Chapter VI: Bianca’s Festa (5)

It is not Monsignor who will preach the panegyric. The great bishop waits until next year. It appears that various beatifications are about to be taken under consideration, amongst others those of Christopher Columbus and Joan of Arc. The first discovered a world, the second saved France by delivering it from a foreign yoke――living as a saint and dying as a martyr; the former, a marvellous genius, was tried and persecuted, like everything which is specially marked with the seal of God in this world. I have seen persons smile when any one spoke before them of the possibility of the canonization of Joan of Arc. What life, however, was more extraordinary and more miraculous? Would this shepherdess of sixteen years old, so humble, gentle, and pious, have quitted her hamlet and her family for the stormy life of camps, without the express will of God, manifested to her by the _voices_? Poor Joan! How often have I pictured her to myself, after the saving of the _gentil dauphin_ who had trusted in her words, weeping because the king insisted on her remaining. From that moment her life was a preparation for martyrdom. She knew that shortly she should die.

Adrien has given me the history of Christopher Columbus in English. You are aware that this son of Genoa, this heroic discoverer, wore the tunic and girdle of the Third Order when he landed on that shore, so long dreamed of, which gave a new world to the church of God. It is said that this great man had at times ecstasies of faith and love. What glory for the family of the patriarch of Assisi! Edouard assured me yesterday that Raphael and Michael Angelo were also of the Third Order. This austerity appears naturally to suit the painter of the _Last Judgment_, but I cannot picture to myself the young, brilliant, and magnificent Sanzio in a serge habit. What centuries were those, my sister, when power and greatness and splendor sought after humility as a safeguard, and followed in the footsteps of the chosen one of God, who, in the lofty words of Dante, had espoused on Mount Alverna noble Poverty, who had had no spouse since Jesus Christ had died on Calvary! Poetry was not wanting to the crown of the Seraph of Assisi, himself so admirable a poet. Lopez de Vega was also of the Third Order.

Adrien says that our age has had its Francis of Assisi in the heavenly Curé d’Ars, who is perhaps the greatest marvel in this epoch, fertile as it is in miracles. How much we regret not having seen him, especially as we passed so near!

Picciola has the measles. This pretty child is attacked by a violent fever; it is sad to see her, but she will not suffer herself to be pitied. “Our Lord suffered much more,” she says. “What is this?” You see, sister, that hereabouts the _children of the saints_ have not degenerated.

Anna, who had the measles last year, faithfully keeps the sick child company. I overheard them talking just now. “Would you like to get well quickly?” asked the _Italiana_. “Oh! no, I am not sorry to suffer a little to prepare for my First Communion.” “For my part, though, I pray with all my heart that you may soon get up; it is too sad to see you so red under your curtains, whilst the sun is shining out there.” “Listen to me, dear: ask the good God to help me to suffer well, without my mother being troubled about it. We are not to enjoy ourselves in this world, as M. l’Abbé says, but to merit heaven.” I slipped away, lest my tears should betray me: I am afraid that Picciola may also leave us.

Pray for your Georgina, dear Kate.

APRIL 22, 1868.

The wish of this little angel has been granted: her measles torture her; there are very large spots which greatly perplex the doctor. She is as if on fire, but always smiling and thoughtful, and so grateful for the least thing done for her! What an admirable disposition she has! Last night the _femme de chambre_, whose duty it was to watch by her, went to sleep, and the poor little one was for six hours without drinking; the doctor having ordered her to take a few spoonfuls of tisane every quarter of an hour. It was the _sleeper_ who told us of this; and when I gently scolded the darling Picciola, she whispered to me: “Dear aunt, I heard you mention what the good gentleman said who founded the company of St. Sulpice: ‘A Christian is another Jesus Christ on earth.’ Let me, then, suffer a little in union with our Lord.”

What do you say to this heavenly science, this perfect love, in a child of twelve years old? O my God! is she too pure for this world? They assure me that there is no danger, but my heart is in anguish. Kate, I do so love this child!

It is to-day that Betsy becomes _madame_. What a day for her! Yesterday she was still a young girl, to-morrow will begin her life as a wife; she will begin it by sacrifice. Oh! why must we quit the soft nests which have witnessed our childhood and our happiness? Why comes there an hour when we must bid adieu to those who, with their love and care, protected our first years? Poor mothers! you lose your much-loved treasures; they will some day belong to others.

Père Gratry was received at the Academy on the 26th of March. On his reception he made a magnificent discourse. He was presented by Mgr. Dupanloup.

“Gentlemen,” said the father on beginning his address, “it is not my humble person, it is the clergy of France, the memories of the Sorbonne and the Oratory, which you have intended to honor in deigning to call me to the seat occupied by Massillon.

“Voltaire, gentlemen, who occupied the same, thus finds himself, in your annals, between two priests of the Oratory, and his derision of mankind is enclosed between two prayers for the world, as his century itself will also be, one day in our history, enclosed between the great seventeenth century and the age of luminous faith which will love God and man in spirit and in truth.”

