When It Was Dark/Chapter 19
CHAPTER VII
THE HOUR OF CHAOS
ALTHOUGH, during the first days of the Darkness, hundreds of thousands of Christian men and women were chilled almost to spiritual death, and although the lamp of Faith was flickering very low, it was not in London that the far-reaching effects of the discovery at Jerusalem were most immediately apparent.
In that great City there is an outward indifference, bred of a million different interests, which has something akin to the supreme indifference of Nature. The many voices never blend into one, so that the ear may hear them in a single mighty shout.
But in the grimmer North public opinion is heard more readily, and is more quickly visible. In the great centres of executive toil the vital truths of religion seem to enter more insistently into the lives of men and women whose environment presents them with fewer distractions than elsewhere. Often, indeed, this interest is a political interest rather than a deeply Christian one, a matter of controversy rather than feeling. Certain it is that all questions affecting religious beliefs loom large and have a real importance in the cities of the North.
It was Wednesday evening at Walktown.
Mr. Byars was reading the service. The huge, ugly church was lit with rows of gas-jets, arranged in coronas painted a drab green. But the priest's voice, strained and worn, echoed sadly and with a melancholy cadence through the great barn-like place. Two or three girls, a couple of men, and half a dozen boys made up the choir, which had dwindled to less than a fifth of its usual size. The organ was silent.
Right down the church, those in the chancel saw row upon row of cushioned empty seats. Here and there a small group of people broke the chilling monotony of line, but the worshippers were very few. In the galleries an occasional couple, almost secure from observation, whispered to each other. The church was warm, the seats not uncomfortable; it was better to flirt here than in the cold, frost-bound streets.
Never had Evensong been so cheerless and gloomy, even in that vast, unlovely building. There was no sermon. The vicar was suffering under such obvious strain, he looked so worn and ill, that even this lifeless congregation seemed to feel it a relief when the Blessing was said and it was free to shuffle out into the promenade of the streets.
The harsh trumpeting of Mr. Philemon, the vestry clerk's final "Amen," was almost jubilant.
As Mr. Byars walked home he saw that the three great Unitarian chapels which he had to pass en route were blazing with light. Policemen were standing at the doors to prevent the entrance of any more people into the overcrowded buildings. A tremendous life and energy pulsated within these buildings. Glancing back, with a bitter sigh, the vicar saw that the lights in St. Thomas were already extinguished, and the tower, in which the illuminated clock glowed sullenly, rose stark and cold into the dark winter sky.
The last chapel of all, the Pembroke Road Chapel, had a row of finely appointed carriages waiting outside the doors. The horses were covered with cloths, the grooms and coachmen wore furs, and the breaths of men and beasts alike poured out in streams of blue vapour. These men stamped up and down the gravel sweep in front of the chapel and swung their arms in order to keep warm.
On each side of the great polished mahogany doors were large placards, printed in black and red, vividly illuminated by electric arc lights. These announced that on that night Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., would lecture on the recent discovery in Jerusalem. The title of the lecture, in staring black type, seemed to Mr. Byars as if it possessed an almost physical power. It struck him like a blow.
THE DOWNFALL OF CHRISTIANITY
And then in smaller type,
Anthropomorphism an Exploded Superstition
He walked on more hurriedly through the dark.
All over the district the Church seemed tottering. The strong forces of Unitarianism and Judaism, always active enemies of the Church, were enjoying a moment of unexampled triumph. Led by nearly all the wealthy families in Walktown, all the Dissenters and many lukewarm Church people were crowding to these same synagogues. At the very height of these perversions, when Christianity was forsworn and derided on all sides, Schuabe had returned to Mount Prospect from London.
His long-sustained position as head of the antichristian party in Parliament, in England indeed, his political connection with the place, his wealth, the ties of family and relationship, all combined to make him the greatest power of the moment in the North.
His speeches, of enormous power and force, were delivered daily and reported verbatim in all the newspapers. He became the Marlborough of a campaign.
On every side the churches were almost deserted. Day by day ominous political murmurs were heard in street and factory. The time had come, men were saying, when an established priesthood and Church must be forced to relinquish its emoluments and position. The Bishop of Manchester, as he rolled through the streets in his carriage, leaning back upon the cushions, lost in thought, with his pipe between his lips, according to the wont and custom which had almost created a scandal in the neighbourhood, was hissed and hooted as he went on his way.
