Michael St John Mulhall was granny-reared. At least that was what he told his fellow seminarians to account for the absence of family of any kind. None of his colleagues liked to ask him exactly what this meant. They knew he was older than his classmates and they made the assumption that his granny was dead for they knew he was alone in the world. During holiday periods Michael stayed on in the seminary and took part in the life of the community and he was happy to do so. He loved the round of the daily liturgy and outside term time he continued to study simply because he loved it.
Michael was short and inclined to weight but not yet stout; a condition he would not postpone much longer. He had a round smiling face and a winning manner. He hadn’t got a bad bone in his body nor had he an unkind thought in his head. He was gentle, kindly, thought the best of everybody and he was completely happy at what he was doing – preparing for the priesthood. He was excused work on the seminary’s farm, in fact he was, by temperament, unfitted to survive in the real world.
Church history was his great passion, and especially the documentary sources upon which the history of the Christian Church was based. He knew the scholarly works on the subject, but his great desire was to see some of the original documents. So much so that the Order arranged, through a contact in Rome, that during one long summer vacation Michael would work in the Vatican Archive.
He had never been out of the country before, but he took it all in his stride. A priest of the Order met him at Rome Airport and brought him to his quarters in their House, where he got on as well with his confreres as he did back in Ireland. He soon found his way around and travelled every day on public transport to and from the Vatican. He worked from nine to five under a senior archivist, who found him both congenial and willing to learn. Those above him noted his innate intelligence and the breadth of his knowledge for one, on the face of it, so inexperienced in the field.
The summer passed all too quickly for Michael and he was back in time for the new autumn term at the seminary. He had found his métier. He would be an archivist. It was already clear to the Order that he had a number of the gifts necessary to make a good one. He had a natural sense of history, and its importance for understanding the present, an immense pleasure in handling and working with ancient documents and an instinct for their preservation. He had two further qualities that would stand him in good stead; patience, and contentment working on his own. A glowing account of Michael’s summer in the Vatican Archive from his supervisor there to his Superior in Ireland confirmed what the Order already knew.
Michael did not have a particular friend amongst his year. He was equally friendly with, and liked by, all of them. On the day of their ordination any of them would have been happy to include him in their family occasion. John, the one who lived in the town where the cathedral was, invited him to join in his celebration. His family was delighted to host such a gentle, kindly, unobtrusive soul on such a special day in his life and all went well. Michael asked no questions and he told no lies. He was quite happy to account for himself to John’s family in the way he accounted for himself to anybody when it was appropriate to do so, by telling them simply that he was granny-reared.
The Order signed Michael up for a two-year university archivist diploma which he began the autumn after his ordination. At the end of the two years he came first in his class and stayed on for another year to complete a degree. He was then set to a task that pleased him greatly: to establish an archive for the whole Province of his Order and to locate it in the House where he had been a seminarian.
Michael was in heaven. He was doing the work he loved. It involved occasional trips away, both around the country and to Rome, and he was in touch with the Order’s mission stations abroad. He was also fully part of the life of the Community that he considered ‘home.’ After three years he had established the archive and collected together all significant documents from the Order’s foundation to the present day. It had been hard work but satisfying and his enthusiasm attracted Father Keane, a retired member of the community, who he trained as his assistant.
One morning after breakfast Michael’s Superior, Father Ryan, sent for him. He was anxious when he got the message. His Superior, though tolerant of Michael’s work since his Superior in Rome had ordered it, didn’t lose an opportunity to make it plain that with the shortage of vocations, an archivist was a luxury the Order could not afford. Every man should be out in the field, and Michael dreaded the possibility that he might be sent to teach in a school or sent abroad to a mission station.
He knocked on Father Ryan’s door.
‘Come in. Ah Father Mulhall, sit down.’
The formal greeting served only to increase Michael’s anxiety. He sat in front of the large mahogany desk covered with a litter of papers that emphasised to him how far apart he and his Superior were. He was nervous, as his original commission to establish the archive had been completed and he knew that the retired Father Keane was more than competent to maintain it on his own.
‘I have received from Rome a note from the Superior General,’ continued Father Ryan.
