“Here is a second letter, which I received a few days ago from an English

merchant of the highest standing at Leghorn: ‘No intervention is allowed

in Tuscany; and nevertheless, my Lord, intervention appears everywhere;

even armed and foreign intervention. The governor-general is a

Piedmontese; the minister of war is a Piedmontese; the commander of the

armed police is a Piedmontese; the military governor of Leghorn is a

Piedmontese; the captain of the port is a Piedmontese; without reckoning a

great number of other functionaries of the same nation. This is what I

call armed and foreign intervention. Let us be disembarrassed of all this;

let us be free from the despotic pressure of this government, and the

great majority of the country would vote the restoration of the House of

Lorraine. Almost all the army would be for the Grand Duke, and on this

account it is kept at a distance from Tuscany. I can say the same of

two-thirds of the national guard. All the Great Powers have observed

strict neutrality here, inasmuch as they have not been present at any

ceremony which could be looked upon as a recognition of the existing

government. But since the peace of Villafranca, the English agents have

taken part in all the ceremonies, in all the balls.’ Assuredly, thus to

recognize such a government is far from being faithful to the assurance

given last session by the noble Lord at the head of the foreign department

(cheers).”

Lord Normanby’s trustworthy correspondent says, moreover, in the letter

referred to, that the Tuscan troops being kept at a distance from Tuscany,

the people dreaded making any demonstration, being well aware that an

imprudent word would be punished with imprisonment. “At Leghorn, however,

some private meetings were held, at which influential persons were

present. Public meetings are impossible. Twenty-three members of the

assembly asked that it should be convened. This was refused them. At the

private meetings, however, it was decided that Ferdinand IV. should be

recalled, on condition of granting a constitution and an amnesty. The

people have been dreadfully deceived. All promises have been violated, the

price of provisions has risen, the national debt has been enormously

increased.”

Lord Normanby also laid before the House of Peers the testimony of a

distinguished Italian writer, Signor Amperi, whom he described as a man of

high character. This gentleman addressed the governments of Central Italy

in the following terms:

“The false position in which you have placed yourselves has reduced you to

the necessity, in times of liberty, as you pretend, but of false liberty,

as I conceive, to make falsehood a system of government. Of the promises

of Victor Emmanuel that he would sustain before the Great Powers the vote

of the Tuscan Assembly, you have made a formal accepting for himself of

this vote, and, in order to deceive the ignorant multitude, you ordered

public rejoicings in honor of a fact which you knew to be false. You

declared yourselves the ministers of a king who had not appointed you. You

administer the government in his name; you give judgments in his name; you

pledge the public faith of a sovereign who has given you no commission to

do any such thing; and although you forced the Tuscans to acknowledge him

for king, you despise his authority to such an extent as to impose upon

him the choice of a regent. What right have you to do this, if he be

really king, and if he be not, is your right any better founded?”

The Marquis of Normanby laughs to scorn the various attempts that were

made to establish a government in Central Italy against the will of the

people. First of all, a certain Signor Buoncompagni was appointed

governor-general by the King of Sardinia. The Emperor of the French judged

that the ambitious satrap had exceeded his powers, and Buoncompagni was

immediately recalled. The Prince de Carignan was then offered the regency

of Central Italy. He thought it prudent to decline; but, unwilling wholly

to relinquish a cherished object of ambition, he named in his place the

above-mentioned Signor Buoncompagni. It would be hard to say in virtue of

what right he so acted. The appointment, it is well known, caused the

greatest indignation at Florence, and elicited a protest from the liberal

representatives themselves. Will it be believed, in after times, that the

British ministry, at that time in power, actually recognized this spurious

government, ordering the Queen’s representative to pay an official visit

to Signor Buoncompagni? Whilst all Europe held aloof, anxious to avoid

wrong and insult to the Italian people, whence this zeal and haste on the

part of the British cabinet? At first they had resolved to be neutral. But

there occurred to them the chimerical idea of a great kingdom of Central

Italy; and, as Lord Normanby stated, they hastened in their ignorance to

carry this idea into effect. “Yes,” continued the illustrious Peer, when

assailed by the laughter of the more ignorant portion of his hearers,

“yes, in complete ignorance of the aspirations and the prejudices of the

Italian people.”

“It is a painful duty,” said the illustrious statesman, in concluding his

eloquent appeal to the common sense and honorable feeling of the British

peerage, “to have to dispel the illusions of public opinion in regard to

Italy. I have endeavored to fulfil this duty by laying before you

information that can be relied on; and I have the pleasure to observe that

light is now beginning to penetrate the darkness which has hitherto

enveloped this question. There is already a greater chance that Italian

independence will be established on a more legitimate basis, free from all

foreign intervention, and in such a way as to favor the cause of fidelity,

of truth, of honor and general order (cheers).”

If there were no foreign intervention, it was long the fashion with

certain parties to say, we should soon see the end of Papal rule, as well

as that of all the other sovereignties of Italy. Such, however, were not

the views of the great majority of the Italian people. It has been

satisfactorily proved, those people themselves being the witnesses, that

such of them as were subjects of the Pope, far from being discontented and

anxious to do away with the government which was set over them, and

substitute for it either a republic or a foreign monarchy, highly

appreciated and were steadfastly devoted to the wise and paternal rule of

their Pontiff Sovereign. The subjects of the other Italian Princes, as

well as the inhabitants of the revolutionized portion of the Papal States,

were only prevented by the armed intervention of foreign Powers from

declaring in favor of their rightful sovereigns. There is no pretension to

deny that there were reformers and constitutionalists in those States. Of

their number the Pope himself was one. But the well-informed and

intellectual Italians were not ignorant that all reforms must be the fruit

of time and of opinion, and that under the sway of enlightened and

benevolent sovereigns, aided by the learning and wise counsel of able and

conscientious statesmen, such changes, in matters of civil polity, as were

adapted to the wants of the people would not have been delayed beyond the

time when circumstances called for and justified their adoption.

(M67) All eyes were turned towards the victor of Solferino, who was the

absolute master of the situation. What would he do? Would he allow to be

violated the definitive treaty which his Plenipotentiaries were actually

completing at Zurich? Napoleon III. did positively nothing. He repeated in

the treaty the stipulations in favor of the dispossessed sovereigns, just

as if the pretended plebiscitums were null, and he had no knowledge of

them. He quietly permitted these plebiscitums to take effect with all

their consequences, quite the same as if the treaty had never existed.

Austria saw the treaty executed, as regarded every sacrifice to which she

had consented, and not without pain, that it was set aside in all the

points which set a limit to those sacrifices. But Austria was not the

strongest Power. Piedmont, meanwhile, adhibited her signature without

wincing under those of France and Austria. Thus, as Mgr. Pie of Poitiers

declared, the church was deprived of all human stay. Such a state of

things was not witnessed without emotion. Even in the frivolous society of

France a change had taken place since the days of the great revolution.

Catholic sentiment had gained among the lettered classes. The dethronement

of Pius VI. had passed unnoticed, like that of an ordinary sovereign. That

of Pius VII. had excited only some isolated animadversions. That of Pius

IX. raised storms of protestation on the one hand, and on the other

thunders of applause. One party so hated the Papacy as to become traitors

to their country, and bind themselves with a sort of wild enthusiasm,

first to the car of Italian unity, afterwards to that of Germany. They who

thought otherwise carried their love of the imperilled institution to such

an extent as to forget all their calculations, all their political

alliances, and to incur freely the displeasure of men in power, even to

sacrifice the favor of the multitude, favor which was not less valuable in

times of universal suffrage than that of power. The Roman question became

the inexhaustible subject of public discussions and private conversations.

It sometimes even occasioned family quarrels, and was a trying ordeal for

long-established friendships. Such extraordinary emotion on account of an

idea—an abstraction, as it was called by the indifferent, who took part

with neither one side nor the other—showed that society was not yet

corroded to the core by selfishness and purely material interests. It was

sick, indeed, but far from dead. The French government ought, surely, at

the outset, to have taken warning. It ought to have learned something from

the unanimity with which all the enemies of order, who were also its

enemies, supported its new policy, and the unanimity, not less remarkable,

with which religious people who, generally, had been its friends, combated

that policy. Both liberal and ultramontane Catholics, Protestants even,

such, at least, as were earnest Christians, and practised what they

believed, forgot their divisions. The bishops were the first who spoke

out. Mgr. de Parisis, who had so nobly contended for the liberties of the

church in the reign of Louis Philippe, gave the keynote, and all took part

with him and their venerable colleagues of Italy and Germany, of Ireland

and Spain, of England and America. To say all in a word, the note of alarm

was sounded throughout the whole extent of Christendom.

In this magnificent concert was heard the courageous language of Mgr.

Dupanloup, the learned and illustrious Bishop of Orleans. On the 30th of

September, 1859, this prelate wrote, no less boldly than eloquently:

“People say that to touch the sovereign is not to touch the Pontiff.

Certainly his temporal power is not a divine institution; who does not

know this? But it is a providential institution, and who is ignorant of

the fact? Doubtless, during three centuries, the Popes only possessed

independence enough to die martyrs; but they assuredly had a right to

another sort of independence; and providence, which does not always use

miracles for its purpose, ended by founding on the most lawful sovereignty

in Europe the freedom and the independence necessary to the church.

History proves it beyond the possibility of doubt; all eminent intellects

have confessed it; all true statesmen know it. Yes, that the church may be

free, the Pope must be free and independent. That independence must be

sovereign. The Pope must be free, and he must be evidently so. The Pope

must be free in his own interior as well as in his exterior government.

