The Papacy is too old and too feeble even to die with dignity. Of itself
the sight of a falling power, of a dynasy _in extremis_, commands
something of respect if not of regret; but the conduct of the Papacy
deprives it of the sympathy that is due to its misfortunes. There is a
kind of silliness, I know of no better word to use, about the whole Papal
policy at the present day, which is really aggravating. It is silly to
rave about the martyr's crown and the cruel stake, when nobody has the
slightest intention of hurting a hair of your head; silly to talk of your
paternal love when your provinces are in arms against your "cruel
mercies;" silly to boast of your independence when you are guarded in
your own capital against your own subjects by foreign troops; silly, in
fact, to bark when you cannot bite, to lie when you cannot deceive. No
power on earth could make the position of the Pope a dignified one at
this present moment, and if anything could make it less dignified than
before, it is the system of pompous pretensions and querulous complaints
and fulsome adulation which now prevails at the Vatican. I know not how
better to give an idea of the extent to which this system is carried,
than by describing a Papal pageant which occurred early in the year.
To enter fully into the painful absurdity of the whole scene, one should
bear in mind what were the prospects of Papal politics at the
commencement of February. The provinces of the Romagna were about to
take the first step towards their final separation, by electing members
for the Sardinian Parliament. The question, whether the French troops
could remain in Rome, or in other words, whether the Pope must retire
from Rome, was still undecided; the streets of the city were thronged
with Pontifical Sbirri and French patrols, to suppress the excitement
caused by a score of lads, who raised a shout of _Viva l'Italia_ a week
before. The misery and discontent of the Roman populace was so great
that the coming Carnival time was viewed with the gravest apprehensions,
and anxious doubts were entertained whether it was least dangerous to
permit or forbid the celebration of the festival. Bear all this in mind;
fancy some _Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin_, is written on all around,
telling of disaffection and despair, and revolt and ruin; and then listen
to what was said and done to and by the Pope on that Sunday before
Septuagesima.
Some months ago a college was founded at Rome for the education of
American youths destined to the priesthood; there were already an
English, an Irish, and a Scotch college, not to speak of the Propaganda.
However, in addition to all these, a college reserved for the United
States, was projected and established by the present Pontiff. Indeed,
this American college, the raised Boulevard, which now disfigures the
Forum, and the column erected in the Piazza di Spagna to the dogma of the
Immaculate Conception, appear to be the only material products of the
Pontificate of Pius the Ninth. For some reason or other, which I am not
learned enough in theological lore to determine, the feast of St Francis
de Sales was celebrated as a sort of inauguration festival by the pupils
of the new college. The Pope honoured the ceremony with his presence;
and, for a wonder, a very full account of the proceedings was published
in the _Giornale di Roma_; the quotations I make are literal translations
from the official reports.
"The day," so writes the _Giornale_, "was in very truth a blessed and a
fortunate one, not only for the pupils themselves, who yearned for an
opportunity of bearing solemn witness to their gratitude and devotion
towards their best and highest father and most munificent benefactor, but
also for all those who have it upon their hearts to share in those great
works which form the most striking proof of the perpetual growth and
spread of our most sacred religion."
Apparently the number of the latter class is not extensive, as the visit
of the Pope attracted but little crowd, and the lines of French soldiers
who were drawn up on his way to salute him as he passed, were certainly
not collected in the first instance by a spirit of religious zeal. The
_Giornale_, however, views everything with the eyes of faith, not of
"pure reason." Mass was performed at the Holy Church of Humility, and
"from early dawn, as soon as the news of the holy father's visit was
circulated, an immense crowd assembled there which filled not only the
church, but the adjoining rooms and corridors. The crowd was composed of
the flower of Roman rank and beauty, and the _elite_ of the strangers
residing in Rome, both French, English, and American, who desired the
blessing of assisting at the bloodless sacrifice celebrated by the Vicar
of Christ, and who longed to receive from his hands the angels' food." I
am sorry truth compels me to state, that the whole of this immense crowd
consisted of some two hundred people in all, and that the only
illustrious personages of special note amongst the crowd not being
priests, were General Goyon, the American Minister and Consul, and the
Senator of Rome. The Pope arrived at eight o'clock, and then proceeded
to celebrate the communion, assisted by Monsignors Bacon, bishop of
Portland, U.S., and Goro, bishop of Liverpool. "The rapt contemplation,
the contrition of heart, the spirit of ardent faith which penetrated the
whole assembly, more especially while the holy father distributed the
sacred bread, were all things so sublime that they are easier to conceive
than to describe."
