The Shadow of the Cathedral

In a great hurry, with flying cloaks they all left the church, every man his own way, without forming groups or circles, each one anxious to free himself from all responsibility, and to appear free from all complicity with the prelate's enemies.

The Tato laughed with joy seeing the sudden dispersion, and the agitation of the gentlemen of the choir.

"Run! run I The old gossip will give you something to think about!"

The same preparations were made every year in the middle of August for the festival of the Virgin del Sagrario. In the Cathedral they spoke of this year's festival with mystery and anxiety, as though they were expecting great events. His Eminence, who had not been into the church for many months, in order not to meet his Chapter, would preside in the choir on the feast day. He wished to see his enemies face to face, crushed by his triumph, and to enjoy their looks of confused submission. And accordingly, as the festival drew near many of the canons trembled, thinking of the harsh and proud look the angry prelate would fix on them.

Gabriel paid very little attention to these anxieties of the clerical world; he led a strange life, sleeping the greater part of the day, preparing himself for the fatiguing night watch, which he now undertook alone. The Señor Fidel had fallen ill, and the Obreria to avoid expense, and not to deprive the old man of his wretched pay, had not engaged a new companion for him. He spent the nights alone in the Cathedral as calmly as if he had been in the upper cloister, quite accustomed to the grave-like silence. In order not to sleep, he read by the light of his lantern any books he could get in the Claverias, uninteresting treatises on history in which Providence played the principal rôle; lives of the saints, amusing from their simple credulity, bordering on the grotesque; and that family Quixote of the Lunas', that he had so often spelt out when little, and in which he still found some of the freshness of his childhood.

The Virgin's feast day arrived; the festival was the same as in other years. The famous image had been brought out of its chapel and occupied on its foot-board a place on the high altar. They brought out her mantle kept in the Treasury and all her jewels, that scintillated kissed by the innumerable lights, glittering and flashing with endless brilliancy.

Before the commencement of the festival, the inquisitive of the Cathedral, pretending absent-mindedness, strolled between the choir and the Puerta del Perdon. The canons in their red robes assembled near the staircase lighted by the famous "stone of light." His Eminence would come down this way, and the canons grouped themselves, timidly whispering, asking each other what was going to happen.

The cross-bearer appeared on the first step of the staircase, holding his emblem horizontally with both hands so that it should pass under the arch of the doorway. After, between servitors, and followed by the mulberry-coloured robe of the auxiliary bishop, advanced the cardinal, dressed in his purple, which quenched the reddish-violet of the canons.

The Chapter were drawn up in two rows with bowed heads, offering homage to their prince. What a glance was Don Sebastian's! The canons, bending, thought they felt it on the nape of their necks with the coldness of steel. He held his enormous body erect in its flowing purple with a gallant pride, as if at the moment he felt himself entirely cured of the malady which was tearing his entrails, and of the weak heart which oppressed his lungs. His fat face quivered with delight, and the folds of his double chin spread out over his lace rochet. His cardinal's biretta seemed to swell with pride on his little, white and shining head. Never was a crown worn with such pride as that red cap.

He stretched out his hand, gloved in purple, on which shone the episcopal emerald ring, with such an imperious gesture that one after another of the canons found themselves forced to kiss it. It was the submission of churchmen, accustomed from their seminary to an apparent humility which covered rancours and hatreds of an intensity unknown in ordinary life. The Cardinal guessed their disinclination, and gloated over his triumph.

"You have no idea what our hatreds are," he had often said, to his friend, the gardener's widow. "In ordinary life few men die of ill-humour; he who is annoyed gives vent to it, and recovers his equanimity. But in the Church you may count by the hundred men who die in a fit of rage, because they are unable to revenge themselves; because discipline closes their mouths and bows their heads. Having no families, and no anxieties about earning their bread, most of us only live for self-love and pride."