This must be so, for the sake of his own dignity in the government of the

church as well as for the security of our own consciences. This must be

so, in order to secure to the common parent of all the faithful that

neutrality which is indispensable to him amid the frequent wars between

Christian Powers. The Pope must not only be free in his own conscience, in

his own interior, but it must be evident to all that he is so; he must

show himself to be so, in order that all may know and believe it, and that

no doubt or suspicion be possible on this subject. But, say the Italian

revolutionists, we do not propose to do away with the Papal sovereignty;

we merely wish to limit and restrain it. And why so, I ask you in my turn,

if thereby you also diminish and debase the honor of the Catholic

religion, its dignity and independence? Why do so, if thereby you lower

and degrade the most Italian sovereignty of the whole peninsula? Why, more

especially, do so now, in presence of all these unchained evil passions,

and thereby give against the Holy See a sentence of incapacity, and thus,

in the eyes of Christendom, insult that unarmed and oppressed Majesty? You

say he will only lose the Romagna and the Legations. But allow me to ask

you by what right you take them? And why not take all the rest, if you

please? Why, in your dreams of Italian unity, should other Italian cities

fare otherwise than Bologna and Ferrara? Why have you not made up your

minds to take everything outside of Rome, with the garden of the Vatican?

You have said this, you know. But why leave him, even in Rome? Why should

not Dioclesian and the catacombs be the best of all governments for the

church? Where are you going? How far will your detestable principles lead

you? At least, tell us clearly? Is this a clever calculation of yours?

and, not daring to do more at present, or unable to do more, are you

waiting for time and the violence of events to accomplish the rest? But

who, think you, is to be deceived by you? Must we say, with the highest

organ of the English press, that in the present business France is

aggressive and insidious? I do not admit that our country is willing to

play the part designed for her. Such calculations are not suited to French

generosity. For my part, I protest, with my whole soul, against the

perfidious intentions that we are supposed to entertain. But, in

concluding, I must protest, still more solemnly, as a devoted son of the

Holy Roman Church, the mother and teacher of all others—I protest against

the revolutionary impiety which ignores her rights and would fain steal

her patrimony. I protest, in the name of good sense and honor, indignant

at beholding an Italian Sovereign Power become the accomplice of

insurrection and revolt, and at the conspiracy of so many blind and

unreasoning passions against the principles proclaimed and professed

throughout the world by all great statesmen and politicians. I protest, in

the name of common decency and European law, against this profanation of

all that is most august, against the brutal passions which have inspired

acts of inconceivable cowardice. And if I must speak out, I protest, in

the name of good faith, against this restless and ill-disguised ambition,

those evasive answers, that disloyal policy, of which we have the

saddening spectacle before our eyes.”

These burning words of the eminent and patriotic French bishop must have

pierced the soul of Napoleon III. To any other man, at least, an Orsini

shell would have been less terrible. But, “_Perversi difficillime

corriguntur_.” No reproaches, however severe and well deserved, no

remonstrance, however well founded, could move the French Emperor. A

greater power than that of words had impelled him towards the evil courses

which the great majority of the French nation, together with the whole

Catholic world, condemned. The bishops, meanwhile, continued to protest.

The Archbishop of Sens, Mellon-Jolly, dared to say, in accents of sorrow:

“Events, alas! are far beyond all that we feared.” De Prilly, Bishop of

Chalons, Dean of the French Episcopate, thus wrote a few days before his

death: “Ah! who deserved less than Pius IX. to be attacked by so many

enemies! If the tears which he sheds are so bitter for himself, they are

terrible to those who cause them! A poor bishop, at the point of death, so

assures him and craves his benediction.” The expiring prelate, one would

say, had foreseen the humiliation of Sedan. The courageous language of the

bishops was so much feared that it was thought necessary to silence them.

Napoleon, having endeavored in vain to remove their disquietude by

renewing his hollow protestations, denounced them as violent agitators,

abandoned them to the jeers of the infidel press, for which alone there

was liberty in those days, and finally forbade all journals whatsoever to

publish episcopal writings that bore any relation to the Roman question.

Thus did he think to escape the danger with which he was threatened by

silencing the tongues which warned him.

The learned Cardinal Donnet, so celebrated as a theologian, now showed the

abilities of a diplomatist. When Napoleon III. was at Bordeaux, on the

11th October, 1859, the cardinal, whose duty it was to compliment the

Emperor as his sovereign, failed not at the same time to remonstrate

against his tortuous policy. “We pray,” said the pious cardinal, “we pray

confidently, persistently, and with hope which neither deplorable events

nor sacrilegious acts of violence extinguished. Our hopes, the realization

of which appears to be so remote, are founded on yourself, sire, next to

God. You were and you still desire to be the oldest son of the church, and

it cannot be forgotten that you spoke the memorable words: ‘The temporal

sovereignty of the venerable head of the church is intimately connected

with the lustre of Catholicism, as also with the liberty and independence

of Italy.’ Grand idea! perfectly in harmony with that of the august Chief

of your dynasty, who said in regard to the temporal power of the Popes:

‘_The centuries made it, and they did well._’ ” The only reply of the

all-powerful Emperor was a refusal to reply. “I cannot here,” he said,

“discuss all the weighty matters, the development of which would be

required by the serious question to which you have alluded. So I confine

myself to reminding you that the government which restored the Holy Father

to his throne can only give him counsel inspired by sincere and respectful

devotedness to his interests. But he is anxious, and not without cause, as

to the time, which cannot be far distant, when our troops must evacuate

Rome. For Europe cannot allow the occupation, which has already lasted ten

years, to be prolonged for an indefinite period. But when our army shall

be withdrawn, what will be left behind? These are questions of the

importance of which none are ignorant. But, believe me, in order to solve

them, we must, considering the age in which we live, avoid appealing to

ardent passions, calmly seek truth, and pray Divine Providence to

enlighten both peoples and kings, in order that they may wisely use their

rights and fully discharge their duties.” From these last words the

Emperor appeared to have forgot that when there are duties to be fulfilled

prayer alone will not suffice. His speech at the opening of the

legislative session, 7th March, 1860, showed that either irresistible

illusion or a foregone conclusion of complicity guided his Italian policy.

He accused the Catholics of becoming excited without grounds, and of

ingratitude towards him. The logic of events, so plain to all besides, was

a dead letter to the imperial mind, blinded as it was by the habit of dark

manœuvres.

“I cannot pass unnoticed,” said he, “the excitement of a portion of the

Catholic world. It has accepted, without reflection, erroneous

impressions, allowed itself to become passionately alarmed. The past which

ought to have been a guarantee for the future has been so ignored, and

services rendered so forgotten, that profound conviction, absolute

confidence in the public good sense, was necessary for me, in order to

preserve, amid the agitation which was industriously occasioned, that

serenity of mind which alone maintains us in the way of truth.”

(M68) Meanwhile, a Congress for settling the difficulties of Italy was

announced. This Congress was to be composed of all the great European

Powers—of France, whose government had no good will; of Austria, which had

not the power to cause the treaty of Zurich to be put in execution; of

schismatical Russia; of Protestant Prussia, and of Protestant England,

which favored revolution so long as it kept at a distance from its own

doors. Pius IX. beheld in it many causes of disquietude. Nevertheless, he

accepted the congress. The public were discussing, and not without

impatience, the names of the presumed negotiators, when there appeared on

the 22d of December, 1859, a new pamphlet which, like the former, was

anonymous, and was ascribed as it also had been, to an author who was in

too high a position to append his signature. Its title was, “_The Pope and

the Congress_.” It abounded in high sounding words, and was full of

contradictions from beginning to end. It demonstrated, indeed, that the

temporal power of the Pope was an essential guarantee of his spiritual

independence, but that this power could only be exercised within

territorial limits of very small extent, which could not enable him to

sustain himself, whilst, nevertheless, his dignity and the general

interest forbade him to seek foreign intervention. The pamphlet concluded

by insisting that the Pope ought to begin by giving up all claim to

Romagna, and so prepare for ceding, a little later, the rest of his

states, when he would be satisfied to hold the Vatican with a garden

around it, and receive a magnificent salary provided by all the Catholic

Powers. Hundreds of pamphlets and articles in the Catholic journals

appeared in reply to this anonymous writing. They proved that the proposed

arrangement would subject the Head of the Church to the caprice of the

Powers, and then enquired what security he would have against those who

were his securities, especially at a time like the present, when the

ancient law of nations, which was founded on respect for the weak and

sworn faith, is suppressed by the revolution, and the reason of the

strongest is the only one attended to; when the most solemn treaties are

violated with impunity by those who have signed them, and as soon as they

have signed them. The bishops raised their voice anew. They stated with

sorrow that the pamphlet decided in favor of the revolution. But the

boldest condemnation proceeded from Rome itself. The Popes, it is well

known, hesitate not to use the proper terms when there is question of

stigmatizing iniquity. No matter though they be at the mercy of those whom

they brand, they define each error and each act of injustice with the same

precision as in writing a theological thesis. Pius IX., who was mildness

itself, more than once startles the delicate ear by the liberty of his

language, so different from the minced and often ambiguous style of

diplomacy. On the 30th of December, the official journal of Rome published

the following note: “There appeared lately at Paris an anonymous pamphlet,

entitled, ‘_The Pope and the Congress_.’ This pamphlet is nothing else

than homage paid to the revolution—an insidious thesis addressed to those

weak minds who have no sure _criterium_ by which they can detect the

poison which it holds concealed, and a subject of sorrow to all good

Catholics. The arguments contained in this writing are only a reproduction

of the errors and outrages so often hurled against the Holy See, and so

often victoriously refuted. If it was the object of the author, perchance,

to intimidate him whom he threatens with such great disasters, he can rest

assured that he who has right on his side, who seeks no other support than

the solid and immovable foundations of justice, and who is sustained

especially by the protection of the King of kings, has certainly nothing

to fear from the snares of men.”

