bishop-elect set out for Rome. At Padua he met with a fresh ovation,
Monsignor Callegari himself came to the station to greet his old
friend and to wish him well. On the evening of the 8th he was
received by Pope Leo, and left his presence consoled and full of
courage as to the future. Consecrated on the 16th, he remained in
Rome for ten days longer, returning on the 29th to Treviso, where he
was to remain for some months before entering on his episcopal charge.
It was during this time that he went one day, accompanied by a
friend, to visit a Venetian city. In the railway carriage were two
gentlemen, who, while conversing on local subjects, touched on the
election of the new bishop of Mantua. They wondered what kind of a
man Monsignor Sarto was; not very intelligent, they feared, nor very
gifted. The bishop-elect, with a sign to his companion to keep quiet,
joined in the conversation, endorsing most heartily everything that
they said in his own disparagement. He then proceeded to contrast the
poor picture he had painted of himself with the qualities that were
necessary for an ideal bishop, and this with such ability and
discernment that his two hearers were greatly impressed. Monsignor
Sarto was the first to leave the carriage.
"Who is that delightful priest?" asked the gentlemen of his
companion, who was preparing to follow.
The latter made a low bow. "Monsignor Sarto, Bishop-elect of Mantua,"
he answered with elaborate irony.
He spent Holy Week and Easter that year with his mother and sisters
at Riese. It was a double festival for his family and the friends of
his childhood who crowded round him. Back again at Treviso, where he
had spent so many happy days, he had not the courage to face a public
farewell. "Read them this letter at dinner," he said to the rector of
the seminary; "tell them I keep them all in my heart, and that they
must pray for me." Then, slipping unnoticed out of the house, he went
to the carriage ordered to wait for him at a little distance, and so
set out for Mantua.
At the station a large crowd had gathered to receive him, priests,
people, representatives of the noble families of the place, and of
the divers associations of town and country. Outside the bishop's
house, in the great square of St. Peter, a multitude of townspeople
were awaiting his arrival. "We want to see our bishop," they cried
tumultuously, and their desire was immediately satisfied. Stepping
out into the balcony which overlooked the square, their new pastor
greeted them with warm affection and gave them his blessing.
Mantua, say the Italians, has always been a fighting city, and in
1885 it was still true to its reputation. Of Etruscan origin, and the
birthplace of Virgil and Sordello, throughout the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries its see had been usually held by members of the
famous family of Gonzaga. The task which lay before the new bishop
was no easy one. There were divisions between clergy and people; the
seminary was almost empty of students; many parishes were without a
priest; no synod had been held within the memory of man. The spirit
in which Monsignor Sarto took up his new work showed itself in his
first pastoral letter to his flock.
"I shall spare myself neither care nor labour nor watchfulness for
the salvation of souls. My hope is in Christ, who strengthens the
weakest by His divine help; I can do all in Him who strengtheneth me!
His power is infinite, and if I lean on Him it will be mine; His
wisdom is infinite, and if I look to Him for counsel I shall not be
deceived; His goodness is infinite, and if my trust is stayed on Him
I shall not be abandoned. Hope unites me to God and Him to me.
Although I know I am not sufficient for the burden, my strength is in
Him. For the salvation of others I must bear weariness, face dangers,
suffer offences, confront storms, fight against evil. He is my hope."
His first care was the seminary, and in a little more than a year he
was able to write to a friend: "I have a hundred and forty-seven
boarders, young men with healthy appetites who can digest anything
and everything."
The scarcity of priests in the country villages was indeed
disastrous. The bishop lost no time in convoking a synod. "If people
do not hear of God, of the sacraments, and of eternal life," he said
to the priests assembled, "they will soon lose every good feeling,
both civil and social. No difficulty is insurmountable; nothing is
impossible to those who will and those who love." The difficulty that
at that moment seemed most insurmountable was the want of money. The
hundred and forty-seven young men required feeding, and the seminary
was poor. The bishop sold the few fields at Riese that were all he
possessed to meet the immediate need, and others, stirred by his zeal
and eloquence, came forward to help him.