After mass was over the Pope entered the college. Above the door the
following inscription was written in Latin, composed, I can safely say,
by an Hiberno-Yankee pen:
"Approach, O mighty Pius, O thou the parent of the old world and the new,
approach these sanctuaries, which thou hast founded for thine American
children devoted to the science of the church! To thee, the whole
company of pupils; to thee, all America, wild with exultation, offer up
praise! For thee, they implore all things peaceful and blessed."
In the hall prepared for his holiness' reception there was hung up,
"beneath a gorgeous canopy, a marvellous full-length likeness of the
august person of the holy Pontiff, destined to recall his revered
features. Around the picture a number of appropriate Latin mottos were
arranged, of which I give one or two as specimens of the style of
adulation adopted:
"Come, O youth, raise up the glad voice, behold, the supreme shepherd is
present, blessing his children with the light of his countenance. Hail,
O day, shining with a glorious light, on which his glad children receive
within their arms the best of parents!
"As the earth beams forth covered with the sparkling sun-light, so the
youths rejoice with gladness, while thou, O father, kindly gladdenest
them with thy most pleasant presence!"
Refreshments were then presented to the guests, which I am glad to say
were much better than the mottos. The pupils of the Propaganda, who were
all present, sang a hymn; addresses were made to the Pope by the
pro-rector of the college in the name of the pupils, by Bishop Bacon on
behalf of catholic America, and by Cardinal Barnabo, the superior of the
Propaganda, all of them in terms of the most fervent adoration. Each of
the American pupils then advanced with a short poem which he had
composed, or was supposed to have composed, in expression of the emotions
of his heart on this joyful occasion, and requested permission to recite
it. At such a time the best feature in the Pope's character, a sort of
feeble kindliness of nature, was sure to show itself. I cannot but think
indeed that the sight of the young boyish faces, whose words of reverence
might possibly be those of truth and honesty, must have given an unwonted
pleasure to the worn out, harassed, disappointed old man. "The holy
father," I read, "receiving with agitated feelings so many tokens of
homage, was delighted beyond measure." When the English poems were
recited to him, he called out, "can't understand a word, but it seems
good, very good." He spoke to each of the lads in turn, and, when he was
shown the statue of Washington, told them to give a cheer for their
country, to cry _Viva la Patria_ (the very offence, by the way, for which
ten days before he had put his own Roman fellow-countrymen into prison),
and then when the boys cheered, he raised his hands to his ears, and told
them laughingly, they would drive him deaf. Now all this is very
pleasant, or in young-lady parlance, very nice, and I wish, truly, I had
nothing more to tell. I trust, indeed, that the long abstinence from
food (as a priest who is about to celebrate the communion is not allowed
to touch food from midnight till the time when Mass is over, and in these
matters of observance Pius IX. is reputed to be strictly conscientious)
or else the excitement of the scene had been too much for the not very
powerful mind of the Pontiff; otherwise I know not how you can excuse an
aged man, on the brink of the grave, to say nothing of the Vicegerent of
Christ, using such language as he employed.
