Part 4

"I am so sorry to have to send you such a wretched sum," he wrote to a priest in Mantua who had applied to him for money for some charity; "I was poor at Mantua, but here I am a perfect beggar. Take what I send in the same spirit, and forgive me."

The diocesan visitation begun soon after his arrival in Venice was no small affair, and took several months to accomplish. "We appreciate greatly the zeal and charity of our patriarch," said the people, "but we are praying that he may sometimes think a little of himself; for such men are precious, and we want to keep him as long as we can." As at Mantua, he begged that there might be as little pomp and ceremony as possible, and that no extraordinary preparations might be made in the different parishes for his arrival. With quick intuition he saw at a glance exactly what was needed in the way of reform or development, and at the synod which followed showed a perfect knowledge of the requirements of the archdiocese.

The eucharistic congress in Venice which took place in August, 1898, was prompted and carried out by the zeal and energy of Patriarch Sarto, who spared no pains to make it a success. Inaugurated as a reparation for the many sacrileges offered to Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, its aim was to stimulate the faith of the people and to arouse in them a greater love for this mystery of their faith. Each parish was to take its part in the celebration, the whole congress being carefully organized by the cardinal himself. "The heart of man," he said, "is inconstant in good; it grows cold and careless if it is not stirred up to action from time to time." Conferences were held and missions preached in many of the Venetian churches to prepare the people. The bells of all the city rang out to announce the beginning of the congress, which opened with a magnificent procession to St. Mark's. The inaugural address was preached by Cardinal Svampa, Archbishop of Bologna; and on the following day the patriarch himself addressed the people.

"Jesus is our king," he said, "and we delight to honour as our king Him whom the world dishonours and disowns. We, His true subjects, offer our true homage to Christ the King; the warmth of our love shall be greater than the coldness of the world. We meet around the tabernacle where Jesus remains in our midst until the end of time; there faith springs up anew in our hearts, while the fire of His charity--the very fire that He came to cast upon the earth--burns within us. The object of this eucharistic congress is to make reparation to our Lord Jesus Christ for the insults offered to Him in the Blessed Sacrament; to pray that His thoughts may be in our minds, His charity in our institutions, His justice in our laws, His worship in our religion, His life in our lives."

On the afternoon of the third day the final procession was one of the most magnificent of all the magnificent pageants ever seen in the City of the Sea, even in the days when the doge went in solemn state to wed the Adriatic. Cardinal Svampa carried the monstrance, while before and after him went cardinals in scarlet, bishops in cope and mitre, religious orders, the confraternities with their banners and insignia, hierarchs and priests of the Byzantine and Armenian rites in their vestments. "Splendid as a dream," wrote one who was present, "it seemed as if the very Greek saints had stepped out of the mosaics in the cathedral to be present at the solemn passage of Christ in their midst."

Cardinal Sarto had not been long at Venice before he determined on a thorough reform of church music. He summoned Don Lorenzo Perosi, a young cleric whom he had known at Mantua and a skilled musician. Music, said the patriarch, was intended to excite the faithful to devotion and to help them to pray: the music in vogue did neither. The fearful and wonderful performances of string orchestras, dear to the hearts of many, were banned, as was the use of drums, trumpets, tambourines and whistles. No instrument but the organ was to be used in the churches, and even that was to be subordinate. The words of the Mass were to be sung to the Gregorian chant with solemnity and dignity, and by men and boys alone. That the change was not acceptable in all quarters was hardly to be wondered at. The operatic efforts of loud-voiced ladies singing the _O Salutaris_ during Mass to the air of the Serenade from _Faust_, or a Creed that was like the Brigands' Chorus from an opera, still found many admirers.

Nevertheless, when a Mass of Palestrina was sung under the leadership of Perosi for the first time in the cathedral of St. Mark, the Venetians realized the difference. "Enchantingly beautiful," they said. But it was uphill work, and Don Lorenzo would have lost heart altogether had it not been for the support and encouragement of his holy patron.

One of the poorest of the island parishes of Venice was Burano, which in ancient times had been famous for its point lace. The cardinal, moved by the misery of its inhabitants, determined to revive the industry; but only one old woman remained who knew the art. A benevolent lady, persuaded to interest herself in the work, got the old woman to teach her, started a school of lace workers, and soon had six hundred girls in training. Clubs were started for young men and boys, not only here, but in many other parishes. There was no difficulty, no misery for which the patriarch did not try to find a cure. He had the art of giving without offending people whose decent appearance covered a poverty often more bitter in that it had to be hidden. He went one day to see a friend who had fallen on evil times, and who was in dire need of help. "I am so sorry," said the patriarch, "I have absolutely nothing left, but take this," giving him an exquisite ivory crucifix which had been given him as a present; "it is valuable, and will realize a good sum."