With a sickness of heart, an utter weariness that was almost physical nausea, the vicar let himself into his house with a latch-key.
There was a hushed, subdued air over the warm, comfortable house, felt quite certainly, though not easy to define. It was as though one lay dead in an upper chamber.
Mr. Byars turned into his study. Helena rose to meet him. The beautiful, calm face was very pale and worn as if by long vigils. Minute lines of care had crept round the eyes, though the eyes themselves were as calm and steadfast as of old.
"Basil feels much stronger to-night. Father," she said. "He is dressing now, and will come down to supper. He wishes to have a long talk with you, he says."
For two weeks Gortre had lain prostrate in the house of his future father-in-law.
It was as though he had watched the waters gradually rising round him until at last he was submerged in a merciful unconsciousness. The doctor said that he was enduring a very slight attack of brain-fever, but one which need cause no one any alarm, and which was, in fact, nothing at all in comparison to his former illness.
His fine physical strength asserted itself and helped him to an easy bodily recovery.
To Basil himself, with returning health and a clearer brain came a renewal of mental power. A great strain was removed, the strain of waiting and watching, the tension of a sick anticipation.
"It was almost as if I was conscious of this terrible thing that has happened," he said to Helena. "I am sure that I felt it coming instinctively in some curious psychic way. But now that we know the worst, I am my own man again. Soon, dear, I shall be up and about again, ready to fight against this blackness, to take my place in the ranks once more."
To her loving solicitude he seemed to have some definite plan or purpose, but when she questioned him his reserve was impenetrable, even to her.
During the days of darkness Helena's lot was hard, her heart heavy. While Mr. Byars was at least active, militant, she must eat her heart out in sorrow at home. The doctor had forbidden any talk on those subjects which were agitating the world, between her and Basil. She was denied that consolation. So while her father was attending the conferences at the Bishop's palace, speaking at meetings, visiting the sick with passionate, and, alas, how often useless! assurance that the Truth would prevail and the Light of the World once more shine out undimmed, she must live and pray alone.
Helena's faith had never weakened. All through the trying days and nights it had burned steadily, clear, and pure. But all around her she saw the enemies of Christ prevailing. Nor was it with the slow movement of ordinary secularism, but with a great shout of triumph and exultation which resounded through the world. Men were deserting their posts, the Church she loved seemed tottering, a horrid confusion and anarchy was everywhere.
And all that she could do was to pray. But as the girl moved about her simple household duties, as she tended the sick man with an almost wifely care, her prayers went on unceasingly and every action was interwoven with supplication.
Pale, subdued, but with a quiet clearness and resolution in his eye, Basil came down to the meal. There was but little conversation during it. Afterwards, Helena went to her own room, knowing that her father and Gortre wished to be left alone.
In the study the two men sat on either side of the fireplace. Basil wore a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair. He would not smoke, the doctor had forbidden it, but Mr. Byars lit his pipe with a sigh of satisfaction.
"To think, Basil," the older man said in a broken voice, "to think that Christmas is upon us now! It's the vigil of Christmas, and never since our Lord's Passion has the world been in such a state. And worse than all is our utter impotence!" His voice grew almost angry. "We know, know as surely as we know anything, that this terrible business is some stupendous mistake or fraud. But there isn't the slightest possibility of any one listening to us. On one side the weightiest expert proof, on the other nothing but a conviction to oppose to what appear to be the hardest facts. I cannot blame any non-Christian for acquiescing in this discovery. Viewing the thing clearly and without prejudice, I can't blame any one. It is only the smallest minority, even of professing Christians, whose faith is strong enough to keep them from an utter denial of our Lord's Divinity. It is simply a matter of long personal experience that gives you and me and Helena our confidence in this utter darkness. But in comparison to the rest of the worlds how many have that confidence?"
He put down his pipe on the table and rested his head in his outstretched hands, a grey and venerable head.
"It's awful, Basil," he said in a broken voice, and with his eyes full of tears. "In my old age I have seen this. I wish that I had gone with my dear wife. 'Help, Lord; for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children of men.' But what is so bitter to me, my dear boy, is the sight of the utter over-throw of Faith. It all shows how terribly weak the majority of Christians are. Surface and symbol! symbol and surface!"