Kate, dearest, _amica mia_, pray for us.

APRIL 26, 1868.

She is better; the ninth day was good. God be praised! Last night, while watching by the sweet child, I turned over Marcella’s manuscript. How the thorns have wounded her! Oh! it is a nameless grief, at the age of twenty years, when the soul is overflowing with life and love, to be forced to shrink within one’s self, to hide one’s sufferings and joys, and repress all the ardor of youth which is longing to break forth. Everywhere in these rapidly-written pages I find this prayer: “Lord, grant me the love of the cross; give me the science of salvation! St. Bonaventure used to say that he had learnt everything at the foot of the crucifix; St. Thomas, when he did not understand, was wont to go and lean his powerful head against the side of the tabernacle; and Suarez, who devoted eight hours a day to study and eight to prayer, loved to say that he would give all his learning for the merit of a single _Ave Maria_. My God, my God! will the desires which thou hast implanted within me never be realized? Must I lead always a wandering and isolated existence, beneath distant skies, mourning my country and my mother, and seeing around me nothing which could in some little measure replace these two blessings? Must the sensitiveness of my thoughts and feelings be hourly wounded? Lord, thy will be done! And if this is to be my cross, then give me strength to bear it lovingly, even to the end, until the blessed time when thy merciful Providence shall reunite me to my mother!”

My beloved Kate, René is writing to you, and I send this sheet with his. Whenever I read anything beautiful, I long to show it to you.

God guard you, my second mother!

APRIL 30, 1868.

Complete and prosperous convalescence――_laus Deo!_ I sent you a few words only, dear Kate, on the morning of the 26th. This was a most happy day. Heard three Masses; received, with deep joy, him who is the Supreme Good. It was the Feast of the Adoration. The cathedral was splendid. Sermon by M. Berthaud on the Real Presence. It contained some admirable passages, especially on Luther and the Mass of the Greeks.

On the 27th was at the Benediction. Heard a _Quid Retribuant_ and _Regina Cœli_ which carried one away. In the evening René read with me a page of Hélène’s journal; I should like to _enshrine_ all the thoughts of this exquisite soul. Last year, at Paris, she wrote the following:

“Was present this morning at the profession of Louise de C――――. Sermon by the Père G――――. I was much moved when the sisters sang the _De Profundis_ whilst Sister St. Paul, prostrate under the funeral pall, consecrated to God for ever her being and her life; then the priest said aloud: ‘Arise, thou who art dead! Go forth from among the dead!’ Happy death! Henceforth Louise lives no more for the world; it is no longer anything to her. She is here below as if alone with God, and with God alone. Happy, says Pope, the spotless virgin who, ‘the world forgetting,’ is ‘by the world forgot.’ O religious life! how admirable and divine. I remember that a few years ago, in the youthful and poetic ardor of my enthusiastic soul, I wondered that the world was not an immense convent, that all hearts did not burn with the love of Jesus, and thought it strange that any should affiance themselves to man instead of to Christ. What disappointments and misery are in all terrestrial unions! Even in such as are sanctified and blessed is there not the _shadow_ which, on one side or another, darkens all the horizon of this world? No union could be ever more perfect than that of Alexandrine and Albert, and Alexandrine had _ten days_ of perfect happiness, of unmixed felicity――ten days; and afterwards, how many tears for this admirable wife by her suffering Albert, and, later, over his tomb! O joys of this world! do you deserve the name?

“My family has been greatly privileged hitherto, so united, so happy! But I am going away, mixing wormwood with the honey in my mother’s cup. How Aunt Georgina will also suffer! O grief to cause so many griefs! This evening I went to Ernestine’s with mamma. The mother and two daughters were magnificent――just ready to go to the ball. What a contrast! This morning the Virgin of the Lord, this evening the world and its pomps. Mme. de V―――― looked like a queen; my two friends were in clouds of tulle. May all the angels protect them! Are there angels at a ball? Oh! it is there above all that we need to be guarded. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God!”

Dear Kate, you can understand how such reading as this consoles Gertrude. Oh! how good God is.

We are going to have great festivities. The _Concours Régional_[83] begins on the 2d; the emperor and empress will be here on the 10th. On the 12th René and I are going to see you, dear Kate, while all the rest of the family take flight into Brittany. Then, after the best and happiest day of the twins, in July, we shall, I hope, go all together to see “merry England” and our dear Ireland.

Good-night, dear Kate; I have studied so much to-day that my head feels heavy. Adieu, my dear heart, as Madame Louise used to say.

MAY 3, 1868.