On 1st January, 1860, Pius IX., in his reply to the complimentary address

of General Goyon, who commanded the French military at Rome, characterized

the pamphlet as “a signal monument of hypocrisy, and an unworthy tissue of

contradictions.” The Holy Father further observed, before expressing his

good wishes for the Emperor, the Empress, the Prince Imperial, and all

France, that the principles enunciated in the pamphlet were condemned by

several papers which his Imperial Majesty had some time before been so

good as to send to him. A few days later the _Moniteur_ published a letter

of the Emperor to the Pope, dated 31st December, 1859, in which the former

renews his hypocritical expressions of devotedness, but admits, at the

same time, that “notwithstanding the presence of his troops at Rome, and

his dutiful affection to the Holy See, he could not avoid a certain

partnership in the effects of the national movement provoked in Italy by

the war against Austria.” In this same letter Napoleon III. reminds the

Pontiff, that at the conclusion of the war he had recommended, as the best

means of maintaining tranquillity, the secularization of his government,

and he still believes that, “if, at that time, his Holiness had consented

to an administrative separation of the Romagna, and the nomination of a

lay governor, the provinces would have come, once more, under his

authority.” What, then, could the people have meant when they petitioned,

on occasion of the Pope’s progress, to have a cardinal for governor, as

formerly, and not lay prefects, as was then the case, under the regime

inaugurated by Pius IX.? The Pope having neglected his advice, Napoleon,

of course, was powerless to stay the tide of revolution. “My efforts were

only successful in preventing the insurrection from spreading, and the

resignation of Garibaldi preserved the marches of Ancona from certain

invasion.” No doubt it did. But, as will soon be seen, this modern

crusader was let loose in order that he might follow his calling more

vigorously, _i.e._, rob and slay on a more extensive scale. The Emperor

now approaches the subjects of the Congress. In his letter he recognizes

the indisputable right of the Holy See to the legations. But he does not

think it probable that the Powers would think it proper to have recourse

to force, in order to restore them. If the restoration were effected by

means of foreign troops, it would be necessary, for a long time, to hold

military occupation of these provinces; and this would only feed the

enmities and hatred of the Italian people. This state of uncertainty

cannot always last. What then is to be done? The Imperial revolutionist

concludes, expressing the most sincere regret, and the pain which such a

solution gives him, that the way most in harmony with the interests of the

Holy See is that it should sacrifice the revolted provinces. For the last

fifty years they have only caused embarrassment to the government of the

Holy Father. If he asked of the Powers to guarantee to him, in exchange

for them, the possession of what remained, order, he had no doubt, would

be immediately restored. This letter left no room to doubt that the policy

of the pamphlet, “_The Pope and the Congress_,” was that of Napoleon III.

As soon as this was known the Congress became impossible. The Pope could

not agree to deliberations based upon the principle of his dispossession.

Austria could not be a party to combinations which removed the bases of

the treaty of Zurich. This opinion was expressed by Count de Rechberg,

first Minister of Austria, in a note of 17th February, 1860, and by Lord

John Russell, in a despatch to Lord Cowley, the British Ambassador at

Paris. “The pamphlets are important,” said the latter statesman; “the

result of the one entitled, ‘_The Pope and the Congress_,’ is to prevent a

Congress, and to cause the Pope to be deprived of one-half of his

dominions.”

It was not without significance that M. Thouvenel was French Minister of

Foreign Affairs from the 4th of January. Piedmont understood this fact. It

caused its troops to cross the Romagnese frontier, whilst M. de Cavour,

triumphant, affirmed, in the Piedmontese Senate, that the letter of

Napoleon III., declaring that the temporal sovereignty was not sacred, was

a fact as important in the Italian question as the battle of Solferino.

The Pope’s reply to Napoleon’s letter of 31st December is of some length.

Elegant in expression, forcible in reasoning, it can only be briefly

reviewed. “I am under the necessity of declaring to your majesty that I

cannot cede the legations without violating the oaths by which I am bound,

without causing misfortune and disturbance in the other provinces, without

doing wrong and giving scandal to all Catholics, without weakening the

rights of the sovereigns of Italy, unjustly despoiled of their dominions,

but also the sovereigns of the whole Christian world, who could not see

with indifference great principles trampled under foot.” The Emperor had

insisted that the cession of the legations by the Pope was necessary, in

order to put an end to the disturbances, which, according to him, although

he knew that such disturbances proceeded wholly from foreigners, had, for

the last fifty years, caused embarrassment to the Pontifical government.

“Who,” said the Pope, “could count the revolutions that have occurred in

France during the last seventy years? And yet, who would dare maintain

that the great French nation is under the necessity, in order to secure

the peace of Europe, to narrow the limits of the Empire? Your argument

proves too much. So I must discard it. Your majesty is not ignorant by

what parties, with what money, and with what support, were committed the

spoliations of Bologna, Ravenna, and other cities.”

The Imperial letter was communicated to all the newspapers. The reply of

the Pope was carefully withheld from them. It only became known in France,

some time later, through a German translation in the Austrian _Gazette_.

Pius IX. was anxious, meantime, that the public should hear both sides of

the question. He therefore brought to the knowledge of the Catholic world

the principal points of his answer to Napoleon in the Encyclical, _nullis

certe verbis_, of date 19th January, in which he declared that he was

prepared to suffer the last extremities rather than betray the cause of

the church and of justice. He also invited all the bishops to join with

him in praying _that God would arise and vindicate his cause_.

The government having information that there was a copy of this document

in the hands of the distinguished Catholic journalist, M. Louis Veuillot,

the Minister of the Interior, M. Billaut, sent for this courageous writer,

and gave him to understand that if he published the Encyclical it would be

the death-warrant of his journal. But M. Veuillot was not to be

intimidated. Next morning, 29th January, there appeared in his paper,

_l’Univers_, the Latin text of the Pontifical document, together with a

French translation. The same day, without trial or sentence, was signed a

decree suppressing _l’Univers_. Yet was not this paper destined wholly to

perish. Ten years later it reappeared, when the tyranny of Napoleon III.

was crushed for ever at Sedan. Several other Catholic journals shared the

fate of _l’Univers_, such as the _Bretagne_, of Saint Brieue, and the

_Gazette_, of Lyons. The government of the Emperor thus showed by what

spirit its counsels were guided. All the Catholic journals of France were

already under the ban of two warnings, so that they had only a precarious

existence, a third warning, according to the legislation of the time

constituting their death-warrant.

So early as 3rd December, 1859, whilst yet a Congress was believed to be

possible, Pius IX. had written with his own hand to Victor Emmanuel, in

order to remind him of his duties, and induce him to defend at the meeting

of the Powers the rights of the Holy See. The latter had answered, 6th

February, 1860, “that he certainly would not have failed in this duty if

the Congress had met.” For, “devoted son as he was of the church, and the

descendant of a most pious family, it never was his intention to neglect

his duties as a Catholic Prince.” He protested, therefore, that he had

done nothing to provoke the insurrection, and that when the war was ended

he had renounced all interference in the legations. But he added, “it is

an acknowledged fact, and which I have personally verified, that in those

provinces which, lately, were so unmanageable and dissatisfied with the

court of Rome, the ministers of worship are actually respected and

protected, and the temples of God more frequented than ever.” Victor

Emmanuel surely now thought that the Pope would never think of disturbing

this happiness and self-satisfaction. “The interests of religion required

it not.” He even hoped that the Holy Father, not satisfied with refraining

from a renewal of his claim on Romagna, would also hand over to him the

marches and Umbria, in order that they might enjoy the same prosperity.

And so he discoursed anew to Pius IX., about his “frank and loyal

concurrence, his sincere and devoted heart,” and ended by craving the Holy

Father’s apostolic blessing.

The King of Piedmont must have been sadly blinded by revolutionary

teachings not to see—if, indeed, he did not see—that such professions of

loyalty and devotedness were positively derisive. Pius IX. so viewed them,

and gave the intriguing monarch to understand that he did so. The

moderation of his language is but slightly indicative of the sorrow and

indignation which he must have experienced. “The idea which your majesty

has thought fit to lay before me is highly imprudent, unworthy, most

assuredly, of a king who is a Catholic and a member of the house of Savoy.

You may read my reply in an Encyclical which will soon appear. I am deeply

affected, not on my own account, but by the deplorable state of your

majesty’s soul. You are already under the ban of censures, which, alas!

will be aggravated when the sacrilegious act which you and your

accomplices are meditating shall have been consummated. May the Lord

enlighten you and give you grace to understand and to bewail the scandals

which have occurred, and the fearful evils with which unfortunate Italy

has been visited through your co-operation.”

(M69) About this time diplomatists discovered the convenient political

doctrine of non-intervention. It was, like most diplomatic devices, a

fallacy. But it served its purpose. The Catholic Powers, however friendly

to the Holy See, were unable to intervene. The greatest of them all,

Austria, was put _hors de combat_ at Solferino. Prussia had intervened, as

far as its policy required, when it forbade further hostilities after the

great battle which made France the mistress of the destinies of Italy.

England, which, as a Protestant Power, had no great friendship for the

Holy See, found it suitable to preach non-intervention, as an excuse for

not being able or for not daring to aid her ancient and faithful ally, the

Pope, in opposition to her new friend, the Emperor of the French. England,

at least, was consistent, for, while she proclaimed and practised

non-intervention in favor of the French Emperor’s subversive intervention

in Italy, she adhered most devoutly to the doctrine when there was

question, a little later, of aiding France against the crushing power of

Prussia.

