_Rome, July 19, 1870._—On the evening of the 15th a deputation of the
Bishops of the minority waited on the Pope, consisting of Simor, Primate
of Hungary, Archbishops Ginoulhiac, Darboy and Scherr (of Munich),
Ketteler and Rivet, Bishop of Dijon. After waiting an hour they were
admitted at 9 o’clock in the evening. What they tried to obtain was in
fact much less than the Opposition had hitherto aimed at: they only asked
for the withdrawal of the addition to the third chapter, which assigns to
the Pope the exclusive possession of all ecclesiastical powers, and the
insertion in the fourth chapter of a clause limiting his infallibility to
those decisions which he pronounces “innixus testimonio Ecclesiarum.” Pius
gave an answer which will sound in Germany like a maliciously invented
fable,—“Je ferai mon possible, mes chers fils, mais je n’ai pas encore lu
le Schéma; je ne sais pas ce qu’il contient.” And he then requested
Darboy, who had acted as spokesman, to give him the petition of the
minority in writing. He promised to do so, and added, not without irony,
that he would take the liberty of sending with it to his Holiness the
_Schema_, which the Deputation on Faith and the Legates had with such
culpable levity omitted to lay before him, when it wanted only two days to
the promulgation of the dogma, thereby exposing him to the peril of having
to proclaim a decree he was ignorant of. This Darboy did, and in a second
letter to the Deputation severely censured their negligence in not even
having communicated the _Schema_ to the chief personage, the Pope.
Pius added further, whether ironically or in earnest I know not, that if
only the minority would increase their 88 votes to 100, he would see what
could be done. He concluded by assuring them it was notorious that the
whole Church had always taught the unconditional infallibility of the
Pope. Bishop Ketteler then came forward, flung himself on his knees before
the Pope, and entreated for several minutes that the Father of the
Catholic world would make some concession to restore peace and her lost
unity to the Church and the episcopate. It was a peculiar spectacle to
witness these two men, of kindred and yet widely diverse nature, in such
an attitude, the one prostrate on the ground before the other. Pius is
“totus teres atque rotundus,” firm and immoveable, smooth and hard as
marble, infinitely self-satisfied intellectually, mindless and ignorant,
without any understanding of the mental conditions and needs of mankind,
without any notion of the character of foreign nations, but as credulous
as a nun, and above all penetrated through and through with reverence for
his own person as the organ of the Holy Ghost, and therefore an absolutist
from head to heel, and filled with the thought, “I and none beside me.” He
knows and believes that the holy Virgin, with whom he is on the most
intimate terms, will indemnify him for the loss of land and subjects by
means of the infallibility doctrine and the restoration of the papal
dominion over states and peoples as well as over Churches. He also
believes firmly in the miraculous emanations from the sepulchre of St.
Peter. At the feet of this man the German Bishop flung himself, “ipso Papâ
papalior,” a zealot for the ideal greatness and unapproachable dignity of
the Papacy, and at the same time inspired by the aristocratic feeling of a
Westphalian nobleman and the hierarchical self-consciousness of a Bishop
and successor of the ancient chancellor of the Empire, while yet he is
surrounded by the intellectual atmosphere of Germany, and with all his
firmness of belief is sickly with the pallor of thought, and inwardly
struggling with the terrible misgiving that after all historical facts are
right, and that the ship of the _Curia_, though for the moment it proudly
rides the waves with its sails swelled by a favourable wind, will be
wrecked on that rock at last.
The prostration of the Bishop of Mayence seemed to make some impression on
Pius. He dismissed the deputation in a hopeful temper. It was of short
duration. For directly the report got about that the Pope was yielding,
Manning and Senestrey (_de grands effets par de petites causes_) went to
the Pope and assured him that all was now ripe, and the great majority
enthusiastically set on the most absolute and uncompromising form of the
infallibilist theory, and at the same time frightened him by the warning
that, if he made any concession, he would be disgraced in history as a
second Honorius. That was enough to stifle any thought of moderation that
might have been awakened in his soul.