Although unflinchingly firm in everything that concerned the faith and the rights of the Church, the frank courtesy of Patriarch Sarto and his conciliating spirit kept him always on good terms with the government. He bade his priests and people respect all lawfully constituted authority, recognizing that "the powers that be are ordained of God." "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's," he would often say. When King Humbert of Italy was assassinated he ordered that a requiem should be sung for him in St. Mark's; and when the widowed queen came to Venice for rest and change of air, he visited and consoled her with the most heartfelt sympathy. "The restoration of society in Christ is the only cure for all the world's evils," he would constantly repeat. "No good is good which is not rooted and founded in Christ." He had the gift of inspiring others and rallying them to his own charitable schemes, filling them with a fire and energy like his own.

The 14th of July, 1902, was a day of grief for Venice. The great campanile of St. Mark's, which had stood for centuries watching over the glories of the City of the Sea, crumbled and fell in ruins. The universal lamentations were changed, by order of the patriarch, into thanksgivings that no one had been injured, and that the cathedral itself had not suffered. The reconstruction of the campanile was immediately determined on, and on the 25th of April, 1903, the feast day of the evangelist and patron saint of Venice, the first stone was laid. The square of St. Mark was a sea of heads; every window and balcony was crowded. The Duke of Turin, a prince of the house of Savoy, was present as the representative of the king, who had contributed generously to the reconstruction fund. The cardinal stood opposite him. Church and state were face to face, with the memory of all that had passed since the beginning of the Italian Revolution between them. Was conciliation possible? It might have seemed that day that it was--that in charity and justice lay the solution. The cardinal's tact and courtesy on this occasion, as on so many others, put everybody at ease, and his discourse won the admiration of all.

"It is a good and beautiful thing," he said, "for men to ask God's blessing on their work. The genius of man is at its highest when it bows before the Light Eternal. I rejoice, therefore, with you, most noble representatives of Venice, that, as faithful interpreters of public opinion, you have decided that the rebuilding of our beloved campanile must be inaugurated with a solemn act of religious worship. I rejoice that you have shown yourselves worthy sons of your Venetian forefathers, who, knowing well that 'unless the Lord build the house, their labour is in vain that build it,' began no enterprise without asking God's blessing and the protection of His Virgin Mother in their work." After having shown that all the glory of medieval Venice sprang from her faith and her religion, he turned to the Duke of Turin and the other illustrious guests with a word of thanks for their presence. "A man of personal fascination and splendid presence," wrote a member of the French government who was there, "with handsome open face and strong clear-cut features, softened by eyes in which shines the light of perpetual youth. Nothing proud about him, nothing obsequious, his manner with the Duke of Turin was perfect, that of a man who is completely at his ease."

Prince of the Church as he was, he was always ready to fulfil the duties of a simple parish priest. He would carry holy communion to the sick, hear confessions, give retreats in the churches of the diocese, and visit the prisons, the hospitals and the reformatories, preaching to their inmates and comforting all their sorrows. The religious orders were amongst the most favoured of his children; he was always ready to visit them on their feast days, and loved and esteemed their work. Both saint and sinner found in him a kindly strength and simple goodness which set them at their ease at once. The very sight of his face was a welcome; there was no affectation of piety or austerity which might repel or frighten anyone; no one could feel stiff or awkward in his presence, all shyness and reserve gave way before his gentle manner.

An intimate friend of the cardinal, who was staying with him, asked one day if he might celebrate Mass at an early hour next morning, as he had to catch a train. "Why not?" was the answer, "I will see that all is ready for you."

What was the astonishment of the priest when he went to the cardinal's private chapel at an early hour to find his host himself preparing for the Mass.

"But who will serve?" asked the celebrant.

"I," answered the cardinal very simply.

"Eminence!" protested his guest, quite aghast at the suggestion.

"What!" he exclaimed, smiling, "do you imagine that a prelate of my rank does not know how to serve Mass? A fine idea you have of the princes of the Church!"

He hated ostentation of any kind and would often travel about the country incognito. He was going one day to the convent of the Sisters of Charity at Crespano when, feeling sure that at Bassano, where he had to get out, there would be an ovation, he wrote to a friend telling him that two Venetian priests going to Crespano who did not know the country would be glad if a carriage could be sent to meet them at the station. The train arrived, and the two priests made their way to a ramshackle little carriage which was standing outside. The friend, who was waiting to do the honours to the cardinal's priests, came forward eagerly, and was just about to greet the elder of the two when he recognized the patriarch. "Your Eminence!" he stammered, utterly taken aback; but the cardinal, finger on lips in warning, jumped into the carriage followed by his companion, and drove away. Little did he guess that the time was close at hand when his desire to be unnoticed could nevermore be fulfilled, when he who loved to take the lowest place was to be obliged to take the highest in the world.

