Six Secret Commissions preparing--Interrupted by Garibaldi--A Code
for the Relations of the Church and Civil Society--Special Sitting
with Pope and Antonelli to decide on the Case of Princes--Tales of the
Crusaders--English Martyrs--Children on the Altar--Autumn of 1867 to
June 1868.
While in the provinces the bishops were kindling enthusiasm for the
coming assembly, and for the movement of reconstruction in general, in
Rome six Commissions were at work, under the Directing Congregation,
making secret preparations for the Council. Each of these Commissions
had of course a Cardinal at its head. The first, that for Theology,
was under Cardinal Bilio, a monk, and a native of Piedmont, only
forty years of age, and but lately raised to the purple.[95] Rightly
or wrongly, as Vitelleschi says, he is credited with the principal
share in the preparation of the Syllabus. Others, however, are named
for the same honour. We ourselves heard a member of the original
Congregation for the preparation of the Syllabus assert that it
was Passaglia who first suggested it. Passaglia was a great Jesuit
theologian, who lost position by declaring against the temporal power.
The second Commission, for Ecclesiastico-Political Affairs, was under
Cardinal Reisach, a man of sixty-five, an accomplished Bavarian, but
so denationalized in manner and spirit, that his countrymen sometimes
accused him of affecting to have almost forgotten German. For some
years he left Rome to hold high place in his native country. As
Archbishop of Munich he did much to supplant the old national faith
by the Vatican one, and to unsettle the previously existing relations
of Church and State. Under his eye the popular catechism of Canisius
was changed. The answer, "The Pope by himself is not infallible," had
done good service for centuries; but now it had to make way for a new
one; and eventually the whole book was transformed by the French Jesuit
Deharbe.[96]
The Commission next in importance was that on Ceremonies. If the
theological one had to formulate the principles on which the world
was to be governed, and the ecclesiastico-political one had to draft
the rules and frame the executive machinery by which those principles
were to be carried out, the Commission on ceremonies had to devise
the scenic effects with which the movement should, to use a frequent
expression of Roman, French, and even of German Catholic writers, be
put upon the stage--the _mise en scène_.
Oriental Affairs, the Religious Orders, and Ecclesiastical Discipline,
were the subjects committed to the other three Commissions.
A seventh, of which the official history makes no mention, was,
according to Vitelleschi (p. 26), an object of great public attention.
It was for Biblical matters, and the revision of the Index. Its
President was Cardinal de Luca. But it inclined to a more liberal
procedure in regard to the Index, gave offence, and after a few
meetings, was discontinued. The official organs, as the same author
says, buried it in oblivion, though its labours were of great public
interest.
The renewed preparations had not proceeded long before they were once
more interrupted by political events. From August to December the
Directing Congregation could hold no meeting. General Dumont had been
sent back to Rome, by Napoleon III, to inspect and harangue those
French soldiers who now formed a principal part of the so-called
Pontifical, or OEcumenical army. The national Italian party was excited
by his presence and his speech. France forced them to feel that foreign
occupation was discontinued only in name. Garibaldi, supported only
by feeble forces, moved upon Rome with the reckless valour which had
succeeded in Sicily. The movements of the Italian Government to
restrain him were altogether inefficacious. The efficiency and zeal
of the little army of "Crusaders" had been utterly underrated by the
Italians. The Dutch, English, Swiss, German, and French youths who
fought for the Crown of martyrdom were a different material from the
soldiers of Ferdinand or from those of the old Papal corps. They faced
great odds, and did right daring deeds. But they were too few. The
ready French were once more called in. On November 3 they secured
for Pius IX another respite by the battle of Mentana; but the Pope's
own historian does not even name the French. For all that is said by
Cecconi, not a foreign mercenary might have been in the Pontiff's pay,
not a foreign regiment might have been sent to his relief. Indeed
the word "foreigner," as applied to any baptized person bearing
arms for the Pontiff, is offensive language--another fruit of this
degenerate age. In opposition to certain "ill-advised" Catholics, who
thought it a pity to have recourse to foreign arms, the _Civiltá_
cries: "Foreigners?--the word is a great and odious lie! At Solferino
the French were foreigners; at Mentana they were in their father's
house."[97] So does the one belief that the Pope is the appointed lord
of the world change the lights that fall on every national movement. We
only saw the fact that at Solferino the French killed Teuton invaders
of Italy, and that at Mentana they were the invaders who killed
Italians. We shall find French mothers of "martyred" counts calling him
for whom they fell, "our King."