(M70) Whilst the European Powers lay dormant under the spell of the new

doctrine of non-intervention, the King of Piedmont vigorously pursued his

career of spoliation. Having accepted a sham plebiscitum, he annexed, by a

formal decree of 18th March, the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, the Duchies of

Parma and Modena, and that portion of the Papal States known as the

Legations, to his ancient kingdom of Sardinia and Piedmont. This was done

with the full consent of his Imperial patron, Napoleon III. For, at this

time, Victor Emmanuel ceded to France, as compensation for Central Italy,

Nice and Savoy. This boded ill for France. Some French writers consider

that this transaction would have been less disgraceful if these provinces

had been exchanged for Lombardy, which had been won from Austria with

French blood and treasure. But, as evil destiny, which was hastening to

its accomplishment, would have it, they were given as payment for the

spoils of the widow and orphan of Parma and the aged man of the Vatican.

Thus for once was non-intervention dearly purchased.

The usurping monarch having now accomplished a long-cherished purpose,

ought, one would suppose, to have obeyed the dictates of prudence, and

held his peace. But no. He must write to the Pope, in order to justify his

nefarious proceeding. Piedmontese bayonets and four millions of

Piedmontese gold had won for him the plebiscitum of which he was so proud.

Nevertheless, he declared, addressing the Holy Father, that, “as a

Catholic Prince, he believed he was not wanting to the unchangeable

principles of the religion which it was his glory to profess with

unalterable devotedness and fidelity.” Notwithstanding, “for the sake of

peace, he offered to acknowledge the Pope as his Suzerain, would always

diminish his charges and contribute towards his independence and

security.” He ended his letter by most humbly soliciting, once more, the

apostolic benediction. There is more plain speaking in the reply of Pius

IX. than could have been to the liking of the _Re galantuomo_. “I could

say that the pretended universal suffrage was imposed, not voluntary. I

could say that the Pontifical troops were hindered by other troops, and

you know well what troops, from restoring the legitimate government in the

provinces.” The Holy Father then bewails the increasing immorality

occasioned by the usurping government and the insults constantly offered

to the ministers of religion. Even if he were not bound by solemn oaths to

preserve intact the patrimony of the church, he would, nevertheless, be

obliged to repel everything that tended in this direction, lest his

conscience should be stained by even an indirect sanctioning of, and

participating in, such disorders, and justifying, by concurrence, unjust

and violent spoliation. The Pope concludes by saying, emphatically, that

he cannot extend a friendly welcome to the projects of his majesty, but

that, on the contrary, he protests against the usurpation, and leaves on

the conscience of his majesty and all who co-operate with him in such

iniquity the fatal consequences which flow therefrom. Finally, he hopes

that the king, in reperusing his own letter, will find grounds for

repentance. The Pope, far from being actuated by feelings of resentment,

prays God to give his majesty the grace he stands so much in need of in

such difficult circumstances. The letter is dated at the Vatican, 2nd

April, 1860.

It is related that Victor Emmanuel bedewed with tears this letter, which

so gently and tenderly rebuked him. It must have reached him at one of

those moments of remorse which, more than once, interrupted his scandalous

career. It hindered him not, however, from fulfilling the promise which he

had given to the revolution, when, at the beginning of the war of 1859,

placing his hand on his sword and looking towards Rome, he said: “_Andremo

al fondo_” (“we shall go on to the end”).

On the 26th of March of the same year, Pius IX. issued a Bull,

excommunicating all who took part in wrenching from him so great a portion

of the patrimony of the church. Some parties received the intimation of

this sentence with such noisy demonstrations of delight as to cause their

sincerity to be doubted. Others, and of the number was King Victor

Emmanuel, were struck with indescribable fear. Napoleon III. insisted that

the organic article of the Concordat, forbidding the publication in France

of Bulls, Briefs, &c., should be enforced. But he could not, any more than

his uncle, forbid the excommunication to take effect. The first Napoleon

was at the height of his greatness when struck with excommunication. He

received the sentence with jeers. Would it make the arms fall from the

hands of his soldiers? How literally this question was answered, let the

snows of Russia tell. There are other ministers of the wrath of heaven

besides the frosts of a Northern winter. Napoleon III. was in the zenith

of his power when he heard the sentence which he vainly tried to stifle.

His great political wisdom, and the wonderful success of all he undertook

had hitherto astonished the world. There was now a manifest change. But it

need not here be said with what unspeakable humiliation his star went

down.

The revolutionary party could not have more effectually shown their dread

of the Papal sentence, than by their endeavors to suppress it. They went

so far as to publish in its place a forged document, as odious as it was

extravagant, appended there to the signature of Pius IX., and exposed it

to the jeers of the ignorant multitude. The bishops did their best in

order to make known the truth; with what difficulty it will be easily

understood, when it is remembered that an Imperial decree forbade the

newspapers to publish a word in their interest.

(M71) Had there been question only of forming a united Italy, and of

introducing such reforms as the time demanded into the States of the

Church, and those of the Italian grand dukes, such a cause would have had

no better friends and supporters than the Pope and the native princes. But

the revolutionary party aimed at more than this, and they hastened to show

their hand as soon as they obtained any power. As has been seen, the Holy

Father himself complained bitterly of the increase of irreligion and

immorality under their ill-omened auspices in Romagna. It was not their

policy to reconstitute, but to subvert. No existing institution, however

excellent, was sacred in their eyes. Thus speak the archbishops and

bishops of the Marches in a remonstrance addressed to the Piedmontese

Governor on 21st November, 1860: “We scarcely believe our own eyes, or the

testimony of our own ears, when we see and hear the excesses, the

abominations, the disorders witnessed in the chief cities of our

respective dioceses, to the shame and horror of the beholders, to the

great detriment of religion, of decency and public morality, since the

ordinances against which we protest deprive us of all power to protect

religion and morality, or to repress the prevailing crimes and

licentiousness. The public sale, at nominal prices, of mutilated

translations of the Bible, of pamphlets of every description, saturated

with poisonous errors or infamous obscenities, is permitted in the cities

which, a few months ago, had never heard the names of these scandalous

productions; the impunity with which the most horrible blasphemies are

uttered in public, and the worse utterance of expressions and sentiments

that breathe a hellish wickedness; the exposition, the public sale and the

diffusion of statuettes, pictures and engravings, which brutally outrage

piety, purity, the commonest decency; the representation in our theatres

of pieces and scenes in which are turned into ridicule the Church—Christ’s

immaculate spouse—the Vicar of Christ, the ministers of religion, and

everything held dear to piety and faith; in fine, the fearful

licentiousness of public manners, the odious devices resorted to for

perverting the innocent and the young, the evident wish and aim to make

immorality, obscenity, uncleanness triumph among all classes; such are,

your Excellency, the rapid and faint outlines of the scandalous state of

things created in the Marches by the legislation and discipline so

precipitately introduced by the Piedmontese government. We appeal to your

Excellency. Could we remain silent and indifferent spectators of this

immense calamity without violating our most sacred duty?” If anything

under the government of subversion has saved Italy from utter ruin, it is

nothing less than the zeal and devotedness of its pastors. In the

remonstrance referred to, they declare that notwithstanding all the

contradictions, the trials, the obstacles they have had to encounter, “not

one spark of charity, of zeal, of pastoral and fatherly solicitude has

been quenched in our souls. We solemnly affirm it, with our anointed hands

on our hearts, and with the help of God’s grace, these sentiments shall

never depart from us through fault of ours.”

(M72) This mode of reforming, so dear to the revolutionists, is further

illustrated by the proceedings of Garibaldi in Sicily and at Naples. It

will be remembered that this hero of the revolution was eclipsed for a

time by the splendors of Solferino. Immediately after that battle he

retired into private life, and the motley troop which he commanded

disappeared. Whilst, however, there remained any revolutionary work to be

done, such a man could not be idle. The kingdom of the Two Sicilies was,

as yet, unshaken. This was too much for Count de Cavour, and so he

encouraged the ever-willing Garibaldi to fit out an armament against that

kingdom. The hero sailed for Sicily, and there, assured of

_non-intervention_ by the presence of the flags of France, England and

Sardinia, he made an easy conquest of the defenceless island. As soon as

he got possession of Palermo, and had assumed the title and powers of

dictator, he commenced, like a true revolutionist, the work of subversion.

Garibaldi, no doubt, was a man of the age, and the great diplomatic

discovery which the age had fallen upon was never wanting to him. It

served him at Naples as it had done in Sicily; and so, a mere diplomatic

idea—_non-intervention_—drove the king to Gaeta, and established the power

of the revolutionist.

(M73) As soon as Garibaldi was master in Sicily, the work of revolutionary

reform commenced. It was always the first aim of the revolutionists to

strike at civilization and civilizing influences. Churches were

desecrated, the ministers of religion insulted, religious orders

suppressed. “The Society of Jesus alone,” said the venerable superior,

Father Beckx, in his solemn protestation of 24th October, 1860, to the

King of Sardinia, “was robbed of three residences and colleges in

Lombardy; of six in the Duchy of Modena; of eleven in the Pontifical

States; nineteen in the kingdom of Naples; and fifteen in Sicily.”

“Everywhere,” adds Father Beckx, “the Society has been literally stripped

of all its property, movable and immovable. Its members, to the number of

1,500, were driven forth from their houses and the cities. They were led

by an armed force, like so many malefactors, from province to province,

cast into the public prisons, ill-treated and outraged in the most

horrible manner. They were even prevented from finding a refuge in pious

families, while in several places no consideration was had for the extreme

old age of many among them, nor for the infirmity and weakness of others.

