CHAPTER III.
JESUIT AND NEW PROTESTANT.
Early the next morning, the count was awakened suddenly from his slumber. The three bells of the church-tower gave forth sorrowful tones. The peasants assembled from all parts. Von Scharfenstein opened a window, and looked in vain for the rising smoke, in order to discover the whereabouts of the fire; but neither flame nor smoke was to be seen. And yet all the inhabitants, men, women, and children, were moving in the same direction, so that there must have been some cause for the alarm.
“Where is the fire?” he asked of an aged man, who could hardly walk even with the aid of his cane. “Where is the fire, good man?”
“There is no fire; the gendarmes are here to arrest our pastor.”
Von Scharfenstein closed the window.
“This is too much,” said he angrily. “The Freemasons, who are ordinarily cunning enough, have this time committed a great mistake. If the sons of the cross are not more prudent than the sons of the trowel, there will be bloodshed in this case. The peasants will defend their priest with scythes and axes.”
Meanwhile, the police commissioner who had come from the city with two gendarmes endeavored to put a stop to the ringing of the bells. Before going to the church, he had foolishly stationed the gendarmes upon the high step of the pastoral residence, so that the Jesuit should not escape.
“Stop the ringing of the bells,” cried out the commissioner to the bell-ringers.
“Ring away!” exclaimed a sturdy, well-dressed farmer who had closely followed the commissioner. “Continue to ring; the bells are ours; there is fire!”
“I am the police commissioner,” said the officer sternly. “I am here by the command of the government, and I repeat my orders to stop at once the ringing of the bells!”
“And I am the burgomaster of this place, and repeat that the bells shall be rung,” replied the angry and excited villager. “You have no right to command here, and much less in the church. When the whole parish is assembled, the bells shall be stopped, not before.”
The commissioner ground his teeth. He quailed before the determined aspect of the burgomaster, and returned to the priest’s house. There his anger changed into fear. The large yard before the house, the surrounding walls, and the street were thickly covered with people. He saw threatening looks and fierce eyes glaring upon him when he ascended the steps. The crowd was as yet quiet, but already there were signs of a coming storm.
The police commissioner unceremoniously entered the presence of Prince Joseph von Eberstein, the Jesuit father.
“There, look!” he exclaimed rudely. “That is your work—open rebellion against the government!”
“Pardon me, Herr Commissioner,” replied the priest calmly; “how could I have caused the tumult, since I had no knowledge of your coming?”
“You have nevertheless incited the people to revolt against the government, and here is the result of your teaching!”
“Sir, I have not incited the people against the government; the government itself, by a violent and unjustifiable act, has provoked the honest wrath of these simple peasants. I beg you to be less prejudiced.”
The bells were now silent; in the yard, a threatening murmur was heard; the crowd seemed to be greatly incensed, and the commissioner saw that the situation was becoming very critical. He listened at the window.
“To carry away our priest like a thief, like a murderer!” exclaimed a trembling voice. “We will not permit it; he must remain here!”
“If our pastor was a servant of Judas,” said another voice, “and would betray our religion to the Freemasons, then they would not persecute him. But because he is a pious, conscientious priest whom we all love and respect, they wish to take him away.”
“Yes; that is the reason.”
“We will not suffer it; we will keep our priest; he shall not go!” exclaimed many voices confusedly.
The officer looked at the excited crowd, and acknowledged that it would be dangerous to use violence.
“I regret this commotion,” said Prince von Eberstein. “If, however, you choose to follow my advice, you can yet take your prisoner.”
“What is your advice?”
“Send away the gendarmes at once; their presence only serves to exasperate the people. After that, I will speak to my parishioners, and will enter the carriage with you.”
“Your advice is discreet,” replied the commissioner, who went out, and commanded the gendarmes to leave Weselheim forthwith.
The departure of the gendarmes tranquillized the crowd. The threats ceased, and the clinched fists were opened. Upon the steps of his residence the prince now appeared dressed in his cassock.
“May Jesus Christ be praised, your reverence!” exclaimed the assembled parish.
“Now and for ever, dear children! First let me thank you for the love and sympathy you have always shown me during my stay among you. You know that the government objects to my remaining here because I am a foreigner. I have been frequently directed by the temporal power to leave my parish. But because our Lord Jesus Christ has not commanded the temporal powers to preach the Gospel, to administer the sacraments, or to govern the church, but has given that right to the Pope, the bishops, and the priests, and because I have derived my mission not from the temporal authority, but from the church, I have refused to leave the dear fold entrusted to my care, nor shall I leave it. In order that these unfortunate disturbances may not recur again, I intend to accompany the commissioner to the city. There I will lay the whole affair before our most gracious king, who is a wise and just ruler. I shall ask him to arrange matters so that I shall not be molested again in the discharge of my sacred duties. Are you satisfied, dear parishioners?”
The deepest silence reigned.
“Your reverence,” exclaimed a voice, “if you promise us to come back, then we are satisfied.”
“I promise it to you,” answered the priest firmly.
He then re-entered the house.
“Herr Commissioner, have the carriage immediately brought before the steps, so that any further excitement may be avoided.”