Michael’s mind raced ahead. He was fearful that Rome was taking the same line as the man at the far side of the desk; that none of the Order’s manpower was to be deployed on, what Father Ryan often referred to as, ‘work inessential to the Mission of the Order as laid down by our Founder.’ Father Ryan continued: ‘The Superior General has received a letter from the Vatican with the instruction that you are to be posted to work in the Vatican Archive.’
Michael couldn’t believe it. He had arrived in the Superior’s study anxious and, though he had not yet said a word, he was now ecstatic.
‘I think, Father Mulhall, you are probably aware that I personally do not approve of the deployment of our limited manpower on inessential work. But I am a man, as you are, under orders and we must obey. Your appointment takes immediate effect. The Bursar will make arrangements for your flight and you will stay at our House in Rome.’
‘Thank you, father,’ was all that Michael said, fearful that anything else might sound triumphalist. He would honour his vow of obedience no matter what, but when the orders he received exceeded his wildest dreams, he had a strong sense that someone somewhere was looking after him - his granny.
Michael arrived at the Community House in Rome and started work at the Vatican Archive the following Monday. The archivist he worked under when he was a student, and whom he liked, was still there, but now Michael was fully qualified with three years experience under his belt. He got on well with the other members of the Community and in no time he was into a weekday routine between the city bustle, the musty quiescence of the archive and the security of the liturgical life of the House. At weekends he used his free time to explore the ancient and artistic treasures of Rome.
Slowly Michael was given responsibility in the Archive and soon he was working by himself on projects that required him to read more and more about the background of the documents with which he was dealing. He did this reading in his own time and derived great satisfaction from his expanding knowledge. He was totally absorbed in his work and as an archivist he had moved from his early experience of one small part of the Church, his own Order, to some of the seminal documents of the Church Universal.
Michael was not personally ambitious. He did not see himself as having a career in the Church, but a vocation of service. He did, however, allow himself to feel a little pleased when he was given limited access to the inner sanctum: the Vatican’s Secret Archive. His conditions of access were spelled out carefully to him and any work he undertook there was under the careful supervision of his senior. One thing was borne in him above all, he was not to browse; he was to go directly to the documents he needed for his work. He had no idea what the Secret Archive contained but assumed, whatever it was, it was material that didn’t reflect well on the Church that claimed to be the continuing presence of Christ in the world. He saw no reason, however, why any archival material of the Church should be secret. If there were documents that showed up faults and failings the Church should admit them, apologise if necessary, and move on. Human failings, even of Popes of the past, were not the responsibility of succeeding generations of the Faithful.
One morning he found amongst a package of papers he was working on in the Secret Archive, a document that had no connection with other papers that were with it. Michael searched exhaustively and found that it was not catalogued anywhere. There was no record of its existence. When he translated it he found that it was a parchment that showed unequivocally that in the fourth century Apostolic Succession had been lost for over a hundred years. He knew that if this parchment were genuine it was, for the Church, an earth-shattering discovery. The Church’s doctrinal authority depended on the continuity of Apostolic Succession; the unbroken succession of the consecration of bishops and so of Popes started by Christ’s original commission to Peter. If it were proved that this succession was lost, as the document proved, and Apostolic Succession was not valid, the whole edifice of the Church’s doctrine, its authority and even the Church itself would come crashing down.
Michael said nothing to anybody and replaced the document where he found it in order to allow him time to think. He knew that the key question now was whether it was genuine or a forgery. He also knew that over the centuries the Church had used many false documents to establish or buttress her authority; documents that were later proved to have been forged. He knew well of the best known cases, the False Decretals of Constantine and of St.Isidore, and he wanted to establish for himself, before alarming others, whether this document was genuine or not.
When the time was opportune Michael took out the parchment and by every means he knew of, including the preliminary scientific tests available to him, he concluded that it was genuine. He replaced it again while he thought further about what to do. One option he considered, but for no more than a split second, was to destroy it secretly. To do so would run contrary not only to his nature, but to his deep instincts as an archivist. His only other option, since the matter was not his responsibility, was to show the document to his immediate superior. This he did but without declaring that he had made his own evaluation of it. When he got home that evening the Superior of the Order House was waiting for him.