A thorough visitation of the diocese enabled Monsignor Sarto to
understand its needs more fully. He liked to hear both sides of every
question, and asked everyone to be perfectly frank with him in
discussing both good and evil. "Joy shared is joy doubled," he would
say, "and grief imparted becomes easier to bear." An old man who came
one day was received with such kindness that, concluding he had to do
with the bishop's secretary, he talked to him at great length about a
little personal affair. "Can I believe you?" he asked wistfully, as
the kind priest assured him that all would be right.
"What!" was the answer, "can you not trust your bishop?"
In order that the pastoral visitation might be no burden on the
country priests, whose life was a continual struggle with poverty, he
ordered that no preparations whatever were to be made for his
reception. Nothing extra was to be provided; he would share with them
what they had. Instead of a demonstration at the station, he begged
that the people might gather in the churches for Mass and communion.
"That is the greatest honour they can do me," he said; "that will be
my greatest reward. I desire no useless pomp, but the salvation of
souls."
One of his first acts was to write to the mayor of the city to ask
his assistance, thus holding out the right hand of fellowship to the
civil authority, and enlisting it in his behalf. "Your new bishop,"
ran the letter, "poor in everything else, but rich in love for his
flock, has no other object than to work for the salvation of souls
and to form among you one family of friends and brothers." The
question of church and state, then a thorny one in Italy, had not of
late years found a happy solution in Mantua. This gracious act of the
new bishop was the first step towards a better understanding. He
interested himself much in social questions; and it was through his
efforts that the first Italian social congress was held at Piacenza
in 1890. He understood the power of the press, and started a
flourishing paper called the _Citizen of Mantua_.
As at Tombolo, at Salzano, and at Treviso, so at Mantua was the
teaching of Christian doctrine one of the bishop's first cares.
Schools and confraternities were established everywhere throughout
the diocese, and on his pastoral visits he would catechize the
children himself to see that they were properly instructed in the
faith. Parents who would not allow their children to attend were
threatened with severe penalties; on this subject the bishop, so
gentle towards sorrow and suffering, was stern and inflexible. The
children's souls were at stake, he said, and he would not see their
birthright withheld from them. He insisted that church music should
be decorous and religious, and that the Gregorian chant should be
used when possible.
The bishop's day was a strenuous one. At five he celebrated Mass in
his private chapel, and, his thanksgiving ended, went straight to his
confessional in the cathedral. After breakfast of black coffee and a
mouthful of bread, he began the oft-interrupted day's work, for he
would have no set hours for receiving visits. Those who wanted him
were admitted at any hour, and received with the most genial
kindness. "No matter with what faces they go in," it was said of his
visitors, "they always come out smiling--that is, unless they have
done something dreadful." On these occasions Bishop Sarto could
scorch the offender with words of fire, but at the first sign of
repentance he was ready to forgive, to lift up the sinner and set him
on the right road. Towards evening he would take a walk in the town,
speaking familiarly to all he met. At nine he said the rosary with
his household, after which he worked or studied till midnight.
St. Anselm of Lucca, friend of Gregory VII, and, like him, inspired
with holy zeal for the reform of the clergy, is the patron saint of
Mantua. In 1886 his centenary was celebrated with great splendour in
the cathedral where he lies buried. Nor did the tercentenary of St.
Aloysius Gonzaga, whose family was one of Mantua's olden glories,
pass without special honour. A stirring address was given by the
bishop himself to the young men, of whom St. Aloysius was the special
patron.