The month dear to poets, and still dearer to pious hearts, is come. Three Masses, visits, a walk on the Mall, a family concert after the month of Mary――this, dearest, is my day. Yesterday René set out at dawn on an excursion with Adrien. They have a passion for these long walks through the woods. While waiting until Marcella could receive me, I plunged into the _History of St. Paula_, which my mother-in-law has given me. This beautiful book is written by M. l’Abbé Lagrange. A disciple of the great bishop is easily recognizable in these magnificent pages. St. Jerome, whom M. de Montalembert calls the lion of Christian polemics, is there fully portrayed. “This ardent soul which breathes of the desert.” Remarked this passage in the introduction: “God has not bestowed all gifts upon them” (women), “nor spared them all weaknesses; but it is the privilege of their delicate and sensitive natures that the faith, when it has penetrated them, not only enlightens but enkindles them――it burns; and this sacred gift of passion and enthusiasm carries them on to wondrous heights of virtue.”

And elsewhere: “Will not the accents of St. Jerome, filled as they are, according to the expression of an illustrious writer, with the tears of his time, wonderfully impress souls wearied by the spectacles with which we are surrounded, and which have within them, as the poet says, the _tears of all things_? For those who have other sadnesses and other tears, inward sorrows, hidden wounds, some of those sorrows of which life is full――these, at least, will not weary of contemplating a saint who has herself suffered so much, and who was transfigured in her sufferings because she had the secret of knowing how to suffer, which is knowing how to love.”

Do you not seem to hear Mgr. Dupanloup in this? “There are times when a struggle is necessary, and when, in spite of its bitterness and dangers, we must plunge into it, cost what it may. No doubt that, as far as happiness is concerned, tranquillity and repose would be far preferable――repose, allowable for timid hearts incapable of defending a cause and holding a flag, or of comprehending a wide range of view, or the generosity of militant souls; but we ought to know how to respect and honor those who engage in the combat――often at the price of unspeakable inward sorrows, and even at times giving evidence of weakness and human passion――in the cause of truth and justice.”

How fine it is! I want to read this book with René. Reading is a delightful relaxation. I sometimes read to my mother, who finds herself more solitary since I became so studious, and since the house is changed into an _academy_. Highly educated herself, she takes much interest in our studies, but is quickly fatigued. What pleasure it is to sit at her feet on a footstool which her kind hands have worked for me, whilst she leans back her fine, intellectual head in her large easy-chair; to listen to her narratives, and to revisit the past with her! How truly she is a mother to me! Marcella has an enthusiastic veneration for her, and calls her by the same name that we do. Was not our meeting at Hyères providential, dear Kate?

Picciola is pressing me to go out. Good-by, dearest.

MAY 8, 1868.

What splendid festivities, dear sister! Sumptuous carpets and hangings of velvet have been sent from the crown wardrobe. The cathedral resembled the vestibule of heaven; and yet I prefer the austere grandeur of the bare columns to all this pomp. It was a beautiful sight, nevertheless, with the paintings, the banners, the escutcheons. It was imposing, but the presence of the Creator was forgotten in the vanities of earth; people were talking and laughing in this cathedral, usually full of subdued light and of silence.

The panegyric was equal to the occasion. I was delighted. What eloquence! It was the Abbé Baunard, the gentle author of the _Book of the First Communion_ and of the _Perseverance_, who pronounced it.

This quiet city is in a state of agitation not to be imagined; the streets are encumbered with strangers, and there is noise enough to split one’s head. Last year there was a general emulation to point out to me the minutest details of the _fête_; to-day Marcella was the heroine. I like to see her, radiant, enchanted, eager, while the delicate Anna clings to my arm, her large eyes sparkling with pleasure. We are so numerous that we divide, in order to avoid in some degree the looks of curiosity. My dear Italians are much disputed for.

The twins care no more to be here. Brittany has for them an invincible attraction. Happy souls, who are about to live their fairest day! Pray for them and for us, dear Kate!

MAY 10, 1868.

Dearest, the sovereigns are come and gone. Did I tell you about the _Concours Régional_? Every day I take the little people thither; there is a superb flower-show, orange-trees worthy of Campania, etc.

M. Bougaud pronounced a discourse upon agriculture, and with admirable fitness quoted our Lamartine:

“Objets inanimés, avez-vous donc une âme,
Qui s’attache à notre âme et la force d’aimer?”[84]

But I shall see you soon――a happiness worth all the rest, dear Kate. Shall I own to you that I regret Orleans because of Sainte-Croix, Notre Dame des Miracles, and our poor, besides so many things one feels but cannot express in words?

Benoni cries as soon as he hears us speak of going away. I observed in the _Annales_ the following gloomy words by M. Bougaud: “Gratitude is in great souls, but not in the vulgar; and as the soul of human nature is vulgar, it is only allowable in childhood to reckon upon the gratitude of men; but when we have had a nearer view of them, we place our hopes higher, since only God is grateful.” May God preserve me from learning this truth by experience! Hitherto I have found none but good hearts, the poor of Paradise!