The sitting of July 16 was held to consider the proposals of those who had
voted _juxta modum_. The Legates had promised to pay as much consideration
as was possible to their wishes, and they redeemed their pledge by
striking out one passage and inserting another. The majority decided, on
the motion of certain Spaniards, which was adopted by the Deputation on
Faith, to strike out the words at the opening of the fourth chapter,
saying the Pope will define nothing “nisi quod antiquitus tenet cum
cæteris Ecclesiis Apostolica Sedes.” This was felt to impose too narrow
limits on the Pope’s infallibility and arbitrary power of defining. And as
the minority had the day before expressed to the Pope their special desire
that the consent of the Church should be laid down as a requisite
condition of doctrinal definitions, it was now resolved, in direct
contradiction to their wishes, again on the motion of Spanish Bishops, not
only to leave the words “definitiones Pontificis ex sese seu per sese esse
irreformabiles,” but to add to them “non autem ex consensu Ecclesiæ.” And
thus the infallibilist decree, as it is now to be received under anathema
by the Catholic world, is an eminently Spanish production, as is fitting
for a doctrine which was born and reared under the shadow of the
Inquisition.
In the last sitting of the Congregation three Bishops of the Deputation on
Faith spoke, the Neapolitan D’Avanzo, Bishop of Calvi and Teano, Zinelli,
Bishop of Rovigo, the author of the notorious addition to the third
chapter of the third canon, and Gasser, Bishop of Brixen. D’Avanzo was
jocose: “As,” said he, “the angel bade the Apostle John swallow a book,
telling him it would make his belly bitter but taste sweet as honey in his
mouth, so must we Bishops swallow this infallibilist _Schema_, and I have
done so already. It will no doubt give many of us a stomach-ache, but we
must act as if we had honey in our mouths.” Gasser, who as a speaker is
“se ipse amans sine rivali,” to quote Cicero’s saying about Pompey, made a
speech of endless length, exhausting the patience of his hearers; but
there was some gold mixed with all this dross. Such was his declaration
that Councils had hitherto been useful only for people of unsound faith,
who did not chose to believe the Pope’s _ipse dixit_, which every good
Christian had always believed. But now “quid credendum sit unice ab
arbitrio Pontificis in posterum dependebit.” On this a well-known
Hungarian Bishop could not refrain from observing to his neighbour, “Si
etiam infallibilitas Pontificis contenta esset in Sacrâ Scripturâ magis
compromitti non posset quam hoc levissimo ac ineptissimo sermone, quo
auditores ex integro jam lassos ad vomitum movit et martyres reddidit.”
An amusing scene occurred at the close of this sitting, the last attended
by the Bishops of the minority. A printed address was read out and
distributed to the Fathers, in which the Legates complained in the
strongest language of certain works describing the course of the Council.
Two were named and characterized as “calumnious,” both published at Paris.
The one, by Gaillard, was _Ce qui se passe au Concile_; the other was by a
man distinguished alike for intellect, eloquence and learning, a member of
the Council, who has had almost unique opportunities of seeing through the
whole business. It is the work I have before mentioned, _La Dernière Heure
du Concile_, in which the personal intervention of the Pope and the
pressure brought to bear by him are forcibly depicted in strict accordance
with truth. This pamphlet had already created a great sensation, and when
the Legates called on the Bishops to join them in condemning it, the
Italians and Spaniards, who—being for the most part ignorant of French—had
not read it, immediately shouted out “Nos condemnamus.” “We do not,” cried
the Bishops of the minority. Two copies of the address were then handed to
each of them, one of which they were ordered to return with their names
subscribed. The result was not successful; Haynald told the Legates, in
the name of the Hungarian Bishops, that they had better first translate
_La Dernière Heure_ into Latin, and then he and his colleagues would see
whether it was really as bad as the Cardinals maintained.
All the Bishops from South and Central Italy who could be whipped up, or
who had previously obtained leave of absence on account of illness or age,
were peremptorily recalled for the Solemn Session of July 18. Of the
Cardinals, Hohenlohe was absent. The rest appeared, including Antonelli,
but only three, Patrizzi, Bonaparte and Pambianco, threw a certain
spontaneity and energy of voice and manner into their _Placet_ by standing
up to deliver it. Guidi was the one most observed; he sat there with an
oppressed and abstracted air, and his scarcely audible _Placet_ escaped
with difficulty from his lips. The two negative voters were Bishops Riccio
of Cajazzo and Fitzgerald of Little Rock. When the Monsignore who was
repeating the names and votes had credited one of them with a _Placet_ out
of his own head, the Bishop shouted in a stentorian voice, “No; _Non
placet_!”
As all the Bishops of the Opposition but two stayed away, and an _abest_
was the answer to every name of the slightest note that was called, the
Holy Ghost had no opportunity for working a miracle of conversion, and all
went prosaically and smoothly as the wheels of a watch, without any
sensation. Each of the stipendiaries has discharged his obligation, and
the Pope and Monsignori find that the Council has cost large sums, but
think the money is well spent and will bring in abundant interest. The
most remarkable case of desertion was that of Bishop Landriot of Rheims.
