(II)
"It is the most extraordinary story I have ever heard," said Monsignor Masterman ten minutes later, as he threw himself down in his chair upstairs, with Father Jervis sitting opposite.
"Certainly he puts it very well," said the old priest, smiling. "I think every one was interested. It's not often that we can hear such a clear analysis of events. Of course Manners has it all at his fingers' ends. It's his special subject, and——"
"But the amazing thing to me," interrupted the other, "is that this isn't just a dream or a prophecy, but a relation of facts. . . . Do you mean to tell me that the whole world is Christian?"
The priest looked at him doubtfully.
"Monsignor, surely your memory isn't——"
Monsignor made an impatient gesture.
"Father," he said, "it's exactly as I told you before lunch. I'll promise to tell you if my memory comes back. At present I remember practically nothing at all, except instinctively. All I know is that this story we have heard simply astounds me. I had a sort of idea that Christianity was ebbing from the world; that most thinking men had given up all belief in it; and now I find it's exactly the other way. Please treat me as if I had stepped straight out of the beginning of the century. Just tell me the facts as if for the first time. Is it really true that practically the whole world is Christian?"
The priest hesitated.
"You mean that, Monsignor?"
"Certainly."
"Very well, then." He paused again. "But it's extraordinarily hard to know where to begin."
"Begin anywhere. It's all new to me."
"Very good. Well, yes: roughly we may say that the world is Christian, in the same sort of way, at least, in which Europe was Christian, say in the twelfth century. There are survivals, of course, particularly in the East, where large districts still cling to their old superstitions; and there are even eminent men here and there who are not explicitly Catholics; but, as a whole, the world is Christian."
"Do you mean Catholic?"
The priest stared a moment.
"Why, yes. What else—-?"
"All right; go on."
"Well then, to begin with England. Catholicism is not yet established as the State Religion; but it'll only be a question of time, and it may be said that all the laws are Christian."
"Divorce?"
"Divorce was abolished thirty years ago, and fornication was made a felony ten years later," said the priest quietly. "Benefit of clergy also was restored three years ago; and we have our own courts for heresy, with power to hand over convicted criminals to the secular arm."
"What?"
"Certainly. It has been in force now for three years."
"Then what do you mean by saying that the Church isn't established?"
"I mean that no religious test is demanded of officers of state, and that bishops and abbots have no seat in Parliament. It was the enfranchisement of women that turned the tide once and for all."
"Do you mean that all women have the vote?"
"They are under the same conditions as men. There's a severe educational test now, of course. Not more than about one in seventy adults ever get the vote at all. But the result is that we're governed by educated persons."
"Stop. Is it a Monarchy?"
"Certainly. Edward IX—a young man—is on the throne."
"Go on."
"Christianity, then, holds the field. Of course there are infidels left, who write letters to the newspapers sometimes, and hold meetings, and so on. But they are practically negligible. As regards Church property, practically everything has finally been given back to us;—I mean in the way of buildings, and, very largely, revenues too. All the cathedrals are ours, and all parish churches built before the Reformation, as well as all other churches in parishes where there was not organized Protestant resistance."
"I thought you said there were no Protestants."
Father Jervis suddenly laughed aloud.
"Monsignor, are you really serious? Do you really mean you wish me to go on?"
"Good God, man! I'm not playing a game. . . . Go on, please. Tell me about the Protestants."
"Well, of course there are some Protestants left. I think they've got four or five churches in London, and . . . and . . . yes, I'm sure of it, they've got some kind of bishop. But really I scarcely know. I shall have to look it up."
"Well, go on."
"Well, that's the state of England. Practically everybody is a Catholic—from the King downwards. The last remains of Church property was only actually given back to us last year. That's why the monks haven't come back to Westminster yet."
"What about the rest of the world?"
"Well, first Rome. Austria drove out the House of Savoy nearly twenty-five years ago; and the Holy Father——"
"What's his name?"
"Gregory the Nineteenth. He's a Frenchman. Well, the Holy Father is Temporal Ruler of the whole of Italy; but the Emperor of Austria administers it. Then France is, of course, a very small country."
"Why small?"
"Well, you know the European War of 1914 . . .?" Monsignor interrupted by a large sigh.
"Good heavens!" he said. "How I shall have to read. I'm sorry.
Go on, please."
"Well, France is a very small country, but intensely Catholic.
The Church is re-established there,——"
"Is it a monarchy too?"
"Certainly. The Orleans line came back after the war. Louis XXII is king. I was saying that the Church is re-established there, and is practically supreme. That is traceable entirely to Pius X's policy."
"Pius X! Why——"
"Yes, Monsignor?"
"I know all about that. But I thought Pius X simply ruined everything."