The Chapter formed their procession accompanied by His Eminence. The scarlet Perrero headed the march, then came the black vergers and Silver Stick, making the tiles of the pavement ring with the blows of their staffs. Behind came the archiepiscopal cross and the canons in pairs, and finally the prelate with his scarlet train spread out at full length, held up by two pages. Don Sebastian blessed to the right and to the left, looking with his penetrating eyes at the faithful who bowed their heads.

His imperious character and the joy of his triumph made his glance flash. What a splendid victory! The Church was his home, and he returned to it after a long absence with all the majesty of an absolute master, who could crush the evil-speaking slaves who dared to attack him.

The greatness of the Church seemed to him at that moment more glorious than ever. What an admirable institution! The strong man who arrived at the top was an omnipotent god to be feared. Nothing of pernicious and revolutionary equality. Dogma exalted the humility of all before God; but when you came to examples, flocks were always spoken of, and shepherds to direct them. He was that shepherd because the Omnipotent has so ordered it. Woe to whoever attempted to dethrone him!

In the choir his delighted pride tasted an even greater satisfaction. He was seated on the throne of the archbishops of Toledo, that seat which had been the star of his youth, the remembrance of which had disturbed him in his Episcopacy, when the mitre had travelled through the provinces, waiting for the hour to rise to the Primacy. He stood erect under the artistic canopy of the Mount Tabor, at the top of four steps, so that all in the choir could see him and recognise that he was their prince. The heads of the dignitaries seated at his side were thus on a level with his feet. He could trample on them like vipers should they dare to rise again, striking at his most intimate affections.

Fired by the appreciation of his own grandeur and triumph, he was the first to rise, or to sit down; as is directed in the rubric of the services, he joined his voice to those in the choir, astonishing them all by the harsh energy of his singing; the Latin words rolled from his mouth like blows upon those hated people, and his eyes passed with a threatening expression over the double row of bent heads.

He was a fortunate man, who had risen from place to place, but he never felt a satisfaction so deep, so complete as at that moment. He himself was startled at his own delight, at that orgy of pride that had extinguished his chronic ailments; it seemed to him as though he were spending in a few hours the stores of enjoyment of his whole life.

As the mass was ending, the singers and lower people in the choir, who were the only ones who dared to look at him, were alarmed, seeing him suddenly grow pale, rise with his face discomposed, pressing his hands to his breast. The canons noticing it, rushed towards him, forming a crowded mass of red vestments in front of his throne. His Eminence was suffocating, fighting against that circle of hands who instinctively clutched at him.

"Air!" he moaned, "air! Get out from before me with a thousand curses!

Take me home!"

Even in the midst of his agony, he recovered his majestic gesture and his old soldiering oaths to drive away his enemies. He was suffocating, but he would not allow the canons to see it: he guessed the delight many of them must feel beneath their compassionate manner. Let no one touch him! He could manage for himself! So leaning on two faithful servants, he began his march, gasping, towards the episcopal staircase, followed by great part of the Chapter.

The religious function ended hurriedly. The Virgin Would forgive it, she should have a better solemnity next year; and all the authorities and invited guests left their seats to run in search of news to the archiepiscopal palace.

When Gabriel woke, past mid-day, every one in the upper cloister was talking of His Eminence's health. His brother inquired of the Aunt Tomasa who had just come from the palace.

"He is dying, my sons," said the gardener's widow; "he cannot escape from it. Doña Visitacion signalled it to me from afar, weeping, poor thing! He cannot be put to bed, for his chest is heaving like a broken bellows. The doctors say he will not last till night. What a misfortune! And on a day like this!"

The agony of the ecclesiastical prince was received in funereal silence. The women of the Claverias went backwards and forwards with news from the palace to the upper cloister; the children were shut up in the houses, frightened by their mothers' threats if they attempted to play in the galleries.

The Chapel-master, who was generally indifferent to events in the Cathedral, went nevertheless to inquire of His Eminence's condition. He had a plan which he quickly explained to the family during dinner. The funeral of a cardinal deserved the execution of a celebrated mass, with a full orchestra recruited in Madrid. He had already cast his eyes on the famous Requiem of Mozart; that was the only reason for which he was interested in the prelate's fate.