When the lance of Garibaldi was thus, for the second time, shivered
against the shield of France, who would have said that when next lifted
it would be in her defence, after the armies that had for twenty years
upheld the temporal power had gone into captivity?
The martial value of the religious motives and principles which
animated the Crusaders, as contrasted with the Garibaldians, became
a favourite theme for sacred pens. The Crusaders showed by their
bearing that they were "conscious of serving the majesty of the God of
battles." They lost no passing opportunity of renewing their strength
at the altar.
The proud lads, in full equipment of war, bowed the knee before
the altar, offered up their lives to God, and consecrated their
bayonets to St. Peter; or hastily receiving the Sacrament, they
arose with joy and seized their pieces, which had been laid down by
the rails of the sacred table. Happy he who with his eyes beheld
such elevation of thought, such constancy of purpose, such sanctity
of Christian war march triumphantly through the Roman territory.[98]
On October 8, the correspondent of the _Times_ at Berlin stated that
Napoleon III had bound himself to leave Victor Emmanuel free as to
Rome, provided the latter would help him in case of war with Prussia.
Earlier than this, in the month of September, the Austrian bishops
found themselves menaced with an abolition of the Concordat, and had to
make a formal appeal to the Emperor against such a step.
"We have at this time of day," said Baron Weichs, "to decide
whether we shall be an independent State, or whether, as in Japan,
we shall have two sovereigns; the one, subordinate, residing at the
Burg in Vienna; the other, the omnipotent Master, having his throne
in Rome, at the Vatican, or, more properly speaking, at the Jesuit
establishment."
The _Revue des deux Mondes_ had spoken of these words as wise, even as
very wise, and the _Civiltá_ replied, "To us they seem to be nothing
but buffoonery."[99]
In November, Napoleon III proposed that the European Powers should meet
in a Congress, to decide upon some solution of the Roman question.
After this proposal had failed, his Minister, M. Rouher, pronounced, in
the Assembly, his celebrated "Never!"--the French would never permit
Rome to be occupied by the Italians. This exclamation is often printed
by the "good Press" in the largest capitals.
A fortnight after the day of Mentana the activity of the Commissions
was resumed, and invitations were sent out to the theologians already
selected in different countries, to come to Rome and enter on their
labours. The Nuncio at Munich had not recommended any one from the
renowned faculty of that city, but had sought his men at Würzburg.
England was represented by Monsignor Weathers, and the United States
by Monsignor Corcoran. On October 2, Cardinal Caterini wrote to
Bishop Ullathorne of Birmingham, instructing him, in the Pope's name,
to invite "the priest John Newman." Three weeks later the bishop
replied, enclosing Dr. Newman's answer, which, however, is not printed.
According to the bishop, Dr. Newman said that a journey to Rome would
be perilous to his life, and though deeply touched with the kindness of
the Holy Father, he believed that the latter would not desire him to
come at the risk of his life, especially as nothing would be advanced
by his presence in an august solemnity of such moment, unskilled as he
was in matters of the sort.[100]
The language of Dr. Newman, as reported in this correspondence, shows
that he had but faint light on the part which mere divines were to play
in the Council. Probably he was misled by history into supposing that
their part would be public and considerable. His place, had he gone,
would have been upon an unseen commission; his share probably anything
but an important one; and, as likely as not, his opinion might have
been asked only in writing, and upon a question of Oriental affairs,
instead of upon theology, as was that of his famous fellow oratorian
Theiner. Of the very few German scholars invited to Rome who were not
of the Jesuit school, one was Haneberg, who, according to Michelis, was
so little consulted that he was soon back in Munich, to avoid idling
away his time.