"Religion has no fear of science," said Monsignor Sarto, attacking
one of the most popular fallacies of the day; "Christianity does not
tremble before discussion, but before ignorance. Tertullian
proclaimed as much to the emperors of Rome. 'One thing,' he said,
'our faith demands: not to be condemned before it be known,' and it
is this that I ask of you, young men, not to condemn religion before
you have studied it." Pilgrimages were inaugurated to the birthplace
of the saint at Castiglione; a mission was preached to the boys and
young men of the district; processions were held. The celebration of
the festival did a great deal of good in the diocese, impressing as
it did upon the people the fact that the best way to honour their
saints was by following in their footsteps.
In 1887 the sacerdotal jubilee of Pope Leo XIII was celebrated
throughout the world. The words in which the Bishop of Mantua
announced the approaching celebration to his flock found an echo in
every Catholic heart. "The moment has come," he said, "to prove to
the great Vicar of Christ our unchanging affection and fidelity. For
us Leo XIII is the guardian of the Holy Scriptures, the interpreter
of the doctrine of Jesus Christ, the supreme dispenser of the
treasures of the Church, the head of the Catholic religion, the chief
shepherd of souls, the infallible teacher, the secure guide, who
directs us on our way through a world wrapped in darkness and the
shadow of death. All the strength of the Church is in the pope; all
the foundations of our faith are based on the successor of Peter.
Those who wish her ill assault the papacy in every possible way; they
cut themselves adrift from the Church, and try their best to make the
pope an object of hatred and contempt. The more they endeavour to
weaken our faith and our attachment to the head of the Church, the
more closely let us draw to him through the public testimony of our
faith, our obedience and our veneration."
The fame of the zeal and piety of the Bishop of Mantua soon spread
beyond the bounds of his own diocese. His conspicuous merit and
ability had not escaped the vigilant eye of Leo XIII, who had marked
him out for higher dignity still. "If the Mantuans do not love their
new bishop," he had said on the appointment of Monsignor Sarto, "they
will love no one."
But the Mantuans were not so hard of heart, and the quarrelsome city,
in the hands of one who, like his Master, was meek and humble of
heart, had become a city of peace.
IV
PATRIARCH OF VENICE
In the consistory of June 12, 1893, Pope Leo XIII named Bishop Sarto
cardinal of the Holy Roman Church, and three days later appointed him
archbishop and patriarch of Venice.[*] On June 7 the bishop had set
out for Rome, and on the 15th, in the presence of representatives
from Venice, Treviso, Mantua and Riese, he received the cardinal's
hat, with the title of San Bernardo alle Terme. The wisdom and
modesty of the new cardinal, added to his charm of manner, won him
many friends during his stay in Rome. For sixteen months Cardinal
Sarto was unable to take possession of his see; for the Italian
government, having claimed the right to nominate the patriarch,
refused to sanction his appointment; and the municipality of Venice,
which was largely anti-clerical, was only too glad of a pretext to
show hostility to the Church.
[*] Patriarch is an honorary title. The only real patriarch in the
Western Church is the pope himself.
The cardinal's first visit after his return from Rome was to his
mother at Riese. At one of the stations on the way thither he was met
by a deputation of his old friends the Tombolani, headed by their
parish priest. Quite forgetting in their joy the respect due to a
prince of the Church, the simple peasants rushed at their old curate,
shouting vociferously, "Don Giuseppe! Don Giuseppe!" The cardinal,
pleased with their enthusiasm, laughed and greeted his old friends
with much affection.
All the bells were ringing in Riese as he entered it; all the people,
young and old, were there to meet him and to escort him, the centre
of a laughing, weeping, shouting crowd, to the church. Everyone was
at Benediction, and when old friends had been greeted and good wishes
given and received, the greatest joy of all was still to come--the
meeting in the little home of his childhood, where Margherita had her
son at last to herself. Next morning the cardinal preached to the
people, thanking them for their welcome, and speaking of all the
precious memories that centred for him round the altar where he had
made his first communion and offered his first Mass. The day was
spent in receiving visits; there was a kind word of greeting for new
friends, and a still kinder word of remembrance for the old.