Gabriel, looking at his companion, felt the gentle selfishness that a living man feels when a great man dies.

"So the great fall, Sagrario, and we, the sickly and wretched, have still some life before us."

At the hour of locking up the church he went down to begin his watch.

The bell-ringer was waiting for him with the keys.

"How about the Cardinal?" inquired Gabriel.

"He will certainly die to-day, if he is not already dead."

And afterwards he added:

"You will have a great illumination to-night, Gabriel. The Virgin is on the high altar till to-morrow morning, surrounded by wax tapers."

He was silent for a moment, as if undecided about Something.

"Possibly," he added, "I may come down and keep you company a little.

You must be dull alone; expect me."

When Gabriel was locked into the church, he caught sight of the high altar, resplendent with lights. He made his usual trial of doors and railings; visited the Locum and the large lavoratories, where once some thieves had concealed themselves, and after he was quite certain that there was no human being in the church except himself, he seated himself in the crossways with his cloak round him, and his basket of supper.

He sat there a long while, looking through the railings at the Virgin del Sagrario. Born in the Cathedral and brought up as a child by his mother, who knelt with him before the image, he had always admired it as the most perfect type of beauty. Now he criticised it coldly with his artistic eye. She was ugly and grotesque like all the very rich images; sumptuous and wealthy piety had decked her out with their treasures. There was nothing about her of the idealism of the Virgin painted by Christian artists; she was much more like an Indian idol covered with jewels. The embroidered dress and mantle stood out with the stiffness of stone folds, and over the head-dress sparkled a crown as large as a helmet, diminishing the face. Gold, pearls and diamonds shone on every part of her vestments, and she wore pendants and bracelets of immense value.

Gabriel smiled at the religious simplicity which dressed heavenly heroes according to the fashions of the earth.

The faint twilight glimmering through the windows and the wavering flame of the tapers animated the face of the image as if she were speaking.

"Even as I am!" said Gabriel to himself. "If a holy person were in my place he would think the Virgin was laughing one moment and crying the next; with a little imagination and faith, behold here is a miracle! These flickerings of light have been an inexhaustible mine for the priests, even the Venus' of former times changed the expression of their faces at the pleasure of the faithful, just like a Christian image."

He thought a long time about miracles, the invention of all religions, and as old as human ignorance and credulity.

It was now quite dark. After supping frugally, Gabriel opened a book that he carried in his basket and began to read by the light of his lantern. Now and then he raised his head, disturbed by the fluttering and screams of the night birds, attracted by the extraordinary brilliancy of the countless wax tapers. The time passed slowly in the darkness; the silvery sound of the warriors' hammers re-echoed through the vaulting. Luna got up and visited the markers to record his visit.

Ten o'clock had struck when Gabriel heard the wicket of the Puerta de Santa Catalina open quickly but without violence, as though a key had been used. Luna remembered the bell-ringer's offer, but soon he heard the sound of many steps magnified by the echo as if a whole host were advancing.

"Who goes there?" shouted Gabriel, rather alarmed.

"It is us, man," answered from the darkness the husky voice of Mariano. "Did I not tell you we should come down?"

As they came into the crossways, the light from the high altar fell full upon them, and Gabriel saw the Tato and the shoemaker with the bell-ringer. They wished to keep Luna company part of the night, so that his watch should not be so wearisome, and they produced a bottle of brandy, of which they offered him some.

"You know I do not drink," said Gabriel. "I have never cared for alcohol; wine sometimes, and very little of that. But where are you all going to, dressed out as for a feast day?"

The Tato answered hurriedly. Silver Stick locked up the Claverias at nine, and they wished to spend the night out of bounds. They had been some time at a cafe in the Zocodover, feasting like lords. They had had all sorts of adventures, that was a night quite out of the ordinary way, more especially as all the town was in commotion about the Archbishop.