V

THE PAPAL ELECTION

The news of the death of Leo XIII, on July 20, 1903, came as a blow to the whole Catholic world. The old man of ninety-four, whose wonderful intelligence had remained unimpaired until the very end of his life, had guided the bark of Peter with sure and unswerving hand during the twenty-live years of his pontificate. His blameless life, his lofty ideas, and his indomitable moral courage have been borne witness to by men who had small sympathy for the Catholic Church. "The original attitude of Leo XIII towards the new social forces," wrote the _Quarterly Review_, "will make his pontificate a memorable epoch, not only in the history of the Roman Church, but in that of all Christian countries. His personal conception of the duties of the Church towards the labouring classes was catholic in the broadest and best sense of the term. It was such a conception as befitted the chief pastor of Christendom." And this was only one side of the activity of the great statesman and pope who had passed away. "Pray that God may send to His Church a shepherd after His own heart," said Cardinal Sarto when he announced to his people at Venice the news of the pope's death. Little did he think how that prayer was to be answered. Yet Leo XIII himself not long before his death had said to an intimate friend, "If the conclave chooses a cardinal not resident in Rome, it is Cardinal Sarto who will be elected."

The announcement of the death of Leo was sent to all the cardinals throughout the world, with the intimation that the conclave for the election of his successor would be held on the 31st of July. It was not until the 26th that Cardinal Sarto was able to set out. He laughed at the apprehensions of his sisters that he might not come back to them. His secretary, Don Giovanni Bressan, was busy putting together what was necessary for the journey. "Where is Don Giovanni?" asked the cardinal of his niece Amalia. "Go and tell him that a journey to Rome is not a journey to America."

"Get the conclave over and come back quickly," said Amalia.

"Sooner or later," replied the Cardinal, "it does not matter. In the meantime you go to Possagno for a change of air and I will pick you up on my way back." But the sisters were sad, and refused to be comforted.

The whole city turned out to greet the patriarch as the gondola made its way to the station; from every balcony and bridge good wishes and farewells followed him. At the station there was a regular ovation, poor and rich crowded round him to kiss his ring or catch a word from his lips. With tears in his eyes he thanked them for that demonstration of affection, and for the love they bore him.

"One more blessing! one more blessing!" pleaded the people, "who knows if you will ever come back?"

"Alive or dead, I shall come back," was the answer.

The train began to move, and from its window Cardinal Sarto unknowingly looked his last on his beloved Venice; it was good-bye for ever.[*] He had written to the Lombard College for rooms, and there he remained until the opening of the conclave. A Venetian lady who lived at Rome, having come to see him, expressed a polite wish that he would be the new pope. Cardinal Sarto laughed. "It is sufficient honour," he replied, "that God should make use of such as I to elect the pope."

[*] The story that he had taken a return ticket does not seem to be true but he planned to return to Venice immediately after the coronation of the new pope.

A French cardinal (Lecot of Bordeaux) who did not know him spoke to him one day. "Your Eminence is an Italian archbishop?" he asked.

"I do not speak French," replied Cardinal Sarto, in Latin; "I am the patriarch of Venice."

"Ah! if you do not speak French," answered his questioner, "you will not be eligible for the papacy."

"Thank God, no," was the answer; "I am not eligible for the papacy."

"I think the election will be quickly over," said Cardinal Sarto to an Italian journalist who came to visit him in Rome. "The pope will probably be elected at the second scrutiny."

"I venture to disagree with your Eminence," was the reply, "and on these grounds. I hope--for I think it is permissible--for a cardinal who resides in his diocese. Not that the cardinals of the curia are wanting in breadth or in experience, but as a rule those prelates who live in the provinces are in immediate contact with the people. They have a better chance of seeing things from the inside than those who occupy an official post in Rome, important and indispensable though these may be. But of necessity the non-resident cardinals are less well known in Rome than those of the curia, their candidature must therefore be slower and the election longer."

The election of a pope is one of the most solemn deeds of the Church, and is safeguarded by strict regulations. On the death of the pontiff the Cardinal Chamberlain, as representative of the Sacred College, assumes charge of the papal household, notifying to all the cardinals of the Church the death of the pope and the impending election. Every cardinal has the right to vote in the conclave, but he must be present in person to do so. Each one may take with him a secretary, who is generally a priest, and a servant. In the meanwhile a large portion of the Vatican palace has been walled off and divided into apartments or cells for the conclavists. Access to it can be had through one door alone, which is left open until the conclave begins, when it is closed and barred from without by the Marshal of the Conclave, and from within by the Cardinal Chamberlain. All communication with the outside world is then at an end until the result of the election is announced.

