PIUS IX. AND HIS TIME.

John Mary Count Mastai Ferreti was born at Sinigaglia, on the 13th of May,

1792. At the age of twenty-two he came to Rome. Anxious to serve the Holy

Father, and yet not aspiring to the priesthood, he resolved to become a

member of the Noble Guard. This the delicate state of his health forbade.

Repelled by the Prince Commandant, he sought counsel of the Pope. Pius

VII. pronounced that his destiny was the Cross, and advised him to devote

himself to the ecclesiastical state. The words of the Holy Father were, to

the youthful Mastai, as a voice from on high. He decided for the Church,

and, as if in testimony that his decision was ratified in heaven, the

falling-sickness left him. His studies were more than ordinarily

successful, and he already gave proof of those high qualities which were

afterwards so greatly developed. The distinguished Canon Graniare, his

professor, little dreaming of the exalted destiny which awaited him, held

him up as a pattern of excellence to his fellow-students, saying that he

possessed the heart of a Pope.

Whilst yet a student, Mastai interested himself in an orphanage, which was

founded by John Bonghi, a charitable mason of Rome. He spent in this

institution the first seven years of his priesthood, devoting himself to

the care of the orphans, who were, as yet, his only parishioners. The

income which he derived from family resources was liberally applied in

supplying the wants of these destitute children, and even in ministering

to their recreation.

It now became his duty to accompany, as a missionary priest, Monsignore

Mazi, who was appointed Vicar-Apostolic for Chili, Peru and Mexico. These

countries had thrown off the yoke of Spain and adopted Republican forms of

government. The Vicar-Apostolic and his companions suffered much in the

course of their voyage to America. They were cast into prison, at the

Island of Majorca, by Spanish officials, who took it amiss that Rome

should hold direct relations with the rebellious subjects of their

government. Their ship was attacked by corsairs, and was afterwards in

danger from a storm. A single circumstance only need be mentioned in order

to show what the faithful ministers of the Church had to endure when

traversing the inhospitable steppes of the Pampas. Once, at night, they

had no other shelter than a wretched cabin built with the bones of

animals, which still emitted a cadaverous odour.

In those arid deserts, they suffered from thirst as well as from dearth of

provisions. Great results can only be attained by equally great labors.

If, after a period of privation, the travellers enjoyed no more luxurious

refreshment than the waters of the crystal brook, it might well be said,

“de torrente in viabibet propterea exaltabit caput.” (They shall be

reduced to quench their thirst in the mountain stream, and therefore shall

be exalted.) The delegates of the Holy Father were received with

enthusiasm by the South American populations. Meanwhile, the narrow

governments that were set over those countries raised so many difficulties

that the mission was only partially successful.

This mission, however, was not without benefit to the Reverend Count

Mastai. It had been the means of developing the admirable qualities which

he possessed. It had afforded him the opportunity of seeing many cities,

as well as the manners and customs of many people. These lessons of travel

were not addressed to an ordinary mind. His views were enlarged, elevated

and refined by contact with so many rising or fallen civilizations, so

many different nationalities, and by the spectacle of Nature, that

admirable handmaid of the Divinity, with her varied splendors and her

manifold wonders, astonishing no less in the immensity of the ocean than

in the vast forests of the New World.

The mind appears to grow as the sphere of material life extends. Vast

horizons are adapted to great souls, and prepare them for great things.

The Abbe Mastai had thus received in his youth two most salutary lessons,

which are often wanting to the best-tried virtues of the sacerdotal

state—the lesson of the world, which Mastai had received before the time

of his vocation to Holy Orders, and the lessons of travel, which

disengages the mind from the bondage of local prejudices. Both of these

teachers he admirably understood. He had, indeed, drank of the torrent

which exalts.

Leo XII. now filled the Apostolic Chair. This Pontiff, highly appreciating

the good sense and penetration of which Mastai had given proof in the

difficult mission to Chili, appointed him Canon of Sancta Maria, Rome, _in

via lata_, and, at the same time, conferred on him the dignity of Prelate.

Never was the Roman purple more adorned by the learning and genuine virtue

of him on whom it was bestowed.

There is at Rome an institution of charity, the greatest which that city

or even the world possesses, the immense hospital of _St. Michael a Ripa

Grande_. A whole people dwells within its vast precincts. It is at once a

place of retreat for aged and infirm men, a most extensive professional

school for poor girls, and a sort of workshop, on a great scale, for

children that have been forsaken. The greater number learn trades. Some,

who give proof of higher talents, apply, at the expense of the hospital,

to the study of the fine arts. This hospital is, in itself, a world, and

its government requires almost the qualities of a statesman. Pope Leo

XII., anxious to render available the rare abilities of Canon Mastai,

named him President of the commission which governs this great

establishment. There was need, at the time, so low was the state of the

hospital budget, of the nicest management, unremitting care, and the

highest financial capacity. These qualities were all speedily at work, and

in the course of two years all the resources of the institution were in

admirable order. The fear of bankruptcy was removed, deficits of income

made up, and receipts abundant.

It had not been the custom to allow to apprentice-workmen any share in the

fruits of their labors. Herein Mastai effected a great and certainly not

uncalled-for reform. Far from impoverishing the hospital, this liberal

measure only showed, by its happy results, that justice is in perfect

harmony with economy, and that the best houses are not those which make

the most of the labor of their inmates, but those which encourage industry

by allowing it what is just. The orphans were thus, in two years, enabled

to have a small sum, which secured to them, so far, a mitigation of their

lot. Meanwhile, the proceeds of the hospital were doubled. This was

remarkable success. Count Mastai’s reputation for administrative ability

was now of the highest order.

In the Consistory of May 21st, 1827, Canon Count Mastai was named

Archbishop of Spoleto. Thus did Pope Leo XII. signalize his solicitude and

affection for the city of his birth. The appointment came not too soon. It

required all the influence of a great mind to maintain peace at Spoleto.

Party spirit ran high. One side clamored against abuses: the other,

dreading all change, clung pertinaciously to the past. Wrath was treasured

in every bosom. If civil war had not yet broken out, it raged already in

the breasts of the people. Spoleto resembled two hostile camps, and

vividly recalled the state of these cities of the Middle-Age, where stood

in presence, and armed from head to heel, the undying enmities of the

Ghibellins and the Guelphs. The slightest occasion would have sufficed to

cause the hardly-suppressed embers of deadly strife to burst into a flame.

Through the zeal and diplomacy of the Archbishop, such occasion was

averted. Spoleto may yet remember, and not without emotion, how earnestly

he studied to appease wild passions, with what delicacy and perseverance

he labored to reconcile the terrible feuds that prevailed, to calm the

dire spirit of revenge, to bury the sense of wrong in the oblivion of

forgiveness. At length, in 1831 and 1832, a hopeless rebellion unfurled

its blood-red banner. It was speedily and pitilessly repressed. Such an

occasion only was wanting in order to show what one man can do when

sustained by the power of virtue and the esteem of mankind. The foreign

and Teutonic arm which conquered the insurrection had been always hateful

to the Italian people; nor did its display and exercise of military force,

in restoring tranquillity to the troubled State, conciliate their

friendship.

Only when vanquished did the rebels appear before the walls of Spoleto. In

their extremity, they came to beg for shelter and for bread. In the

estimation of the benevolent Archbishop, they were as lost sheep whom it

was his duty, if possible, to save. He hastened, accordingly, to meet the

wolf. The Austrian General, although a stern warrior, was, at the same

time, the servant of a Christian Power. He listened to the Archbishop’s

remonstrances, and resolved to refrain from further military proceedings,

the Prelate undertaking to disarm the rebels, and thus satisfy the sad

requirements of war without any recourse to useless and hateful cruelties.

Returning to the city, he addressed the insurgents, and, to his

unspeakable satisfaction, they at once came to lay at his feet those arms

which the Austrian soldiers could only have torn from their lifeless

bodies. Thus did the good pastor, by disarming, save the rebellious flock.

Mastai was now transferred to Imola. This city is less considerable than

Spoleto. The diocese, however, is richer and more populous. Its Episcopal

chair leads directly to the Cardinalate. It has also thrice given to the

Catholic Church its Chief Pastor. The people of Spoleto sent a deputation,

but in vain, to beseech the Holy Father to leave the good pastor to his

affectionate flock.

He was destined also to reign in the hearts of the good people of Imola.

The numerous institutions there, which owe their existence to his

Episcopal zeal and Christian charity, are monuments of his pastoral care.

The virtue of which Archbishop Mastai was so bright a pattern had no

sourness in it, no outward show of austerity; nor was it forbidding and

intolerant, but sweet and gentle. Words of forgiveness were always on his

lips, and his hand was ever open to distress. He labored assiduously to

reform, wherever reform was needed, but, what rarely happens, without

alienating affection from the reformer. It was his constant study to

elevate the character of the clergy, and he ceased not to encourage among

them learning as well as piety. Into the Diocesan Seminary, which was

always the object of his most anxious care, he introduced some new

branches of study, such as agriculture, practical as well as theoretical,

and a general knowledge of the medical art. There was yet wanting to the

clergy of his diocese a common centre where they could meet for mutual

edification and instruction. To this purpose he devoted his own palace,

and founded there a Biblical Academy. The members of this Academy met once

a month in order to discuss together some subjects connected with the

Sacred Writings. None can be ignorant how powerfully such meetings

contribute to promote the study of the Scriptures, pulpit eloquence, and

the great science of theology. In order, moreover, to obviate the dangers

to which students were exposed, who, whilst they studied at the Seminary,

were not inmates, and enjoyed not the safeguards of its discipline, he

founded an institution called the “Convitto,” where the poorer alumni were

boarded without charge.