In March the Pope intimated his intention of issuing in June the Bull
of Convocation; and then the purpled had to consider who should be
summoned. The most serious doubt arose as to those useful fictions
called _bishops in partibus_. They have much of what goes to make a
bishop--the orders, robes, title, and consequence, everything but the
office. Their want of this is delicately expressed by Cecconi--they
have no determinate flock; which in lay language means no flock at
all. The number of these Court followers have been so increased that
Sepp illustrates the case by that of a government creating a batch of
peers to carry some measure.
But such peers do not depend for their living on the men who want their
votes. Even the Cardinals had not the courage to assert that creatures
like these had a _right_ to sit in the Council. They did raise the
question of right, and left it formally unanswered; but their next
question was, Is it expedient to invite them? They boldly affirmed that
it was expedient.
In May 1868, it was decided that the only proceeding to be observed
with respect to Catholic princes was that of communicating a copy
of the Bull of Convocation to each Court. But should the princes be
invited to attend? This question "was much debated among the purpled
consulters, and was negatived."[101]
The decision thus taken was logical, for no one is a Catholic prince
"as such" who does not place the law of his land under canon law;
or, in proper language, who does not maintain "harmonious laws,"
recognizing politics as lying in the domain of morals, and therefore
as being under the spiritual authority. When the controversy on the
Syllabus began, the _Civiltá_ had enjoyed a triumphant laugh at M.
Langlais, a distinguished French advocate. M. Langlais had argued
that the Encyclical would not have transgressed its proper boundary
had it treated only of faith and morals, but that having touched
the foundations of political institutions, it had transgressed that
boundary. The _Civiltá_ cried--
There exist then, according to M. Langlais, foundations of
political institutions outside of the circle of morals! outside,
consequently, of the circle of manners; or maybe, outside of the
circle of human actions.... His argument assumes that the political
order cannot be at the same time moral, or at least founded in the
moral order, and assumes further that it must be separate from it,
else he could not say that the Pope, simply by entering upon the
political order, had gone out of the moral order (VI. i. 652-53).
It is not said that Antonelli in particular took alarm. But it is
said that fears arose lest the "novelty" resolved upon should prove
perilous; therefore the subject had to be reconsidered in the presence
of the Secretary of State. The danger that might follow the brusque
exclusion of princes was so felt that the former decision was on the
point of being reversed. This shows Antonelli's ascendant. But his
colleagues had a resource. Only six days before the date fixed for
publishing the Bull, a special summons, not from Giannelli, but from
Antonelli himself, called together the Commission at a quarter past
eight o'clock in the evening, to a meeting to be held "in presence of
the Most Holy" (_coram sanctissimo_)--i.e. before the Pope.[102]
Before the Most Holy! Thus are we placed in presence of the Eleven,
and the kings are on their trial. The Nine are joined by the two men
so dissimilar and so indissoluble, Pius IX and Antonelli, in whom,
as an official biographer puts it, he early discerned "the man of
God," appointed as his succour and stay in his divine office. At the
head of the Eleven sits the portly, good-looking Pope, the beau-ideal
of an important squire in a remote place--full of will, spirit, and
self-confidence, with more art in governing than he has got credit for,
at least in that domineering and deluding which avails with priests. He
would be as hilarious as a squire who never put to death anything more
precious than a pheasant, and never cursed even a gamekeeper with any
intention that his curse should be bound in heaven.
Pius IX would now feel all the weight of his office. He was sitting
as supreme Judge, to decide upon the claims of the kings of the
earth. Were they worthy or were they not worthy to be received into
the Council which was to lay "the corner-stone of reconstruction,"
the Council in which the prerogatives rightfully claimed by his
predecessors of blessed memory, but from which the Church, slow of
heart to believe, had hitherto withheld her former sanction, were at
last to be openly acknowledged in his person?
No one could doubt what view Pius IX would take. The kings were clearly
guilty. They had consented to the voice of their people against the
voice of the Church. They had abolished harmonious laws. The internal
tribunal was reduced to a voluntary confessional; the external
tribunal, in most places, was removed, and everywhere subordinated.
Even as to the Supreme Tribunal, who hearkened to the words, "Know that
thou art the Father of princes and of kings, and the Governor of the
world?"