Margaret presses me affectionately to make all diligence to go and embrace her baby. Isa is looking for me “as for a sunbeam.” Lizzy also unites her reiterated entreaties. Betsy is installed at Cordova, and praises her new country so highly that I am longing to see it.

Dear Kate, the twins are just come to me as a deputation to say that I am waited for, to go _in choir_ to the exhibition of the Society of the Friends of Art at the Hôtel de Ville; it appears that there is no one just now.…

_Later_ I will return to you.

I will not conclude without giving you another quotation from M. Lagrange: “Great sacrifices, which touch all that is most delicate, tender, and profound in the heart, even to the dividing asunder of the soul, according to the words of Holy Scripture, possess a sternness which cannot be measured or even suspected beforehand. There is a strange difference between wishing to make a sacrifice and making it. In vain we may be ready and resolute; the moment of accomplishment has always something in it more poignant than we had thought; the stroke which cuts away the last tie always gives an unexpected wrench. Every great design of God here below would be impossible, if the souls whom he chooses were always to let themselves be stopped by human obstacles.” Kate, Hélène, Ellen, Karl, Georgina, have felt this!

Did I mention to you the impression made on me by a story in the _Revue_, “Flaminia”? It is singularly beautiful, and quite in agreement with my belief.

Would you believe that here there are Jews and a synagogue, and also an “Evangelical Church”? They say that the minister is very agreeable, and that he goes into society. Protestants inspire me with so much compassion! A Protestant boarding-school was pointed out to me. What a pity that one cannot snatch away these poor young girls from a loveless worship!

Good-by, dear Kate, until the day after to-morrow. René sends all sorts of kind messages.

MAY 25, 1868.

Our oasis is resplendent, dear sister. Your good angel Raphael has sweetly protected us; not the smallest inconvenience; the delicious sensation that our sister-souls are more united than ever. To be alone with René, who is worth a thousand worlds――what delight! The air was pure, the country bright with fresh verdure, the birds joyous. Charming journey! At Tours a letter from Gertrude apprises me that all the W―――― family is in _villeggiatura_ at X――――. We hasten thither, and are received like welcome guests. What a happy meeting!――an enchantment which lasted two days, at the end of which we bade a tearful adieu. But the arrival here――oh! what heart-felt joy! Everybody out to meet us, with flowers, shouts, and _vivats_. Dearest Kate, earth is too fair!

Marcella is in love with Brittany, our coasts and wild country-places. Everything around us is budding or singing; the children run about in the fields of broom. We read, we play music; and our poor are not forgotten. The twins are preparing themselves with great earnestness. _M. l’Abbé_ gives them sermons, to which we all listen with much profit. Kate, do you remember my First Communion? Good-by, _carissima_.

MAY 28, 1868.

René is gone away to see his farms. Why am I so earthly that a single hour without him should be painful? Adrien was just now reading that fine page of St. Augustine where he says: “Human life is full of short-lived joys, prolonged sorrows, and attachments which are frail and passing.”

When will heaven be ours, that the joys of meeting again may never end? We are preparing some beautiful music for Sunday. Why are not you to be there with your sweet voice, dear sister? My mother would have liked to see you, but she made the sacrifice of not doing so that we might have the pleasure of a _tête-à-tête_. What do you think of that! Dear, kind mother! Do you know she had a charming and idolized daughter, who died at the age of sixteen? She died here, where everything speaks of her; and it is for this reason that Mme. de T―――― likes to return hither, and goes daily to the cemetery. I am told that I resemble her, this soul ascended to heaven, and every one finds it natural that there should be the perfect intimacy which exists between my mother and myself.

Marcella and Greek are waiting for me. Long live old Homer, long live Brittany, long live Kate!

_Evening._――It is ten o’clock, and René is not come in. Adrien and Edouard are gone to wait for him, while I am dying of anxiety. Prayers without him seemed to me so sad! My mother also is uneasy. Where is he? Oh! where can he be?

29th.――The night has been a long one. Adrien and Edouard came back after having sought for him in all the neighborhood. The servants were sent out in different directions. I went in and out, listening to the slightest noise.… Nobody! My mother sent every one away and was praying. Impossible to remain in any one place. I was full of the most terrible conjectures. At last, at four o’clock in the morning, I hear a carriage. It is he! it is René――poor René, covered with dust, more anxious than we, on account of our alarm. Would you like to know the cause of this delay? It is like the parable of the Good Samaritan. René met with a poor old man who had hurt himself in cutting wood, and after binding up the wound with some herbs and a pocket-handkerchief, he put him in the carriage and took him back to his cottage, which was at a great distance off. There he found a dying woman, who asked for a priest. To hasten to the nearest village and fetch the _curé_ was René’s first thought. There was no sacristan, so René took the place of one, and passed the whole night between the dying woman and the wounded man. The good _curé_ had other sick to attend to, but at two o’clock he arrived, and relieved _God’s sentinel_[85] (this is what the sweet Picciola calls him), who started homewards at a gallop.

