Pius IX. And His Time

Chapter 24

Chapter 243,792 wordsPublic domain

In the midst of so much pomp and glory, Pius IX. was humble and collected, referring all to Him of whom he was only the representative on earth. At the same time, his soul overflowed with happiness when he saw that there was still so much faith in Israel. The Sovereign Pontiff now took his seat upon the Papal throne, and having received the obedience of the cardinals and bishops, he was approached by the consistorial advocate, who thrice petitioned him to permit the names of the glorious martyrs and confessors to be inscribed on the diptychs of the saints, which the church recognizes and holds sacred. After the request had been made the third time, the Holy Father read in a clear and audible voice the decree of canonization. He then intoned the _Te Deum_, which was chanted by the immense congregation. The ceremonies concluded with a solemn High Mass, which was celebrated by the Pope himself, surrounded by the cardinals and bishops. The people spent the remainder of the day in pious rejoicing. They were gay and expansive, but calm and brotherly; thus exhibiting, without being conscious of it, a spectacle unknown to the inhabitants of other capitals.

(M90) The demonstrations which took place at Rome on the following day were not less important, and perhaps had greater significance, although not accompanied by so much pomp and ceremony. There was held in the Palace of the Vatican a semi-public consistory, at which all the bishops who were at Rome attended. The venerable Pontiff denounced, in his allocution to the attentive audience, those errors which are too ancient to have even the merit of originality, but which are the more dangerous that, at the present time more than ever, they are loudly preached and widely disseminated. He alluded in particular to that German criticism, which views our sacred books as nothing better than a system of mythology, and to that too well-known romance of a French writer, M. Renan, entitled: “The Life of Jesus.” He condemned materialism, pantheism, naturalism, and all those more or less degrading systems which deny human liberty, proclaim a morality independent of the laws of God; which derive from material force and superior numbers all law and authority: and which in philosophy make reason their God, the state in politics, and passion in the daily conduct of life. The Holy Father then thanked the bishops who were present, regretting the absence of those of Portugal and Italy, the latter of whom were restrained by the Piedmontese government, and exhorted them all to continue to combat error, and to turn away the eyes and hands of the faithful from bad books and bad journals, and to promote, without ever wearying, the instruction of the clergy and the good education of youth. He concluded, in a voice which was impeded by his tears, and with his eyes raised to heaven, by joining with all present in beseeching the Father of mercies, through the merits of Jesus Christ, His only Son, to extend a helping hand to Christian and civil society, and to restore peace to the church.

Cardinal Mattei, dean of the Sacred College, replied in the name of all the bishops. Three points chiefly, among others, were affirmed in his declaration. First of all, the supreme doctrinal authority and infallibility of the Roman Pontiff. “You are in our regard the master of sound doctrine. You are the centre of unity. You are the foundation of the church itself, against which the gates of hell shall not prevail. When you speak, we hear Peter. When you decree, we obey Jesus Christ. We admire you in the midst of so many trials and tempests, with a serene brow and unshaken mind, invincibly fulfilling your sacred ministry.” Next, the temporal sovereignty of the Holy See. “We acknowledge that your temporal sovereignty is necessary, and that it was established in fulfilment of a manifest design of Divine Providence. We hesitate not to declare that this temporal sovereignty is required for the good of the church and the free government of souls. It was necessary that the Supreme Pontiff should be neither the subject nor even the guest of any prince. There was required in the centre of Europe a sacred bond, placed between the three continents of the ancient world, an august seat, whence arises in turns, for peoples and for princes, a great and powerful voice, the voice of justice and of truth, impartial and without preference, free from all arbitrary influence, and which can neither be repressed by fear nor circumvented by artifice. How could it have been that at this very moment the prelates of the church, arriving from all points of the universe, should have come here in order to represent all peoples, and confer in security on the gravest interests, if they had found any prince whomsoever ruling in this land who had suspicions of their princes, or who was suspected by them on account of his hostility? In such case their duties as citizens might have conflicted with their duties as bishops.” Finally, the intimate union of the Catholic world with the Pope. “We condemn the errors which you have condemned. We reprove the sacrilegious acts, the violations of ecclesiastical immunity, and the other crimes committed against the chair of Peter. We give utterance to this protest, which we claim shall be inserted in the annals of the church, in all sincerity, in the name of our brethren who are absent, in the name of those who, detained at home by force, lament and are silent, in the name of those whom the state of their health or important affairs have prevented from joining us in this place. To our number we add the clergy and the faithful people who give you proof of their love and veneration by their assiduous prayers, as well as by the offering of Peter’s pence. Would to God that all kings and powerful men in the world understood that the cause of the Pontiff is the cause of all states. Would to God that they came to an understanding in order to place in security the sacred cause of the Christian world and of social order.”