The conclave opens officially (now) not later than eighteen days after the pope's death. The cardinals assist at Mass and receive holy communion from the hands of the Cardinal Dean, who solemnly adjures them to elect as pope him whom they believe to be the most worthy. They assemble in the Sistine Chapel, where the actual voting takes place. The stall of each cardinal has a canopy overhead and a small writing-desk in front. The door is shut and bolted and the voting begins. Each cardinal having written the name of his candidate on the paper provided, deposits it in a chalice on the altar, taking as he does so the required oath: "I call to witness the Lord Christ, who will be my judge, that I am electing the one whom before God I think ought to be elected." The ballots are then counted and read aloud, and if no candidate has received the necessary number of votes, they are burnt in a little stove together with a handful of damp straw. As the chimney of this stove extends through a window of the chapel, the colour of the smoke or _sfumata_ can be clearly seen by those outside. Not until the election is made are the ballots burnt without the accompanying straw, when the clear white smoke is the first notification to the people that the pope is elected. Voting takes place twice a day, morning and evening, until a majority of two-thirds of the votes has been attained.

The _veto_ was the alleged right of certain Catholic rulers to object to the election of a cardinal of whom they do not approve. It was exercised rarely and has never been formally approved by the Church. Although Pius IX had forbidden any interference by the secular power in a papal election, an attempt was made to exercise the _veto_ at the conclave which resulted in the election of Pius X. At the third scrutiny, in which Cardinal Rampolla came first with twenty-nine votes, Cardinal Puzyna, Bishop of Cracow, who had accepted the mandate of the Austrian government in the name of the Emperor Francis Joseph, read (it is said after signs of severe embarrassment) a declaration excluding Cardinal Rampolla, without giving any reason for the exclusion.

The cardinals protested against the interference, and the votes in Cardinal Rampolla's favour were found to have increased by one in the evening scrutiny. But Cardinal Sarto's had been mounting steadily from the beginning and continued to do so until they reached the number of fifty.[*]

[*] The opinions of those best qualified to judge seem to agree that Cardinal Rampolla's failure to be elected was quite uninfluenced by the Austrian action. Soon after his election Pius X definitively abolished the exercise of the veto.

At five o'clock on the 31st of July the Cardinals, sixty-three in all, assembled at the Vatican. At nightfall the last door was closed and bricked up; the conclave had begun. At the first scrutiny Cardinal Rampolla had twenty-four votes, Cardinal Gotti seven, and Cardinal Sarto five. There was nothing alarming in this; but when, at the second scrutiny, the votes in favour of the Patriarch of Venice had doubled, and at the third doubled again, it was another matter, and his anguish was obvious to all. With trembling voice and tears in his eyes, he spoke to the Cardinals, begging them to give up all thought of him. "I am unworthy, I am not qualified," he pleaded, "forget me."

"It was that very adjuration, his grief, his profound humility and wisdom," said Cardinal Gibbons of Baltimore, "that made us think of him all the more; we learnt to know him from his words as we could never have known him by hearsay." The voting continued. In the evening of the second day Cardinal Sarto, who at the last scrutiny had obtained twenty-four votes, on returning to his room found several of his colleagues who had come to beg him not to refuse the burden if God should call upon him to bear it. "I was one of those who went to visit him in his cell in the evening, to try to induce him to accept," said the American cardinal. "Those who had gone before had shaken his resistance, so that I almost hoped he would resign himself to what seemed to be inevitable." On the third day the votes for Cardinal Sarto went on increasing, until on the morning of the fourth day fifty out of the sixty-two were in his favour, eight more than the forty-two required for a valid election.

They asked him if he would accept, but he had already accepted in his heart after a most grievous inward struggle. "I accept," he said, with tears.

"What name will you take?" they asked him. "I will be called Pius," he replied.

Pale and trembling, he was clothed in the white cassock, the ring was placed on his finger, and he was led to the throne to receive the obedience of the cardinals. When at last the pope returned to his cell he remained for long in prayer before the crucifix. The faithful servant who had come with him from Venice begged him several times in vain to take some food. At last he rose, and, turning to his secretary, Monsignor Bressan, with something of his old serenity: "Come," he said, "it is the will of God."

Immediately after his election, when leaving the balcony from which he had given his first blessing inside St. Peter's, Pius X expressed his wish to go and visit Cardinal Herrero y Espinosa, Archbishop of Valencia, an old man eighty years of age who was lying sick in his cell. He had been taken ill a few days before and had received the last sacraments. The pope blessed and prayed over him. Three days later the man for whom the doctors had declared there was little hope was well enough to get up. He returned soon after to Spain, cured, as he himself always declared, by the prayer of Pius X.

The news of the election was received with joy in Italy. Outside of that country Pius X was little known. "What kind of a pope will he be?" was the question on many lips. The world had not long to wait for the answer. Two months had scarcely passed before his first encyclical letter rang through the Catholic world.