"After much affectionate demonstration, the Holy Father could no longer
restrain his lips from speaking, and, turning his penetrating glance
around, spoke as follows," in the words of the _Giornale_:
"One of the chief objects of the most high Pontiffs has ever been, the
propagation and maintenance of the faith throughout the world. Their
efforts therefore have always been directed towards the establishment of
colleges in this sovereign city, in order that the youth of all nations,
who would have to preach the faith in the different Catholic countries,
might receive their education here. In the foundation then of this new
college, he had only followed in the steps of his illustrious
predecessors. It thus seemed to him that he had rather performed a
simple duty, than an act deserving praise. After his Holiness had
pointed out, what a great blessing the faith was, how indeed it was a
true gift of Heaven, the sole solace and comfort vouchsafed to us
throughout the vicissitudes of fortune, he then expressed his extreme
distress, that in these days, this very faith should be made an especial
object of attack, and added that this fact alone was the cause of his
deep and profound dejection. There is no need, he stated, to refer now,
to the prisons and tortures and persecutions of old, when we are all
witnesses to the onslaught which is now being made against the Catholic
faith and against whosoever seeks to maintain its purity and integrity.
There was no cause however for wonder: such from the cradle had been the
heritage of the faith, which was born and bred amidst persecution and
adversity, and which under the same lot still continues its glorious
progress. The Gospel of the day recalled this truth only too
appropriately; although his Holiness continued in the midst of
persecution, it was his duty only to arm himself with greater courage,
yet the grief of his heart was nevertheless rendered more bitter still,
by beholding that in this very peninsula--so highly privileged by God,
not only endowed with the faith, and with possessing the most august
throne on earth,--that even here, the minds and hearts of men were
hopelessly perverted. No, his fears were not caused by the arms or
armies, or the forces of any power, be it what it might. No, it was not
the loss of temporal dominion, which created in his heart the bitterest
of afflictions. Those who have caused this loss must, alas! bear the
censure of the Church, and must henceforth be given over to the wrath of
God, as long as they refuse to repent, and cast themselves on His loving
mercy. What afflicted and terrified him far more than all this, was the
perversion of all ideas, this fearful evil, the corrupting of all
notions; vice, in truth, is taken for virtue, virtue counted for vice. At
last, in some cities of this unhappy Italy, men have come to make in
truth an apotheosis of the cut-throat and the assassin. Praise and
honour are lavished on the most villainous of men and actions, while at
the same time endurance in the faith and even episcopal resolution in
maintaining the holy rights of that faith, and its provident blessings,
are stigmatized with a strange audacity, by the names of hypocrisy,
fanaticism, and perversion of religion. He then went on to say, that
now, more than ever, it was high time to take vengeance in the name of
God, and that the vengeance of the priesthood and the Vicariate of Christ
Jesus consisted solely in prayer and supplication, that all might be
converted and live. That, moreover, the chief of all these evils was
only too truly the corruption of the heart and the perversion of the
intellect, and that this evil could only be overcome by the greatest of
miracles, which must be wrought by God and interceded from him by prayer.
After this, the Holy Father, in language which seemed inspired, as though
he were raised out of himself, exhorted all present, and especially the
young men destined to carry the faith to their distant countries."
Even amongst the audience, who all belonged more or less to the Papal
faction, the intemperate and injudicious character of this speech,
delivered in the presence of the French commander-in-chief, and the
allusions which could not but be intended for the Emperor Napoleon,
Cavour, and Victor Emmanuel, created great consternation, and was but
coldly received. The _Giornale_ however reports, that "where his
Holiness, with agitated voice, bestowed his apostolic benediction, awe
and admiration could be read on every countenance; all hearts beat aloud;
and no eyelid was left dry. The whole assembly pressing forward, bent in
turn before the august personage, touching, some his hands and some his
dress, while others again cast themselves at his feet, in order to
impress thereon a reverent and affectionate kiss."
After having examined the building, the Pope went on foot to the
neighbouring convent of the Augustine nuns, called "The Convent of the
Virgins," the whole of the religious community were "permitted to kiss
the sacred foot," and then "having comforted the virgins with paternal
and loving words," he returned to the Vatican, past the files of French
troops, through the beggar-crowded streets, amidst cold, sullen glances
and averted obeisances, back to his dreary palace, there to wait wearily
for orders from Paris.