Anxious also to provide for the comfort of the lowly poor, and to guard

against all wasting of their humble means, the good Prelate reformed the

hospital of Imola, and set over it the Sisters of Charity—that

incomparable Order which owes its existence to the most benevolent of men,

St. Vincent de Paul. Nor, in his higher state, did he forget his first

care—the orphan. An orphanage at Imola is due to his munificence. There

were no bounds to his liberality. At his own expense alone he repaired the

tomb of St. Cassien, and decorated the Chapel of Our Lady of Dolours in

the Church of the Servites.

When raised to the dignity of Cardinal, by Pope Gregory XVI., in December,

1840, Archbishop Mastai was already universally popular. The ovations of a

later period may have originated in political motives—may even have been

promoted by a political party; but the honors now spontaneously heaped

upon him were awarded to the man and the Christian pastor. Congratulations

in prose and in verse, illuminations, fireworks, demonstrations of every

kind, announced the joy with which the new Cardinal was welcomed

everywhere.

Gregory XVI. had the reputation of being highly conservative. In the true

sense of the term, he really was so. Nevertheless, he was not averse to

reform, and he showed that he was not when he elevated Archbishop Mastai,

whose tendencies were well known, to the rank and office of Cardinal. More

than this, in concurrence with the Great Powers of Europe, with whom he

took counsel, he labored to introduce certain salutary reforms in his

States. Such reforms, indeed, were needed; and the aged Pontiff resolved

on them, not only in order to render unnecessary the intervention of

foreign arms in the affairs of his government, but also with a view to

bring his rule into harmony with the spirit and civilization of the age.

If in this most laudable undertaking he did not succeed, he owed his

failure to the Socialist party, those enemies of law and order, of

property, and life even, whose fatal action at a later period marred the

political career of Pius IX. The Roman people, generally, were capable of

appreciating, and surely did appreciate, the enlightened efforts of their

Pontiff Sovereign. They were not, as some writers would have us believe,

in a semi-barbarous condition. Sylvio Pellico, whose testimony cannot be

questioned, speaks of them in the following terms: “The eight months I

have spent at Rome in 1845 and 1846 (time of Gregory XVI.) have abounded

in delightful impressions. It can never be sufficiently told how well this

venerable city deserves to be visited, and not in passing only. How the

good and beautiful abound in it!” A little later, Pellico writes: “I

continue to be quite delighted with Rome, both as regards men and things.

In the small book, _Dei Doceri_, I have shown my inclination to avoid

being absolute in my judgments, a too common error, especially with minds

that dogmatize passionately. By such Rome is often unjustly judged.

“Several types of social customs must be considered as moderately good;

and we cannot condemn, as decidedly bad, anything but barbarism,

irreligion and a superabundance of knaves and fools. These odious elements

are by no means over-abundant in this country. And in the midst of evils

that are unavoidable everywhere, I observe great intellectual power, much

goodness, cultivated minds, gracious and sincere generosity. Whoever comes

to Rome will be morally well off as regards intelligence. He will be so,

likewise, on account of the sociability of the inhabitants. The Romans are

a jovial people. But even their joviality is as admirably subject to good

order as it is graceful, and does not impair the natural goodness of their

disposition. But perhaps I am wrong; and it were better I should assume a

frowning aspect, and behold only attempts on life, importunate beggary,

useless priests and monks, and reserve my praises for those happy nations

where there are no crimes, no inequality of fortune, no misery.

Impassioned men declaim, exaggerate, lie. For my part, I am neither an

optimist nor a pessimist. It is impossible to speak with certainty of the

moral of a country if we speak of it too soon. I know that here at Rome I

find amiability, science and good sense. It seems to me that everything is

much the same as in other civilized countries.”

Such was the people over whom, on the 16th day of June, 1846, Cardinal

Mastai was called to exercise authority in the twofold capacity of Pontiff

and Prince. On the first day of the Conclave several votes were cast for

the liberal-minded Cardinal Gizzi, and some in favor of the

highly-conservative Lambruschini. The second day all joined for Mastai.

And thus was elected to the Papal Chair, by the unanimous voice of the

Sacred College, one of their body, who, in all the positions which he had

held, as Priest, as Archbishop, as Cardinal, had shown his determination

to promote reform and improvement. No better proof could be required that

the Cardinals perfectly understood the state of the country, its urgent

wants, its relations with the Church and the rest of the world.

There was much rejoicing in the Papal City. It seemed as if, with the

elevation of a great character to high authority, the days of the

Millennium had at length dawned on the distracted world. There was now

question only of forgiveness for the past. Order and peace only were

possible in time to come. The new Pontiff was resolved that there should

be no element of sorrow to mar the general joy; and so he amnestied the

political offenders who had borne arms against the government of his

predecessor. Only one condition was required, viz.: that, in the future,

they should fulfil the duties of good and order-loving subjects. Thus were

fifteen hundred exiles restored to their families, who had lost all hope

of ever seeing them again. The cases only of a small number of the

ring-leaders of the rebellion were reserved for consideration, and they,

too, were cheered with the hope of pardon. The preamble of the decree of

amnesty, all in the Pope’s own handwriting, bore the following words:

“At the time when the public joy occasioned by our accession to the office

of Sovereign Pontiff caused us to experience in our inmost soul the most

lively emotion, we could not avoid entertaining a feeling of sorrow when

we remembered that a great number of families amongst our people could not

take part in the general rejoicing, deprived, as they were, of domestic

happiness.... On the other hand, we cast a look of compassion on the

numerous and inexperienced youth, which, although carried away by

deceitful flatterers, in the midst of political troubles, appeared to us

guilty rather of allowing itself to be led astray, than of deceiving

others. On this account it was that, from that moment, we cherished the

thought of extending a friendly hand, and offering peace to such of these

dear but misguided children as should come to us, and give proof of their

sincere repentance.”

Night was drawing on when the decree was posted on the walls of Rome. It

was observed, however, amidst the growing darkness; and no sooner was the

word _amnesty_ read than a cry of enthusiasm was heard. People hastened

from their houses in all directions, the passers-by stopped in crowds to

read, by torchlight, the cabalistic words. Among the fast-assembling

masses there was but one feeling. They embraced and even wept for joy. In

the depth of their emotion, and whilst yet, as may be said, intoxicated

with delight, they sought how to express their gratitude. The cry was

raised, “To the Quirinal!” Arrived there, they hailed, with loud and

united voice, the beneficent Pontiff—“Vivat Pius Nonus!” “Long live our

Holy Father!” Crowd after crowd thus approached the person of the Pope. It

was now late, and Pius IX., much fatigued, overwhelmed by his emotions,

had withdrawn to the silence of his Oratory. Meanwhile, fresh crowds of

overjoyed citizens were pressing forward. Ten thousand men, at least, were

now waiting, with respectful anxiety, under the walls of the Quirinal

Palace. The French Ambassador to Rome, Count Rossi, was a witness of these

events. He became also their historian. He wrote thus to M. Guizot:

“Suddenly the acclamations are redoubled. I had not yet understood on what

account, when some one called my attention to the light which was shining

through the window-blinds at the farthest end of the Pontifical Palace.

The people had observed that the Holy Father was traversing the apartment

in order to reach the balcony. It was speedily thrown open, and the

Sovereign Pontiff, in a white robe and scarlet mantle, made his

appearance, surrounded by torches. If your Excellency (M. Guizot, at that

time Minister of the French King, Louis Philippe) will only figure to

yourself a magnificent place, a summer night, the sky of Rome, an immense

people moved with gratitude, weeping for joy and receiving with love and

reverence the benediction of their Pastor and their Prince, you will not

be astonished, if I add that we have shared the general emotion, and have

placed this spectacle above every thing that Rome had as yet offered to

our contemplation. Just as I had foreseen, as soon as the window was

closed the crowd withdrew peacefully and in perfect silence. You would

have called them a people of mutes; they were satisfied.”

It is not so difficult to grant an amnesty. It is delightful, even, to men

of the character of Pius IX. to dispense forgiveness. This is particularly

the office and the privilege of the Church. Sterner duties devolve upon

the statesman. And, however reconcileable the two courses of conduct in

public affairs may really be, it is difficult often to reconcile them.

The amnesty, although far from being everything, was, nevertheless, a

beginning, and one of favorable omen. The furrow was opened, to use the

language of M. Rossi, and no doubt the ploughing would proceed. Many

formidable difficulties must, however, be surmounted. On the one hand,

stood the influence of the old feudal Conservative party, which frowned on

the slightest change. On the other, were the Socialists, who aimed at the

destruction of every existing institution—in whose estimation property

even was not sacred, nor life itself. It was necessary, meanwhile, to

improve the condition of the people, and, in doing so, to guard against

anarchy. By wise and well-considered reforms only could the growth and

advance of revolution be discouraged and stayed, whilst a political

system, almost entirely new, came to be firmly established. For this

purpose, it was necessary that there should prevail in the Pontifical

States a sounder state of opinion. This was not the work of a single day.

It was necessary, nevertheless, as the people could not be safely led by

their ever-changing emotions. Based on such quicksands, the government of

the Holy Father could have no stability, and it was his aim so to form it

that it should be able to keep its ground without the aid of foreign arms.

The state of Italy, the peculiar position of the Pontifical States, the

character of modern civilization, the spirit of the age—all conspired to

produce new wants, and, at the same time, made it a matter of the greatest

difficulty to meet them. “This difficulty,” writes the Spanish Sage,

Balmes, “it was impossible to surmount by chanting patriotic hymns any

more than by having recourse to Austrian bayonets.”