"So they said at the time. His policy was to draw the lines tight and to make no concessions. He drove out every half-hearted Catholic by his regulations, and the result was a small but extraordinarily pure body. The result has been that the country was re-evangelized, and has become almost a land of saints. They say that our Lady——"
"Well, go on with the other countries."
"Spain and Portugal are, of course, entirely Catholic, like France. The Monarchy was re-established in both of them in about 1935. But Germany—Germany's the weak spot."
"Well?"
"You see the Emperor isn't a Christian yet; and Socialism lingers on there with extraordinary pertinacity. Practically Berlin is the Holy City of Freemasonry. It's all organized from there—such as it is. And no one is quite comfortable about Germany. The Emperor Frederick is a perfectly sincere man, but really rather uneducated; he still holds on to some sort of materialism; and the result is——"
"I see."
"But there are hopes of his conversion. He's to be at Versailles next week; and that's a good sign."
"Well, what about America?"
"Oh! America's chiefly English; and very like England."
"You mean she isn't republican?"
"Of course not. My dear Monsignor——"
"Please go on, as I asked you. Tell me when she ceased to be republican."
"Why, I scarcely know," murmured the priest. "It must have been about 1930, I suppose. I know there was a lot of trouble before that—civil wars and so forth. But at any rate that was the end. Japan got a good deal of the Far West; but the Eastern States came in with Canada and formed the American Colonies; and the South of course became Latinized, largely through ecclesiastical influence. Well, then America asked England——"
"Stop, please. I shall get bewildered. What about the religion?"
"Well, the Empire of Mexico——"
"Eh?"
"The Empire of Mexico."
"Who's Emperor?"
"The King of Spain, Monsignor," said the priest patiently. "Well, that used to be called South America. It's all the Empire of Mexico now, and belongs to Spain. That's solidly Catholic, of course. And the American Colonies—old North America—that's like England. It's practically Catholic, of course; but there are a few infidels and Socialists."
"Australia?"
"Australia's entirely Irish, and Catholic."
"And Ireland itself?"
"Oh! Ireland developed enormously as soon as she had gained independence, but emigration continued, and the Irish strength really lies abroad. Then an odd thing happened. Ireland continued to empty, obeying some social law we don't even yet understand properly; and the Religious began to get possession of the country in an extraordinary way, until they owned all the large estates, and even most of the towns. You may say that Ireland is practically one Religious Enclosure now. Of course, she's a part of the British Empire; but her real social life lies in her colonies. Australia succeeded in getting Home Rule from Ireland about twenty-five years ago."
Monsignor pressed his hands to his head.
"It sounds like the wildest dream," he said.
"Hadn't I better—-?"
"No; go on. I only want an outline. What about the East?"
"Well, old superstitions still linger on in the East, especially in China. But the end is quite certain. It is simply a matter of time——"
"But . . . but I don't understand. If the whole world is practically Christian, what is there left to do?"
The priest smiled.
"Ah! but you must remember Germany. There are great forces in Germany. It's there that the danger lies. And you must remember too that there is no Universal Arbitrator yet. Nationalism is still pretty strong. There might easily be another big European war."
"Then you hope——"
"Yes. We're all working for the recognition of the Pope as Universal Arbitrator, as he was practically in Europe in the Middle Ages. Of course, as soon as the sovereigns acknowledge officially that they hold all their rights at the will of Rome, the thing will be done. But it's not done yet, except——"
"Good God!"
"Look here, Monsignor, you've had enough," said the priest, rising. "Though I must say you have followed it closely enough. Are you certain that it is quite new to you? Don't you remember—-"
"It's not only new; it's inconceivable! I understand it perfectly; but——"
"Well, you've had enough. Now what about coming to see the Cardinal? I feel sure he'll insist upon your taking a rest instantly. I feel rather guilty——"
"Stop. Tell me about languages. Why did you talk to me in
Latin this morning?"
"Ecclesiastics generally do. And so do the laity a good deal.
Europe is practically bi-lingual. Each country keeps up its
own tongue, and learns Latin as well. You must rub up your
Latin, Monsignor."
"Wait a moment. What are you going to say to the Cardinal?"
"Well, hadn't I better tell him the whole thing, just as it happened? Then you needn't explain."
The other pondered a moment.
"Thanks very much, father. . . . Stop. Do I talk English all right?"
"Perfectly."
"But——Oh well. . . . And I . . . did I do all right at lunch?
Did any one suspect anything?"
"You did perfectly. You seemed a little absent-minded once or twice; but that was quite in keeping."
The two smiled at one another pleasantly.
"Then I'll be going," said the priest. "Will you wait here till
I come for you?"