Free The Clowns of God by Morris West Page B

think he is deluded?”
    “I would like to believe it. Everything would be so much simpler. But I cannot; I simply cannot!”
    Suddenly he looked exactly what he was: an old lion with the strength ebbing out of him. Mendelius felt a surge of sympathy for the anguish scored in his face. Still he could not relent in his own inquisition. He asked firmly, “How have you tested him, Eminence? By what criteria?”
    “By the only ones I know: his speech, his conduct, his writings, the tenor of his spiritual life.”
    Mendelius chuckled.
    “There speaks the Hound of God.”
    Drexel smiled grimly.
    “The wounds still smart, eh? I admit we gave you a rough time. At least we taught you to understand the method. What do you want to know first?”
    “It was the writing that finally damned him. I have a copy of the encyclical. How did you read it, Eminence?”
    “With great misgiving, obviously. I had not a doubt in the world that it must be suppressed. But I agree it contains nothing, absolutely nothing, that is contrary to traditional doctrine. There are interpretations that might be considered extreme, but they are certainly not heterodox. Even the question of an elective ministry, when ordination by a Bishop is totally impossible, is a very open one if rather delicate for Roman ears.”
    “Which brings us to the tenor of his spiritual life.” There was a faint hint of irony in Mendelius’ tone.
    “How did you judge that, Eminence?”
    For the first time, Drexel’s harsh face softened into a smile.
    “It measured better than yours, my dear Mendelius. He remained faithful to his vocation as a priest. He was a totally unselfish man, all of whose thoughts were directed to the good of the-Church and of human souls. His passions were under control. In high office he was humble and kind. His anger was always against malice and never against frailty.
    Even at the end he did not rail against his accusers, but went with dignity and accepted the role of a subject without complaint. I am told by the Abbot that his life in Monte Cassino is a model of religious simplicity.”
    “He is also silent. How does that conform with the obligation, which he says he has, to spread the news of the Parousia?”
    “Before I answer that,” said Drexel, “I think we should clear up one question of fact. Obviously he wrote to you and sent you a copy of the suppressed encyclical. Correct?”
    “Correct.”
    “Was this before or after his abdication?”
    “He wrote it before. I received it after the event.”
    “Good! Now let me tell you something which you do not know. When my brother Cardinals had secured Gregory’s consent to abdication, they were sure they had broken him, that he would do whatever they wanted. First they tried to write into the instrument of abdication a promise of perpetual silence on any issue affecting the public life of the Church. I told them that they had neither a moral nor a legal right to do so. If they persisted I would fight them to the death. I would resign my office and make a full public statement on the whole sorry affair. Then they tried another tack. His Holiness had agreed to enter the order of Saint Benedict and live the life of a simple monk. Therefore, he would be bound to obey his religious superior. Therefore, said my clever colleagues, the Abbot would be instructed to bind him to silence under the vow.”
    “I know that one,” said Carl Mendelius with cold anger.
    “Obedience of the spirit! The worst agony you can impose on an honest man. We’ve taught it to every tyranny in the world.”
    “So,” said Drexel quietly, “I was determined they should not impose it on our friend. I pointed out that this was an intolerable usurpation of the right of a man to act freely in the light of his private conscience, that the most stringent vow could not bind him to commit a wrong, or to stifle his conscience in the name of good. Once again I threatened exposure. I bargained with my vote in the coming