Early next day, having vested in his scarlet _cappa magna_, Cardinal
Sarto went to his mother's room and, standing beside her bed, showed
himself in all the glory of the "sacred purple." Margherita wept with
joy; but there were tears of sorrow before night. It was the last day
at Riese, and although neither of them knew it, that parting kiss was
to be the last on this side of the grave. The old mother clung to her
son with a passionate tenderness as he clasped her frail figure in
his arms. She was eighty years old, and at that age partings are
hard. A few months later the sorrowful news of her death reached the
cardinal, now back at Mantua and busy with his episcopal duties. The
joy of the last meeting and the grief of the last parting had been
too much for the old mother's heart.
In September 1894 the government gave way at last, and the
_exequatur_ or confirmation of the papal bull arrived. A few weeks
later Cardinal Sarto pontificated for the last time in the cathedral
of Mantua, and, bidding a loving farewell to the diocese where he had
laboured so long and so strenuously, set out for Venice.
For years a government hostile to religion had waged relentless war
on the Church in Italy. Laws had been passed forbidding religious
teaching in the schools; charitable works had been "laicized": in
other words, the goods of religious fraternities and charitable
societies had been confiscated by the state, the revenues of
bishoprics had been refused to prelates appointed by the pope, and
rights of patronage had been claimed by the government over many
sees. The result was soon to be seen in a growing materialism in all
ranks of society.
"God is driven out of politics by this theory of the separation of
church and state," wrote the new patriarch in his first letter to his
flock. "He is driven out of learning by systematized doubt; from art
by the degrading influence of realism; from law by a morality which
is guided by the senses alone; from the schools by the abolition of
religious instruction; from Christian marriage, which they want to
deprive of the grace of the sacrament; from the cottage of the poor
peasant, who disdains the help of Him who alone can make his hard
life bearable; from the palaces of the rich, who no longer fear the
eternal Judge who will one day ask from them an account of their
stewardship. . . . We must fight this great contemporary error, the
enthronement of man in the place of God. The solution of this, as of
all other problems, lies in the Church and the teaching of the
Gospel."
The Venetian people were determined to show their new pastor that the
representatives of the government were not the representatives of
popular feeling. Amidst the decorations which adorned the town, the
municipal buildings alone remained untouched; amongst the crowds that
gathered to meet the patriarch, the members of the municipality were
conspicuously absent. The people resolved on an ovation the like of
which had never before been seen. As the patriarch entered the launch
that had been sent to receive him, the bells of all the towers in the
City of the Sea rang out a joyous welcome; from every balcony and
bridge came bursts of cheering, while a closely packed and
enthusiastic crowd occupied every available space along the route. At
the prow of the launch stood Cardinal Sarto in all the splendour of
scarlet robes, a noble manly figure, full of dignity and sweetness,
blessing the crowd with the winning smile that was characteristic of
him.
On the following morning in St. Mark's, having listened to the
congratulatory speeches addressed to him, the cardinal turned to the
people, and in the breathless silence that followed, his clear voice
rang out to the farthest recesses of the cathedral.
"I should be ashamed," he said, "to be the object of such honour, did
I not know that it is offered, not to my poor person, but to Jesus
Christ, whose representative I am and in whose name I come among you.
You wish to show that you see in me your bishop, your father, and
your patriarch, and I am bound to love you in return. When Jesus
Christ gave to St. Peter the charge of His sheep and of His lambs, He
asked him three times for the assurance of his love, thus giving him
to understand that love is the greatest necessity for a shepherd of
souls. From this moment I gather you all into my heart; I love you
with a strong and supernatural love, desiring but the good of your
souls. For you are all my family--priests, citizens, great and small,
rich and poor. My heart and my love are yours, and from you I ask
nothing but the same love in return. My only desire is that you
should say of me, 'Our patriarch is a man of upright intention, who
holds high the banner of our Lord Jesus Christ, who seeks only to
defend the truth and to do good.' And since God has raised me, a son
of the people, to this high dignity, He will certainly give me the
strength and the grace necessary for so great a mission. It is the
duty of a bishop to proclaim God's truth, to interpret it to the
people; and I look upon it as a holy duty to speak frankly in its
defence. I am ready to make any sacrifice for the salvation of souls.