“All these acts were perpetrated against men who were not accused of one

illegal or criminal act, without any judicial process, without allowing

any justification to be recorded. In one word, all this was consummated in

the most despotic and savage manner. If such acts had been accomplished in

a popular riot, by men blinded by passion, we might perhaps bear them in

silence. But, as all such acts have been done in the name of the Sardinian

laws; as the provisional governments established in Modena and the

Pontifical States, as well as the dictator of Sicily himself, have claimed

to be supported by the Sardinian government; and as your majesty’s name is

still invoked to sanction these iniquitous measures, I can no longer

remain a silent spectator of such enormous injustice, but in my quality of

supreme head of the order, I feel myself strictly bound to ask for justice

and satisfaction, and to protest before God and man, lest the resignation

inspired by religious meekness and forbearance should appear to be a

weakness which might be construed into an acknowledgment of guilt, or a

relinquishment of our rights. I protest solemnly, and in the best form I

can think of, against the suppression of our houses and colleges, against

the proscriptions, banishments and imprisonments, against the acts of

violence and outrage committed against the brethren bound to me by

religious ties. I protest before all Catholics, in the name of the rights

of the church sacrilegiously violated. I protest, in the name of the

benefactors and founders of our houses and colleges, whose will and

expressed intentions in founding these good works, for the interest alike

of the living and the dead, are thus nullified. I protest, in the name of

the sacred rights of property, contemned and trampled under foot by brutal

force. I protest, in the name of citizenship and the inviolability of

individual persons, of whose rights no man may be deprived without being

accused in form, arraigned and judged. I protest, in the name of humanity,

whose rights have been so shamefully outraged in the persons of so many

aged men, sick, infirm and helpless, driven from their peaceful seclusion,

left without any assistance, cast on the highways without any means of

subsistence.” Such was the revolution which Victor Emmanuel and Napoleon

III. were driven by fear, or even worse motives, to patronize and foster.

It had, in the days of its power, made France a desolation. It was now

sweeping like devouring flames over Italy, and fast approaching the city

of the Popes.

(M74) Pius IX., although not unaware of the fearful calamities with which

he was threatened, was far from allowing his mind to be shaken. He trusted

in that Providence which watches over the church. “We are as yet,” said he

on 16th February, 1860, to the lenten preachers of the time, “at the

beginning of the evils which must soon overtake us. At the same time, we

are consoled by the cheering prospect that, as calamity succeeds calamity,

the spirit of faith and of sacrifice will be proportionately developed.”

There was nothing now to be hoped for from the powers which nominally

ruled the world, but which were, in reality, under the control of the

revolution. Deprived of so great a portion of his states, and the revenue

which accrued to him therefrom, the Holy Father resolved to sustain his

failing finances by relying on the spontaneous offerings of the faithful

throughout the world. His appeal was not made in vain. The piety and zeal

of the early ages appeared to have revived. The word of the common Father

was received with reverence in the remotest lands. Offerings of “_Peter’s

pence_,” as in days of apostolic fervor, were poured into the Papal

treasury. In Europe, especially, the movement was so general as to show

that the people everywhere were resolved to act independently of their

governments, which had so shamefully become subservient to the will of the

revolution. It was scarcely necessary that the bishops should speak a word

of encouragement. In France, indeed, under a jealous and revolutionary

government, there could be no associations for the collection of Peter’s

pence. But the government could not, so far, place itself in opposition to

the religion of the country as to forbid collections in the churches; nor

could it reach such subscriptions as were offered in private dwellings. In

Belgium, although the party of unbelief, of Freemasonry and revolution,

held the reins of power, the constitution protected all citizens alike,

and so the new work which the circumstances of the church required was

accomplished by association, pretty much in the same way as the work of

the propagation of the faith. By the end of three months, there were in

Flanders no fewer than four hundred thousand associates for the collection

of Peter’s pence. In Italy, a Catholic journal, _Armonia_, collected

considerable sums of money, and caskets filled with jewels and other

precious objects. Poland, in her sorrow, was magnificently generous. And

Ireland, renewing her strength after centuries of misgovernment,

persecution and poverty, emulated the richest countries, America, Germany,

Holland and England. One of the collections at Dublin amounted to £10,000.

All these rich donations, together with thousands of addresses which bore

millions of signatures, were humbly laid at the feet of the Holy Father.

(M75) Now that it is well known that France was not less hostile than

Sardinia and the revolution, to the cause of the Pope, it appears more a

loss of labor than a wise precaution, that the Holy Father should have

assembled an army for maintaining order in his states, and repelling any

attack on the part of the revolutionary faction. This was all that he

contemplated. Deceived by the professions of his French ally, he was far

from suspecting that the small force which he was collecting for the

maintenance of order would be no sooner organized than it would be

attacked by the military power of Piedmont, supported by the Emperor of

the French. On the contrary, Pius IX. had every reason to believe that the

formation of a Pontifical army, destined for the duties which devolved on

the French soldiers, then at Rome, would be acceptable to Napoleon III.

The latter had, more than once, said to his Holiness: “Place yourself in a

position to be independent of my army of occupation.” This recommendation

is repeated in a despatch of Messrs. Thouvenel and Gramont, so late as the

14th of April, 1860. As soon as it was known that the Pope desired to have

an army for maintaining internal peace, and finally, in order to replace

the foreign troops which occupied Rome, the youth of many countries freely

offered their services. France, Belgium, Ireland, Spain, Holland, and even

distant Canada sent numerous volunteers. The noble youth of France, whose

education, for the most part, was eminently Christian, were only too happy

to tear themselves from the luxurious life of Paris. Their joy was equal

to their ardor, when they found that they could bear arms without serving

a Bonaparte. Gontants and Larochefoucauld Doudeauvilles, Noes and

Pimodans, Tournous and Bourbon Chalus, came to range themselves, as

private soldiers, when necessary, under the banner of the Pope. Nor were

they attracted by any hope of gain. A goodly number, on the contrary,

sustained by their ample means the government to which they offered their

lives. The revolution signified its displeasure by branding these devoted

youths with the ignominious title of “Mercenaries of the Pope.” This

ungracious word proceeded from the palace of Jerome Napoleon, on whom

merciless history bestows a more opprobrious epithet. As a matter of

course, it was repeated in all the revolutionary journals.

The command of the new force was offered to the brave and experienced

General Lamoriciere. At first he hesitated, the cause of the Pope, as

regarded his temporal power, was already so much compromised. Finally, on

the representation of the Reverend Count de Merode, he gave his consent.

It was pure sacrifice. No success could add to his military renown. And

success was impossible. The general distributed his soldiers, from 20,000

to 25,000 in number, in small bodies, throughout the towns of that portion

of the Papal States which still remained. This was a judicious

arrangement, as far as internal peace and order were concerned. Neither

Lamoriciere nor the Pope had any idea, so firmly did they rely on the

hollow professions of France, that a foreign army would have to be met.

The general spoke words of encouragement to his willing soldiers. “The

revolution,” said he, in an order of the day, “like Islamism of old,

threatens Europe. To-day, as in ancient times, the cause of the Papacy is

the cause of civilization and of the liberty of mankind.” The infidel

press was excited to fury, and showed, by the violence of its writing,

that the comparison of the revolution to Islamism was but too well

founded. Were not both alike ferocious? Did not both spread terror and

desolation in their track? Weigh them together—Islamism has the advantage.

In addition to all its other barbarities, the revolution violated the

temples of God and the abodes of prayer. The followers of the prophet were

commanded to respect every place where God was worshipped, and every house

where dwelt the ministers of His worship.

The organization of Lamoriciere’s army was now so complete that a friendly

convention was entered into with the Cabinet of the Tuilleries, and that

the evacuation of Rome by the French garrison should commence on the 11th

of May.

This was not at all to the liking of the revolutionists. M. de Cavour, who

had complained so loudly at the Congress of Paris that the Pope had not an

army sufficiently strong to render unnecessary the protection of France

and Austria, protested against the formation of such an army as soon as he

saw that it was seriously contemplated. He denounced it to all Europe as a

gathering of adventurers from every country, and feigned the greatest

disquietude for the new frontiers of Piedmont.

On the 4th September, 1860, Napoleon III. was at Chambery, receiving the

homage and congratulations of his Savoyard subjects. A public banquet was

held in his honor, and whilst the guests were yet at table, two

Piedmontese envoys, Messrs. Farini and Cialdini, sought a private

interview with the Emperor. Napoleon left the festive board and remained

closeted with the envoys the remainder of the evening. The result of this

conference was the immediate invasion of the Papal States by Sardinian

troops, under the command of General Cialdini. This officer reports that

he was fully authorized by Napoleon. It is even related that the Emperor,

strongly encouraging him used the words of our blessed Lord to Judas:

“_Quod facis, fac citius_.” Napoleon, indeed, denied having uttered these

words. It matters not. All his acts, at the time, expressed their meaning.

Whilst conferring with the envoys at Chambery, there lay on a table a map

of Central Italy, on which he traced in pencil and effaced several lines.

The map having been left on the table, was afterwards found to contain one

line in crayon, which was not effaced. It showed exactly the route which

Cialdini followed in marching to the destruction of the Papal army.

Between the conference of Chambery and the arrival of Cialdini on the

Pontifical territory, there elapsed precisely the time necessary for the

journey by post-carriage and railway. Seventy thousand men were waiting

for him on the frontier, ready to march as soon as he brought them the

required authorization. General Fanti, who also had an army corps

concentrated on the borders of the Marches, had already intimated to

General Lamoriciere, that if the Papal troops had recourse to force, “in

order to suppress any insurrection in the Papal State,” he would, at once,

occupy the Marches and Umbria, “in order to secure to the inhabitants full

liberty to express their wishes.” The Sardinian generals evidently wished

to raise an insurrection, but as no insurrection occurred, they managed to

do without one. In the meantime, it was thought expedient to perform a

piece of mock diplomacy. Count Delia Minerva was despatched from Turin to

Rome, charged with an _ultimatum_ to the Pope. Without diplomatic

negotiations or shadow of pretext, purely by virtue of the right of the

strongest and most audacious, the Holy Father was suddenly summoned to

dismiss his volunteers as foreigners, and was allowed four-and-twenty

hours to give his answer. But the party did not wait so long. The

_ultimatum_, of a piece with their other proceedings, was a mockery. On

10th September, before the reply of the Pope could have been known, even

before Delia Minerva had reached Rome, Generals Cialdini and Fanti,

without any previous declaration of war, passed the Pontifical frontier.