Not one of the Bishops had been so open-mouthed, or had announced his
fallibilist opinions with such copious flow of words to everybody he came
across. He now says, like Talleyrand, that he has only deserted before the
rest. Clerical Rome, so far as I can yet make out, is not in any very
exalted state of enthusiasm; that is prevented by the political
conjunctures, which give Antonelli and Berardi a good deal to think about.
De Banneville has indeed given the most consoling assurances to Antonelli;
the 5000 French troops at Civita Vecchia, who had received orders to hold
themselves ready for recall to France, are to be at once replaced by 5000
more—recruits it is believed. Paris wishes just now to be on the best
terms with Rome, who may well prove a useful ally in what the _Monde_ has
already designated a religious war against Protestantism. Meanwhile they
are pleased at the Vatican to have erected their _rocher de bronze_
beforehand. The Bishops have—ostensibly of their own free will—abdicated
in favour of the monarch, to receive back from him so many rights and
commissions as he may think good to delegate to them. The revolution in
the Church is accomplished “to enrich _one_ among all.” Pius himself is
more than content; his supreme desire, the crown of his life and work, is
attained.
During the voting and promulgation a storm burst over Rome, and made the
Council Hall so dark that the Pope could not read the decree of his
infallibility without having a candle brought. It was read to an
accompaniment of thunder and lightning. Some of the Bishops said that
heaven thereby signified its condemnation of Gallicanism, while others
thought Pius was receiving a divine attestation, as the new Moses who
proclaimed the Law of God, like the old one, amid thunder and lightning.
It is remarkable that the days of the opening and closing of this Council
were the two darkest and most depressing Rome has witnessed during the
eight months of its session. It rained without intermission, so that the
promised illumination was partly given up and partly proved a lamentable
failure. There were few but monks, nuns and Zouaves, during the session in
the very empty-looking church. When the Pope at last proclaimed himself
the infallible and absolute ruler of all the baptized “with the
approbation of the holy Council,” some bravos shouted, several persons
clapped, and the nuns cried in tones of tender rapture, “Papa mio!” That
was the only semblance of a demonstration. If any spark of enthusiasm
really glimmered in the souls of the Romans, it was quenched by the
downpour of rain. The keen-witted Roman, who is accustomed to speak of
this Pope with a certain good-humoured irony, as a sort of comic
personality, thinks there is no harm in gratifying the wish of the old man
who has set his heart on this infallibility; that will hurt nobody. All
the most important members of the diplomatic bodies stayed away, in
obedience to the instructions of their governments. Neither the
ambassadors of Austria, France, Prussia or Bavaria were present. The
Belgian and Dutch consuls and an agent of some South American Republic
attended. The decrees of July 18, establishing under anathema the two new
dogmas, are the following:—
“(_a._) Si quis itaque dixerit, Romanum Pontificem habere tantummodo
officium inspectionis vel directionis, non autem plenam et supremam
potestatem jurisdictionis in universam Ecclesiam, non solum in rebus, quæ
ad fidem et mores, sed etiam quæ ad disciplinam et regimen Ecclesiæ per
totum orbem diffusæ pertinent; aut eum habere tantum potiores partes, non
vero totam plenitudinem hujus supremæ potestatis, aut hanc ejus potestatem
non esse ordinariam et immediatam sive in omnes ac singulas Ecclesias sive
in omnes et singulos Pastores et fideles—anathema sit.
“(_b._) Sacro approbante Concilio docemus et divinitus revelatum dogma
esse definimus: Romanum Pontificem, cum ex cathedrâ loquitur, id est, cum
omnium Christianorum Pastoris et Doctoris munere fungens, pro supremâ suâ
apostolicâ auctoritate doctrinam de fide vel moribus ab universâ Ecclesiâ
tenendam definit, per assistentiam divinam, ipsi in beato Petro promissam,
eâ infallibilitate pollere, quâ divinus Redemptor Ecclesiam suam in
definiendâ doctrinâ de fide vel moribus instructam esse voluit; ideoque
ejusmodo _Romani Pontificis definitiones esse ex sese, non autem __ ex
consensu Ecclesiæ irreformabiles_. Si quis autem huic Nostræ definitioni
contradicere, quod Deus avertat, præsumpserit—anathema sit.”