This was done. When, however, the children saw their pastor getting into the carriage, they commenced to weep aloud, in which the girls and women joined, so that heart-rending lamentations filled the air. The driver whipped the horses, and the carriage almost flew through the now desolated village.
“Do not weep so!” said Keller; “our pastor will return: he has promised it.”
“But if they imprison him?” said a timid woman.
“Ah! bah! things have not yet come to such a pass!” observed the burgomaster; “the parish will protect him!”
The people now separated. Only the burgomaster and some of the influential villagers remained in the priest’s house conversing together. In a short time, another carriage stopped at the door. The astonished men saw an official wearing a very rich uniform descend from the carriage.
“I think I know him,” said Keller. “Yes; I am right: he is one of the four Freemasons.”
A priest who accompanied the official was received by the villagers with sharp and suspicious looks.
“Good-morning!” said the friendly official. “I am rejoiced to meet here in the priest’s house such a number of gentlemen. Herr Burgomaster, if I am not mistaken?”
“Yes; I am he, and these are the councilmen.”
“This is splendid; what a fortunate circumstance!” remarked the official. “I am the government counsellor, and have come to introduce this reverend gentlemen into his office, so that the good parish of Weselheim should not be one moment without a pastor.”
The men looked at one another; they were greatly perplexed, and seemed hardly to understand what was going on.
“But, Herr Counsellor,” said the burgomaster, “we have a pastor. He went only an hour ago to the city to see his most gracious majesty the king, and to-morrow he will return.”
“You are mistaken, Herr Burgomaster,” assured the smiling counsellor and grandmaster of the Freemasons. “The Jesuit will not return.”
The last words fell like a thunderbolt among them.
“What?—O ho!” exclaimed the men. “We shall see! Our pastor is the Rev. Herr von Eberstein; we wish no other.”
“Unfortunately, Herr von Eberstein is a foreigner,” replied the counsellor, shrugging his shoulders. “I introduce to you a pious priest whose zeal will certainly bring a blessing upon the parish.”
The priest bowed and smiled, but the villagers evidently did not like him.
“What is your name, if we may be allowed to ask?”
“My name is Stechapfel” (thorn-apple), answered the priest.
“What! Stechapfel?” cried they all, drawing back.
“Are you not the New Protestant Stechapfel of whom we have read so much in the newspapers?” inquired Ewald, one of the councilmen.
“I am not a New Protestant, but an Old Catholic,” replied Stechapfel.
“It is really so—it is he!” exclaimed Keller. “Do you know, Herr Stechapfel, what you call ‘Old Catholic’ is understood among Catholics as ‘New Protestant’? We know also why the heretics of our day have invented the word ‘Old Catholic’: they did so to throw sand in the eyes of the people; as if they, the heretics, had remained faithful to the old Catholic doctrine, but the Pope and all the bishops and priests, as also all Catholics, had renounced the true faith. Luther, the first Protestant, did the very same thing. He accused the Pope and the bishops of having left the old doctrine, but that he, Luther, had retained it, for which reason he was an Old Catholic. The same is repeated to-day; it is deception—pure deception; therefore we do not call these deceivers ‘Old Catholics,’ but ‘New Protestants.’”
“I deplore all this confusion,” replied Stechapfel devoutly. “I have nothing to do with Luther nor with heresy of any sort. I keep firmly to the Old Catholic doctrine.”
“Please listen to me, Herr Stechapfel; I wish to ask you something,” began Keller, moving his cap on one side of his head. “Do you believe that the Pope is infallible when he explains and defines how an article of faith or of morals is to be understood?”
“No; I do not believe it, because it was never believed before,” replied Stechapfel.
“Was never believed before—only hear that!” exclaimed the villagers, laughing.
“Then let me continue—I am not through yet,” said Keller. “You believe, therefore, Herr Stechapfel, that the Pope and all the bishops erred when they maintained this doctrine in the council?”
“Of course they erred; for they invented a new article of faith,” answered Stechapfel.
“Ha! ha! That is too absurd!” cried out some of those present.
“Do not laugh, men; it is not a laughing matter,” said Keller. “Now, Herr Stechapfel, since you are to be our pastor, you can perhaps explain something that I do not understand. Our Lord instituted an infallible teaching tribunal in his church before he ascended to heaven. That he was obliged to institute this infallible tribunal I can understand; for fifty years would not have elapsed after his ascension, before learned men would have begun to misinterpret and distort his doctrine. Therefore an infallible tribunal was necessary, that it might tell the people what is and what is not the doctrine of Christ. Our Lord has also promised and given to this infallible tribunal the Holy Ghost, that he should remain with it unto the end of the world, and establish it in all truth. But now, this tribunal, that is, the Pope and the bishops, has declared that the Head of the church is infallible when he gives to the whole world a decision or an interpretation concerning the meaning of an article of faith or morals. Now follows what I do not understand. You New Protestants maintain that it is not so. But if it is not true, then the infallible tribunal has erred; then our Lord has told a falsehood. How does this all agree, Herr Stechapfel?”