You may imagine whether I am not very happy at this history. And yet I suffered very much; I feared everything, even death.

Love us, dear Kate.

TO BE CONTINUED.

[80] My soul is a ray of light and love, which, being
separated for a day from the torch of divinity, far from
God, is consumed by ardent aspirations, and burns to
reascend to its fiery source.

[81] Conferences for Women in the World.

[82] “Soft cradle which a jealous hand
Adorns and visits every hour,
Charm of the wife’s imaginings,
Soft nest, whereby hope waits.”

[83] Provincial Exhibition.

[84] Objects inanimate, have you, then, a soul which binds
itself to ours and forces it to love?

[85] _Le factionnaire du Bon Dieu._

HOW ROME STANDS TO-DAY.

Several articles have been published in THE CATHOLIC WORLD on the subject of which this paper is to treat――the condition of the Sovereign Pontiff consequent on the seizure of Rome, which thereby became the capital of the kingdom of Italy. As these articles marked the successive stages in the novel relations of the Head of the church, they could not fail to excite the interest of our readers. We look to a like interest, and invite it, for the present article, because it tells of new phases, and of the logical results of the schemes which their authors were bold enough to say were initiated “to secure the spiritual independence and dignity of the Holy See.” With this cry the attempts against Rome were begun, were carried on, and their success finally secured. So familiar, in fact, is this profession of zeal for the welfare of the Sovereign Pontiff, that we do not stop to cite one of the thousand documents in which it appeared, from the letter of Victor Emanuel, presented to Pius IX. by Count Ponza di San Martino, down to the instructions of the ministers to their subordinates or the after-dinner speeches of Italian politicians. Nor need we persuade ourselves that no one believed such an assertion any more than did those who first uttered it, nor than do we, who know what a hollow pretext it was and what fruit it has produced. Twenty years of revolution in Italy, and a vast ignorance of political matters, of the relations between church and state, rendered many in Italy and elsewhere ready dupes of the cunning devisers of Italian independence and clerical subjugation. These went with the current; and though not a few have had their eyes opened, and now deplore the excesses against religion they are doomed to witness, they are impotent to remedy what they aided in bringing about, and behold their more determined and less scrupulous companions hurry onward with the irresistible logic of facts. Now and then some voice even among these latter is heard above the din, asking: _Dove andiamo?_――Whither are we going? That is a question no one can answer. The so-called directors of revolutionary movements often look with anxiety at the effects of the raging passions they have let loose; but as for guiding them permanently, that is out of the question, for they have a way of their own. The skilful manipulators of revolution ride with the tide; they now and then see a break by which the waters may be diverted, and they succeed in making them take that course, but stop them they cannot. They can only keep a sharp look-out for what comes next, and trust to fortune to better matters for themselves or others. And so it is just now with the state of Italy. Things are taking their logical course, and every one who can lay claim to a little knowledge of politics and a moderate share of common sense will say what Cavour, in perhaps more favorable circumstances, remarked: “He is a wise statesman who can see two weeks ahead.”

We are not going to dwell on the political and financial state of Italy in itself; on the fact of its Chamber of Deputies representing only the one hundredth part of its people; on the saying, now an adage, as often in the mouths of liberals as in those of the clerical party, “that there is a _legal_ Italy and a _real_ Italy,” the former with the government and the deputies, the other with the _ancien régime_ and the church; nor on the debt――immense for so impoverished a land――the exhausting taxation, and the colossal expenditures for army, navy, and public works that add every day to the debt, and weigh as an incubus on the people, increasing to a fearful extent poverty and crime, peculation, brigandage, suicide, and murder. This would of itself require all the space at our disposal. Nor is it necessary, when we have one of the most accredited liberal papers of Rome, the _Libertà_ of Sept. 3, speaking of the trial of the Marchese Mantegazza, who was accused of forging the signature of Victor Emanuel to obtain money, that tells us: “Too truly and by many instances does our society show that it is ailing, and it is needful that justice take the matter in hand, and strive to stop the evil with speedy and efficacious cure.”

We propose, therefore, to confine our remarks to the condition of the Sovereign Pontiff at the present moment; to the consequent necessary examination of the relation of the state with the church; and to a look into the future, as far as events will justify us.

What is the condition of the Pope? Is he a prisoner or is he not? We had better start out with establishing what the word _prisoner_ means; otherwise some misunderstanding may arise. Webster gives us a triple meaning of it. According to him, it means “a person confined in prison; one taken by an enemy; or a person under arrest.” Ogilvie, besides the above, adds as a meaning “one whose liberty is restrained, as a bird in a cage.” Let us see if any of these meanings apply to the condition of the Pope; for if any one of them do, then the Pope is a prisoner.