By none was this better understood than by Pius IX. The study of State

affairs was not new to him. He had considered and lamented the condition

of things which so often brought upon his country foreign invasion, the

horrors of war, and punishments without end, inflicted on his

fellow-citizens. It is related even that he prepared and presented to

Gregory XVI. a programme of reforms, which he believed would bring the

necessary remedy. Now that he was at the head of the State, he believed

that the responsibility devolved on him of introducing such reforms as

were called for by the exigency of the time, and by which alone he was

persuaded the evils which oppressed the country could be brought to an

end. It was not possible, as yet, to inaugurate any general measure of

reform. In the meantime, however, the rule of the Pontiff was

characterized by wise, just, humane and liberal acts, which could not fail

to pave the way for the greater improvements which he meditated. Among

these lesser, but by no means unimportant, reforms may be mentioned the

abolition of an odious law which had long disgraced the legislation of so

many Christian nations. The punishment by imprisonment for petty debts

was, in the estimation of Pius IX., as unjust as it was cruel and hateful.

It answered no better purpose, for the most part, than the gratification

of private spite. By a generous contribution from his own funds, the Pope

threw open the prisons of the Capitol. He set a great example, which could

not fail to promote the cause of virtue whilst it relieved the indigent,

by distributing twelve thousand Roman _ecus_, in the form of dowries,

among the young women of poor families, whose poverty rendered an

honorable settlement extremely difficult. He also encouraged collections

in favor of such of the amnestied parties as were in need. His financial

reforms were more important. And by these he won a title to the gratitude

of the State. The public revenue was alarmingly deficient. Only by some

great change could ruin be averted. First of all, he proposed that his

faithful clergy should make a sacrifice; and every convent engaged to pay

ten _scudi_ yearly, and every parish priest a _scudo_ during three

consecutive years. He himself set the example of the most rigid economy by

reducing the scale of his establishment. He at the same time retrenched

those rich sinecures which were, so to say, engrafted on the temporalities

of the Papacy. What was well worthy of a great statesman, he showed the

most enlightened sympathy for all the sciences which contribute to the

material and intellectual well-being of the populations, such as

physiology, natural history, political economy and mathematics. Nor was he

unwilling that his people should avail themselves of the knowledge of

foreigners. He went so far as to intimate his intention to re-establish

the celebrated Scientific Academy, _Di Lincei_.

He could not, as yet, by any other than such isolated acts as these,

evince the elevated and liberal tendencies of his mind, in which were

blended boldness with moderation, and views of reform with all that became

his position, and was adapted to the wants of the country and the age.

Pius IX., although not a constitutional sovereign, and unable so to

constitute himself, was anxious, nevertheless, to give to his people all

the benefits of constitutional government. A first step was to choose a

popular Minister, and Cardinal Gizzi was called to the counsels of the

State. This Cardinal was beloved at Rome, and not undeservedly. When

Legate at Forli, he had opposed the establishment of an arbitrary court,

and thus won for himself the sympathies of all national reformers. His

loyalty, sincerity and patriotism were well known; nor was he wanting in

any other quality of the statesman. Of a patient and enquiring mind, he

was incapable of coming hastily to a decision; but, when once resolved, he

could not be easily diverted from his purpose. The ministry of such a man

was full of promise; but in this lay its weakness. It held out hopes

which, in the state of parties which at that time prevailed, it was unable

to realize. There were two great parties at Rome, with neither of which

the Gizzi ministry was in sympathy. There existed no party with which it

could act harmoniously. There were no reformers. It would have been most

fortunate for Pius IX. if such a party could have been formed, but the

elements were wanting. The true idea of constitutional government was as

little understood in Italy as in the rest of continental Europe. The only

party at Rome who desired change were the Socialists, who identified

reform with subversion, who denied every right, and sought the destruction

of all existing institutions. No wonder if, in presence of such a faction,

the aristocracy, so highly conservative, dreaded and opposed all change.

The Socialists, whilst by the fear which they inspired strengthened the

hands of the conservative party, opposed and prevented the formation of a

body of reformers who, like Gizzi and Pius IX., would have labored

intelligently to forward the cause of reform, never losing sight of the

great principles of humanity and justice, never sacrificing to Utopian

theories inalienable rights, above all the rights of property—the very

groundwork of the social fabric. Without the aid and countenance of a body

of reformers, the able ministry that now surrounded the Pope found it

difficult to proceed. They could not determine for any important

constitutional change. They could not even undertake any considerable

improvement.

They were, however, not inactive. They studied to educate the people by

improving and extending the public schools, and by what was, indeed, an

advance in continental Europe—establishing a periodical press.

There were few cities so highly favored as Rome as regards the facilities

for educating youth. Nevertheless, there was room for improvement, and

Pius IX. accordingly established in the city a central school for the

instruction of the youth of the operative classes. This was a school of

arts and manufactures, and, at the same time, a military institution, in

which the pupils were qualified to become either tradesmen or subordinate

officers in the army. Whilst Cardinal Gizzi was Minister many other useful

schemes met the approbation of the Pontiff, and were sanctioned by his

signature.

Not a few commissions also were appointed—some for the study of railway

communication in the Roman States, others for the improvement of both

criminal and civil procedure, and others for the amelioration of the

municipal system and the repression of vagrancy.

Rome, so richly endowed in many respects, could scarcely be said, as yet,

to possess a periodical press. To establish such a press was, for the

reforming ministry, a labor of love. Whilst they were preparing a law by

which it should be called into existence and its liberty secured and

regulated, Pius IX., in anticipation of their labors, authorized the

publication of several journals. First, came the “Contemporaneo,” which

was followed in due time by the “Bilancia,” the “Italico,” the “Alba.”

These publications were in sympathy, at first, with the Pontiff and his

reforming ministry. They advocated only rational reform, real improvement,

such changes as were both practicable and useful. They had not yet

discovered the excellence of the Socialist utopia. Their enthusiasm and

their _vivats_ were all for the reformer Pope.

It is far from being matter of surprise to Catholic people, at least, that

the See of Rome should be the first to practice the virtues—the high

morality which it teaches. In regard to their treatment of the Jewish

people, the Christian nations generally stood in need of such an example

as Papal Rome has always shown in her consideration for the race of

Israel. The nations, although professing Christianity, have been anything

but Christian in their conduct towards these people. It was their idea,

one would say, that they were called of heaven to execute justice on an

offending race. The Popes never believed that they or any other Christians

were entrusted with such a mission. Accordingly, the Jews, when cruelly

persecuted in other countries, always found protection and safety at Rome

under the wing of the Pope. Even such restrictions as they were subject

to, contributed to maintain them in security and peace. The Holy Father,

although it was his sublime mission to preach the Gospel, could not always

cause its precepts to be obeyed. If prejudice was against living on terms

of charity with the Jews, was it not kind, as well as wise and politic, to

assign to them a quarter of the city where only they should dwell, free

from all interference on the part of the rest of the inhabitants? Pius IX.

believed that the time had come when a more liberal arrangement might be

advantageously adopted. In pursuance of this conviction, he regulated that

the Jews should enjoy the privilege of establishing their habitations

wherever they should deem it most suitable, that they should be governed

by the same laws as the other citizens, and in no way be treated as a

foreign people. Such of them as stood in need of assistance Pius IX.

admitted to a share in his benefactions, and without occasioning the

slightest murmur on the part of his Christian subjects.

The Jews, whilst considered as foreigners in Rome, were subject to the

custom of coming yearly to the Capitol to pay tribute. With this custom

the Holy Father generously dispensed. All this liberality and kindness

were highly appreciated. The Jewish people generally beheld in the wise

and Holy Pontiff the looked-for Messiah. The aged Rabbins, more

considerate, affirmed only that the Pope was a great prophet. The chief of

the Synagogue, Moses Kassan, composed in his honor a canticle marked by

poetic inspiration. It extols and blesses the Holy Father for having

gathered together in the same barque all the children whom God had

confided to his care ... for having snatched from the contempt of nations,

and sheltered under his wing, a persecuted people.

There being many Christians of the United Greek rite throughout the

dominions of the Sultan, it was necessary that the Holy Father should

negotiate, occasionally, with the successor of Mahomet. Pius IX. yielded

not to any of his predecessors in zeal for the welfare of all Catholic

people. Those who lived and often suffered under the Moslem yoke were,

especially, objects of his fatherly solicitude. Policy had not yet brought

the Cross into the same field of strife in union with the Crescent, when,

on the 20th of February, 1847, the portals of the Quirinal were thrown

open to the Ambassador of the Sublime Porte. To the Jews the Rome of Pius

IX. was as a new Jerusalem. Islamism, from its tottering throne at

Constantinople, looked towards it with hope and rapture.

The armed protection of Christians in the Turkish dominions, by the great

European Powers, was, no doubt, galling to the Sultan’s court. It was,

therefore, ardently desired, we can readily believe, to place the

Christians of the Levant under the peaceful guardianship of the Roman

Pontiff. The Embassy may also have had other objects in view. Be this as

it may, it was new and quite extraordinary to behold the representative of

the prophet at the palace of the Sovereign Pontiff. No wonder if all

Europe was moved to admiration. The presentation was very solemn—in the

high ceremonial of Eastern lands. Chekif Effendi, the Turkish Ambassador,

saluted the Holy Father in Oriental style, and addressed to him a

magnificent oration, which was richly interspersed with metaphors—the

pearls and diamonds of his country’s eloquence. The Sublime Porte was

compared to the Queen of Sheba, and Pius IX. to King Solomon. Whatever may

be thought of the figures, the sentiments expressed in the speech were

appropriate and affecting. The Pope replied by assuring the Ambassador

that he was anxious to cultivate friendly relations with the Sultan, his

master. Three days later Chekif Effendi took his departure from Rome,

bearing with him on his breast, as a _nishun_ (decoration), the portrait

of the Holy Father.