It was the barbarians once more at the gates of Rome. The orders of the

day, which the Piedmontese commanders addressed to their troops, were

inexpressibly savage. Pitiless history fails not to record them.

“Soldiers,” said Cialdini, “I lead you against a band of adventurers, whom

the thirst for gold and pillage has brought to our country. Fight,

disperse without mercy, these wretched cut-throats. Let them feel, by the

weight of our arm, the power and the anger of a people who strive to be

independent soldiers. Perugia seeks vengeance. And, although late, it

shall have it.” The language of King Victor Emmanuel, although somewhat

more politely diplomatic, was not less false and savage. His proclamation

is a master-piece of Count de Cavour’s hypocritical style. “Soldiers, you

are entering the Marches and Umbria, in order to restore civil order in

the desolated cities and to secure to the inhabitants the liberty to

express their wishes. You have not to meet powerful armies, but only to

deliver the unfortunate Italian provinces from companies of foreign

adventurers. You are not going to avenge the injuries done to Italy or to

me, but to hinder the popular hatred from wreaking vengeance on the

oppressor. You will teach by your example pardon of offences and Christian

toleration to those who compare Italian patriotism to Islamism. At peace

with all the Great Powers, and without provocation, I mean to banish from

Central Italy a constant cause of trouble and discord. I wish to respect

the seat of the Chief of the Church, &c.” Whatever this king may have

wished to do, he was compelled to obey the will of the revolution, and to

justify by his acts the comparison of the party which he patronized with

Islamism,—a comparison disparaging only to the followers of the prophet.

The ferocious sentiments to which Cialdini gave utterance were not mere

bravado. When Colonel Zappi, of the Pontifical service, dared to hold out

with 800 men at Pesaro, and check for two-and-twenty hours the whole

Piedmontese army before this village, Cialdini, instead of admiring such

bravery, refused to cease firing, when Zappi, crushed by numbers, was at

last obliged to capitulate. For two hours longer he took pleasure in

discharging grape shot at the little town which had ceased to reply

otherwise than by exhibiting a white flag and sending messengers of peace.

Nor did this vandalic soldier show any consideration for the wishes of the

people whom he professed to have come to protect. This contempt for the

popular will was sufficiently well shown the following month, in his

despatch to the Garibaldian Commander of Molise: “Publish that I cause to

be shot all peasants taken with arms in their hands. I have this day

commenced such executions.”

(M76) Lamoriciere was far from expecting to be attacked by the armies of

Piedmont. The most he could contemplate was an attack by the Garibaldians,

and the probability of some partial insurrections in the interior. He

distributed his troops accordingly in the towns and along the Neapolitan

frontier. The insolent message of General Fanti contributed to confirm him

in this idea. He had only 1,500 men with him when the message reached him.

He held himself in readiness, but without concentrating his force, which

appeared to him dangerous and premature. He learned, unexpectedly, that

the frontier on the side of Piedmont was violated at every point of attack

at the same time; that an army corps, commanded by General de Sonnaz, was

marching on Perugia; another, led by Brignone, on Spoleto; another, under

the Garibaldian Mazi, on Orvieto; finally, that Cialdini was advancing on

Sinigaglia, thence on Torrede Jesi, Castelfidardo and Loretto, and that

his object was Ancona, the only city except Rome which was capable of

making any resistance. Lamoriciere, unable to face so many enemies at

once, saw, with pain, that his scattered garrisons were lost. He was far,

however, from being discouraged. Recalling, hastily, all that were within

reach, and unfortunately they were not the most considerable, he changed

all the arrangements which he had made for another kind of contest; he

gave up all idea of opposing Brignone, De Sonnaz and Fanti, who,

nevertheless, were in a position to cut off his retreat towards Rome, and

rushed boldly to the point of greatest danger between these generals and

Cialdini, with the design of piercing the lines of the latter and reaching

Ancona before him. There he thought he would be able to hold out a week or

two, more than sufficient time for France and the other civilized nations

to come to his assistance. He, a French general, relied on France, so

completely were Frenchmen deceived. He also trusted, and with better

grounds, to Austria. This confidence emboldened him to reply defiantly to

the insolent message of General Fanti: “We are only a handful of men. But

a Frenchman counts not his enemies, and France will support us.”

Before the invasion took place, the Ambassador of France, the Duke of

Gramont, whose word was corroborated by the presence of a French army at

Rome and in the neighborhood, had, several times, reassured Cardinal

Antonelli, who was much disquieted, affirming that the concentration of

Piedmontese troops was intended to check the banditti, and protect the

Pontifical frontier, but would not attack it. Lamoriciere testifies to

this fact in the report of his operations. When there was no longer any

doubt as regarded the violation of Papal territory, the Ambassador,

Gramont, communicated to Cardinal Antonelli, and telegraphed, in clear and

distinct language, to the Vice-Consul of France, at Ancona, the following

despatch: “The Emperor has written from Marseilles to the King of

Sardinia, that if the Piedmontese troops advance on the Pontifical

territory he will be compelled to oppose them. Orders are already given

for the embarkation of troops at Toulon; and these re-inforcements will

forthwith arrive. The government of the Emperor will not tolerate the

criminal attack of the Sardinians. As Vice-Consul of France, you will

govern yourself accordingly.” M. de Courcy, the Vice-Consul, to whom the

despatch was addressed, took it immediately to M. de Quatrebarbes, the

civil governor of Ancona. His great age would not admit of his carrying it

in person to Cialdini, but he lost no time in sending it by an employee of

the Consulate, making no doubt that a despatch which bore the signature of

France would prevent bloodshed. He was mistaken. Cialdini read the paper,

and coolly put it in his pocket, saying: “I know more about these matters

than you. I have just had an interview with the Emperor.” When the clerk

asked for a receipt, he signed one, remarking that “it would make a good

addition to other diplomatic papers.” He then continued to advance. The

general was no less explicit, a few days later, at Loretto, when

conversing with Count Bourbon Busset and other prisoners taken at

Castelfidardo. “You astonish me, gentlemen,” said he; “how could you for a

moment entertain the idea that we would have occupied the Pontifical State

without the full consent of the government of your country!” As one of the

bystanders, in reply to Cialdini, alluded to the fact which was announced,

of the disembarkation of a new French division at Civita Vecchia, “And to

what purpose?” answered one of the higher officers of Cialdini’s staff.

“France has no need to re-inforce her army of occupation. See these wires,

gentlemen (pointing to the telegraph), if they chose to speak they would

suffice to stop us at once.” It would have been impossible to express more

plainly the omnipotence at that moment of the conqueror of Solferino, and

the fearful stigma which he was preparing for his memory. Not only did he

disorganize the defence, the responsibility, &c., of which he was

understood to have assumed, not only did he deceive the Court of Rome, and

inspire it with a false security, as if it had been his purpose more

surely to throw Lamoriciere into the snares of Cialdini; but, at the same

time, he paralyzed the good intention of the Powers that were sincerely

devoted to the Holy See.

Francis Joseph, Emperor of Austria, had dreaded, a month before it

occurred, an invasion of the Pontifical State. His army divisions of the

Mincio were on a war footing. It was only necessary that they should pass

the river and march against Piedmont. An order to this effect was signed.

But before despatching the order, and taking on himself such great

responsibility, the youthful Emperor, who had been none the better for

giving way to his chivalrous impulses in 1859, resolved to call a meeting

of his ministers and chief generals. Addressing this grave assembly, he

stated distinctly the new situation in which Austria was placed by the

violation of recent treaties, and the obligation under which he lay of

opposing such proceedings by arms. His duty as a Catholic was concerned as

well as his honor and interest as a sovereign. It appeared, besides, that

God had blinded the revolution, and the invasion was so odious that

Piedmont would not find a single ally. “I have signed,” he added, “an

order to pass to-morrow into Lombardy. Together with this, I have

addressed a manifesto to Europe, in which I declare that I will respect

and cause to be respected the treaty of Zurich. Lombardy does not now

belong to me. I have ceded it, and I do not recall my word; but I require

that the clauses which are burdensome to Austria shall not alone be

executed. I claim, at the same time, the incontestible rights of my

cousins of Florence, Parma and Modena, so unworthily robbed by one of

those who signed and guaranteed the treaty. Finally, I require that the

neutrality of the Pope and the integrity of his territory be respected;

for the Pope is my ally, as a sovereign, and as the Chief of the Church,

my Father. The fleet of Trieste will, at the same time, cruise before

Ancona.” This noble address was followed by profound silence. The attitude

of several of the bystanders was expressive of doubt when the Emperor

affirmed that the brutality of the Piedmontese aggression would alone

suffice to prevent any one from making common cause with it. The Count de

Thun at length rose. He acknowledged the manifestly just grievances of

Austria, and admired the manly resolution of the Emperor. He then set

forth the dangers of every kind which this resolution would cause to

arise. The army had not yet repaired its losses; the wounds of Magenta and

Solferino were still bleeding. The French would, once more, pass the Alps,

and the revolution, far from being stifled, would be more threatening than

ever.

