Chapter 34

It has long been customary, on occasion of the august ceremony of the coronation of the Popes, to address to them, with due solemnity, the words: _Annos Petri tu non ridebis_. (Thou wilt not see the years of Peter.) It is related that one of the Popes thus replied to the ominous address: _Non est de fide_. (That is no article of faith.) Pius IX., however, was the first who showed that the words were not strictly prophetic. His Pontificate was prolonged beyond the years of Peter at Rome. Already, on the 10th of June, 1871, when he was enabled to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of his election to the Pontifical chair, he had enjoyed more than the years of Peter. The great apostle, it will be remembered, spent two years after our Lord’s ascension in preaching the Gospel at Jerusalem and throughout Judea. After this, Antioch, at the time the capital of the Eastern world, became the scene of his apostolic labors. He was bishop there for seven years when he established the central seat of Christendom at Rome, the metropolis of the known world. The apostle remained there till his martyrdom under Nero, A. D. 67. Thus, Peter was Pope thirty-four years or so, whilst he was Bishop of Rome only twenty-five years and some days. A festival at Rome could not now be held with the wonted circumstance of outward religious pomp. The remarkable anniversary was not, however, less devoutly observed at the Basilicas of St. Peter and St. John Lateran. These immense edifices were crowded with people of all classes and of every age. Nor in this did the Romans stand alone. Prayers and communions were offered up in every diocese of the world, supplicating Heaven for a continuation of the years which had been already so auspiciously granted to the venerable Pontiff. More than a thousand congratulatory messages were flashed along the telegraph lines. All the sovereigns of Europe, with scarcely an exception, paid their dutiful compliments to Pius IX.; the telegram of Queen Victoria being the first that reached him. From the New World as well as from the Old there came numerous deputations. One day, in replying to them, the Holy Father delivered no fewer than twelve discourses in Latin, French, Spanish and Italian. To many of the addresses was appended a singularly great number of signatures. The Bishop of Nevers presented one with two millions of names.

A few days later, 20th September, the Holy Father had to lament the death of his brother, Count Gaetano Mastai. So little, however, was his grief respected by Victor Emmanuel and his government, that their cannon were heard booming joyously in honor of the violent occupation of the city. All Rome was indignant. Patrician and plebeian, all citizens alike, hastened to the Vatican, protesting and presenting addresses of condolence. The _Riforma_ (a Roman journal) said, on the occasion: “After two years’ sojourn Italy was still as much a stranger as on the first day, so that there was no appearance of friendliness, but rather of a city that still groaned under a military occupation, which it bore with the greatest impatience.”

MORE SPOLIATION AND DESECRATION—NO RECONCILIATION.

Robbery, wholesale and sacrilegious, was now the order of the day at Rome. Throughout the city convents were closed and sequestrated, libraries were confiscated, and often dilapidated in transferring them from one place to another. Religious men and religious women were driven from their homes and brutally searched on their thresholds lest they should carry away with them anything that belonged to them. These religious people obtained, every month, as indemnification, twenty-five centimes each daily, and the aged forty centimes; but they were paid only when the treasury was in a condition to pay them, and this was not the case every month. The poor and the infirm, no longer sustained by Catholic charity, encumbered the hospitals or were associated with the knights of industry, who swarmed from the prisons of Italy. It was in vain that the police were doubled. Robberies increased in the same proportion. The people in such circumstances could not but ask themselves what sacrifices were laid upon himself by the usurping king, who was now the master of the domains of six Italian princes who had never allowed their subjects to go without bread. Before the end of the year 1873, the number of religious houses that were taken, in whole or in part, from their legitimate proprietors, was over one hundred. The intervention of diplomacy saved for a time the Roman College, which was essentially international and not Roman, as formerly no clerks of the city of Rome could attend it, and as it was endowed solely by foreign kings and benefactors. The Italian government consented, not, indeed, to renounce, but only to stay this new spoliation. It claimed all the more credit for its pretended moderation, as it secretly caused the newspapers in its interest to instigate it to listen to no terms. By means of its gensd’armes and its police force, it was master of the secret societies, and allowed them to raise a cry without allowing them to act, whilst it chose its own time for the execution of its wicked purposes.

Pius IX. was deeply grieved when beholding so many evil deeds which he could not prevent. His sorrow found expression in one of his allocutions, that of 1st January, 1873:

“You are come,” said he, to parties who had come to compliment him on New Years day, “from divers distant lands in order to offer me your congratulations and wish me a happy new year. The past year, alas! is far from having been a happy one. Society is astray in evil courses. There are people who think that peace prevails at Rome, and that matters are not so bad there as is said. Some strangers, on arriving in the city, even ask for cards of admission to religious ceremonies. I am persuaded that this year also the same request will be made as regards the celebrations of holy week. So long as the present state of things continues, alas! there can be no such celebrations. The Church is in mourning. Rome has lost its character of capital of the Christian world—so many horrible deeds are done, so many blasphemies uttered. Let us beseech the Lord to put an end to such a painful state of things.”