This Embassy was more than mere show—more than an interchange of friendly

sentiments. It enabled the Pope to adopt a measure which was calculated to

be highly beneficial to the Christians of the East. The Latin Patriarchate

of Jerusalem was restored. And thus was accomplished a wonderful

revolution in European diplomacy as regarded the Eastern world. At the

request of the Porte, the Latin Patriarch became bound to reside in the

city of Jerusalem. In the confidential position which he held there, he

was the natural protector of the Catholic subjects of the Sultan. In

addition to the duties of his sacred office, he was, as a consul,

appointed by the Holy See to watch over the interests of

religion—interests as important, surely, as those of trade and worldly

policy. The first whom the Pope named to the dignity of Latin Patriarch

was Monsignore Valergo, who had formerly been a missionary at Paris.

There appears to have been something irresistibly attractive in the

character of Pius IX. That illustrious champion of Ireland and of liberty,

Daniel O’Connell, resolved, towards the close of his days, to visit Rome

and pay the homage of a kindred spirit to the Holy Father. Not only was he

anxious to be enriched with the choicest heavenly benedictions, whilst

kneeling reverently at the shrine of the Apostles, but he desired also,

with a fervor which finds place only in the most nobly-moulded souls,

whose love of liberty and whose patriotism are unfeigned and pure, to hold

communion with one who was, no less than himself, a friend of liberty, and

whose exalted station, and whose high duties towards mankind at large,

hindered him not from laboring, as did Ireland’s patriot, to liberate his

country, not, indeed, from such cruel bondage as that under which the land

of O’Connell had for so many ages groaned, but from the no less dangerous

tyranny of abuses which, like weeds that grow most luxuriantly in the

richest soil, it becomes necessary, in due season, to extirpate.

It was not, however, appointed that Ireland’s liberator should ever see

Rome. His illness continued to increase. No sooner had he reached the

shores of Italy than the strength of his once powerful frame declined

rapidly, and he was unable to proceed. Arrived at Genoa, O’Connell

understood that his last hour on earth was near at hand. He now expressed

the wish that his heart should rest in the Holy City. Thither,

accordingly, it was borne by friendly hands to commingle with the

consecrated dust of heroes, saints and martyrs. To Rome it was a relic of

incomparable price. Although cold and inanimate, it was still eloquent in

death, and grandly emblematic of all that he had been to whom it was the

centre of life, and to whose generous impulses it had so long and so

faithfully beat responsive.

That son of O’Connell who bore his name, together with the Rev. Dr. Miley,

of Dublin, who had accompanied him to Genoa and ministered to him in his

last hours, now proceeded to Rome and sought the presence of the Holy

Father. On their arrival at the Quirinal, the halls and ante-chambers were

already filled with groups of personages in every style of costume, from

the glittering uniform to the cowl. The travellers, therefore, must wait

till all these have had an audience. But no. The name of O’Connell, as if

possessed of talismanic power, caused them to be at once admitted to the

presence of the Holy Father. The reception was most cordial. “Since the

happiness I had so much longed for,” said the Pontiff, “was not reserved

for me, to behold and embrace the hero of Christianity, let me, at least,

have the consolation to embrace his son.” “As he spoke,” writes Dr. Miley,

“he drew the son of O’Connell to his bosom and embraced him, not unmoved,

with the tenderness of a father and a friend. Then, with an emotion which

stirred our hearts within us, this great Father of the faithful poured out

his benign and loving soul in words of comfort, which proved that it was

not new to him to pour the balm of heaven into broken and wounded hearts.”

“His death,” said the Pontiff, “was blessed. I have read the letter in

which his last moments were described with the greatest consolation.” The

Pope then proceeded to eulogize the liberator, as the great champion of

religion and the Church, as the father of his people and the glory of the

whole Christian world. “How else,” observed Monsignore Cullen, late

Cardinal Archbishop of Dublin, who was present, “could the Pope have

spoken of him than he has done, even if he had been the bosom friend of

the liberator, as well as the ardent admirer of his career.” Nor must we

fail to record the terms in which the venerable Pontiff, on this memorable

occasion, referred to Ireland. The thought of O’Connell was one with that

of his native Erin. Death, even, could not sever them. Whilst the living

image of grief and bereavement stood in his presence, the Holy Father

could not refrain from giving expression to his paternal sympathy. But, at

the same time, the country of O’Connell was not forgotten. Writes Dr.

Miley: “While he spoke of the sufferings of the Irish, of their fidelity,

of his solicitude and his hopes regarding them, it was beautiful and

impressive beyond my power to describe, to observe that countenance,

which, like a mirror, reflects the charity, the compassionate care, the

fortitude, with a hundred other sentiments divine, which are never dormant

within his breast.”

Pius IX., anxious that due honor should be done to the memory of

O’Connell, gave orders for the celebration of a solemn funeral service,

and intimated his will and command that it should be celebrated in his

name. “The achievements also of his wonderful existence I desire to be

commemorated and made known to the world”—not that this is necessary,

“because,” said the Pontiff with a sublime look and gesture, “his grand

career was ever in the face of heaven—he always stood up for legality—he

had nothing to hide; and it was this, with his unshaken fidelity and

reverence for religion, that secured his triumph.” It is only justice to

the people of Rome to state that they vied with the Sovereign Pontiff, the

magnates of their country and the representatives of European nations at

the Holy City, in doing honor to the memory of O’Connell. “From the Campus

Martius,” writes Dr. Miley, “and the Roman Forum, from both sides of the

Tiber, and from all the seven hills and their interjacent valleys, this

people, who grow up from infancy with the trophies of thirty centuries of

greatness around them on every hand, assembled with enthusiasm to

supplicate heaven for the eternal happiness of Ireland’s liberator, and to

exult in the wonders he had achieved, as if he had been their own.” The

greatest homage paid by Rome on this melancholy occasion, was undoubtedly,

the funeral oration, which was spoken by the Bossuet of Italy, the

celebrated preacher, Father Ventura, the friend and fellow-student of Pius

IX. This most eloquent discourse was listened to with attention and

delight by the vast congregation that had gathered round the cenotaph of

the immortal patriot. Let a passage or two here suffice to give an idea of

the magnificent panegyric:

“It is, then, because these two loves—the love of religion and the love of

liberty, common to all good Princes, to all great minds, to all truly

learned men, to all elevated souls, to all generous hearts might be said

to be personified in Daniel O’Connell—because in him they manifested

themselves in all the perfection of their nature—in all the energy of

their deeply-felt conviction—in all the potency of their strength—in all

the splendor of their magnificence, and in all the glory of their triumph;

it is because of all this that this singular man—who was born and has

lived at such a distance from Rome—is now admired, is now wept for by you,

as if he had been born in the midst of you. Hence it is that this great

character, this sublime nature, has awakened all your sympathies.”

O’Connell had studied for some time at the College of St. Omer, in France.

What he saw and learned in that country is ably described by the Italian

orator:

“He saw with his own eyes monarchy compelled to degrade itself, and to

inflict its death-wound with its own hand; he saw the throne that base

courtiers had dragged through the mire defiled by the grip of parricidal

hands, and buried, fathoms deep, beneath a sea of blood; he saw the best

of kings expire upon a scaffold, the victim not less of other men’s crimes

than of his own weakness; he saw that vice was hailed, as if it were

virtue, wickedness uplifted, as if it were morality atheism, proclaimed

aloud, as if it were religion; that the ‘Goddess of Reason’ (or rather a

vile strumpet) was recognized as the only Deity, and honored with

hecatombs of human victims; the people decimated and oppressed by cruel

tyrants, in the name of the people; whilst beneath the shade of the tree

of liberty was instituted universal slavery; and that the most Christian,

as well as the most civilized of all nations, had fallen down to the

lowest limits of impiety and barbarism.

“Now, God having so disposed that the young O’Connell should be witness of

these events—the most celebrated and the most instructive to be found in

the annals of history—they served to inspire him with the greatest horror

for tumults and rebellion; they persuaded him that there is nothing more

insane, and, at the same time, more pernicious than to proclaim the rights

of man, in trampling upon those of heaven—in establishing liberty on the

ruins of religion—in making laws, under the dictation of passion, or

through the inspiration of sacrilege—and, finally, they convinced him,

that to _regenerate_ a people, religion is omnipotent—philosophy of little

or no avail.”

In alluding to the well-known piety of O’Connell, the preacher said: “What

more moving spectacle than to see the greatest man in the United

Kingdom—to see him, who was the object of Ireland’s devotion, of England’s

fear, and of the world’s admiration, kneeling with the people before the

altar, practicing the piety of the people, with that humble simplicity,

that recollection, that devoutness, and that modesty, which supercilious

science and stolid pride abandon as things fit only to be followed by

those whom they disdain as the people?”