‘Michael, I have no idea what this is about, but I have an order from Cardinal Lucignano. Until further notice you are not to discuss any aspect of your work with anybody. You are not to receive or make ‘phone calls, write or receive letters, you are to be accompanied to and from work and apart from that you are not to leave the House until further notice. Michael knew exactly what it was about, but kept his counsel.
The Superior himself accompanied Michael to work next morning. The chief archivist met him and called him into his office.
‘Michael, it is clear that the document you found is a forgery, but it has been sent for scientific analysis. Even though it is a forgery I am to inform you that you are, under pain of excommunication, never to discuss it with anybody. It might become the source of unwarranted rumour or scandal. When it has been confirmed that it is a forgery, it will be placed in the ‘Apostolic Penitentiary,’ which as you know is under the sole control of the Holy Father. Until then you are to be incommunicado, lest unwittingly you say something to somebody that might be taken up wrongly.’
Michael was aware of the catastrophic implications for the Church if the document were genuine, which he himself believed it was. Constant surveillance took its toll on him and he became depressed. Even at work when he went up the external metal stairs to the Loft, where he needed to go from time to time, his senior went with him.
One morning when he arrived into work Michael received word that he was to attend a meeting in the very heart of the Vatican itself. He turned up at the appointed time and knocked on the large elaborately sculptured wooden doors. When he entered there were three cardinals, none of whom he knew even by sight, sitting behind a long table covered with a green cloth.
‘Father Mulhall, thank you for coming,’ the Cardinal in the middle said in a voice that seemed to Michael to stop just short of being obsequious. ‘Please sit down.’
Michael sat on the single chair on his side of the table. The middle cardinal continued:
‘Father Mulhall, I know you realised immediately you found it that the document you discovered recently is a forgery. I can now confirm for you that after exhaustive analysis by the best international authorities, historical and scientific, this is in fact the case. As an experienced and highly thought of archivist you will know more about this process of analysis than we do.’ All three cardinals smiled artificial smiles; the first time the other two showed the slightest sign of animation. ‘As you are also aware, throughout history there have always people who wanted to harm the Church, and things are no different today. If word of this document reached the ears of certain people they would choose to claim that it was authentic in order to make trouble for the Church. Can you imagine what a hostile press could make of it? We in the Church have more to do with our time than waste it countering spurious claims, therefore those few of us who are aware of this document’s existence have been put under a permanent interdict by the Pope never to speak of it again.’
There was a long pause and then the Cardinal asked, ‘Father Mulhall, is there anything you would like to say? After another pause, Michael began:
‘Your eminence, I want to assure you that since I was ordained I have never, even in the smallest thing, dishonoured my vow of obedience. However, I would impugn my personal integrity if I did not tell you that, having considered the matter carefully, I believe that the document I discovered in the Archive is genuine.’
There was a long silence during which none of the three looked at Michael. His two colleagues sitting impassively at either side of him looking down at the table, the Cardinal spokesman responded:
‘We are of course confident, Father Mulhall, that you will never dishonour your vow of obedience, especially concerning an order from the Holy Father himself. It is clear, however, from the opinion of others and from the experts we consulted that your opinion of the document is mistaken. Thank you for coming this morning and good morning.’
Michael stood up, bowed slightly, turned and left the room. On his way back to the Archive he reflected that he had no idea where he got the courage to give his own professional opinion, but he was glad that he had.
The routine, established since Michael found the document, which he now wished he had never discovered, continued as before. Despite the interview, or maybe because of it, he was still under surveillance.
Later that week Michael needed to go to the Loft to consult a particular document stored there. As had now become the norm, his senior went with him. When he found what he was looking for, and had made his notes he went out onto the landing of the steps. His senior locked the door and followed him. The next thing Michael was falling down the metal stairs. He tumbled the whole way down to the bottom where he landed in heap on the ground. His senior followed. There was no movement from Michael. He checked one wrist and then the other. There was no pulse. He opened his shirt. He watched carefully for a minute. There was no movement of his chest. Father Michael St John Mulhall had gone to be with his granny. His Order mourned a much loved member, and the Church was deprived of a first class archivist.