Froth: A Novel

by Armando Palacio Valdés

Padre Ortega was no common priest—at any rate, in the opinion of the fashionable society of the metropolis, among whom he had a large following. Without being a meddler, he was a constant guest in the houses of persons of distinction. He did not love to make a noise, or attract the attention of the company to himself; he neither made jokes nor allowed joking; he had none of the frank, gossiping temper which is commonly found in those priests who are addicted to social intercourse. If he had any love of intrigue it must have been of a different type to that usually seen in the world. Discreet and affable, modest, grave, and silent in society, effacing himself completely and mingling with the crowd, he stood out in full relief when he mounted the pulpit, as he very frequently did. Then he expressed himself with amazing ease and fluency; he did not move his audience to emotion, and never attempted it, but he displayed very remarkable talents, and a distinction rare among his order.

For he was one of those very few ecclesiastics who are—or who at any rate seem to be—up to the mark of modern science. Instead of the moral platitudes, the empty and absurd declamation, which are hurled by his brethren against science and logic, his sermons boldly rose to the level of the literature of the day; he invariably ended by proving directly or indirectly that there is no essential incompatibility between the advance of science and the dogmas of the Church. He would discourse of evolution, of transmutation, of the struggle for existence; would quote Hegel sometimes, allude to the Malthusian theory of population, to the antagonism of Labour and Capital; and from each in turn would deduce something in support of Catholic doctrine; to meet new modes of attack new weapons must be employed. He even confessed himself an advocate, in principle, of Darwin's theories—a fact which surprised and alarmed some of his more timid friends and penitents, although at the same time it enhanced their respect and admiration. When he addressed himself to women only, he avoided all erudition which might bore them, adopted a worldly tone, spoke of their little parties and balls, their dress and their fashions like an adept, and drew similes and arguments from social life. This delighted his fair audience, and brought them to his feet.

He was the director of many of the principal families of Madrid, and in this capacity he showed exquisite discretion and tact, treating each one with due regard to his or her temperament and past and present position. When he met with a woman like the Marquesa de Alcudia, devout, enthusiastic, and fervent, the shrewd priest pressed the keys firmly, was exacting and imperious, inquired into the smallest domestic details, and laid down the law. In the Alcudia's household not a step was taken without his sanction; and in such cases, as though he enjoyed exerting his power, he adopted a stern and grave demeanour which, under other circumstances, was quite foreign to him.

If he had to do with a family of worldlings, indifferent to the Church, he played with a lighter hand, was benign and tolerant, requiring them only to conform outwardly, and refrain from setting a bad example. He did all he could to consolidate the beautiful alliance which in our days has been concluded between religion and fashion; every day he found some new means to this end, some derived from the French, some the offspring of his own brain. On certain days of the year he would collect an evening congregation of ladies of his acquaintance in the chapel or oratory of some noble house. Then there were delightful matinées, when he would extemporise a prayer, some accomplished musician would play the harmonium, he himself would speak a short friendly address, and then discuss religious questions with the ladies present; those who chose might confess, and, to conclude, the party would adjourn to the dining-room, where they took tea,—and changed the subject.

When any member of one of these families died, Padre Ortega had his name inserted on the letters of formal announcement, as Spiritual Director, requesting the prayers of the faithful for the departed soul; and then he would distribute printed pamphlets of souvenirs or memoirs, with prayers in which he besought the Supreme Redeemer, in persuasive and honeyed words, that by this or that special feature of His most Holy Passion, he would forgive Count T—— or Baroness M—— the sin of pride or avarice, or what not; but, as a rule, not the sin to which the deceased had been most prone, for the worthy father had no mind to cause a scandal or hurt the feelings of the family. He also undertook the business of arranging for the acquisition of the greatest possible number of indulgences, for the Papal benediction in articulo mortis, for the prayers of any particular sisterhood, and so forth. Those who were his friends and of his flock, might be quite certain of not departing for the other world unprovided with good introductions. What we do not know is how far they proved useful in the sight of God: whether He passed them with a superscription in blue pencil as an ambassador does, or whether, like the lady in the story, He asked: "And you, Padre Ortega—who introduces you?"

When he had exchanged a few polite words with every person present, with such courtesy as was due to the position of each, the Marquesa de Alcudia took possession of him, carrying him off into a corner of the room, where, seated face to face in two armchairs, they began a conversation in an undertone, as though she were making confession. The priest, his elbow resting on the arm of his seat, and his shaven chin in his hand, listened to her with downcast eyes, in an attitude of humility; now and then he put in a measured word to which the lady listened with respect and submission; though she immediately returned to the charge, gesticulating vehemently, but without raising her voice.

Soon after the ecclesiastic, a youth had made his appearance—a fat youth, very round and rosy, with little whiskers which came but just below his ears, his eyes deep set in flesh, and a fine fresh colour in his cheeks. His clothes looked too tight for him; his voice was hoarse, and he seemed to produce it with difficulty. Ramon Maldonado's face clouded over as he came in. This new-comer was the heir of the Conde de Casa-Ramirez, and one of the suitors for the first born of the house of Calderón. Jacobo—or Cobo Ramirez, as he was generally called, was regarded as a comic personage for the same reasons as Pepa Frias, but with less foundation. He too displayed great freedom of speech, cynical disrespect of persons, even of the most respectable, and an almost incredible degree of ignorance. His jests were the coarsest and grossest which decent people could by any means endure. Sometimes, indeed, they hit the nail on the head, that is to say, he had a happy thought; but as a rule his sallies were purely and unmitigatedly indecent.

And yet the company were pleased to see him. A smile of satisfaction lighted up every face but that of Ramoncito.

"I say, Calderón," he exclaimed as he came in, without any sort of preliminary greeting; "how do you manage to have such good-looking boys for your servants? As I came in, in the dim light, by the mezzo-soprano voice I heard, I took one of them for a girl."

"Nonsense, man," said the banker, laughing.