Pius IX. made reply: “United as we are, venerable brethren, we cannot doubt that the God of peace and charity is with us. And if God be with us, who shall be against us? Praise, honor, glory to God! To you, peace, salvation and joy! Peace to your minds; salvation to the faithful committed to your care; joy to you and to them, in order that you may all rejoice, chaunting a new canticle in the House of God for evermore!”

The address which Cardinal Mattei read bore the signatures of all the bishops who were in Rome. The bishops of Italy hastened to express their concurrence, with one exception, Ariano, who had participated in the revolutionary movement, and who came to an unhappy death within the year. There came, in due course, numerous adhesions from all parts of the world, together with countless addresses from the clergy of the second order. The laity, on their part, received the bishops on their return home with triumphal honors. They came around them and escorted them to the pulpits of their cathedrals, in order to hear from their lips all that had taken place at Rome. The Bishop of Moulins, Mgr. de Droux Breze, admirably expressed in a few words the impressions of the venerable pilgrims: “Rome is a city of wonders; but the wonder of Rome is Pius IX.”

The moral result of all these manifestations was incalculable. At a time when universal suffrage had come into vogue, it was impossible not to see in all this, from a merely wordly point of view, indirect, indeed, but strikingly universal suffrage. The vote of the whole Catholic world was shown, united with that of the Romans, in affirming the rights of the Catholic world over Rome, whilst appeared, at the same time, the determination of the Romans to retain their cherished autonomy, and to remain the capital of the Catholic world. The parliament of Turin was greatly agitated. There was indescribable confusion, so that discussion was impossible. They voted, in opposition to the Episcopal and Pontifical allocutions, an address to Victor Emmanuel, the character of which may be gathered from the following few words: “Sire, bishops, almost all strangers in Italy, have proclaimed the strange doctrine that Rome is the slave of the Catholic world. We reply to them by declaring that we are resolved, to maintain inviolable the right of the nation and that of the Italian metropolis, which is, at present, retained by force under a detested yoke.” It was of a piece with many other assertions of the revolutionary party that the Romans detested the rule of the Holy Father. It was particularly audacious to make such an assertion in face of the enthusiastic demonstrations which had just been made in the city of the Popes. They had forbidden the presence of the Italian bishops at Rome, and nevertheless they dared to complain that almost all the bishops who gathered around the Sovereign Pontiff were strangers in Italy. But what did this avail them? Did not the Italian bishops decidedly express complete concurrence with their brethren?

It is still more surprising that the Emperor Napoleon took no warning from the words of the Turin parliament, and went so far as to conclude an agreement with them for the preservation to the Pope of the Holy City.

(M91) It is difficult to understand how a people numerically so weak as the inhabitants of that portion of the once great kingdom of Poland, which fell to the Russian Empire at the time of the unfortunate partition, could have undertaken a rebellion against so great a Power as Russia. But provocation, patriotism, the sense of nationality, together with the ardent love of liberty, set the laws of prudence at defiance. That provocation must have been of no ordinary kind which could excite, in Russian Poland, a third rebellion, which had no better prospect of success than the two former, which resulted so disastrously for the unhappy Poles. And, indeed, what could be worse or more calculated to cause insurrection than the cruelties, crimes and sacrilegious acts which the Russian government was guilty of throughout Poland in the years 1861 and 1862? The churches of that ill-fated country were seized and profaned, divine service interdicted, and the bishops arraigned before courts-martial and cast into prison. Such atrocities, instead of crushing, only increased the patriotism of the people. Russian policy, baffled as was to be expected, in its design of establishing tranquillity by such barbarous proceedings, had recourse to a rigid conscription intended to have the effect of forcing all the patriotic youth of the country into the ranks of the Russian army. This violent recruiting was first attempted at Warsaw, at dead of night, on the 15th of January, 1863. When the news of this violence spread throughout the country, all the young men capable of bearing arms fled to the steppes and forests, and, in eight days, all Poland was in rebellion for the third time, in order to break the yoke of the foreigner. A word from the great Powers, or any one of them, would have restored peace. But they all alike refused to speak this word. The British, after having encouraged the Poles to resistance in public speeches, were on the point of intervening in their behalf, when a hint from M. de Bismark suddenly cooled their zeal, and determined Lord John Russell to recall by telegraph threatening despatches which were already on their way to St. Petersburgh. It need scarcely be said that Prussia, which was an accomplice of Russia in the iniquitous partition, made common cause with Russia in the work of repression. Austria was at the time paralyzed, as Italy was threatening Venice. Italy simply expressed to Prince Gortschakoff, the Russian Chancellor, “its confidence that the Emperor Alexander would persevere in the reforms so unfortunately interrupted by the rebellion.” Innocent Italians! They, of course, were not guilty of causing rebellion, which was now, in their estimation, so deplorable in Sicily, Naples, the Grand Duchies, &c. Napoleon remained, as was his wont, undecided. He would neither assist the Poles nor give them to understand that he would not assist them. A word from him would have shortened, by eighteen months, a hopeless struggle of two years, which ended by exhausting them.