The Holy Father, in his letter to the bishops immediately after Rome was taken by the Italian army, declared himself to be _sub hostili dominatione constitutus_――that is, subjected to a power hostile to him. And this is the fact; for friendly powers do not come with an army and cannon to batter down one’s gates and slay one’s faithful defenders. Any one who is taken by a power that, like the Italian government, did batter down walls and kill his defenders, it seems to us, looking at the matter calmly, would be declared by thinking people everywhere _sub hostili dominatione constitutus_――subjected to a hostile power. After a course like this one might as well say that Abdul Aziz was made to abdicate his throne, and put out of the way――_suicided_, as the phrase goes――to farther his own interests, as to assert that Pius IX. was dethroned and deprived of the free exercise of the prerogatives he lays claim to in order to secure his independence and protect his freedom of action. Under this title, then, of “having been taken by an enemy,” Pius IX. is a prisoner.

But it is said Pius IX. is not in a prison; he is in the splendid palace of the Vatican, with full liberty to come out when he will. With due respect to the sincerity of many who say this, we beg leave to remark, first, that there are prisoners who are not necessarily confined in jail; and, secondly, that there are excellent reasons for styling the residence of Pius IX. his prison. To illustrate the first point, there are prisoners on parole; there are, or were under the Crispi law, in Italy, men condemned to the _domicilio coatto_――to a forced sojourn in some place other than that in which they habitually dwelt before, just as the venerable Cardinal de Angelis was compelled to leave his see, Fermo, and reside for years at Turin. It is plainly not necessary, then, that, in order to be a prisoner, a man should be obliged to live in a building erected for penal purposes. It is enough that there should be powerful motives, such as honor, or conscientious duties, or just fear of consequences, to prevent the free use of his physical power of going from one place to another, to render him really a prisoner. In the case of Pius IX. there do exist such powerful motives in the highest degree. There exist powerful motives of honor. Pius IX. is under oath not to give up, or do any detriment to, the rights of the Roman Church and of the universal church. He inherited vested rights from his predecessors, and, as far as depends on him, he is bound to transmit them unimpaired to his successor. He is a man of honor, pre-eminently so, and will not, cannot prove false to his oath or fail in protecting the rights entrusted to his keeping. The effect of Pius IX.’s leaving the Vatican and going about Rome, as he did in former times, would be a persuasion in the minds of all that he had accepted the situation created for him by the act of the Italian government; that he was, in fact, coming to terms with the revolution; that he no longer protested against the violations of the divine and natural law embodied in the Italian code, which one of Italy’s public men declared, a short time ago, to be made up of the propositions condemned in the Syllabus. Talk about parole after such a picture! Parole regards the personal honor only; but the motives of Pius IX. not only regard honor, but the highest interests of mankind.

Again, a further effect of Pius IX.’s leaving the Vatican would be trouble in the city. Had we not facts to prove this, there might be many who would doubt it. On occasion of the _Te Deum_, on the recurrence of the anniversary of his elevation and coronation, in June, 1874, the Sovereign Pontiff, who had been present, unseen, in the gallery above the portico of St. Peter’s, on reaching his apartments chanced momentarily to look from the window at the immense crowd in the piazza. His figure, clad in white, against the dark ground of the room behind him, attracted the attention of some one below and excited his enthusiasm. His cry of _Viva Pio Nono, Pontifice e Re!_ had a magical effect. It was taken up by the thousands present, whose waving handkerchiefs produced the effect, to use the words of a young American poet present, of a foaming sea. In vain the agents of the government scattered through the mass of people――_gend’armes_ and _questurini_――did their best to stop the demonstration and silence a cry guaranteed by law, but discordant to the liberal ear, and significant of opposition to their views. They could not succeed. They had recourse to the soldiery. A company of Bersaglieri was called from the barracks near by, who, after giving with their trumpets the triple intimation to disperse, charged with fixed bayonets, and drove the people out of the piazza. The arrests of men and of ladies, and the resulting trials, with condemnation of the former, but release of the latter, are fresh in our memories. How, in the face of a fact like this, could the Pope come out into the city?――especially when we consider his position, the delicate regard due it, the danger, not only of harm to those who favor him, but of injury to the respect in which people of all classes hold him. Even those who would be the first to turn such an act to their account at his expense cannot withhold the respect his virtues, consistency, and courage exact. These, however, are prepared for the first mistake; they are ready to give him a mock triumph at the very first opportunity. But they have to do with a man who knows them; who, being in good faith himself, learnt his lesson in 1848, and understood what reliance is to be placed on European revolutionists. We conclude, then, this portion of our paper by saying that the condition created for the Pope by the taking of Rome, added to considerations of the highest order, has kept Pius IX. from putting his foot outside the Vatican since September 19, 1870, and that consequently “his liberty is restrained” and he is a prisoner.