It is matter of notoriety that the Tory party, whose death-knell was soon

to be tolled, constantly poured on the great Irish Tribune the most

scurrilous abuse. One of the mock titles with which they honored him was

that of “King of the Beggars.” Such pitiful ribaldry awakened the highest

powers of the Roman orator. “Poor, miserable, and most pitiful fatuity

which, while intending to mock, actually did him honor. For, what

sovereignty is more beautiful than that whose tribute is not wrung from

unwilling fear, but that is a voluntary, love-inspired offering? What

sovereignty is more glorious than that whose sword is the pen, and whose

only artillery the tongue; whose only couriers are the poor, and its sole

bodyguard the affections of the people? What sovereignty more beneficent

than that which, far from causing tears to flow, dries them; which, far

from shedding blood, stanches it; which, far from immolating life,

preserves it; which, far from pressing down upon the people, elevates

them; which, far from forging chains, breaks them; and which always

maintains order, harmony and peace, without ever inflicting the slightest

aggression on liberty? Where is the monarch who would not esteem himself

happy in reigning thus? Of such a sovereignty, we may with truth say what

was said of Solomon’s, that none can equal its grandeur, its glory and its

magnificence.”

So favorable an opportunity for instructing the Italians was not thrown

away. False liberty was already strewing their path with its meretricious

allurements. “As true liberty diffuses around it peace and grace and calm,

so does false liberty disseminate, wherever it is implanted, terror,

dismay and horror. The brows of one are illuminated with the splendid halo

of order, and those of the other are covered with the red cap of anarchy.

One holds in her hand the olive-branch of peace; the other waves the torch

of discord. One is arrayed in robes white as those of innocence, and the

other is enveloped in the dark, blood-stained mantle of guilt. One is the

prop of thrones; the other a yawning abyss beneath them. One is the glory

and the happiness of nations; the other their disgrace and their

punishment. The latter bursts out of hell as if it were a poisonous blast

issuing from the jaws of the devil himself; whilst true liberty descends

sweetly and gently upon the earth, as if the spirit of God had sent it

down to us a holy and blessed thing from heaven. _Ubi spiritus Domini ibi

Libertas._”

None will be surprised to learn that on hearing these singularly eloquent

words, the immense auditory could no longer control their emotions. A

general murmur of approbation was heard throughout the vast temple and was

breaking out into loud applause, when the preacher, mindful of the

reverence due to the holy place, made haste to repress it.

This great demonstration may well be considered as the best testimony that

could be given as to the real sentiments of the Italian people. They were

not ignorant of the nature of that liberty for which O’Connell had so long

and successfully contended. Nor were they under any erroneous impression

as to what the gifted preacher meant when he extolled in such glowing

terms that true liberty which is the glory, at once, and the best security

of nations. If, a little later, they pursued the phantom instead of the

reality, it must be considered that, as yet, they had no political

education or experience, and that no high-principled Tribune, like

O’Connell, stood forward to lead them. All who aspired to guide them, and

who won their confidence, were tainted with the doctrines of the Socialist

party, whose ideas of government and liberty were utterly utopian.

If it could be said that public rejoicings afforded any assistance to the

Pope, in his labors as the head of the Roman State, he was not left

without aid in his great undertakings. Such things, however, rather

hindered than promoted his endeavors. His people had, so to say,

commenced, under his auspices, a long and laborious journey. There was no

time for mere pleasure and amusement. Nevertheless, whenever a new scene

or landscape opened to their view, they stopped to rejoice, and gave

themselves up, without control, to the intoxication of delight. In so

doing they laid themselves open to the snares and attacks of many secret

enemies, who availed themselves of their frequent gatherings to sow the

seeds of discord and corrupt their minds with false political doctrines.

Far better would it have been if they had left to the Sovereign in whom,

at first, they placed unbounded confidence, and the wise Ministers whom he

called to his counsels, the care of forwarding the cause of reform. It had

been most benevolently and successfully begun, and was proceeding, in the

estimation of all but an impatient people, with rapidity which had no

parallel in the history of nations. The people, by assembling tumultuously

on occasion of every popular measure, no doubt meant no more at first than

to show gratitude and affection to their pastor and prince. Such meetings,

however, were not without danger to the cause of reform. The political

enemies of the Pope easily foresaw that, by his wise and popular

improvements in the State, he would certainly secure to himself a

peaceful, strong and glorious reign. So, laying hold of the general

enthusiasm, they trained and disciplined to their will a people who were

naturally good and unsuspecting. These men came at length to give the

watchword, and, according to their wishes and the views which it suited

them to insinuate into the popular mind, the uneducated and fickle

multitude expressed satisfaction or discontent, as they defiled in

imposing masses before the mansion of the Pontiff. Thus was formed a sort

of government out of doors, which, if it did not yet oppose or appear to

oppose at least, powerfully swayed the official authority. Cardinal Gizzi,

whose ministry was so popular, deemed it necessary to require by

proclamation that these noisy demonstrations should cease. It was too

late. The people, defying the Cardinal’s mandate, hastened in crowds to

the Quirinal, saluted, as usual, the Pope with enthusiastic _vivats_,

expressing, at the same time, their detestation of his ministry, which

they were wont to applaud so loudly, and which, if it had not by any great

activity done much to acquire, had certainly done nothing to forfeit their

favor. “_Viva Pio Nono! Pio Nono Solo!_” was now their cry. The Pope

himself next came to be considered as intolerably dilatory in preparing

measures of reform. Nor did he escape the accusation, at the same time, of

sacrificing to his zeal, as a temporal ruler, the higher duties which he

owed to religion and the Church. According to one set of revilers, he was

breaking with inviolable tradition. Others insisted that so enthusiastic a

reformer of the State must be a revolutionist in the Church. Such attacks

were met by anticipation in the Encyclical of 9th November, 1846. This

well-known document was received with applause by the civilized world. It

leaves no ground for the charges in question. It would only destroy the

Church to pretend to reform its dogma and revolutionize its discipline and

government. Such an idea could proceed from no other source than the

stratagems of unbelief, or from the snares of the wolf, who, in sheep’s

clothing, seeks to insinuate himself into the fold. It is nothing short of

sacrilege to hold that religion is susceptible of progress or improvement,

as if it were a philosophical discovery, which could advance with the

march of science. The Holy Father enumerates also in this Encyclical the

principal grounds of faith, and exhorts all bishops to oppose with all

their zeal and learning those who, alleging progress as their motive,

perversely endeavor to destroy religion by subjecting it to every man’s

individual judgment. He condemns indifference as regards religion,

eloquently defends ecclesiastical celibacy, and, mindful that the Church

is the teacher of the great as well as of the humble, he enforces the

obligations of sovereigns towards their subjects, not forgetting the

fulfilment of all the duties which the people owe to their rulers. In a

former Encyclical, Pius IX. had expressed his predilection for the

religious orders. This expression was now renewed. Time may have

interfered, more or less, with their discipline. Anxious to preserve them

and promote their prosperity, he was ever willing to correct such abuses

as may have existed. To some communities he offered the most admirable

suggestions. Others he honored with personal visits, evincing always a

truly pastoral zeal for the well-being of institutions so precious to

religion.

Pius IX., although deeply occupied with affairs of State that would have

commanded all the attention and energy of any ordinary mind, found time,

nevertheless, for the discharge of duties of a still higher order. He

never forgot that he was the Bishop as well as the Sovereign of Rome. The

Romans, although inhabiting the Holy City, like all other people, stood in

need of the instructions and warnings of religion. The Pope was aware,

besides, that bad habits prevailed, such as profane swearing, luxurious

living, the neglect of parents in the training of their children. The

knowledge of such things grieved him exceedingly. He now resolved to have

recourse to a measure which was as striking as it was unexpected. In the

trying days of the Crusaders, and moved by their zeal for the safety of

Christendom, the Popes of an earlier time had addressed, as the ministers

of God, immense public assemblages. No Pope, however, had appeared in the

pulpit since Gregory VII. The Church of St. Andrew, where the eloquent

Father Ventura was accustomed to preach, was selected, but, lest there

should be too great a crowd, no notice of the Pope’s intention was

published. At half-past three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, just as the

congregation were expecting to see Abbate Ventura enter the church, the

Pope himself made his appearance. The sermon was not a long one; but it

was memorable, and to be long remembered. “In this city,” said the Holy

Father, “which is the centre of Catholicity, there are men who insult the

holy name of God by profane and blasphemous language. On all those who now

hear me I lay this charge: publish everywhere that I have no hope for such

men. They cast in the face of Heaven the stone which will, one day, recoil

upon them and crush them. I would also most earnestly exhort you as

regards the duty of fasting. Many fathers and mothers come to me in order

to impart to me the sorrow which they experience in considering the

melancholy fact which cannot escape their observation, that the demon of

uncleanness exercises a destructive empire over the youth of Rome. Our

Lord Himself in the Holy Gospel assures us that, by no other means than

prayer and fasting, is it possible to overcome this demon who poisons the

sources of life and works the ruin of immortal souls.” The sermon,

although comparatively short, spoke of the chief obligations of a

Christian life. It was delivered with great unction, and the Holy Father

concluded with a fervent prayer for Rome and the Roman State. “Look down

upon this vine, O Lord, which Thy right hand hath planted! Look upon it in

mercy, and remove from it the hand of iron which weighs so heavily upon

it. Pour into the bosoms of the rising generations those two most precious

attributes of youth,—modesty and a teachable mind. Listen to my prayer, O

Lord, and bestow upon this congregation, on this city and all people, Thy

most precious blessings.”

Appropriate gesticulations added to the power of words. Another influence,

also, came in aid,—an influence peculiar to Pius IX.,—that indescribable

expression of goodness which lighted up his countenance as he spoke. The

people, whose feelings are naturally fine, were moved even to tears and

sighs. The occasion itself was well calculated to move the minds of a

Catholic audience. It was an element, no doubt, which, together with the

eloquence of the preacher, and the power of apostolic preaching, could not

fail to produce a profound impression. And, indeed, the whole congregation

were filled with enthusiasm.

