Lord of the World

by Robert Hugh Benson

  CHAPTER VIII

  I

  Long before dawn on the first morning of the New Year the approaches tothe Abbey were already blocked. Victoria Street, Great George Street,Whitehall--even Millbank Street itself--were full and motionless. BroadSanctuary, divided by the low-walled motor-track, was itself cut intogreat blocks and wedges of people by the ways which the police kept openfor the passage of important personages, and Palace Yard was keptrigidly clear except for one island, occupied by a stand which wasitself full from top to bottom and end to end. All roofs and parapetswhich commanded a view of the Abbey were also one mass of heads.Overhead, like solemn moons, burned the white lights of the electricglobes.

  It was not known at exactly what hour the tumult had steadied itself todefinite purpose, except to a few weary controllers of the temporaryturnstiles which had been erected the evening before. It had beenannounced a week previously that, in consideration of the enormousdemand for seats, all persons who presented their worship-ticket at anauthorised office, and followed the directions issued by the police,would be accounted as having fulfilled the duties of citizenship in thatrespect, and it was generally made known that it was the Government'sintention to toll the great bell of the Abbey at the beginning of theceremony and at the incensing of the image, during which period silencemust be as far as possible preserved by all those within hearing.

  London had gone completely mad on the announcement of the Catholic ploton the afternoon before. The secret had leaked out about fourteeno'clock, an hour after the betrayal of the scheme to Mr. Snowford; andpractically all commercial activities had ceased on the instant. Byfifteen-and-a-half all stores were closed, the Stock Exchange, the Cityoffices, the West End establishments--all had as by irresistible impulsesuspended business, and from within two hours after noon until nearlymidnight, when the police had been adequately reinforced and enabled todeal with the situation, whole mobs and armies of men, screamingsquadrons of women, troops of frantic youths, had paraded the streets,howling, denouncing, and murdering. It was not known how many deaths hadtaken place, but there was scarcely a street without the signs ofoutrage. Westminster Cathedral had been sacked, every altar overthrown,indescribable indignities performed there. An unknown priest hadscarcely been able to consume the Blessed Sacrament before he was seizedand throttled; the Archbishop with eleven priests and two bishops hadbeen hanged at the north end of the church, thirty-five convents hadbeen destroyed, St. George's Cathedral burned to the ground; and it wasreported even, by the evening papers, that it was believed that, for thefirst time since the introduction of Christianity into England, therewas not one Tabernacle left within twenty miles of the Abbey. "London,"explained the _New People_, in huge headlines, "was cleansed at last ofdingy and fantastic nonsense."

  It was known at about fifteen-and-a-half o'clock that at least seventyvolors had left for Rome, and half-an-hour later that Berlin hadreinforced them by sixty more. At midnight, fortunately at a time whenthe police had succeeded in shepherding the crowds into some kind oforder, the news was flashed on to cloud and placard alike that the grimwork was done, and that Rome had ceased to exist. The early morningpapers added a few details, pointing out, of course, the coincidence ofthe fall with the close of the year, relating how, by an astonishingchance, practically all the heads of the hierarchy throughout the worldhad been assembled in the Vatican which had been the first object ofattack, and how these, in desperation, it was supposed, had refused toleave the City when the news came by wireless telegraphy that thepunitive force was on its way. There was not a building left in Rome;the entire place, Leonine City, Trastevere, suburbs--everything wasgone; for the volors, poised at an immense height, had parcelled out theCity beneath them with extreme care, before beginning to drop theexplosives; and five minutes after the first roar from beneath and thefirst burst of smoke and flying fragments, the thing was finished. Thevolors had then dispersed in every direction, pursuing the motor andrail-tracks along which the population had attempted to escape so soonas the news was known; and it was supposed that not less than thirtythousand belated fugitives had been annihilated by this foresight. Itwas true, remarked the _Studio_, that many treasures of incalculablevalue had been destroyed, but this was a cheap price to pay for thefinal and complete extermination of the Catholic pest. "There comes apoint," it remarked, "when destruction is the only cure for avermin-infested house," and it proceeded to observe that now that thePope with the entire College of Cardinals, all the ex-Royalties ofEurope, all the most frantic religionists from the inhabited world whohad taken up their abode in the "Holy City" were gone at a stroke, arecrudescence of the superstition was scarcely to be feared elsewhere.Yet care must even now be taken against any relenting. Catholics (if anywere left bold enough to attempt it) must no longer be allowed to takeany kind of part in the life of any civilised country. So far asmessages had come in from other countries, there was but one chorus ofapproval at what had been done.