There was one, however, who protested. Pius IX. denounced the oppressor as fearlessly as if he had been the least of the princes of the earth. He wrote to him, at first, in a tone of mild remonstrance, on the 22d of April, 1863. But finding that his representations were not heeded, he renewed them more pressingly. He did not confine himself to merely official acts. He sent Cardinal Reisach on a confidential mission to Vienna, and addressed a warm and feeling letter to the Emperor Francis Joseph, in order to induce him to take action energetically in common with France. He invited the whole Christian world to join with him in praying for the suffering nation which he nobly declared to be “the soldier of civilization and of faith.” Such as were at Rome, at the time of these prayers, will never forget how enthusiastically the Roman people responded to the call of Pius IX. In praying for the defenders of a distant country, they seemed to pray, at the same time, for their own, which was now, more than ever, threatened. But the time of mercy had not yet come, and persecution was redoubled. Ecclesiastics were deported or put to death, simply for not having refused the aid of religion to the dying on the field of battle. Families and whole populations were doomed to choose between exile and apostacy. All the bishops, without exception, were driven from their dioceses, and some of them perished on the way to Siberia. Pius IX. could no longer contain his grief and indignation. On the 27th of April, 1864, in replying to the postulators in the cause of blessed Francis of the five wounds, he said: “The blood of the helpless and the innocent cries for vengeance to the throne of the Almighty against those by whom it is shed. Unhappy Poland! It was my desire not to speak before the approaching consistory. But I fear lest, by being silent any longer, I should draw down upon myself the punishment denounced by the prophets against those who tolerate iniquity. No, I would not that I were forced to cry out, one day, in presence of the Sovereign Judge: ‘Woe to me because I have held my peace!’ (_Va mihi quia tacui._) I feel inspired at this moment to condemn a sovereign whose vast Empire reaches to the Pole. This potentate, who falsely calls himself the Catholic of the East, but who is only a schismatic cast forth from the bosom of the true church, persecutes and slays his Catholic subjects, and by his ferocious cruelty has driven them to insurrection. Under the pretext of suppressing this insurrection, he extirpates the Catholic religion. He deports whole populations to inhospitable climes, where they are deprived of all religious assistance, and replaces them by schismatical adventurers. He tears the pastors from their flocks, and drives them into exile, or condemns them to forced labors and other degrading punishments. Happy they who have been able to escape, and who now wander in strange lands! This potentate, all heterodox and schismatical as he is, arrogates to himself a power which the Vicar of Christ possesses not. He pretends to deprive a bishop whom we have rightfully instituted. Can he be ignorant that a Catholic bishop is always the same, whether in his see or in the catacombs, and that his character is ineffaceable? Let it not be said that in raising our voice against such misdeeds we encourage the European revolution. We can distinguish between the socialist revolution and the legitimate rights of a nation struggling for independence and its religion. In stigmatizing the persecutors of the Catholic religion, we fulfil a duty laid on us by our conscience. It behooves us to pray, with renewed earnestness, for that unfortunate country. In consequence, we impart our apostolic benediction to all who shall, this day, pray for Poland. Let us all pray for Poland!” It was as if the breath of God’s anger were on the lips of the Holy Pontiff. Pius IX., remarks M. de St. Albin, swayed by his deep emotion, had risen from his throne, his voice was like thunder, and his arm appeared to threaten as if possessed of omnipotence.

(M92) Such apostolic courage commanded the admiration of the enemies of the Papacy. The deputy, Brofferio, said in the parliament of Turin, whilst his colleagues, revolutionists like himself, applauded: “An old man, exhausted, sickly, without resources, without an army, on the brink of the grave, curses a potentate who slaughters a people; I feel moved in my inmost soul; I imagine myself borne back to the days of Gregory VII.; I reverence and applaud.”