Whilst thus finding consolation in the exercise of his sublime ministry,

the benevolent Pontiff was destined to encounter formidable attacks on the

part of political opponents. On the one hand, the ultra-Conservatives, who

held in abomination the mere idea of reform, endeavored by every means to

confound in the popular mind the beneficial measures which the Pope was

introducing into the economy of the State, with radical changes in the

most essential points of religion itself. The Socialists, on the other

hand, studied to excite the people and increase their impatience by

misrepresenting all the acts of the ministry, and causing it to be

believed that, by the delay which was unavoidable in labors of such

magnitude and importance, they were only abusing the confidence of the

sovereign and betraying the cause of reform. Some remains of chivalry

might have been expected in the ranks of the high Conservative party. But,

alas! too truly the age of chivalry was gone, and these sticklers for the

usages of a bygone age, only showed by their modes of proceeding that they

clung to an empty and inanimate form of things from which life and

substance had departed. As was related at the time, they stepped down to

the depths of calumny and published a cruel libel, in which the Holy

Father was held up to the scorn of all right-thinking men as an

“intruder,” “an enemy of Religion,” “the chief of _Young Italy_.” In the

estimation of such men discretion is the better part of valor. But whilst

they fought with the coward’s weapon—slander—they could not wholly escape

detection. Their libel was seized in the hands of a _colporteur_. This

wretched man offered to disclose the names of the libellers. Pius IX.

declined his offer, generously forgave him the offence, and even bestowed

upon him a sum of money in order to induce him and enable him to give up

his nefarious trade.

Meanwhile, there was at Rome a still more numerous body who sustained the

policy of the Holy Father. These friends of order, it is most pleasing to

record, made every effort to aid him in carrying out the measures of

reform which he contemplated. This influential body of faithful and

patriotic citizens, who can never be sufficiently praised, organized a

considerable force which kept the populace in check. This party consisted,

chiefly, of the burghers of Rome. They were encouraged and headed by the

higher nobles, such as the Borghese, the Rospigliosi, the Riguano, the

Piombino, and the Aldobrandini. Acting as a noble guard, they were able to

preserve order in the city, when, on occasion of celebrating the memorable

amnesty, it was seriously threatened by the factions. They were, indeed, a

party of reform, order-loving and law-abiding. It can never be

sufficiently regretted that, unaccustomed as they were to political

turmoil, they knew not how to keep their ground in the face of new dangers

which arose so soon.

The health of Cardinal Gizzi had begun to decline. The toils of office

were not calculated to improve it, and so he relinquished a post which

was, every day, becoming more onerous and difficult. There was another

Cardinal whose high character had endeared him to the Romans. Ability and

learning were not his only qualities. He was energetic and resolute,

faithful, straightforward and self-sacrificing. When the dread scourge of

cholera swept over his episcopal city and impoverished his people,

Cardinal Ferretti gave up for the relief of the sufferers all that he

possessed—money, clothing, plate, furniture, and remained in his empty

Palace, as destitute as a pauper. To this eminent Cardinal Pius IX.

appealed, offering him the high office which Gizzi could no longer hold.

On 26th July, 1847, the new Chief Minister arrived at Rome. He was warmly

received. The citizens gave him an ovation.

Shortly before his arrival, news had come to Rome that Austrian troops

were marching on Ferrara, a city of the Papal States. They were, indeed,

entitled, by the treaty of 1815, to occupy this fortress, as well as that

of Camachio. They could urge no better excuse for a display of military

power in the Pope’s States on occasion of the threatened disturbance of

16th July. This parade was only the prelude to further military

operations. On 13th August, General Count Auesperg occupied all the posts

of Ferrara. Whatever may be said as to treaty rights, this was,

undoubtedly, an insult to the Papal flag. The most energetic remonstrances

were immediately addressed to the Cabinet of Vienna. Austria endeavored to

justify her proceeding by a wide interpretation of the right of

occupation, by alleging the disturbed state of the public mind at Rome,

and by insisting on certain precedents. But to no purpose. The diplomacy

of Ferretti contended successfully with that of Metternich. And Austria,

yielding with the best grace possible to the representations of the Holy

Father, evacuated Ferrara.

The Pope, far from allowing himself to be disquieted by the presence in

his States of Croat troops, proceeded with the work of reform which he had

undertaken, slowly, indeed, but with energy and perseverance. In these

labors of the statesman, he was ably aided by the Cardinal Minister

Ferretti. A promise was given that before the end of the year two great

political and administrative institutions would be called into existence.

Accordingly, so early as the month of October, two State papers appeared,

the one instituting the municipality of Rome, which was to be called _the

Senate_, the other decreeing an assembly that should be, to a certain

extent, representative, under the name of _Council of State_ (consulta).

The City of Rome had not, for a long time, possessed, like the other

cities of the Pontifical States, municipal institutions. It was now

ordained that there should be a City Council, consisting of the mayor (in

the language of the country, _Senator_), with eight colleagues and a

hundred other members. This is not unlike our own municipal magistracy,

wherein are the mayor, aldermen and common councilmen or councillors. With

us, however, aldermen could hardly be called the colleagues of the mayor.

This functionary stands alone in his worshipful dignity. The first

nomination of the members of this municipal body was reserved to the Pope.

But it was appointed that, ever after, it should be chosen by free popular

election. None will question the wisdom and liberality of the language in

which the Pope expressed himself in the preamble to the new law. “When we

were called by Divine Providence to govern the Church and the State, our

paternal solicitude was at once directed to every portion of the Dominion

subjected to our Government, but especially towards the capital, the chief

of all our cities, to which it is consoling for us to devote our watchings

and our labors. What was, above all, important, and what we think will be

a subject of joy to all, is the restoration to this beloved city of its

ancient glory of communal representation, by granting to it a deliberative

council. The study of this project has been particularly pleasing to us,

and we have not allowed ourselves to be discouraged by any difficulty.”

This important decree was published on the 2nd day of October, 1847. On

the following day there was a national festival. The people were in

raptures, and loudly demonstrated their gratitude to the Holy Father for

an institution which recalled the glorious associations of ancient Rome,

and restored it to its place and rank among modern cities. The

Cardinal-prince Altieri was named president. He opened the first session

of the municipal council by a speech which was marked by the homage paid

therein to Pius IX. “He considered not,” said the orator, “whether the

work be difficult. He sees its utility and hesitates not.” The council

almost unanimously elected to the post of Senator (Mayor) Prince Corsini,

who was, at that time, devoted to the policy of the reforming Pontiff.

A measure of more general importance now occupied the attention of the

Sovereign Pontiff and his Ministers. The Council of State (consulta) was

established. It was a deliberative assembly. It was not sovereign, but

possessed the right to advise the Sovereign. There were twenty-four

councillors. The President was a Cardinal Legate. Each councillor was

chosen by the Pope from a list of three candidates presented by each

Province of the Pontifical States. The Council was divided into four

sections, whose office it was to prepare laws relating to the Departments

of Finance, Home Affairs, Public Works and Justice. It was the duty also

of these four Committees to hold a general meeting on certain days, in

order to take counsel together on the draughts of proposed laws which they

had separately prepared. On the 25th November, 1847, the National

Representatives met for the first time. Their place of meeting was the

throne-room of the Quirinal Palace. Cardinal Antonelli was the first

President. The proceedings were commenced, and most appropriately, by a

respectful address to the Holy Father. It was well known to Pius IX. that

the creation of this institution had awakened exaggerated and premature

hopes in the minds of a portion of the people, and that some of the

Deputies were not disinclined to encourage them. So he considered it

necessary, in his reply, to define, in a very decided manner, the true

character and functions of the National Representative Body. “It is

chiefly,” said he, “in order that I may become better acquainted with the

wants of my people, and that I may better provide for the exigencies of

the State, that I have called you together. I am prepared, in time, to do

everything, without, however, diminishing the Sovereignty of the

Pontificate. That man would be grievously mistaken who should behold in

the functions which devolve on you, or in your institution itself, his own

Utopias, or the commencement of anything incompatible with the Pontifical

Sovereignty.” In concluding, he spoke in a still more determined tone, and

reproached his people with the ingratitude which they had already begun to

manifest. “There are some persons who, having nothing to lose, wish for

disorder and insurrection, and go so far as to make a bad use even of our

concessions.”

There was in this Council a commencement of representative government.

Deputies from the Provinces assembled—deliberated. They heard a Speech

from the Throne. They presented an address in reply. In due time this germ

of constitutional monarchy would be developed. But the Sovereign would not

proceed rashly. The full measure of reform, he was well aware, must, like

all great works, be the fruit of time, of much labor and patient

consideration.

Count Rossi, the French Ambassador, considered that it was already time to

introduce a lay element into the political administration of the Papal

States. The Holy Father, accordingly, after due consideration, appointed

some distinguished laymen to the Ministry. In so doing, no doubt, he

sacrificed time-honored usage; but not so much to the wishes of his

friends and allies, as to the spirit of the age, which, whether right or

wrong, will have men of the world to deal with the world.

Italy, although divided into several States, looked to Rome as its centre

and its capital. Whatever occurred in the city of the Popes was at once

known throughout the whole peninsula. Such important and unlooked-for

measures of reform as were now carried into effect could not fail, as they

were communicated, to affect deeply the Italian mind. Public opinion was

aroused. The most profound sympathy was everywhere felt and expressed.

