of truth, is the only power capable of saving the world. Would it not
then be better for the world, not only to allow her freely to fulfil
her mission, but to help her to do so? It is the contrary that
happens; the Church is too often looked upon as the enemy of the
human race, when she is in reality the mother of civilization.
"Yet this need not surprise us; we know that after the example of her
Founder, the Church, whose mission is to do good, is also destined to
bear injustice and contempt. Divine help will never fail her, even in
her darkest moments. Christ Himself has said it, history bears
witness to the fact."
The Catholic world was busy at this time over preparation for the
twenty-fifth national eucharistic congress, which was to be held at
Lourdes from the 22nd to the 26th of July. The pope had appointed
Cardinal Granito di Belmonte as legate to the congress, and his last
pontifical brief was written on this subject. "Never," he wrote, "has
Mary ceased to show that motherly love which till her last breath she
poured forth so fully upon the bride that her divine Son purchased
with His precious blood. It might indeed be said that her sole work
was to care for the Christian people, to lead all minds to the love
of Jesus and zeal in His service. May the divine Author and preserver
of the Church look upon that noble part of His flock, which is
afflicted to-day by so many calamities: may He stimulate the generous
virtue and willingness of the good and, pouring out the fire of His
love, revive the half-dead faith of those who now barely retain the
name of Christian. This, in our fatherly love for the French people,
we most earnestly ask of God through the Immaculate Virgin."
The congress was one of the greatest that has ever been held. Every
country, even the furthest, could boast its representative. Never, it
was said, had men of so many nations been seen together in one place;
the confusion of tongues was like Babel. Clergy and lay folk of every
age, rank and race came flocking from every quarter, all moved by one
impulse--devotion to Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament.
It was scarcely more than three weeks before the opening of this
congress when the news of the murder at Serajevo of the Austrian
Archduke Francis Ferdinand and his wife came like a thunder-clap upon
the world. Serbia was at once accused by Austria of complicity in the
crime, and a drastic note, to be answered within forty-eight hours,
was presented for her acceptance. Of the policy which caused this
move, and of the powers behind it, this is not the place to speak.
The pope, to whom the text of the Note was officially communicated by
the Austro-Hungarian government, foresaw clearly the catastrophe that
must follow. The papal nuncios received instructions to do all in
their power to avert an international conflict, but it was too late
to prevent the calamity; all efforts were in vain. By midnight on
August 4, the eleventh anniversary of the pope's election, Austria,
Serbia, Russia, Germany, Belgium, France and Great Britain were at
war.
The blow fell crushingly on the pope, whose heart was heavy with the
thought of all the sufferings that war would bring in its train. The
representative of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy asked him in the
emperor's name to bless the armies of the dual empire. "I bless
peace, not war," was the stern reply.[*]
[*] This story is quite in keeping with Pius X's character, but the
evidence for its factual truth is not altogether satisfactory.
The exhortation to the Catholics of the world, published in the
_Osservatore Romano_ of the 2nd of August, was a touching expression
of the Holy Father's sorrow: "While nearly all Europe is being
dragged into the whirlpool of a most deadly war, of whose dangers,
bloodshed and consequences no one can think without grief and alarm,
we too cannot but be anxious and feel our soul rent by the most
bitter grief for the safety and lives of so many citizens and so many
peoples for whose welfare we are supremely solicitous. Amid this
tremendous upheaval and danger we deeply feel and realize that our
fatherly charity and our apostolic ministry demand that we direct
men's minds to Him from whom alone help can come, to Christ, the
Prince of Peace, and man's all-powerful Mediator with God. Therefore
we exhort the Catholics of the whole world to turn confidently to His
throne of grace and mercy; let the clergy lead the way by their
example and by appointing special prayer in their parishes, under the
order of the bishops, that God may be moved to pity, and may remove
as soon as possible the disastrous torch of war and inspire the
rulers of the nations with thoughts of peace and not of affliction."
When the pope appeared to bless the crowds gathered in the Cortile di
San Damaso on the same day, it was noticed that an expression of the
deepest sadness replaced the usual kind smile of welcome. "My poor
children! My poor children!" he exclaimed sorrowfully as despatch
after despatch confirmed the rumours of fresh mobilizations. All
the bishops who visited him during those sad days were urged to start
a crusade of prayer in their dioceses to avert the impending
disaster. Groups of pilgrims were received during the week, but
blessed in silence; no public address was given by the pope: the
awful burden of the world's tragedy weighed too heavily on his heart.
Night and day he prayed and suffered, trying to think of some way of
bringing peace out of the conflict.