When the call for Trent went forth, the only doubtful crowns were two
lying away between civilization and Cimmerian night in England and
Sweden. Now on every hand the word was, There are no Catholic princes.
That old English crown was now represented by two monsters of power,
the British Empire and the United States. Two other monsters had come
up, Prussia and Russia. Spain was fallen, Poland was extinct, Italy was
hostile, Austria was enfeebled, France was strong but not sound--there
were no Catholic States. The social system was indeed in ruins. It was
only by clearing away that the foundations for reconstruction could be
properly laid; but clearing away was attended with danger. The princes
were not to be invited, but they were to be allowed to claim admission.
The Bull was then and there altered in this sense.[103]
Meanwhile symptoms of the coming conflict began to appear. Catholics
of all classes looked forward to great events for the Church and the
nations. Those who did not share the hopes of the hidden Council, or
who recoiled from the dogmas likely to be decreed, felt anxious. The
Press began to pour out pamphlets and reprints, enabling all to read up
on the question of Councils.
"The Crusaders of St. Peter" was the title of historical tales now
regularly appearing in the _Civiltá_, which continued for years. The
object was to make the blood of Mentana the seed of a great oecumenical
army. Every incident was described with vivid conception and boundless
faith in the destiny of the Papacy, with faith too in the duty of all
to rear up sons for the Crusade, and faith that those who fell escaped
purgatorial pains and found direct entrance among the beatified.
The following are passages scattered here and there--
It was a sight to rejoice the angels in heaven, that of these brave
men laying down the carabine to perform the little office of the
Virgin, and then turning from the little office of the Virgin to
take up the carabine.... On the march fatigue was lightened by
reciting the prayer which had so often conquered the foes of the
Church, the rosary.... The masters of war know that on the field
of battle the last army to deserve ridicule is an army fresh from
confession and communion.... A young gentlewoman gave birth to her
first-born. "How long it will be," she said, "ere he can carry a
musket! But Pius IX can do anything. He can make a zouave even now
of my Eugenio." Melted by such faith, the Pope wrote a benediction
on a paper "consecrated to him" by the infant. The venerated word
was placed in the domestic sanctum, and in return for it "the
zouave at the breast will do a soldier's service." Some weeks
later, on receiving from him a first oblation, the Pope again wrote
a word for "his soldier in swaddling clothes." The family were
overjoyed at being permitted within five months to kiss two Papal
autographs. The mother wrote, "Eugenio was asleep. I ran to put the
Papal benediction on his head and forehead. He immediately broke
out in a smile, and to me he looked like an angel. I could not
restrain my tears. He still slept, but bounded for joy as long as I
kept the blessed letters on his little head.... Should the avengers
of Mentana try their hand, the zouave will lisp his first word
crying _Viva Maria_!"
Arthur Guillemin said to his crusaders as he led them to the attack at
Monte Libretti, fresh from absolution, "You are all in the grace of
God; do not count them, they will fall into our hands." They marched
into battle, some with the rosary round their neck, some with the
Carmelite scapular on their breast, and some with the cord of St.
Francis round the loins, just like that model of a crusader St. Louis.
The young Count de Quélen, who fell heroically at Monte Libretti, had
just received a letter from his mother. "If thou art to die, my good
Urban, die like a hero, like a soldier of God." After his death she
writes to a friend in Rome--
"My beloved son is dead--died for his God. Oh what a comfort
is that thought amid this desolation! He fell like the brave,
defending the Church and our venerated Pontiff. Was it not a signal
favour granted to him by that Lord who is so good that He put it
into his heart to shed every drop of his blood for Him, and by this
very means to bring him to paradise, where Urban henceforth--yes,
I dare believe it--enjoys the vision of his God, and is beatified
for all eternity, with beatitude unmixed?" [Thus it was plain that
having fallen in battle he had, as the writer of the story says,
"seized the palm of martyrdom, as he, following St. Louis, called
it," and so had escaped the pains of purgatory.] "If," continues
the mother to her friend, "you go to a reception of our holy and
venerated Pontiff and King, assure him, I pray you, that I am happy
that my son has shed his blood for him."
