I must be pardoned if I exercise a certain reserve in telling the
story of the most delicate of all the affairs in which I have been
engaged. While the interests concerned were, in their own nature,
purely political, the fact that they centred round the spiritual Head
of Christendom imposes on me restraints which I am bound to recognise.
I cannot recall at this moment whether, in the course of these
reminiscences, I have had occasion to mention that I was honoured on
several occasions by the confidence of the illustrious Pontiff who,
in the course of less than a generation, exalted the Papacy to a
height of power and reverent esteem such as it had scarcely enjoyed
since the Middle Ages.
To me, as to all who have paid any attention to the history of their
own times, the passing away of Leo XIII. marked an epoch in the
history of the world. I was in Paris, awaiting the announcement which
would plunge two continents into mourning, when, an hour before the
fatal bulletin reached the newspaper offices, I received a despatch
desiring me to start immediately for Rome, and wait upon the young
King of Italy in the Palace of the Quirinal.
Whether in consequence of my connection with the Vatican or not, it
happened that I had never been directly employed in the service of
the House of Savoy. I have told the story of my unavailing efforts to
save the life of King Humbert; but on that occasion I acted as the
agent of the friendly monarch of another country.
During my journey to Rome in obedience to the royal summons, my mind
was deeply exercised by the problem presented by the disastrous
breach between the Italian Kingship and the Papacy.
When the troops of Victor Emmanuel I., thirty-four years ago, marched
into the City of the Popes, to make it the capital of United Italy,
no one foresaw the difficulties which would flow from the refusal of
the Popes to abandon their rights as the temporal Sovereigns of Rome
and the States of the Church.
Other dethroned sovereigns have fled from their lost dominions, and
gradually sunk out of sight. But the Popes, seated in the Vatican,
and solemnly excommunicating the dynasty which has displaced them,
have rendered insecure the whole fabric of the Italian monarchy.
I myself, divided between my political sympathies as an American
citizen, and my loyalty as a Catholic to the Head of my Church, had
often sought in vain for some way of reconciling the venerable rights
of the Chair of Peter with the patriotic aspirations of the Italian
people.
The various solutions put forward from time to time, such as the
cession to the Pope of a small slice of territory including the
Vatican, seemed to me inadequate and mean. Some loftier treatment
of the situation seemed to be called for, but no statesman,
ecclesiastical or secular, had yet been found to propose it.
Now, with the accession of a new Pope, it was possible to indulge
hopes of a new policy. I encouraged myself to believe that Victor
Emmanuel II. had sent for me that I might assist him in such an
endeavour.
The character of this young ruler had already aroused my interest
and curiosity. In his father’s lifetime he was unknown to the public
until he suddenly stepped into the foreground, at the time of the
Abyssinian disasters, as the determined opponent of Crispi’s policy
of adventure, and the champion of peace.
Since his accession he had won golden opinions by his modesty,
benevolence, and practical energy in the work of government. But
he had as yet given no indications of any marked individuality or
policy of his own.
Within an hour of my arrival in Rome I found myself in his Majesty’s
presence.
His reception of me was not merely gracious but cordial. In a few
well-chosen words he thanked me for my services at the time of the
tragedy of Monza.
‘I believe you have been employed in the secret service of the
Vatican?’ King Victor proceeded.