(M93) M. Meyendorf, the _charge d’affaires_ of Russia, having been admitted to a private audience on occasion of the Christmas festivities of 1866, Pius IX. naturally directed the conversation to the painful state of ecclesiastical affairs in Poland. The Russian minister denied everything, even the most notorious facts, and ended by casting all the blame on the Catholics, who, he affirmed, had openly transacted with the Polish insurrection, whilst the Protestants generally sided with the government. “Nor was this astonishing,” he added, “considering that Catholicism and revolution are the same thing.” Pius IX. could not tolerate this false assertion, which was so absurd that it could have no other object than to insult him and the whole body of the faithful of whom he was the Chief. “Depart,” said he to the minister, as he dismissed him, “I cannot but believe that your Emperor is ignorant of the greater part of the injustice under which Poland suffers. I, therefore, honor and esteem your Emperor; but I cannot say as much of his representative who comes to insult me in my own house.” Pius IX. vainly hoped that the Envoy would be disowned, and diplomatic relations between Rome and St. Petersburgh continued. When Alexander II. suppressed, by his own authority, in 1867, the Catholic diocese of Kaminieck, Pius IX. was obliged to have recourse to the newspaper press, in order to make known to the Catholics of that unfortunate country that he appointed the Bishop of Zitomir provisional administrator. “I have no other means of communicating with them,” said he “I act like the captain of a vessel who encloses in a bottle his last words to his family, and confides them to the storm, hoping that the waves will deposit them on some shore where they will be gathered up.”

(M94) Pius IX. showed himself as generous to princes as to peoples, acting always as the champion of justice in the cause of the former, as well as in supporting the undoubted rights of the latter. Francis II., of Naples, dethroned by his ambitious cousin, King Victor Emmanuel, was, as the Bonapartes had once been, an exile at Rome, and enjoyed the same princely hospitality which his predecessor, in 1848, had extended to the Holy Father in the Kingdom of Naples. Victor Emmanuel remonstrated against this kindness to a fallen enemy. But in vain! He was powerless. His ally and patron, however, the French Emperor, was not so easily resisted. This potentate gave it to be understood, although not in express terms, that the stay of the French troops at Rome was dependent on the departure of the exiled monarch. The Pope, alluding to the family of Napoleon I., whom Pius VII. had kindly received at Rome, replied, satirically, that the Roman Pontiffs had traditions of hospitality, as regarded their persecutors, and much more in favor of their benefactors. Napoleon was ashamed to persist; and Francis II. remained at Rome as long as Pius IX. was master there.

(M95) It was quite natural that Napoleon III. should entertain the idea that he was born to found empires. He had succeeded in establishing one on the ruins of a republic in the Old World. He now sought to build up Imperial power side by side with a republic in the New. Mexico was designed to be the seat of this empire; and, as that country greatly needed government of some kind, the time was deemed opportune for carrying into effect Napoleon’s idea. The Imperial dignity was offered to the Archduke Maximilian of Austria; and this prince, relying on the support of France, consented to ascend the throne of the Montezumas. Before crossing the seas, Prince Maximilian came, together with his wife, the Princess Charlotte of Belgium, to Rome, in order to beg the prayers, the wise counsel and the apostolic benediction of the venerable Pontiff. So desired the new Emperor to inaugurate a reign which, it was hoped, would be great and prosperous. The Holy Father, at the solemn moment of communion, spoke to the Prince of Him by whom kings reign and the framers of laws decree just things. In the name of this King of kings, he recommended to him the Catholic nation of Mexico, reminding him, at the same time, that he was, under God, the constituted protector of the rights of the people as well as those of the church. The Emperor and his youthful spouse were moved to tears; and Maximilian, on leaving Rome, declared that he departed under the protection of God, and with the benediction of the Holy Pontiff. “I am confident, therefore,” he added, “that I shall be able to fulfil my great mission to Mexico.”

Unfortunately for him, however, liberalism, or, rather, ill-disguised socialism, was enthroned, for the moment, in what was destined to be, for a little while longer, the chief seat of European Power. It is not difficult to imagine whence counsel proceeded, and the inexperienced Emperor came to believe that Mexico might be governed as France was, whilst its ruler thwarted the will of the great majority of her people. He may not, indeed, have been free to reject the advice which swayed him. Be this as it may, he most unwisely cast himself into the arms of the party to whom monarchy and religion were alike hateful. He now framed a Concordat which, whilst it could not be acceptable to his new friends, was far from being such as the Pope could ratify. The revolutionary party had gained the new Emperor.