The counsellor and the priest could not conceal their vexation.
“You are well instructed,” said Schlehdorn.
“This is in consequence of having had a good and zealous priest,” replied the burgomaster. “Are you not a New Protestant, Herr Counsellor?”
“By no means! I hold fast to the original doctrine of the Holy Catholic Church; therefore I am, strictly speaking, an Old Catholic.”
“I do not believe it!” exclaimed Keller, with a fierce gleam in his eyes. “You are a Freemason; although you have shaved off your beard and moustache, yet I know you. Did you not a few days ago meet three other Freemasons on the Vogelsberg (mountain of birds)? Did you not then say, ‘The trowel or the cross’? Did you not say that there was no God, no devil, no heaven, no hell?”
“You are mistaken in the person,” replied the astonished official, in great embarrassment.
“Well, what of it?” cried Ewald consolingly. “Do not for that reason excite yourself, Herr Counsellor. We knew long ago that the New Protestants had very little religion. Who are the most zealous New Protestants? Just those who never go to confession or to holy communion. They have wrapped themselves in the little cloak of ‘Old Catholicism,’ so that they might work the better against the Catholic Church.”
“Enough!” exclaimed the official, who had regained his self-command. “I am not here to expose myself to rude attacks, but to introduce this priest into his office.”
“That is not necessary!” exclaimed the men. “You can take the New Protestant at once back again with you; we do not want him.”
“We are not in Bavaria,” said the burgomaster. “We shall be faithful to the Pope and his bishops; we care nothing for the infallible professors. We do not believe that any man is infallible of himself; but the Pope is infallible by virtue of his office as teacher; and the Holy Ghost is neither promised nor sent to the professors.”
“Herr Burgomaster,” began the counsellor sternly, “I make you responsible for the safety and official influence of Pastor Stechapfel.”
“Alas! Herr Counsellor, you have asked too much!” replied the burgomaster. “We in this village are Catholics in the strictest sense of the word. Therefore, we cannot have Herr Stechapfel, because he is a New Protestant. Do you imagine, Herr Counsellor, that the people will allow themselves to be commanded in religious matters? Do you think that our faith is to be knocked into and out of our heads by police-clubs, just because you say the word? No; I refuse to become answerable for the New Protestant pastor you have brought us, and I also assure you that, if he enters the church, the people will run out.”
Keller, who had evidently devised some plan of action, gave the burgomaster a secret sign.
“I think,” said he, “as the government counsellor has come purposely hither, we should give Herr Stechapfel a trial. By the way of beginning, you should introduce Herr Stechapfel into the pastor’s residence.”
“You have spoken very wisely,” answered Schlehdorn. “I must now go; farewell, gentlemen!”
The official thereupon returned to the city, and Stechapfel and the burgomaster entered the priest’s house.
Keller remained outside; he spoke earnestly with the other men, and the nature of his communication created great but suppressed mirth among them.
After a short interval, Keller and Ewald appeared before Stechapfel.
“Have you maturely considered the matter? It will not do,” commenced Keller. “If it becomes known in the village that an Old Catholic New Protestant is here, there would be a terrible tumult. The people would be wild at the thought of having a man as their pastor who is more infallible than the Pope and the bishops, and who is at the same time excommunicated. To avert misfortune, you must leave at once!”
“I protest against such treatment; I shall remain!” exclaimed Stechapfel.
“You can protest as long as you wish; it becomes you very well, for you are a New Protestant!” replied Keller indifferently. “But remain here you cannot!”
“The government has sent me as pastor to this village, and I shall maintain my right to the position!” exclaimed the Old Catholic.
“Bah! the government! That is New Protestant nonsense! If you were a Catholic, you would know that the government has no right to dispose of ecclesiastical offices. Offices of the church are bestowed by the church. Therefore, you must go! Where is your hat?”
“This is an outrage; it is nothing less than violence!”
“There, take your hat! I ask you whether you will leave voluntarily?”
“No; I will not go!”
“Well, then, we will accompany you until you are out of the village,” said Keller; and he put his arm under that of Stechapfel, while Ewald executed the same manœuvre on the other side. In vain did the intruder resist. The strong men took him out of the house, across the yard, and through the village. The people of Weselheim stood around and laughed at the comical scene.
“Whom have you there?” asked a passer-by.
“We have here an Old Catholic New Protestant who has strayed away from Bavaria. We are now showing him the way out of the village.”
“What are you doing?” cried out another, in surprise. “I hope you will not lay hands on a priest?”
“Certainly not,” said Ewald; “we only expel the wolf who wished to creep in clothed as a sheep.”
A short distance out of the village, the men halted.
“So, Herr Stechapfel, now you can proceed alone,” said Franz Keller. “If you wish to be again taken out, then you must revisit us; it will be a pleasure for us to escort you as we have just done. If you are really a duly ordained priest, then I ask your pardon; but I have not to ask pardon of you personally, for you bear too close a resemblance to the traitor Judas. You can tell the gentlemen in the city that we in Weselheim shall remain true to the cross: the trowel the Freemasons may keep for themselves. Good-by!”