In the work against infallibility circulated here by the Bishop of Mayence
occurs the following passage: “Will it not seem to all nations that the
authority of all Bishops is suppressed and sentenced to death, only in
order to erect on such vast and manifold ruins the unlimited authority of
the one Roman Pope?” When these lines were written, the Bishop and his
theologian had no notion, or at least no knowledge, of the third anathema
of the third chapter, which was afterwards made still more rigorous. They
were only thinking of infallibility, but what would they have said, had
they known that the Bishops would be required to subscribe to the
abolition of the episcopate and the transference of all conceivable
ecclesiastical powers and rights over the 180 million of Catholics in
principle and in detail to the Pope alone, as a new article of faith
imposed under anathema? And yet this is what happened on the 13th and 18th
July 1870. That the ordinary and immediate jurisdiction of the Bishops
still survives, is indeed affirmed in the decree, but the affirmation is
contrary to fact. It would be in inevitable collision with the constantly
encroaching jurisdiction of the Pope; the earthen vessel dashed against
the iron.
The Jewish general and historian, Josephus, relates how he was shut up
with forty companions in the valley of Jehoshaphat, and summoned to
surrender by the Romans. They resolved to die first. The Bishops are not
offered this alternative, but threatened with both at once. They are
bidden to submit and then kill themselves, to subscribe the decree of the
majority, and thereby sign the sentence which degrades and annihilates
them, under pain of incurring anathema. That is the demand. The situation
is an unprecedented one. And what of the 532 real or titular Bishops who
have made the 13th and 18th July “dies nefasti” for the Church, and
renounced so many rights and duties for themselves and their successors,
like a cast-off garment? Perhaps it lightens their hearts and is a
pleasant feeling to them to be able to say, “Thank God, I need not trouble
myself any more about doctrine, tradition, or dogma; henceforth the one
infallible oracle in the Vatican will attend to all that, and he again
will devolve the burden on the lusty shoulders of the Jesuits, as he has
done before. And how sweet and convenient it is to be a mere executor of
papal decrees, while one’s episcopal income remains untouched, and to be
able to cover one’s-self with the Medusa shield of a papal order in every
difficulty, and every conflict with clergy, people or governments!” I
heard a Bishop of this party say the other day, “Now first begin the
golden days of the episcopate.”
It is reported that on the very day after the promulgation several Bishops
experienced a certain reaction of sobriety, a feeling like what German
students are wont to attribute to cats, and inquired of the high
dogma-fabricating parties, the Legates and some members of the Deputation,
whether they were really bound to believe, confess and teach all that is
contained in the Syllabus, the Bull _Unam Sanctam_, etc., as _e.g._, the
subjection of the secular powers to the Pope, the Church’s power of
inflicting bodily punishment with Pius who reigns gloriously, the burning
of heretics with Leo X., _et id genus omne_. They are said to have been
answered with a well-known Roman proverb, “Toto devorato bove, turpe est
in caudâ deficere”—“You have swallowed the whole ox of papal
infallibility, and the last Spanish addition with it, and you need not
strain at the tail, _i.e._, the consequences; that indeed is the best part
of this ox.”
The Bishops of the minority agreed before leaving Rome that they would
none of them act alone and independently, in such further steps as would
have to be taken concerning the decrees of the majority, but would all
continue to correspond and act in concert. Meanwhile the Council has not
been prorogued, but leave of absence is given to Bishops who can allege
urgent reasons up to November 15. Perhaps in the interval the builders of
the new Jesuit-Papal Zion, who stay behind, will prepare many a surprise
for the Catholic world.
Future historians will begin a new period of Church history with July 18,
1870, as with October 31, 1517.
Are we really at the end of the drama? It appears so. On the same spot
where, 1856 years ago, the first monarch of the world, Augustus, bade the
attendants on his death-bed clap their hands in token of the rôle being
well played out to the end, the Roman courtiers on July 18 have saluted by
clapping of hands the first man proclaimed infallible monarch of the world
by 532 spiritual satraps. The eight months’ campaign has terminated in the
preliminary closing act of July 18; the absolute Papacy celebrates its
financially dear-bought, but otherwise easily obtained, triumph over the
Church, which now lies defenceless at the feet of the Italians. It only
remains to follow up the anathematized enemy, the Bishops of the minority,
into their lurking-places, and compel each man of them to bend under the
Caudine yoke amid the scornful laughter of his colleagues of the majority.
Anathemas, the “ultima ratio” of Rome, have already been discharged at the
fugitives, and every such shot of the Infallible is itself infallible.