Liberty had revived under the auspices of Religion. It had emanated as a

new blessing from the Cross. The Chief of Religion, the Father of the

Faithful, had become its High Priest. His name was held in benediction.

His praises were proclaimed not only by the Italian people, but also by

every civilized nation. It was no longer violence—no longer

insurrection—that contended for liberty. The greatest of all sovereigns

had announced its reign. It was not indebted to any secret society. It

relied upon society at large. It rested secure, so men believed, on the

firm foundation of enlightened public opinion. Philosophy, as represented

by M. Cousin, hailed its advent. The statesmanship of France, headed by M.

Thiers, extolled its champion. Protestantism, forgetting its illiberal

prejudices, re-echoed with enthusiasm the warm _vivats_ of reformed Italy.

Pius IX., meanwhile, enjoyed his reward,—not in the flattering echo of the

thousand voices which sounded his praise, but in the one still voice of

approving conscience. He was consoled, moreover, by a profound conviction

that the cause which he had taken in hand would, one day, prove

triumphant.

With every new concession came the desire for further change. The people

generally were satisfied, even grateful, and they frequently expressed

their gratitude in the most sincere and enthusiastic manner. They were

not, however, all sincere. There were not wanting those who studied only

to make available for their own ends the tumultuous gatherings and warm

expressions of satisfaction in which the people so often indulged. This

was the Socialist faction. It aimed at nothing less than to establish a

Republic—a _Republic, one and undivided_, or, as it has been called,

because of its cruel and blood-thirsty character, the _Red Republic_.

With a view to the establishment of such a Republic, the men of this party

took advantage of the numerous assemblages, which could not now either be

regulated or diminished in number, to gain new friends, to increase

popular excitement, and so to discipline it as to bring it, through some

favorite demagogues, under their control. It will shortly be seen with

what a dangerous weapon they were arming themselves. It can scarcely be

doubted that but for the machinations of these factionists and their

influence with the masses, which was every day increasing, Pius IX. would

have succeeded in establishing a system of government as constitutional

and as free as was at all compatible with his own rights as sovereign.

These rights he was not at liberty to abandon. No greater measure of

political freedom could be reasonably desired by any people. From all

history it is manifest that liberty is as fully enjoyed, and established

on a more secure and permanent basis, under the fostering auspices of a

constitutional monarchy, than in the best regulated republics. Such a form

of government may indeed be said to be more republican than monarchical.

But although possessing many properties, and all the popular advantages of

a Republic, it does not cease to be a monarchy. The kingly dignity still

remains with all that appertains to it, and is an essential element of its

constitution. Such was the monarchy that Pius IX. desired to retain, and

which he was bound in conscience, he believed, never to relinquish. That

in this he was sincere his high character bears witness. Never was there a

less selfish sovereign, or a man of more upright mind and sounder

judgment. No prince ever held less to prerogative. Essential rights he was

firmly resolved to maintain, whilst he never would have shrunk from any

legitimate concession. Whatever was adapted to the time and the

circumstances of his country, useful to his people, and conformable to a

well-informed and sound public opinion, he was prepared to introduce into

the economy of the State. But, the complete secularization of public power

in the Pontifical States, in other words, the establishment of a Republic

based on anti-Christian principles,—the _Red Republic_,—could never for a

moment be contemplated. What may be called the consultative Government had

just entered upon the discharge of its duties, when Pius IX. resolved to

render it completely representative. This important resolution was the

subject of frequent conversations with M. Rossi, at the time ambassador at

Rome of the French constitutional monarchy. M. Rossi wrote as follows, to

his government, in January, 1848:

“It is a problem which, after much reflection, I consider may be

solved. The divisions of sovereignty in the world have been

numerous and diverse. And as they lasted for ages, we might even

try one more, beginning by separating entirely the temporal from

the spiritual—the Pope from the King. Only it would be necessary

to leave wholly to the spiritual, and the clergy, matters which

with us are mixed.”

Not many days later, the ambassador imparted to his government this more

decided intelligence: “The Pope will shortly grant the constitution. It is

his serious and constant study.” M. Rossi earnestly recommended that there

should be no delay in adopting this important measure. It would, he

conceived, put an end to agitation,—a most desirable result, surely, when

it is considered how fatal to the cause of liberty and reform might any

day become the too frequent tumultuous assemblages which, once

constitutional government was established, would necessarily cease.

The Pope held the same idea as the eminent diplomatist. The great idea was

as yet, however, far from being realized. A new and most serious

difficulty unexpectedly arose. On the 5th of March, 1848, a courier

arrived, bearing the startling intelligence that the constitutional

monarchy of France had fallen, and that a Republic was established at

Paris. No greater misfortune could have befallen Rome. The public

excitement was increased beyond measure, and exaggerated hopes were

enkindled that could never be fulfilled. The people, at first enthusiastic

only, were now turbulent. The events in France exercised a still more

fatal influence. They caused anarchy to prevail. The extreme or Socialist

Republicans, whom the proclamation of the constitution would have

paralyzed, were now in the ascendant. What had been done at Paris, they

conceived, might be done at Rome. And they induced the inexperienced

multitude to share their conviction. Such belief was only an idle and a

culpable dream. For surely it could not be guiltless to resolve on

sacrificing thousands on thousands of precious lives for an Utopia,—a

system that could never be realized. Events have shown that in France

itself, which was entirely free to make whatever political arrangement it

pleased, a Republic was not possible, even such a Republic as was

established at the downfall of the citizen monarchy, in preference to the

Red Republic. How, then, should it be possible to build up at Rome an

extreme system in opposition to the views and wishes of the whole

Christian world,—in opposition even to the people of Rome themselves, who,

when free from undue excitement, were the loyal supporters of the

sovereign who had already introduced into the economy of the State so many

liberal institutions—institutions that were in perfect harmony with their

ideas, and admirably adapted to the exigencies of the times? There was no

need, as yet, that the Catholic nations should come to the aid of their

Chief. It was necessary only to appeal, in defence of his sovereignty,

_from Rome drunk to Rome sober_,—from Rome intoxicated with unwonted

draughts of liberty to Rome in its normal state—to Rome, cool, and calm,

and intellectual, even as in the days of her ancient glory, when her sages

and grave senators sat by her gates sorrowing but dignified in their

defeat. With the like countenance ought modern Rome to have met the tide

of Socialist invasion, which every successive endeavor to establish the

Red or Communist Republic proves to be more destructive than the war of

mighty legions, which can only cast down material walls.

A Socialist Republic was impossible at Rome, the city of the Popes. It

never could have held its ground against the sound principle which

universally prevailed throughout the Pontifical States. Nor would it ever

have been able to obtain the countenance, or even the recognition, of the

European governments. Not France and Austria only; every other Catholic

nation as well would have exerted all their influence against it. Nor in

doing so would they have acted unwisely or unjustly. Had not Rome been the

residence of their Chief Pastor, that great historic city would have

ceased long ago to exist, or would be known only as an insignificant

village, scarcely perceptible on the map of Europe. How often has not the

celebrated city been rescued from destruction by the direct agency of the

Popes? How long have they not governed it with wisdom and blessed it with

prosperity? If there be any such thing as prescriptive right, undoubtedly

it is theirs. If there be any right better founded and stronger than that

of conquest, such right belongs unquestionably to the saviors of Rome.

They have saved it for the Christian world, for mankind, for the Church.

It is no man’s property. It cannot be let, like a paltry farm, to those

who shall bid the highest, in vain compromises and delusive hopes of

liberty. Should the Roman people, of their own free will, pretend to give

themselves away,—to sell themselves to a faction whose subversive

principles they abhor, their forefathers of all preceding ages would

protest against their base degeneracy; the children of the generations to

come would curse their memory; all reflecting men of the present time

would accuse them of black ingratitude,—ingratitude to the mighty dead

among their Pontiffs, to whom they are indebted for their very name, their

city’s fame, its honored State, its very existence in modern times;

ingratitude, above all, to that ruler who offered them, who bestowed upon

them, liberty, and who would have gladly rescued them in his day from

tyranny,—the tyranny of faction,—even as his predecessors, in bygone

times, snatched them from the cruel grasp of barbarism.

Pius IX. had made up his mind to institute thoroughly representative and

constitutional government. And this was all that the Roman people, as yet,

desired. They were only anxious that the views of the Pontiff should be

speedily carried into effect. Accordingly, Prince Corsini, the Senator

(Mayor), and the eight principal members of the Municipal Council, were

commissioned to make known their wishes to the Pope. His reply was

dignified and candid. In declaring his intention to grant the constitution

which they asked for, he took care to intimate in the most decided manner

that he was not making a concession to the urgency of the moment, but

accomplishing his premeditated purpose. “Events,” said he, “abundantly

justify the request which you address to me in the name of the Council and

Magistracy of Rome. All are aware that it is my constant study to give to

the Government the form which appears to me to be most in harmony with the

times. But, none are ignorant, at the same time, of the difficulties to

which he is exposed, who unites in his own person two great dignities,

when endeavouring to trace the line of demarcation between these two

powers. What, in a secular Government, may be done in one day, in the

Pontifical can only be accomplished after mature deliberation. I flatter

myself, nevertheless, that the preliminary labours having been completed,

I shall be able, in a few days, to impart to you the result of my

reflections, and that this result will meet the wishes of all reasonable

people.”

On the 14th of March, accordingly, was published _the fundamental statute

for the temporal government of the Holy See_, and so was inaugurated

constitutional rule in the most complete and straightforward manner which

it is possible to conceive.

