached Selva to
bid him good-night, his hand extended. At once the entire company, with
the exception of Don Paolo and Minucci, gathered round him, urging him
to remain. He insisted quietly, checking his over-zealous assailants
with a cold smile, a delicately sarcastic phrase, or a graceful gesture.
Di Leyni turned to Fare, motioning to him to join the others; but the
fiery Don Paolo responded only by an emphatic shrug and a scowl of
irritation. In the meantime, a Tuscan voice was heard above the clamour
of Marinier's assailants.

"_Stia bono!_" it said. "As yet nothing has been decided! Wait! I have
not yet spoken!"

The speaker was Father Salvati, a _Scolopio,_ and an old man with snowy
hair, a florid complexion, and bright eyes.

"Nothing has as yet been decided," he repeated. "I, for one, approve of
uniting, but I have one special end in view, while the discourses I have
heard seem to me to favour a very different end. Intellectual progress
is good, renovation of the formulas according to the spirit of the times
is also good, a Catholic reform is excellent. I hold with Rafaello
Lambruschini, who was a great man; with the _'Pensieri di un
solitario'_; but it appears to me that Professor Minucci is advocating a
reform of an eminently intellectual nattire, and that----"

Here Dane lifted his small, white, refined hand,

"Allow me, Father," he said. "My dear friend Marinier sees that the
discussion is reopened. I beg him to resume his seat." The Abbe raised
his eyebrows slightly, but obeyed. The others also sat down, quite
satisfied. They had little faith in the Abbe's discretion, and it would
have been a great misfortune had he left _ab irato_. Father Salvati
resumed his discourse.

He was opposed to giving an eminently intellectual character to the
movement of reform, not so much on account of the danger from Rome as of
the danger of troubling the simple faith of a multitude of quiet souls.
He wished the Union to set itself first of all a great moral task, that
of bringing back the faithful to the practice of gospel teachings. To
illumine hearts was, in his eyes, the first duty of those who aspired
to illumine minds. Speaking with all due respect, it was obviously less
important to transform Catholic faith in the Bible, than to render
Catholic faith in the word of Christ efficacious. It must be shown that,
in general, the faithful praise Christ with their lips, but that the
heart of the people is far from Him; it must further be shown how much
egoism enters into a certain form of fervent piety which many believed
to be a source of sanctification.

Here Don Paolo and Minucci protested, grumbling: "This has nothing to do
with the question."

Salvati exclaimed that it had much to do with it, and he begged them to
listen to him patiently. He continued, alluding to a general perversion
of the sense of Christian duty as regards the desire for, and the use
of, riches; a perversion it would be very difficult to eradicate, it
having--In the course of centuries, and with the full sanction of the
clergy--taken deep root in the human conscience.

"The times, gentlemen," the old monk exclaimed, "demand a Franciscan
movement. Now I see no signs of such a movement. I see ancient religious
orders which no longer have power to influence society. I see Christian
democracy, both administrative and political, which is not in the spirit
of St. Francis; which does not love holy poverty. I see a society for
the study of Franciscan thought--simply an intellectual pastime! I
believe that we should promote a Franciscan movement; that is, if we
desire Catholic reform.."

"But how?" Fare demanded, while Minucci, much vexed, grumbled: "It's not
that at all!"

Selva felt that the souls which had been united by a first impulse were
drifting apart again. He felt that Dane, Minucci, and probably also
Fare, wished, as did he himself, to initiate an intellectual movement,
and that this Franciscan flash had come out of season and was out of
place. It was all the more inopportune in that it was hot with living
truth. For undoubtedly there was much truth in Padre Salvati's words: he
recognised this, he, who had often debated in his own mind if it had not
been wiser and for the greater good of the Church to promote a moral
agitation rather than an intellectual one. But he himself did not feel
qualified for this Franciscan apostolate, nor could he discover the
necessary qualifications in any of his friends; not even in the most
zealous of all, Luigi Minucci, a recluse, an ascetic, shunning the world
like Selva himself. Salvati's arguments served to demolish, but not to
build up. Giovanni secretly felt the irony of applying them either to
Marinier or to Dane, of whom it was well known that their tastes were
anything but Franciscan, that their palates were fastidious, their
nerves delicate, and their affections lavished on parrots and little
dogs. If anything was to be achieved, a line of defence must at once be
adopted.

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