Having thus shown that Pius IX. is a prisoner, we can safely draw the inference that the place in which circumstances oblige him to remain is his prison――prisoner and prison being correlative terms. He is “a prisoner in his own house,” though certainly we know that house was not built for penal purposes. But we have more than inference, logical as it is. We have facts to show that the same precautions were and still are used that it is the custom to adopt with regard to ordinary prisons. For example, it is well known that in the beginning of the Italian occupation of Rome the utmost surveillance was kept up on all going into or coming out from the Vatican. One met the Piedmontese sentinel at the entrance, and by him the government police; people were occasionally searched; and the guards had orders not to allow persons to show themselves from the windows or balconies of the palace. The lamented Mgr. de Merode, almoner to the Sovereign Pontiff, a soldier by early education, could hardly give credit to the facts that proved this. Full of indignation, he went himself to the spot, and from the balcony looked down upon the street below where the sentinel stood. He was at once saluted with the words, “Go back!” Again the command was repeated, and then the levelled rifle admonished the prelate that further refusal to obey was imprudent. The affair made a good deal of noise at the time, and the guards were removed from close proximity to the palace, remaining only a few hundred feet away. All things, then, considered, Pius IX. is a prisoner and the Vatican is his prison.

But not only is the liberty of the Sovereign Pontiff directly interfered with in this way; he is trammelled also in purely spiritual matters. The Pope, the rulers of Rome say, may talk as he pleases in the Vatican, as we cannot prevent him, and he will not be put down; nay, he may even promulgate his decrees, encyclicals, and constitutions by putting them up as usual at the doors of the basilicas of St. Peter and St. John Lateran; but any one who dares to reprint them will do so at his peril; his paper will be sequestrated, if the document published be judged by the authorities of the Italian kingdom to contain objectionable matter, and he will be tried by due course of law. This mode of proceeding has been put in practice; the seizure of the issue of the _Unità Cattolica_ for publishing an encyclical is well known, and was remarkable for an amusing feature. The edition for the provinces escaped the vigilance of the fiscal agents, and the Florentine liberal press, anxious to show how much freedom was allowed the Pope, on getting the _Unità_, printed the document. To their surprise, their issues were sequestrated. The letter of instruction on the subject of papal documents, and of surveillance, _by the police_, of the Catholic preachers, issued by the late ministry, to our knowledge never was recalled, and is therefore still in force; worse is contemplated, as we shall see later on. This coercion of his freedom of action extends also to the Pope’s jurisdiction in spirituals and in temporals.

The first instance of this is the exaction of the royal _exequatur_. We cannot do better than cite the words of the able legal authority, Sig. A. Caucino, of Turin, who has lately written a series of articles on the law of guarantees, passed by the chambers and confirmed by the king, of which we are speaking. On this subject of the _exequatur_ he writes: “After the discourse of the avvocato Mancini, on the 3d of May, 1875, and the ‘order of the day’ by the deputy Barazzuoli, no one wonders that the nature of the application of the law of guarantees has been changed, and that all the promises solemnly made when it was necessary to forestall public opinion, and promising cost nothing, have been broken. From that time to this the bishops named by the Pontiff, but not approved of by the royal government, have been put in the strangest and most unjust position in the world. It is hardly needful to recall that the first and principal guarantee in the law of May 13, 1871, was that by which the government renounced, throughout the whole kingdom, the right of naming or presenting for the conferring of the greater benefices (bishoprics, etc.) Well, after May, 1875, the bishops who were without the _exequatur_ were treated with two weights and two measures: they are not to be considered as bishops with respect to the Civil Code and the code of civil procedure, of equity――and logically; but they are to be looked on as such with regard to the Penal Code, the code of criminal procedure, and the whole arsenal of the fiscal laws of the Italian kingdom.”

Incredible, but true. Let us see the proofs.

Mgr. Pietro Carsana, named Bishop of Como, instituted a suit against the Administration of the Demain to have acknowledged as exempt from conversion into government bonds, and from the tax of thirty per cent., a charitable foundation by the noble Crotta-Oltrocchi, assigned to the Bishop of Como for the time being, that the revenues of it might be used for missions to the people and for the spiritual retreat or exercises of the clergy. The Demain raised the question as to whether Mgr. Carsana had the character required for the prosecution of such a cause before the tribunal. The tribunal of Como was for the bishop; but the Court of Appeal of Milan decided in favor of the Demain, for the following reasons, drawn up on June 28, 1875: “It cannot be doubted but that the episcopal see of Como is to be held as _still vacant_ as to its civil relations, since Mgr. Pietro Carsana, named to that see by the supreme ecclesiastical authority, has not yet received the royal _exequatur_, according to the requirements of the sixteenth article of the laws of May 13, 1871.[86] If the act of the supreme ecclesiastical authority”――we call attention to that word _supreme_――“directed to providing an occupant for the first benefice of the bishopric of Como, by the nomination of Mgr. Carsana, has not obtained the royal _exequatur_, as peace between the parties requires, this act before the civil law is _null and of no effect_, the appointment to the said benefice _is to be looked on as not having taken place_, and the episcopal see of Como is to be considered as still vacant, and the legitimate representation of it, in all its right, belongs to the vicar-capitular” (_Unità Cattol._, July 25, 1876). A like decision was given by the Court of Appeal of Palermo, October 16, 1875. Thus, to use the words of this writer, “the Pope has a right to name the bishops to exercise their episcopal functions, but, as far as their office has a bearing affecting external matters of civil nature, bishops without the _exequatur_ cannot exercise it.” These external matters of a civil nature, which might be misunderstood, be it said, are none other than the acts without which the temporalities of a bishopric cannot be administered. The bishop may say Mass, preach, and confirm, but not touch a dollar of the revenues of his see.