"It will not last long," said Gortre, gravely. "For my part, Father, I think that this terrible trial is allowed and permitted by God to bring about a great and future triumph for His Son, which will marshal, organise, and consolidate Faith as nothing has ever done before. I am convinced of it."
"Yes, it must be that," answered the vicar; "undoubtedly that is God's purpose. But I would that the light might come in my time. And I fear I shall not live to see it. I'm an old man now, Basil; this has aged me very much, and I shall not live much longer. It is God's will, but it is hard to know that one will die seeing Christ dethroned in the hearts of men, the Cross broken."
"While I have been quietly upstairs," said Gortre, "many strange thoughts have come to me, of which I want to speak to you to-night. I have things to tell you which I have mentioned to no one as yet. But before I go into these matters — very dark and terrible ones, I fear — I want you to give me a résumé of the position of things as they are now. The present state is not clear in my mind. I have not read many of the papers, and I want a sort of bird's-eye view of what is going on."
"The position at present," said Mr. Byars, "from our point of view, is a kind of anarchy. Within every denomination those who absolutely refuse to credit the truth of the discovery are in the minority. Abroad, in France especially, wild free-thought of the rabid Tom Paine order has broken out everywhere in a kind of hysterical rage against Christianity. The immediate social result has been an appalling increase in crimes of lust and cruelty. Great alarm is felt by the authorities. All the papers are taking a horribly cynical view. They say that the delusion of Christianity has clouded men's brains for so long that they are now incapable of bearing the truth, and that the best way to govern the State is to go on making believe. On the other hand, the vast majority of Roman Catholics, both abroad and in England, have remained utterly uninfluenced. It is one of the most marvellous triumphs of discipline and order that history has ever witnessed. The Pope forbade the slightest notice of the discovery to be taken by priests or people in the first instance. Then, when the Report of the Committee was issued, with only one dissentient voice — Sir Michael Manichoe's — a Papal Bull was issued. Here it is, translated in The Tablet, magnificent in its brevity and serenity."
He took a paper from the table beside him and began to read:
"VENERABLE BRETHREN,— HEALTH AND APOSTOLIC BENEDICTION
"It has seemed good to Us to address you on certain points dealing with the decay of faith in divine things, which is the effect of pride and moral corruption. And this is the natural result of pride; for when this vice has taken possession of the heart it is inevitable that the Christian Faith, which demands a most willing docility, should languish, and that a murky darkness in regard to divine truths should close upon the mind, so that in the case of many these words should be made good, 'whatever things they know not they blaspheme' (St. Jude). We, however, so far from being hereby turned aside from the design which We have taken in hand, are, on the contrary, determined all the more zealously and diligently to guide the well-disposed, so that they may be saved from the perils of secular unbelief.
"And, with the help of the united prayers of the faithful. We earnestly implore forgiveness for those who speak evil of holy things.
"And inasmuch as certain persons not being members of the Holy Catholic Church have in an extremity of criminal madness laid claim to discoveries which are pretended and put forth as affecting the eternal Truths of the Faith, We command you, Venerable Brethren, that it shall be stated in all the churches such pretences are void of truth and utterly abominable. The enemies of Christ cry out, 'We will not have this man to reign over us' (Luke xix. 14), and make themselves loudly heard with the utterance of that wicked purpose, 'Let us make away with Him.'
"We therefore charge all Christians having peace and communion with the Holy Church that they shall give no ear or countenance to these onslaughts upon the Faith. It is forbidden for them to speak of these things among themselves, or to listen to others concerning them.
"With these injunctions. Venerable Brethren, We, as a presage of the divine liberality, and as a pledge of our own charity, most lovingly bestow on each of you, and on the clergy and flock committed to the care of each, our Apostolic Benediction."
"That is the gist of it," said Mr. Byars, "though I have missed out a few paragraphs. The result has been that, with a few exceptions, the whole army of Romanists, so to speak, have closed ranks and utterly refused to listen to what is going on."
"It's very fine, very fine indeed, as a spectacle," Gortre answered. "I wish we had something like that unity and discipline. But is that submission, possibly without the fire of an inward conviction, worth very much? I doubt it."