Victor Emmanuel, notwithstanding his extraordinary proceedings, appears to have thought that there might be a reconciliation with the Pope. The Emperor of Brazil, a man of science and a celebrated traveller, then at Rome, accepted the office of mediator. One morning, in the year 1872, the Brazilian monarch repaired to the Vatican. The hour of his visit was inopportune, as its object also proved to be. It was seven o’clock in the morning. The Holy Father had not yet finished his Mass when the Emperor was announced. As soon as was possible his Holiness proceeded to receive him. Whether fearing some design, or from dislike only to meet a prince who came from the hostile usurper’s court, Pius IX., with an unusual coldness of manner, addressed the Emperor: “What does your Majesty desire?” “I beg your Holiness will not call me Majesty. Here, I am only the Count of Alcantara.” The Holy Father then, without showing the least emotion, said to him: “My dear Count, what do you desire?” “I am come, your Holiness, in order to ask that you will allow me to introduce to you the King of Italy.” At these words the Pontiff rose from his seat, and, looking indignantly at the Emperor, said to him with much firmness: “It is quite useless to hold such language. Let the King of Piedmont abjure his misdeeds and restore to me my States. I will then consent to receive him. But not till then.”

CREATION OF CARDINALS—AUDIENCES AND ALLOCUTIONS—THE POPE REALLY A PRISONER—THE PRINCE OF WALES—ENGLAND—IRELAND.

A creation of cardinals was necessary. There were twenty-nine vacant hats. Towards the close of 1873 Pius IX. resolved on twelve new creations. One of these became the occasion of protesting anew against the Italian government. The Society of Jesuits had always been a special object of its hatred. They were the first whom it expelled from Rome, as has been the case in more than one persecution. And now they were robbed, notwithstanding the hopes that the European ambassadors were led to entertain of the Roman College which was their property. The Holy Father met this new brigandage by raising a member of the society to the dignity of cardinal. Tarquini, professor of canon law at the Sapienza (Roman College), was the favored member. Thus did the despoiled Pontiff condemn the ignorance and rebuke the robbery of the new rulers of Rome. “I am aware,” said Pius IX. on this occasion, “that the Jesuits do not willingly accept ecclesiastical dignities. I had not, therefore, thought, until now, of conferring the purple on any of their members. But the unjust acts from which your society is suffering at this moment have determined me. It appeared to me to be necessary that I should make known in this way what I think of the ignorant calumnies of which you are the victims, and at the same time give proof to yourself and your brethren of my esteem and friendship.”

If, ever since the violent seizure of Rome, it was customary to speak of the Pope as “the prisoner of the Vatican,” his enemies, on the other hand, ceased not to insist that he was perfectly free, whilst he obstinately persisted in remaining within the walls of his palace. It has been noticed already that every approach to Rome and the Vatican was strictly guarded by the soldiers of the usurping king. A circumstance which occurred on the evening of the 20th June, 1874, further showed how close the imprisonment was. It was the twenty-eighth anniversary of the coronation of Pius IX. _Te Deum_ was celebrated in the Vatican Basilica, and, what rarely happens, the spacious edifice was completely filled. More than one hundred thousand people, as nearly as could be estimated, or two-thirds of all the Romans who were able to leave their houses, were massed as well within the church as on the places St. Peter and Risticucci. When _Te Deum_ was over, all eyes instinctively turned towards a window of the second story of the palace. It was the window of the Pope’s apartment. Suddenly a white figure appeared at this window, and immediately a cry arose from below. It was the voice of the Roman citizens; a voice so grand that it might be said to express the mind of a whole people, as they saluted their king, who was a prisoner. It continued for some time, and, although the window was at once closed, the prolonged acclamation of the faithful Romans rose louder and louder, until the Piedmontese troops came on the ground and swept away the crowd. The people departed without making any resistance. The police, nevertheless, arrested some twelve persons, of whom six were ladies of the best society of Rome. These ladies were at once set at liberty. But four young men of the number of those arrested were detained and afterwards condemned, one of them to two years, and the rest to several months’ imprisonment, for having cried, “Long live the Pontiff-King.” This crime they pretended not to deny. Could it be doubted any longer that the Pope was a prisoner? It was not only on moral grounds that he could not leave the Vatican. There were also bayonets and fire-arms between him and the nearest streets of Rome. It was only in the beginning of the year 1875 that Pius IX. could no longer refrain from visiting the Basilica of St. Peter. He had not been within it for four years and a half. Every necessary precaution was observed on occasion of his visit. The gates of the temple were kept shut, and none were present but members of the chapter and some other persons required for the service of the Church. The Holy Father entered by the stair which forms direct communication between his palace and the holy place. As may well be understood, he prayed for some time with his accustomed earnestness, that it would please God to put an end to the evils by which the Church was so sorely afflicted.