You who have zeal for the things of God, work with me, help me, and
God will give us the grace that is necessary to achieve our ends."
The Venetians were deeply moved; they felt that their new patriarch
was a truly apostolic man, and the impression only gathered strength
as time went on. The doors of his house were always open to anyone,
rich or poor, who wished to speak to the patriarch; the troubles of
the least of his flock were his own. He threw himself with all his
heart into every movement for the bettering of the condition of the
poor, often settling, by his tact and zeal, bitter disputes between
capital and labour. The municipality was, as we have seen,
anti-clerical. He rallied the Catholic forces with such success that
within a year they prevailed. For he knew the way to obtain his ends;
and while throwing into the struggle the whole influence of his
forceful personality, he inaugurated throughout the diocese, before
and during the elections, a regular crusade of prayer. Wherever he
went, peace and reconciliation followed. "Possessed of much sweetness
and charm of manner," wrote one who knew him, "and uniting a certain
stateliness and dignity with a graceful address and a delightful
sense of humour, he preached the gospel of personal culture, putting
cleanliness next to godliness, and good manners next to good morals,
himself setting the example in these things."
As at Mantua and at Treviso, he insisted strongly on religious
instruction for all classes. Ignorance of Christian teaching, he
said, was the great defect of the times, and very many evils sprang
from this alone. Many who were learned in secular sciences were
deplorably ignorant of the truths of their faith. Preachers were apt
to take too much for granted that their congregations were well
instructed, and on this account their sermons bore little fruit.
"There is too much preaching and too little teaching," said the
patriarch; "put aside these flowery and elaborate discourses, and
preach to the people plainly and simply on the eternal truths of
faith and on the teaching of the Gospel. Think of the good of souls
rather than of the impression you are making. The people are
thirsting for truth; give them what they need for their souls'
health, for this is the first duty of a priest."
He insisted on religious instruction for adults as well as children,
but reminded his priests that all these things require study,
preparation and prayer. As nothing pertaining to the dignity of the
priesthood was small in his eyes, he insisted that the clergy should
be tidy in dress and scrupulously clean. He mixed freely with the
people, often stopping to talk to those he met in friendly and
familiar fashion. The Venetians loved him dearly. "There goes our
dear patriarch," they would say, "intent on some good. God bless him
and the mother who bore him." His home life was as simple as ever,
and his charities as great. His two sisters and his niece kept house
for him. His steward had to put him on an allowance, so unmeasured
was his almsgiving, and it was said that the episcopal ring of the
chief pastor of Venice was more than once in pawn.
"Times are changed," said an old friend who was visiting him, as the
cardinal pulled out a gold watch from his pocket. "Do you remember
the silver one which was always going to the pawnbroker at Tombolo?"
The patriarch looked ruefully at the watch. "The person who gave it
me," he said, laughing, "had the unfortunate inspiration to get the
patriarchal arms engraved on the back!"
"I am so sorry to have to send you such a wretched sum," he wrote to
a priest in Mantua who had applied to him for money for some charity;
"I was poor at Mantua, but here I am a perfect beggar. Take what I
send in the same spirit, and forgive me."
The diocesan visitation begun soon after his arrival in Venice was no
small affair, and took several months to accomplish. "We appreciate
greatly the zeal and charity of our patriarch," said the people, "but
we are praying that he may sometimes think a little of himself; for
such men are precious, and we want to keep him as long as we can." As
at Mantua, he begged that there might be as little pomp and ceremony
as possible, and that no extraordinary preparations might be made in
the different parishes for his arrival. With quick intuition he saw
at a glance exactly what was needed in the way of reform or
development, and at the synod which followed showed a perfect
knowledge of the requirements of the archdiocese.