"It is not for us to judge," answered the vicar. "But the result has been that the Catholic Church, both here and on the Continent, is undergoing a storm of persecution and popular hatred. There have been fearful fights in Liverpool, and riots between the Irish dock-labourers and a mob of people who called themselves Protestants last year and 'Rationalists' to-day.
"The attitude of the Low Church party is varied. Many of them are openly deserting to Unitarianism. Others have accepted the discovery as being a true one, and evolved an entirely new theory from it, while using it as a party weapon also. This attitude is reflected in The Tower in an article which says that, though the actual body of Christ is now proved never to have risen from the dead, the spiritual body was what the Disciples saw. It is a clever piece of work, which has attracted an immense number of people, and is directed entirely against the Holy Eucharist.[1] The Moderate and High Church parties are in some ways in a worse position than any other. They find themselves unable to compromise.
"At the great meeting in the Albert Hall the other day, which ended up in something like a free fight, all the conclusion the majority of the clergy could come to was that it was utterly impossible to accept the discovery and remain Christian. The result everywhere is chaos; men are resigning their livings, there have been several suicides — isn't it horrible to think of? — congregations are dwindling everywhere, and disestablishment seems a certainty in a very short time. The papers are full of nothing else, of course. We are fighting tooth and nail upon the standpoint of personal spiritual experience, which nothing can alter, but in a material way how little that helps! The Methodists and Wesleyans are more successful than any one. They are holding revival meetings all over the country. Very few of these two bodies have joined the infidel ranks. Dissent has always implied an act of choice, which, at any rate, means a man is not indifferent to the whole thing. I suppose that is why the Wesleyans seem to be making a firmer and more spiritual stand than any of us. To my shame I say it, but the Churchmen of England are not bearing witness as these others are."
"And the Bishops?"
"Most of them don't know what to do. Of course, the great leaders of spiritual thought, W—, for instance, and G—, have written that which has brought comfort and conviction to hundreds. But see the horror of the position. The only way in which this awful thing can be combated is by just the methods which only scholars and cultivated people can understand. How are people who read the hard, material, logical speeches of people like Schuabe, or that abominable woman, Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, going to be convinced by the subtleties of the intellect or by the reiteration of a personal conviction which they cannot share? Then the Court party, the Archbishop, Walke, and all those, are leaning more and more towards the 'spiritual' body theory, though they hesitate to commit themselves as yet. It is all to be shelved until Convocation meets. They want to see how things will go in Parliament. The Erastian spirit is rampant. They are nearly all afraid of any ecclesiastical action. They are following the lead of Germany under the Kaiser."
"It is all very terrible to see how much less Christianity means to mankind than earnest Christians believed," said Gortre, sadly. "To see the edifice tumbling round one like a house of paper when one thought it so secure and strong. What a terrible lesson this will be in the future to every one; what frightful shame and humiliation will come to those who have denied their Lord when this is over!"
"When will that be, Basil?" said the vicar, wearily. "It seems as if the real hour of test were at hand, and that now, finally and for ever, God means to separate the true believers from the rest. I have thought that all this may be but a prelude to the Last Day of all, and that Christ's Second Coming is very near. But what I cannot understand, what is utterly beyond the power of any of us to appreciate, is what this all means. How can this new tomb have been discovered after all these years? Can all these great experts have been deceived? There have been historical forgeries before, but surely this cannot be one. And yet, I know, you know that our Lord rose from the dead."
"I believe that to me, of all men in England, The Hand of God has given the key to the mystery," said Gortre.
Mr. Byars started and looked uneasily at him.
"Basil," he said, "I have been thoughtless. We've talked too long. You are not quite clear as to what you are saying. Let us read compline together and go to bed."
He watched Basil as he spoke, but before he had finished his sentence he saw something in the young man's face which sent the blood leaping and tearing through his veins.
In a sudden, utterly unreasoning way, he saw a truth, a certain knowledge, in Gortre's eyes which flooded his whole heart and soul with exaltation and joy.
His good and almost saintly face looked as John's might have looked when, after the octave of the Resurrection Day, the eight heavy-hearted men were once more returning to the daily round and common task, and saw the Lord upon the shore.
- ↑ This article has already been seen in the preceding chapter.