Pius IX. was indefatigable in giving audiences and receiving deputations from every country where there were members of the Catholic Church. On such occasions he never failed to speak words of edification and encouragement. It was even said that he spoke too much. They were not, however, of the number of his friends who call him _il Papa verboso_. He was endowed with a wonderful gift of speech, and he always used it effectively. His discourses were invariably to the purpose, the subject of them being suggested by the most recent events, by the nationality of his visitors, or by the expressed pious intentions which brought them to his presence. He made allusion very often to the Gospel of the preceding Sunday, or to the festival of the day, and concluded by imparting his benediction, which his hearers always received kneeling, and seldom without tears. The addresses of Pius IX. delivered at the Vatican have been preserved by the stenographic art, and fill many volumes. His ideas sometimes found expression in conversations with distinguished visitors. Such was the case on occasion of the visit, in 1872, of the Prince of Wales, the heir apparent of the British Crown. His Royal Highness showed his good taste by declining the use of Victor Emmanuel’s equipages in coming to the Vatican. The Princess also made manifest her respect for the well-known sentiments of Pius IX. in regard to showy toilettes by appearing in a plain dress. There was a striking contrast between the placid old man, so near the close of his career, and the handsome young couple, in the flower of their age. The Prince and the Pope appeared delighted at meeting; and the eyes of the Princess, who looked alternately at the animated figure of her husband and the benevolent countenance of the venerable Pontiff, were suffused with tears. The Pope began the conversation by expressing his great admiration for the character, both public and private, of the Queen of Great Britain; and smiling expressively, and not without a slight degree of Italian irony, he thanked the British ministers who, more than once, had offered him, in the name of the Queen, an asylum on British territory. “You see, Prince, I have not left Rome quite as soon as some of your statesmen supposed I would.” The Holy Father then alluded to the existing state of things, adding: “In my present condition I am assuredly more happy than those who consider themselves more the masters of Rome than myself. I have no fear for my dynasty. It is powerfully protected. God Himself is its guardian. He also looks to my succession and my family. You are not unaware that these are no other than the Church. I can speak without offence to the Prince of Wales of the instability of Royal Houses, that which he represents being firmly anchored in the affections of a wise people.” “I am delighted,” replied the Prince, smiling expressively, “to find that your Holiness has so good an opinion of our people.” “Yes, indeed, I respect the English people,” continued the Holy Father, “because they are more truly religious, both as regards feeling and conduct, than many who call themselves Catholics. When, one day, they shall return to the fold, with what joy will we not welcome that flock which is astray, but not lost!” The Prince and Princess, being rather incredulous, received this benevolent aspiration with a good-natured smile. “Oh! my children,” resumed the Pontiff, “the future has in store for mankind the most strange surprises. Who could have imagined, two years ago, that we should see a Prussian army in France? I hesitate not to say that your ablest statesmen expected sooner to see the Pope at Malta than Napoleon III. in England. As regards myself, you will observe I am, indeed, robbed of my States, but God, who, at any moment, withdraws the possessions of this world, can also restore them a hundred-fold. Is the dynasty of the Head of the Church, on this account, less secure? I may, for a time, be driven from Rome. But when your children and grandchildren shall come to visit the holy city, they will see, as you see to-day—let the temporal power be more or less considerable—an old man, clothed in white, pointing the way to heaven for the good of hundreds of millions of human consciences. To compensate for the absence of subjects immediately around him, he will have devoted adherents at all times and everywhere.” The conversation turning on Ireland, the Holy Father spoke in the warmest terms of the fidelity of the Catholics of that country. “You know, Prince, the results of persecution. It does not make us any more Catholics. Your Royal Mother follows a policy quite different from that of her predecessors, in regard to Ireland, and you are, like her, aware that good Catholics are always good subjects.” That country, the Pope continued to observe, had need of the vigilant and energetic superintendence of its devoted prelates, whom he praised in the highest terms. “For,” said he, “the wolf—I do not mean Protestantism—but the wolf of anarchy and infidelity is abroad, I fear, in the regions of the West.” He referred to the organization called “the International,” and expressed his astonishment that “any princes should be still so blind as to take pleasure in making war on the Church, at a period when the foundations of civil society were threatened on every side.”