The rumour that the pope was ill was spread about on the feast of the
Assumption. As a matter of fact, he was merely feeling indisposed,
and had suspended his usual audiences. His doctor, usually inclined
to be over-careful, and his sisters, always over-anxious, looked on
his illness as of no importance, and evinced not the slightest
anxiety.
On Tuesday, the 17th of August, as the Cardinal Secretary of State,
himself unwell, was unable to go to his usual daily audience, the
pope sent him a message assuring him that he was all right. "_Dica al
Cardinale_," he said, "_che stia bene, perche quando sta male lui, sto
male io_!"[*] His sisters saw him on the Tuesday evening, and went
home after leaving a message for the cardinal that the Holy Father
was doing well, and would be all right in the morning. He had been at
his writing-table as usual, and had received a Franciscan friar, who
left him without any idea that he was ill. During the night of
Wednesday, the 18th, he became very much worse, and at eight o'clock
in the morning was declared to be seriously ill, though the doctor
had not given up all hope. A few hours later it was announced that
the pope was dying.
[*] "Tell the cardinal to get well, for when he is ill I am ill too."
Those of the cardinals who could be present, hastily summoned, knelt
around him, unable to restrain their tears. The pope lay, or rather
sat, propped up with pillows and breathing with difficulty; his
sisters were by his side, a Brother of St. John of God in attendance
as nurse. The last consecutive words he had spoken were to his
confessor; "I resign myself completely," he said, after which his
answers to the prayers grew fainter and fainter until they ceased
altogether.
"One was not conscious of time and it was all unreal," wrote one who
was present. "Suddenly the deep notes of St. Peter's great bell
boomed out, tolling '_pro pontifice agonizzante_,' and at that signal
Exposition began in all the patriarchal basilicas, with special
prayers. The hot _scirocco_, the buzz from the Piazza San Pietro far
below, whispering prelates and attendants, the boom of the bell--how
strange it all seemed; and behind everything the catastrophe of the
present public situation and war."
So the hours of the afternoon wore on into the night. The pope could
not speak, but he recognized those who approached him, received the
clasp of their hands with an answering pressure, raised his own to
bless them, and from time to time made slowly on his brow and breast
a long sign of the cross. At a little after 1.15 a.m., in deepest
peace and calm, Pius X passed away.
He died as he had lived, quietly and simply; and few strangers, had
they seen the plain, austerely furnished bedroom where he lay,
majestic in death, could have believed that this was the
death-chamber of a pope. Opposite the bed, which was surrounded by
four great candles, stood an altar, where from the small hours of the
morning Mass succeeded Mass; two Noble Guard were on duty beside the
dead pontiff. The grief felt for his loss was deep and universal;
cardinals, prelates, servants, all sorts and conditions of men, wept
openly as they went about their duties. Diplomats expressed in
heartfelt accents to Cardinal Merry del Val their admiration,
veneration and love for the saintly pope who had passed away. "The
whitest soul in this blood-stained tempest-torn world has left us,"
wrote an Italian prelate to a friend. "The Holy Father has died of a
broken heart," said another.
The body of the pope lay in state in the Sala del Trono and
afterwards was carried to St. Peter's, where it was placed in the
chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, raised aloft and visible to the
crowd. A continuous stream of people passed through the basilica,
getting thicker and thicker as the day went on. Pius X had asked that
he might be buried in the crypt of St. Peter's, absolutely forbidding
the embalming of his body. His wish was carried out on the 23rd of
August.
"The will of the Holy Father," said one of the cardinals, "is the
will of a saint." Opening with an invocation of the Blessed Trinity
and an expression of confidence in the mercy of Almighty God, it
continued thus: "I was born poor, I have lived poor, and I wish to
die poor." A sum not exceeding £12 a month was left to his sisters,
and 48s. a month to his valet, while a legacy of £400 was bequeathed
to his nephews and nieces, subject to the approval of the next pope.
The maintenance of 400 orphans, victims of the Messina earthquake of
1908 and undertaken by the Holy Father, was also provided for.
"Pius X has left his mark on the world," wrote Monsignor Benson in
_The Tablet_ of August 29th, "perhaps more than any pontiff of the
last four centuries. That humble cry of sorrow, which, we are told,
broke from him only a few days ago when he deplored his impotence to
check the madness of Europe, indeed witnessed to the great historical
lesson that those who reject the arbitration of Christ's Vicar and
the elementary principles of Christian justice will surely
reap--indeed are already reaping--the bitter fruits of disobedience;
but along other lines he has done more than any predecessor of his
since the days of that great schism to reconcile by love those who
throw over authority; and the secret of it all lies in exactly that
which he would be the last to recognize--namely, the personal
holiness and devotion of his own character . . . .