The constitution was framed according to the model of the French Liberal

Monarchy of 1830, so modified as to render it capable of being adapted to

the Pontifical Government. Under its provisions there were a Ministry

which was responsible, and two Houses of Parliament, one of which was

elective, and the other composed of members who should hold their

appointment during their lifetime. To the Council of State belonged the

framing of laws to be afterwards submitted to the votes of the two

Chambers.

In all constitutional monarchies, the assent of the sovereign is

necessary, in order to give the force of law to measures voted by

Parliament. So, under the constitution promulgated at Rome by Pius IX.,

the College of Cardinals were constituted a permanent council, whose

office it was to sanction finally the decisions of the Legislative

Chambers. Such, in substance, was the statute by which the Pontifical

States became undeniably constitutional. A few days later the Ministry was

named. Three-fourths of their number were laymen. Cardinal Antonelli was

appointed President or First Minister. And thus the constitution was no

sooner framed than it came into operation, so anxious was Pius IX. to

advance the interests and meet the wants and wishes of his people.

Now, one would say, gratitude only could await the Pontiff. But no! at the

moment when, of all others, he was entitled to rely on the devotedness of

his people, a new and great difficulty arose.

By the diplomacy of 1815, at the close of the great European War, certain

portions of Italy had been left subject to German rule. By war only, some

Italians imagined, could this evil be removed. This was an extravagant

idea. War could only raise up new enemies to the cause of Italy and that

regeneration which appeared to be so near at hand. Diplomacy would have

served them better. What it had done at one time, under pressure of the

most trying circumstances, it would have been ready to achieve when

circumstances were changed, and imperatively demanded a new order of

things.

In the new emergencies that had arisen, the learning and ability of

statesmen ought, at least, in the first instance, to have been appealed

to. As between individuals, it is reasonable that all peaceful means of

adjusting a quarrel should be employed, so, in the greater affairs of

nations, all the arts of statesmanship ought to be had recourse to before

resort is had to bayonets and blood. How successful such a course would

have proved, and how beneficial to the cause of Italian liberty, is more

than sufficiently shown by the great result which diplomacy obtained, when

Austria, insisting on treaty rights, displayed the flag of war at Ferrara.

In that case, no doubt, the Pope was the chief diplomatist. But would he

not have been so, likewise, when there was question, not of one city only,

but of many of the greatest cities and best provinces of Italy? It is not

to be supposed, that in these more momentous circumstances he would have

found “the Barbarians” more hard to deal with. Austria, indeed, was so

barbarous as to ignore that exquisite refinement of modern times, which

despises religion and its ministers; and so she would have shown, as of

old, her reverence for the Pontiff, by withdrawing, at his request, her

soldiers from Italian soil.

The Italians, however, did not think so. They would have war, cost what it

would. The people even of the Papal States, whose august Chief could have

conquered without war, were bent on the same fatal purpose. They were

wholly under the influence of the Socialist agitation, and no wiser

counsel could be made to prevail.

It was decided among the popular leaders that the question of war should

be agitated in the greatest assembly which it was possible to gather

together. The Coliseum was appointed as the place of meeting, and it was

destined to present an unwanted spectacle, a grand but ill-omened scene.

All Rome, it may be said, was congregated in the ancient arena, the

favorite tribunes at their head. These demagogues were determined that the

question of war should be settled by acclamation, hoping thus to influence

the Sovereign Pontiff to induce him to abandon his policy of neutrality by

this imposing display of opinion and excitement, by so much popular

enthusiasm, by such intoxication, so to say, of patriotism. At an early

hour the vast arena was already crowded. All orders of the State were

there—Nobles, Burghers, Soldiers, Princes—everybody. Priests even came in

tolerable numbers to swell the crowd, and monks of every order,

ecclesiastics of every college, members of every congregation. Such was

the immense open air assemblage in which the question of the new crusade

was to be solemnly discussed. It would have been a grand and noteworthy

spectacle, had it not been arranged beforehand by skilful leaders who were

adepts in the art of getting up revolutionary displays. In the great

assembly there may have been sincerity. In the chief actors there was

none. Such a spontaneous expression of public sentiment, if really such,

would, indeed, have been imposing—grand. Viewed only as a theatrical

performance of parts learned to order—and it was nothing more—it was

deserving of nothing but contempt. There was in this display, besides, a

sinister and melancholy feature—a set of actors practising on the popular

mind to-day, in order to discover what they might safely attempt

to-morrow.

Near the tribune which overlooks the arena were ranged all those agitators

who were destined to become, at a later period, so notorious in the

commotions of the time. Among them was observed Padre Gavazzi, a Barnabite

monk, whose puerile vanity made him aspire to distinction, and whose

career was already marked by pretentious eloquence, a bombastic style,

confused ideas, and a mind still undecided as to the limits of orthodoxy,

which, a little later, he stepped beyond. He was the preacher of _the

crusade_. Next came the shepherd poet, Rosi; Prince Canino’s Secretary,

Masi; a young French monk of the order of Conventualists, Dumaine;

Generals Durando and Ferrari; the journalist, Sterbini, afterwards so

fatally popular; and, of course, the demagogue, Cicerruacho, who had been,

at first, enthusiastic in the cause of the Pope, but who now burned for

war, and, ere long, imparted to the revolution a character of fitful

fanaticism and absurd sympathies. The day was spent in magniloquent

addresses, which affected the style of ancient types, urgent exhortations

to war, poetical orations, rounds of applause, rapturous demonstrations.

The result was, lists for the enrolment of volunteers; the establishment

in the different quarters of the city of tables for receiving patriotic

offerings, and a threatening demonstration against the Quirinal Palace,

where it was intended to force the Pope to bless the colours for the

expedition against Austria.

The movement was now beyond all control. The orders of the Pope were

treated with a sort of respect, but not obeyed. The spirit of rebellion

was abroad, although the people still made a show of reverence. They were

no sooner from the presence of the Pontiff than they transgressed his most

sacred commands. Pius IX. had distinctly specified, when he authorized the

enrolment and the departure of volunteers, that it was his intention and

his will that the expedition should be exclusively defensive; that it

should protect the territory, but avoid passing the frontier. The leaders,

notwithstanding, adding perfidy to rebellion, made use of the Pontiff’s

name in order to deceive the people. General Durando had no sooner arrived

at Bologna than he issued a proclamation, in which, falsifying the Pope’s

wishes, he adduced his authority in order to encourage the war.

“Radetsky,” said he, “fights against the cross of Christ. Pius IX. has

blessed your swords together with those of Charles Albert. This war of

civilization against barbarism is not merely national, it is a Christian

war. With the cross and by the cross, we shall be victorious. God wills

it.”

Nothing could have tended more completely to compromise the character of

the Pontiff. It became necessary, accordingly, to publish the Encyclical

Letter of 29th April, 1848. “Men are endeavouring,” said the Holy Father,

in this admirable document, “to disseminate suspicions that are injurious

to the temporal administration of our States. It is our duty to prevent

the scandal that might thus be given to the simple and unreflecting.” He

then proceeds to declare that he is resolved to expose clearly and to

proclaim loudly the origin of all the facts of his Government. He refers

to the memorandum of 1831, which contained the collective counsels of the

European Cabinets to the Apostolic See, recommending the necessary

reforms. Some of these reforms were adopted by Gregory XVI. Circumstances

and the danger of the times caused others to be deferred. Pius IX.

considered that it was his duty to complete what his predecessor had

begun. He does not disclaim having taken the initiative on certain other

points. He had pardoned extensively, and he congratulates himself on this

clemency. He repels the calumny which would ascribe to the reforms which

he had inaugurated the general movement of Italy towards its

enfranchisement. This agitation he attributes to events that occurred

elsewhere, and which became facts of overwhelming influence for the whole

of Europe. Finally, he protests that he gave no other order to his

soldiers than that which required that they should defend the Pontifical

territory. He cannot be held responsible for the conduct of those amongst

his subjects who allow themselves to be swayed by the example of other

Italians. He had given his orders distinctly. They had been transgressed.

On the disturbing question of war with Austria, the _Encyclical_ bears the

following words:

“They would have us declare war against Austria. We have thought

it our duty to protest formally against such a resolution,

considering that, notwithstanding our unworthiness, we hold on

earth the place of Him who is the Author of peace—the Friend of

charity; and that, faithful to the Divine obligations of our

Apostolate, we embrace all countries, all peoples, all nations, in

a like sentiment of paternal love. Nor can we refrain from

repelling, in the face of all nations, the perfidious assertions

of those who desire that the Roman Pontiff should be the chief of

the government of a new republic, consisting of all the peoples of

Italy.

“Moreover, we earnestly exhort, on this occasion, these same

Italian peoples to keep particularly on their guard against these

treacherous counsels. We conjure them to remain devotedly attached

to their princes, whose affection they have experienced. To act

otherwise would be not only to fail in their duty, but also to

expose Italy to discord and factions. As regards ourselves, we

declare once more that all the thoughts and all the efforts of the

Roman Pontiff tend only to increase every day the kingdom of Jesus

Christ, which is the Church, and not to extend the limits of the

temporal sovereignty, with which Divine Providence has endowed the

Holy See, for the dignity and the free exercise of the sublime

Apostolate.”

No better argument could have been offered in reply to those parties who

clamored so unreasonably for war. Nor could the Pontiff have vindicated

more eloquently the pacific character of that religion of which he is the

Chief and Representative on earth. At the same time, he offered wise and

authoritative counsel to the Italian nationalities. It was too late. The

voice of friendly warning remained unheard amidst the din of strife and

revolution. Need it be added—the cause of liberty perished for a time,

victimized by its own excess.