“If my crown must be broken,” interposed the Emperor, “I prefer losing it

at the gates of the Vatican, in defence of justice and religion, than

under the walls of Vienna or Presburgh by the hands of the

revolutionists.” “Sire,” replied Count de Thun, “whether at Presburgh or

the Vatican, you will always find us by your side, ready to conquer or

perish honorably with you. But allow me to repeat that there is not

question only of commencing a struggle against the two-fold revolution of

the King of Sardinia. If France once more comes to his support, who will

be our auxiliaries? What alliances have we, so necessary in case of

reverse? Our cruel experience of last year only shows too plainly that we

have none; and that Prussia has an understanding with France. And if the

war continues any time, if the revolution throws into the arms of Russia

Hungary, and our Sclav provinces, and gives to Prussia our German

countries, what will become of the great Catholic Empire of Germany? Will

not your majesty have hastened, without intending it, the satisfaction of

that cupidity which is everywhere aiming at our ruin, and the triumph

either of Protestantism or the Greek schism?” Francis Joseph replied by

describing the not less serious dangers which the triumph of the Italian

revolution would occasion to the tranquillity and integrity of the Empire.

He could not but foresee how precarious Austrian rule would become at

Venice, and how impossible it would be to preserve, for any length of

time, the last remains of the Pontifical State, once the King of Piedmont

was master of the rest of the peninsula. The struggle, by being delayed,

could not be avoided. We should only have to undertake it later against a

usurper consolidated by time, and with less manifest evidence of right on

our side. But the embarrassments of the moment engaged the thoughts of his

ministers more than those of the future. All the ministers dissenting from

his opinion, the Emperor made up his mind, after two hours’ discussion, to

recall the order which he had signed. The Austrian fleet continued at

anchor in the harbor of Trieste, and the army of the Mincio remained

inactive, although, as may be supposed, indignant, in its quadrilateral,

until Italian unity became a reality, and coalesced with Prussia in order

to expel it.

There must now be recorded another proof of the Emperor Napoleon’s double

dealing. On 13th September, M. Thouvenel wrote to Baron de Talleyrand, the

Ambassador of France at Turin: “The Emperor has decided that you must

leave Turin immediately, in order to show his firm determination to

decline all partnership in acts which his counsels, that were given in the

interests of Italy, have not been able to prevent.” Vain pretence!

inexorable history accepts not such apologies.

With the exception of the Piedmontese, and perhaps also the Austrian

ministers, there were none in Europe having knowledge of this document,

and the despatch of M. de Gramont to the Consul of Ancona, who did not

believe that a rupture was imminent, if it had not already taken place,

between the Emperor Napoleon and King Victor Emmanuel. General Lamoriciere

was too upright and loyal-minded not to fall into the snare. He wrote

promptly to Mgr. de Merode, asking him to send provisions to Ancona, where

he purposed establishing his quarters, not having had time to prepare for

battle in the open country. He had no disquietude as regarded Umbria. He

left it to be defended by France. He hoped also that General de Goyon

would not confine himself to guarding the walls of Rome, and that he

would, at least, prevent invasion from the direction of Naples, and by way

of the valley of Orvieto. He was confident that France would finally

intervene. And it would be highly advantageous if, in the meantime, French

troops garrisoned Viterbo, Velletri and Orvieto.

The declarations of Napoleon were like the despatches of Messrs. Thouvenel

and Gramont, nothing better than empty words—“diplomatic papers,” as

Cialdini contemptuously called them. His only object was to lull public

opinion, and let the Piedmontese have the advantage of a _fait accompli_.

Of this there was no room to doubt, when, a little later, he took

officially under his protection the fruit of that criminal aggression

against which he had so loudly protested. Either from weakness or

treachery he was an accomplice, and played a preconcerted game. At first

he may have been sincere in threatening, in the hope of intimidating the

revolution. But when there was question of acting, and he knew that it

defied him, he recoiled. French historians remark, with pain, that this

was a sad alternative, as regards the memory of a man who had the honor to

govern France—the nation, more than all others, renowned for chivalry. It

was also a rebuke to that nation which was so weak as to submit, for

twenty years, to his rule. His friends are brought to the extremity of

demonstrating that he was a coward, if they wish to hinder mankind from

believing that he was a traitor.

Meanwhile, Lamoriciere, by forced marches, on the 16th September, reached

Loretto, from which the enemy withdrew at his approach. His inconsiderable

force counted scarcely 3,000 combatants, viz.: 2,000 infantry, 800

troopers, and 200 artillerymen. But he had given rendezvous at the spot to

the general, Marquis of Pimodan, who brought to him from Terai 2,000

infantry, and arrived a little before night, on the 17th. Thus did it fall

to his lot, with 5,000 men at most, and some old artillery which had not

been sufficiently exercised, to face Cialdini, who had, at the moment,

45,000 men, and was provided with rifled cannon. An engagement on the 18th

was inevitable. The Piedmontese were echeloned along the hills which fill

the declivity from Castelfidardo towards the plain, and extend to within

500 metres of the small river Musone. Their artillery swept the

declivities in all directions. They occupied, in strength, two farms which

were situated, the one 600 metres behind the other, towards the principal

hill. By delaying longer, Lamoriciere would only have exposed himself to

be surrounded and compelled to lay down his arms. At four o’clock in the

morning, the soldiers of the Pope, with the two generals at their head,

prepared for death, by devoutly participating in the most holy sacrament

of the Eucharist. At eight, Pimodan rushed upon the two farms already

mentioned. His watchword was to carry them and hold them as long as

possible, as they commanded the pass of Musone, where the bulk of the

army, with the baggage, must defile, and there was no other way than this

pass by which the route of Ancona could be gained. The first farm,

although warmly defended, was carried, and a hundred prisoners were taken.

Six six-pounders were immediately brought up, in order to protect the

position against a fresh attack of the enemy. Captain Richter, who

commanded them, under the orders of Colonel Blumenstihl, was pierced in

the thigh by a ball; he would not, however, leave the field, but remained

in the midst of the fire. Two howitzers, commanded by Lieutenant Dandier,

with the aid of a hundred Irishmen, who had arrived the night before from

Spoleto, were placed in the open space in front of the farm, exposed to

the grape shot of the Piedmontese, to which they replied as if they had

been in force. Unfortunately, all parties did not do their duty so well.

Pimodan was obliged to dismiss, on the battle-field, the commander of the

First Battalion of _Chasseurs_. “The moment had come,” says Lamoriciere in

his report, “to attack the second farm. General Pimodan formed a small

column, under the orders of Commandant Becdelievre, composed of the

Battalion of Belgian Fusiliers, of a detachment of Carabiniers, and of the

First Battalion of _Chasseurs_. This column boldly advanced,

notwithstanding a most active fusilade from the farm and the wood. There

were 500 metres to march over thus exposed. But when about a hundred and

fifty feet from the summit of the hill it was received by the fire of two

ranks of a strong line of battle, which put so great a number of the men

_hors de combat_ that it was obliged to fall back. The enemy pursued. But

when he had nearly reached our troops, the column faced round, waited for

him at fifteen paces distance, received him with a well-directed fire, and

rushed on him with the bayonet. Astonished at so much daring and coolness,

the enemy, although superior in number, fell back in his turn, and thus

allowed our soldiers to regain the position which they had left. The fire

of our artillery, which was well supplied and well directed, protected

these movements. The enemy had lost more men; but, relatively, our losses

were more felt than his. Pimodan had been wounded in the face; but,

nevertheless, he retained his command. I observed that his two battalions

and a half were not sufficiently strong to carry the second position; so I

sent for the two reserve battalions, and ordered the cavalry to pass the

river, and follow on our right flank the march of our columns. During this

time the enemy had endeavored to overwhelm us on both sides. Major

Becdelievre brought together what remained of his battalion, rushed upon

the fusileers and forced them back into the wood whence they had come.”

These were splendid feats of arms. But the excessive inferiority of

Lamoriciere’s artillery and numbers made victory impossible. The

revolution had its emissaries enrolled as soldiers in the Pontifical army.

One of these, by a traitorous blow from behind, slew the brave Pimodan in

the height of the battle. These traitors also caused a panic at the

decisive moment by spreading false alarms. The youthful soldiers of the

reserve, who had never seen fire, became demoralized, and fled in

confusion, without hearing the sound of a single ball. Others followed.

The artillery, now no longer supported, and, fearing to be taken, sought

safety in flight. But instead of gaining the road to Ancona, it fell back

on Loretto, where it could not fail to fall into the hands of the enemy.

Lamoriciere, always calm in such terrible discomfiture, made unheard-of

exertions, as did also his aids-de-camp, Messrs. de Maistre, de Lorgeril,

de Robiano, de France and Montmarin, in endeavoring to guide the

precipitate retreat. His orders either were not conveyed or were not

executed. Then, as was his custom in Africa, he hurried alone on horseback

to within a hundred feet of the lines, in order to ascertain the

situation, rejoined his staff, labored to stay the flight, and when all

was lost, he executed, with five-and-forty horse and a hundred infantry, a

movement which with the army was impossible. He took the route of Ancona,

which a Piedmontese squadron was preparing to bombard, and reached that

place by five o’clock in the evening. The brave Franco-Belgians sacrificed

themselves in order to save the rest of the army. They held out in the

farm which they had occupied as long as their ammunition lasted. The

neighboring fields and hedges were covered with dead and wounded

Piedmontese; but they themselves were all either killed or taken. Among

the slain and wounded were many of the best nobility of Europe—Paul de

Percevaux, Edme de Montagnac, Arthur de Chalus, Hyacinth de Lanascol,

Alfege du Baudier, Joseph Guerin, Georges de Haliand, Felix de Montravel,

Alfred de la Barre de Nanteuil, Thierry du Fougeray, Leopold de Lippe,

Gaston du Plessis de Grenedan, Raoul Dumanoir, Lanfranc de Beccary,

Alphonse Menard, Guelton, Rogatien Picon, Anseline de Puisage, George

Myonnet. Such are a few of those noble youths who fell victims to their

zeal and bravery when engaged with General Lamoriciere in his hopeless

attempt to stem the overwhelming tide of revolution which, at the time,

successfully defied all the Powers of Europe to move an arm in opposition

to it.