  A few papers regretted the incident, or rather the spirit which had lainbehind it. It was not seemly, they said, that Humanitarians should haverecourse to violence; yet not one pretended that anything could be feltbut thanksgiving for the general result. Ireland, too, must be broughtinto line; they must not dally any longer.

  * * * * *

  It was now brightening slowly towards dawn, and beyond the river throughthe faint wintry haze a crimson streak or two began to burn. But all wassurprisingly quiet, for this crowd, tired out with an all-night watch,chilled by the bitter cold, and intent on what lay before them, had noenergy left for useless effort. Only from packed square and street andlane went up a deep, steady murmur like the sound of the sea a mileaway, broken now and again by the hoot and clang of a motor and the rushof its passage as it tore eastwards round the circle through BroadSanctuary and vanished citywards. And the light broadened and theelectric globes sickened and paled, and the haze began to clear alittle, showing, not the fresh blue that had been hoped for from thecold of the night, but a high, colourless vault of cloud, washed withgrey and faint rose-colour, as the sun came up, a ruddy copper disc,beyond the river.

  * * * * *

  At nine o'clock the excitement rose a degree higher. The police betweenWhitehall and the Abbey, looking from their high platforms strung alongthe route, whence they kept watch and controlled the wire palisadings,showed a certain activity, and a minute later a police-car whirledthrough the square between the palings, and vanished round the Abbeytowers. The crowd murmured and shuffled and began to expect, and a cheerwas raised when a moment later four more cars appeared, bearing theGovernment insignia, and disappeared in the same direction. These werethe officials, they said, going to Dean's Yard, where the processionwould assemble.

  At about a quarter to ten the crowd at the west end of Victoria Streetbegan to raise its voice in a song, and by the time that was over, andthe bells had burst out from the Abbey towers, a rumour had somehow madeits entrance that Felsenburgh was to be present at the ceremony. Therewas no assignable reason for this, neither then nor afterwards; in fact,the _Evening Star_ declared that it was one more instance of theastonishing instinct of human beings _en masse_; for it was not until anhour later that even the Government were made aware of the facts. Yetthe truth remained that at half-past ten one continuous roar went up,drowning even the brazen clamour of the bells, reaching round toWhitehall and the crowded pavements of Westminster Bridge, demandingJulian Felsenburgh. Yet there had been absolutely no news of thePresident of Europe for the last fortnight, beyond an entirelyunsupported report that he was somewhere in the East.

  And all the while the motors poured from all directions towards theAbbey and disappeared under the arch into Dean's Yard, bearing thosefortunate persons whose tickets actually admitted them to the churchitself. Cheers ran and rippled along the lines as the great men wererecognised--Lord Pemberton, Oliver Brand and his wife, Mr. Caldecott,Maxwell, Snowford, with the European delegates--even melancholy-facedMr. Francis himself, the Government _ceremoniarius_, receive
d agreeting. But by a quarter to eleven, when the pealing bells paused, thestream had stopped, the barriers issued out to stop the roads, the wirepalisadings vanished, and the crowd for an instant, ceasing its roaring,sighed with relief at the relaxed pressure, and surged out into theroadways. Then once more the roaring began for Julian Felsenburgh.

  The sun was now high, still a copper disc, above the Victoria Tower, butpaler than an hour ago; the whiteness of the Abbey, the heavy greys ofParliament House, the ten thousand tints of house-roofs, heads,streamers, placards began to disclose themselves.

  A single bell tolled five minutes to the hour, and the moments slippedby, until once more the bell stopped, and to the ears of those withinhearing of the great west doors came the first blare of the huge organ,reinforced by trumpets. And then, as sudden and profound as the hush ofdeath, there fell an enormous silence.