It needs no great acumen to perceive how the Sovereign Pontiff is thus hampered in his jurisdiction. His chief aids are his bishops; but they are not free unless they subject themselves, against conscience, to the civil power. Every _exequatur_ is an injustice to the church, no matter whether exacted by concordat or no. The church may submit under protest to the injustice, but the nature of the act of those requiring such submission does not change on that account. Hence it is clear that the Pope is at this moment most seriously hampered in the exercise of his _spiritual_ jurisdiction. If to this fact of the _exequatur_ we add the election of the parish priests by the people, favored by the government, the case becomes still clearer. But of this we shall speak fully at the end of the article.

To the impediments put in the way of the exercise of the Sovereign Pontiff’s spiritual jurisdiction are to be added those of a material nature, resulting from the heavy pecuniary burdens he, his bishops, and his clergy are obliged to bear. The scanty incomes of the clergy of the second order are in many cases reduced to two-thirds, while living costs one-fifth more than it did before Rome was taken. The very extensive suffering, from poverty, stagnation of business, the necessity of supporting the schools of parishes and institutions established to supply the place of those suppressed by the government, or whose funds have gone into the abyss of public administration――all have the effect of keeping the people from giving as largely to the clergy as they used to give, although that source of revenue to them was not very great, as nearly everything was provided for by foundations. With reference to the bishops, and the Sovereign Pontiff especially, the case is much more aggravating. Those prelates who have not obtained the _exequatur_ have no means of support, as the temporalities of their sees are withheld. Pius IX., whose trust in Providence has been rewarded with wonderful abundance of offerings from the faithful throughout the world, came to the assistance of these persecuted successors of the apostles. Out of his own resources, the gratuitous generosity of his flock everywhere, he gives to each one of them five hundred francs a month. The drain on the papal treasury by this and other necessary expenses forced upon him by the taking of Rome, amounts in the gross, yearly, to $1,200,000, which, as the Pope consistently refuses to take a sou of the $640,000 offered him by the government, comes from the contributions of the faithful given as Peter-pence. In this way are the Catholics of the whole world taxed by the action of the Italian government.

Besides this direct action on the Head of the church and on her pastors that interferes with their freedom, there are other modes of proceeding which we hardly know whether we are justified in styling indirect, so sure and fatal are their effects on the spiritual jurisdiction and power of the Pope.

The first of these is the claim on the part of the state, enforced by every means in its power, to direct the education of the young. No education is recognized except that given by the state schools. Without state education no one can hold office under the government, no one can practise law or medicine, or any other liberal profession. Moreover, every youth, boy or girl, must undergo an examination before examiners deputed by the state. It stands to reason that no one can teach unless he have a patent or certificate from the state. Now, what does this mean? It means simply that the most powerful engine for moulding the mind of man, poisoning it, prejudicing it, giving it the bent one wants, is in the hands of the avowed enemies of the church; moreover, that those who are so acted on by this mighty agency are the spiritual subjects of Pius IX.; and that this is being done not only in all Italy, but especially in Rome. The most strenuous efforts are being made to remedy this evil, with a good deal of success; and the success will be greater farther on. But in the meantime a vast harm is done and a generation is perverted.

The next of these indirect means is the conscription, which seizes on the young men even who have abandoned the world and embraced the ecclesiastical life. At first sight one may be inclined to think the damage done not so extensive, as only a certain percentage after all will be taken. Even were this so, the injustice done to the persons concerned, and the harm to the church, would not the less be real. The fact is that this course of the government affects a comparatively small number in time of peace; but in time of war the number remains no longer small. Besides, the uncertainty of being able to pursue their career must have a bad effect on young men, while the associations which they are obliged to see around them, if they undertake the year of voluntary service to escape the conscription, must often have a result by no means beneficial to their vocation. Facts are in our possession to show deliberate attempts to corrupt them and make them lose the idea of becoming priests. What is more weighty than these reasons is the fact of the diminishing number of vocations for the priesthood in Italy. The army of the government is swelling, while the army of Pius IX. in Italy is decreasing.