Lamoriciere succeeded in reaching Ancona, but only to prolong, for a few

days more, a desperate contest. The available force in the place amounted

only to 4,200 effective men, a number quite insufficient to man all the

posts of such extensive fortifications. The general did not yet despair of

aid from the French at Rome, and he flattered himself with the idea that

if he only held out a few days, Austria and the other Catholic States

would be shamed into activity. They, however, knew too well the intentions

of France, and France had won the battle of Solferino. The brave

Lamoriciere was assailed in his last retreat, both by sea and land. The

bombardment lasted ten days, and was heard at Venice, the islands of

Dalmatia, and even at Trieste. But not a friendly sail appeared in support

of the besieged. The prolonged struggle did not even attract such vessels

of neutral Powers as are commonly sent for the protection of their consuls

and others of their respective nations, as well as to offer their good

services to women, children and other non-combatants. Such disgraceful

conduct was condemned alike by the Protestant and Catholic press of

Europe. The London _Times_ reproached M. de Cavour with not having

understood that “candid and honorable conduct is not incompatible with

patriotism.” The same paper quoted, in this connection, the words of

Manin, which are a condemnation of the whole conduct of the Piedmontese

under Victor Emmanuel: “Means which the moral sense repels, even when they

are materially profitable, deal a mortal blow to a cause. No victory can

be put in comparison with the absence of self-respect.” Ancona was yet

undergoing bombardment, when the three sovereigns of the North, who alone

could have undertaken efficaciously the defence of the violated law of

nations, met at Warsaw; and Napoleon III. presented to them a memorandum

by which he engaged to abandon Piedmont in the event of her attacking

Venice. But “he presupposed that the German Powers would also confine

themselves to an attitude of abstention, and would avoid furnishing a

pretext for an Italian attack of Austria.” At length, the Piedmontese

fleet, under Admiral Persano, succeeded in demolishing the more important

portion of the fortifications of Ancona. A white flag was now displayed on

the citadel and all the lesser forts; and Major Mauri was sent on board

the admiral’s ship to negotiate a capitulation. The firing ceased on both

sides. But now occurred a circumstance which stigmatizes to all time the

character of the Piedmontese generals, Fanti and Cialdini. M. de

Quatrebarbes relates, “that whilst the conditions of capitulation were

under discussion, the land army, furious at having been repelled, and at

having done nothing that could contribute towards the taking of the city,

recommenced firing along the whole line. The bombardment and cannonade

continued from nine o’clock in the evening of the 28th until nine in the

morning of the 29th, and that, although negotiators had been sent, and

bells had been rung, announcing the cessation of hostilities, in defiance

even of a very pressing letter of the admiral, who would not participate

in such an infamous proceeding. He also recalled on board his ships the

marine who served a land battery. All this time not a single cannon was

fired from the city. Thus the Piedmontese army bombarded incessantly for

twelve hours a defenceless town, in violation of the law of nations, and

all sentiments of honor and humanity. Admiral Persano himself reported at

Turin the refusal of the land army to cease firing. Such a fact must

excite the indignation of all right-thinking people.” The revolution was

highly offended when compared to Islamism. Are the regular troops of Islam

accused of such barbarities? The Bashi-Bazouks could not have done worse.

When the capitulation was signed at two o’clock in the afternoon of the

29th, the small Pontifical army had ceased to exist, and the Piedmontese,

now free to follow out their plans, could go to join the bands of

Garibaldi, under the walls of Gaeta, and, together with him, complete “the

extirpation of the Papal cancer,” or, as one of their school, Pinelli,

said, “Crush the sacerdotal vampire.” But although right had been trampled

down, it knew how to do battle and to die. “For the first time,” observed

a Protestant journal, the new Gazette of Prussia, “a general of the party

of legality has dared to lead his troops against the enemy. For the first

time the revolution has been met in the field of battle. The effort has

not been successful. We know it. And as we repeatedly said beforehand, we

had no hope that it would. But the defeat of Lamoriciere raises the mind

by contrast. For a long time we had been accustomed to the triumphs of

cowardice, treachery and corruption, of all which the victories of

Garibaldi presented such a disgusting spectacle. We are assured that the

Pontifical troops did their duty unto death. This is enough. It is easily

understood how the adversaries of the revolution had become humble. For

years they could only record the victories of their enemies. But if, at

Castelfidardo, a few individuals were defeated, the principle of legality

was at last asserted. Now, if men contend in battle for a principle its

final triumph is assured.”

It was to be expected that Pius the Ninth would avenge the memory of the

brave men who had been branded by the name of _Mercenaries_, the greater

number of whom served without pay. No wonder if he did justice on the

pretended moral order which Piedmont said it had come to restore in the

States of the Church. Not only did he honor their noble efforts, he also

founded at his own cost, and for their benefit, the chaplaincy of

Castelfidardo in the sanctuary of the Scala Santa. He ordered the funeral

obsequies of General Pimodan to be celebrated with becoming magnificence,

and composed himself an inscription for his tomb in the French Church of

St. Louis. He wished to confer on Lamoriciere the title of Roman Count.

But the defeated hero declined the honor, saying that he desired always to

be called Leon de la Moriciere. Pius IX. then addressed him a few words,

which recall the piety of early times: “I send you what, at least, you

cannot refuse, the order of Christ, for whom you have combated, and who

will, I trust, be your reward as well as mine.”

In France the government showed its revolutionary leaning by forbidding a

subscription which was undertaken for the purpose of presenting a sword of

honor to Lamoriciere. It did even worse than this. It meanly persecuted

the vanquished soldiers of the Holy See, as well as those who had hastened

to fill their places. This was pure revenge. And now that the success of

Piedmont was no longer doubtful, it could serve no other purpose than to

establish the fact of the Emperor’s complicity. Such of the soldiers of

the Pope as were natives of France were deprived of their rights of

citizenship. Thus were noble youths, the flower of France, on their return

from Castelfidardo and Ancona, deprived of the electoral franchise, and

stripped of their right to serve on juries and in the army. Some even were

interdicted from inheriting property on the pretext that, as strangers,

their signatures required to be legalized. These men were, nevertheless,

the actual defenders of a sovereign whom the government pretended to

defend officially. The revolutionary papers audaciously said that the same

law was not applicable to such French subjects as joined the bands of

Garibaldi, on the ground that these bands were neither a government nor a

military corporation. This odd interpretation completely met the views of

ministerial jurisprudence; and so was presented the extraordinary

spectacle of a country outlawing such of her children as served the same

cause as her army, and in nowise molesting those who supported the

opposite side. All political allusions in the pulpit were now repressed

with increased severity. The bishops, however, could not be intimidated.

Besides, as they could not be displaced, they were not so easily reached.

Mgr. Pie, the eminent Bishop of Poitiers, ascended the pulpit the Sunday

after the battle. “My brethren,” said he, “you all expected of me that I

would speak to-day in my cathedral. It is according to the customs of the

church to know how to honor her defenders, and to mourn for them when

dead. And because, having taken upon myself a responsibility which I

decline not, and having encouraged and blessed the departure of several of

those youthful volunteers, I would be ashamed of myself if now, restrained

by the fears arising from a pusillanimous prudence, I did not offer them

the homage of my admiration together with that of my prayers. Your

sympathies are already with my words. If they gave offence to any hearers,

I would, indeed, be afflicted. But, by the grace of God, the country which

we inhabit is called France, which warrants, or rather commands, that I

should be candid.” In the absence of that fame which victory confers, the

vanquished were consoled by that immortality which eloquence bestows on

those whom it celebrates. So long as the great art of oratory shall be

appreciated in the countries of Fenelon and Bossuet, the funeral orations

on Lamoriciere, by Bishops Pie and Dupanloup, together with the fine pages

on the heroes of Castelfidardo, by Bishop Gerbet of Perpignan, Mgr.

Plantier of Nismes, and other writers, will not cease to be read.

“They died in order to defend us,” said, as if prophetically, Archbishop

Manning, who succeeded Cardinal Wiseman in the new See of Westminster,

already so illustrious; “the cause for which they fell is our cause. They

are blind, indeed, who cannot see that what has been begun by the head

will soon be undertaken against all the members; that the attacks will

extend rapidly from the centre to the extremities; that revolutionary

tyranny and the despotism of civil power will strive to establish

everywhere, in detail, the domination which they are endeavoring to

exercise over the will and the person of the Holy Father. We are at the

commencement of a new era of penal laws against the liberty of the church.

It is for us, therefore, that they have given their life. They died whilst

the profane world loaded them with its curses, as died the martyrs in the

Flavian amphitheatre, whilst the cry resounded, ‘The Christians to the

lions!’ (_Christianas ad leones_), and in presence of thousands of

spectators of the Imperial and Patrician families of Rome, and for the

gratification of the multitude which thirsted for blood, and such blood as

was most noble and innocent. Thus died He who is greater than the martyrs,

assailed by the insults of the Pharisees and the jeers of the ignorant

masses. It is, therefore, glorious to die for a cause which the world will

not and cannot understand. If they had died to defend commercial

establishments against the indigenous inhabitants of some distant country,

or to repel the attacks of a neighbor, or to maintain the integrity of the

Ottoman Empire, the world would have understood and honored them, as it

did in regard to the combatants of Alma and Inkerman. But, to fall in

battle for the independence of the Sovereign Pontificate, to sacrifice

themselves for the liberty of Christian consciences, and that of the

generations to come—this the world understands not, and for this we

proclaim them great and glorious among departed heroes.”