The chief cause of the Holy Father’s grief and poignant sorrow, under his calamities, was the loss of souls. “Ah!” said he, in a conversation with Mgr. Langenieux, Archbishop of Rheims, “I could bear my misfortunes courageously, and God would give me strength to withstand the evils which afflict the Church. But there is one thing I cannot forgive those who persecute us. They eradicate the faith of my people—they kill the souls of the children of unfortunate Italy.” The Pontiff, as he uttered these words, moved his hand towards his breast, and as his fingers ruffled his white robe, he exclaimed, in a tone that was truly heartrending: “They tear away my heart!”

“It was sublime,” adds the archbishop, “the great soul of the Pope subdued us, and, at the same time, inspired us with light and fortitude.”

RELATIONS OF PIUS IX. WITH FOREIGN STATES—SWITZERLAND—GERMANY.

The party in Europe who desired the suppression of the Pope’s temporal rule professed to be actuated by zeal for promoting a more free and useful exercise of his spiritual authority. It soon became manifest that this was the merest sham. Switzerland, guided by that narrow kind of Protestantism which has so often asserted its power, pretended to see only in the Pope the Chief of the small Roman State; when deprived of that State, he was no longer a prince or dignitary, with whom diplomatic relations could be held. His legate at Berne, accordingly, was informed that he must take his departure from the territory of the Swiss Confederation. It is well understood that this ungracious measure was secretly advised and promoted by Germany. That Power speedily followed the example, although not at first in a very direct or open way. The German ministry appointed to the Embassy of the Vatican Cardinal Hohenlohe, the only one of the cardinals who proved unfaithful to Pius IX. in the hour of his great distress. The Pope remonstrated against the appointment. The inflexible Prussian minister, Bismarck, replied that he would send no other, suspended and finally abolished diplomatic relations between the new Empire and the Holy See. It is by no means matter for surprise that a man of Prince Bismarck’s views and character should have so acted, or even that he should have become the promoter of the greatest and most unwarrantable persecution by which any nation has been disgraced, or to which any portion of the Church has been subjected in modern times. This minister, who may be truly described as the political scourge of Germany, is as fanatical in religion as he is coarse and sceptical in politics. He abandoned his party, and became, or feigned to become, a liberal in order to gratify his hatred of the Catholic Church. He belongs to that branch of Protestantism which is called “orthodox” (_lucus a non lucendo_). On occasion of the debate, 14th April, 1874, on the law which withdrew the salaries of the Catholic clergy, a Protestant conservative member of the representative body, Count de Malrahn, declared that he would vote for this law, because it would affect only the Catholics, without interfering with the rights of the Evangelical denomination. Bismarck, by his reply, not only showed an utter absence of all political faith, but at the same time a degree of political hypocrisy with which all true history will never cease to stigmatize him. “I must express the great joy which I experience on hearing the declaration of the preceding speaker. If, at the commencement of the religious conflict, the conservatives had taken this ground, and sustained the government in the name of the Evangelical religion, I never would have been under the necessity of separating from the Conservative party.”

From Chancellor Bismarck’s own words, therefore, it may be concluded that it was excessive sectarian fanaticism which made him an infidel and hypocrite in politics, a traitor to his party, and a savage persecutor of the Church. When there was question in December, 1874, of obtaining an act for the suppression of the Prussian legation to the Holy See, the deep-rooted hatred of Prince Bismarck and his absolute want of conscience became still more apparent. He audaciously accused the Court of Rome of having been the ally of France, and even of the revolution in the war against Prussia in 1870. He pretended that if the Œcumenical Council was closed abruptly, it was in order to leave complete liberty of action to Napoleon III.; and, as facts were necessary in order to support this extraordinary and false assertion, he ascribed to Monsignor Meglia, at the time nuncio at Munich, the words, “Our only hope is in the revolution.” As the chancellor uttered this odious calumny, he suddenly took ill. He became pale, stammered, and had recourse, four or five times, to a glass of water, which was beside him, in order to recover his spirits and find the words which he should use. The whole parliament was struck with this incident. The Abbe Majunke, editor of the Catholic journal _Germania_, was, however, the only one who spoke of it publicly. Such an offence against the omnipotent chancellor could not, of course, be overlooked. M. Majunke was summoned to the police office, and thence consigned to prison, notwithstanding his inviolability as deputy, and the protestations of the _Reichstag_ (parliament). What a grand conception Chancellor Bismarck must have had of constitutional government!