"It is a wonderful consolation to realize how, for the first time
perhaps for centuries, the Shepherd of the flock has succeeded in
making his voice heard, and a part, at least, of his message
intelligible among the sheep that are not of his fold. Pontiff after
pontiff has spoken that same message, and pontiff after pontiff has
been, without the confines of his own flock, little more than a voice
crying in the wilderness. Now, for the first time, partly no doubt
through the breaking down of obstinate prejudice, but chiefly through
the particular accents of the voice that spoke and the marvellous
personality of the speaker, that message has become audible, and Pius
X has succeeded where diplomacy and even sanctity of another
complexion have failed. Men have recognized the transparent love of
the Pastor where they have been deaf to the definitions of the
Pontiff; they have at any rate paused to listen to the appeals of
their Father, when they have turned away from the authority of the
_Rector mundi_."
Nor was it the Catholic press alone that paid tribute to the holy
life and noble aims of the dead pope. "All men who hold sincere and
personal holiness in honour," said _The Times_, "will join with the
Roman Catholic Church in her mourning for the Pontiff she has lost.
The policy of Pius X has had many critics, not all of them outside
the Church he ruled, but none has ever questioned the transparent
honesty of his convictions or refused admiration for his priestly
virtues. Sprung from the people, he loved and understood them as only
a good parish priest can do. That was the secret of the love which he
won amongst them from the first, and which at Venice made him a great
popular power. Not that he ever courted popularity; he taught them as
one having authority and could insist upon obedience. But the Roman
Church mourns in him something more than a saintly priest and a great
bishop; in him she also deplores a great pope. In the spheres of
church politics his reign has witnessed grievous disasters. It has
seen the separation of church and state in France and in Portugal,
and the whole process of 'dechristianizing' national and social life,
of which that measure was the symbol. Unprejudiced judges cannot
blame a pope for rejecting all compromise with a policy which, on the
admission of its authors, was deliberately aimed at the destruction
of the faith which it was his mission to uphold. Compromise, it has
been said, ought to have been possible, but there are principles
which Rome cannot waive or abate. Pius X conceived that such
principles were jeopardized in all the accommodations with the new
system which were suggested to him. It was no light thing for him to
impose upon the faithful clergy of France and of Portugal a course
which brought to them the loss of their revenues, their homes, and
even of all legal right in their churches. But his decision was to
him not a question of expediency, but of right and wrong. He gave it
in accordance with the dictates of his conscience, and the wonderful
obedience which the priests whom it impoverished have shown to his
commands has filled with a just pride his children throughout the
world . . . . His reform of church music was in the main a return to
the pure and noble manner of the best masters of the sixteenth
century . . . . His zeal for establishing the true text of the
Vulgate--the 'authorized version' of Latin Christianity--illustrates
in yet another field the plain practical nature of his mind . . . .
The sweeping condemnation of 'Modernism' was the most conspicuous act
of his pontificate within the domain of dogma. It was a consequence
of his position and of his character as inevitable as his repudiation
of compromise with the secularism of M. Combe or M. Briand. Few
persons familiar with the elementary doctrines of the Roman Church
could suppose that the tendencies of the new school were compatible
with them. To the downright plain sense of the pope the desperate
efforts of men who had explained away the content of historical
Christianity to present themselves as orthodox Roman Catholics were
simply disingenuous .... The elevation of Giuseppe Sarto to the most
ancient and most venerable throne in Europe is a striking
illustration of the democratic side of the Roman Church to which she
has largely owed her power . . . . The story is not without its
lessons for statesmen and for educationists. The Church did not
attempt universal education, but by her monastic schools, her
bursaries and her seminaries she set up a ladder leading to the most
exalted of all her dignities for the most fit. It was long since a
peasant's son had won the Triple Crown. In this, as in so much
besides, the reign of Pope Pius X was a return to the past."
In the crypt of St. Peter's the then last pope, who was a peasant,
was laid close to the sepulchre of the First, who was a fisherman.
This was the inscription on his tomb:
PIVS PAPA X
PAVPER ET DIVES
MITIS ET HVMILIS CORDE
REIQVE CATHOLICAE VINDEX FORTIS
INSTAVRARE OMNIA IN CHRISTO
SATAGENS PIE OBIIT
DIE XX AVG A.D. MCMXIV
POPE PIUS X
POOR YET RICH
MEEK AND HUMBLE OF HEART
UNDAUNTED CHAMPION OF THE CATHOLIC FAITH
TO RESTORE ALL THINGS IN CHRIST
HAVING DONE SO MUCH
DIED HOLILY AUGUST 20, A.D. 1914