When the body arrived at Quimper, two hundred priests and a crowd
uncounted from the surrounding Breton villages came, "rather to
venerate than to pray for the departed." The houses were draped in
black, the black was decked with the French and the Papal flags; on the
coffin lay his sword, twined with laurels and crowned with vermilion.
The bishop pronounced the panegyric "magnifying him as a martyr for
religion." Mrs. Stone, a volunteer sister of charity, went from Rome to
Nerola to visit the wounded prisoners in the hands of the Garibaldians,
and especially Alfred Collingridge. The dying crusader said, "The Lord
has given me the favour I asked--to die for the Holy Father. Oh, yes,
may God accept of my death and my blood for the triumph of Holy Church
and for the conversion of England!" He complained that his rosary had
been taken away, and Mrs. Stone supplied him with her own. Alfred
Collingridge, from Oxford, "was the first of the English who laid down
his life in the Crusade of St. Peter." The writer prays, "May this
first English blood shed on Roman soil rise up before God, and descend
again in a dew of mercy on the land of Britain!" Of Alfred's countrymen
were present, his own brother George, two Watts-Russells, David Shee,
and Oswald Cary, "all soldiers of St. Peter" (VII. v. 155 ff.). The
father hearing from George of the death of Alfred, had only one regret,
that he could not himself step into his vacant place.
When Arthur Guillemin fell he was unhappily consigned to a grave in
common with Garibaldians; because it "was not then possible to separate
in the grave the friends of God from His enemies." Six months later,
Fathers Wilde and Gerlache, with others, piously sought the body of the
martyr to restore it to his native Aire-sur-la-Lys, by express desire
of Pius IX. Canon Druot had come to Rome to claim it in the name of the
family, the country, and the Church of Guillemin's birth. The seekers
of the relic included an O'Reilly, a Le Dieu, a Bach, a Loonen, and
a Mimmi. "You will find him," said a peasant, "with a Garibaldian at
his feet." The first object recognized was a Carmelite scapular. "It
is like mine," cried an officer; "two both alike were given to him and
me by the Countess Macchi!" Soon was seen the end of the cord of St.
Francis, worn by the deceased in imitation of St. Louis of France.
As the corpse was borne off to Rome, the people pressed around and
cried _Evviva_!--Long life to him! This cry "strange around a bier,"
expressed a "profound sense of the marvellous," and threw "a glittering
light upon the idea formed by Christians of those who fall fighting
in the modern crusade." At Rome, in the great Church of St. Louis of
France, the bier was surrounded by ambassadors, prelates, and officers,
including the Minister of War. At home, the "precious deposit" was
received in an illuminated chapel, decorated, not with symbols of
death, but of glory. "The crowd of pilgrims from the whole of northern
France" thronged the town. The bier was adorned with symbols of
victory, the work of Roman artists. The coffin was borne by the youth
of the town, emulous by changes to come under the coveted burden. A
party of pontifical zouaves in uniform attended. From the corners
of the hearse rose trophies of the pontifical flag "garlanded with
triumphal laurel." While yet the corpse lay in the illuminated chapel,
a new-born nephew of Arthur was borne in by the mother, who "piously
laid him upon the coffin, as used the ancient Christians to lay their
little ones on the sepulchres of the martyrs. A thrill of reverence
went through the assembly." During the funeral procession, the eyes
of the multitude "were fixed with devout curiosity on a piece of his
uniform spread out upon the bier, in which was seen the rent made by
the wound" (VII. iv. 415).
Aire-sur-la-Lys is not very far from our own shores, beyond Calais.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 95: _Cecconi_, p. 62.]
[Footnote 96: An interesting account of this change is given in
Sepp's stirring speech in the Bavarian Parliament on the Mering case,
_Deutschland und der Vatican_, pp. 182-85.]
[Footnote 97: VII. iii. 559.]
[Footnote 98: _Civiltá_, VII. x. 161.]
[Footnote 99: Serie VII. vol. vii. p. 22.]
[Footnote 100: _Cecconi_, pp. 370, 371.]
[Footnote 101: _Cecconi_, p. 122.]
[Footnote 102: _Cecconi_, p. 382.]
[Footnote 103: _Cecconi_, pp. 121-24.]