Chapter XI: Part 11

(M91) It is difficult to understand how a people numerically so weak as the inhabitants of that portion of the once great kingdom of Poland, which fell to the Russian Empire at the time of the unfortunate partition, could have undertaken a rebellion against so great a Power as Russia. But provocation, patriotism, the sense of nationality, together with the ardent love of liberty, set the laws of prudence at defiance. That provocation must have been of no ordinary kind which could excite, in Russian Poland, a third rebellion, which had no better prospect of success than the two former, which resulted so disastrously for the unhappy Poles. And, indeed, what could be worse or more calculated to cause insurrection than the cruelties, crimes and sacrilegious acts which the Russian government was guilty of throughout Poland in the years 1861 and 1862? The churches of that ill-fated country were seized and profaned, divine service interdicted, and the bishops arraigned before courts-martial and cast into prison. Such atrocities, instead of crushing, only increased the patriotism of the people. Russian policy, baffled as was to be expected, in its design of establishing tranquillity by such barbarous proceedings, had recourse to a rigid conscription intended to have the effect of forcing all the patriotic youth of the country into the ranks of the Russian army. This violent recruiting was first attempted at Warsaw, at dead of night, on the 15th of January, 1863. When the news of this violence spread throughout the country, all the young men capable of bearing arms fled to the steppes and forests, and, in eight days, all Poland was in rebellion for the third time, in order to break the yoke of the foreigner. A word from the great Powers, or any one of them, would have restored peace. But they all alike refused to speak this word. The British, after having encouraged the Poles to resistance in public speeches, were on the point of intervening in their behalf, when a hint from M. de Bismark suddenly cooled their zeal, and determined Lord John Russell to recall by telegraph threatening despatches which were already on their way to St. Petersburgh. It need scarcely be said that Prussia, which was an accomplice of Russia in the iniquitous partition, made common cause with Russia in the work of repression. Austria was at the time paralyzed, as Italy was threatening Venice. Italy simply expressed to Prince Gortschakoff, the Russian Chancellor, “its confidence that the Emperor Alexander would persevere in the reforms so unfortunately interrupted by the rebellion.” Innocent Italians! They, of course, were not guilty of causing rebellion, which was now, in their estimation, so deplorable in Sicily, Naples, the Grand Duchies, &c. Napoleon remained, as was his wont, undecided. He would neither assist the Poles nor give them to understand that he would not assist them. A word from him would have shortened, by eighteen months, a hopeless struggle of two years, which ended by exhausting them.

There was one, however, who protested. Pius IX. denounced the oppressor as fearlessly as if he had been the least of the princes of the earth. He wrote to him, at first, in a tone of mild remonstrance, on the 22d of April, 1863. But finding that his representations were not heeded, he renewed them more pressingly. He did not confine himself to merely official acts. He sent Cardinal Reisach on a confidential mission to Vienna, and addressed a warm and feeling letter to the Emperor Francis Joseph, in order to induce him to take action energetically in common with France. He invited the whole Christian world to join with him in praying for the suffering nation which he nobly declared to be “the soldier of civilization and of faith.” Such as were at Rome, at the time of these prayers, will never forget how enthusiastically the Roman people responded to the call of Pius IX. In praying for the defenders of a distant country, they seemed to pray, at the same time, for their own, which was now, more than ever, threatened. But the time of mercy had not yet come, and persecution was redoubled. Ecclesiastics were deported or put to death, simply for not having refused the aid of religion to the dying on the field of battle. Families and whole populations were doomed to choose between exile and apostacy. All the bishops, without exception, were driven from their dioceses, and some of them perished on the way to Siberia. Pius IX. could no longer contain his grief and indignation. On the 27th of April, 1864, in replying to the postulators in the cause of blessed Francis of the five wounds, he said: “The blood of the helpless and the innocent cries for vengeance to the throne of the Almighty against those by whom it is shed. Unhappy Poland! It was my desire not to speak before the approaching consistory. But I fear lest, by being silent any longer, I should draw down upon myself the punishment denounced by the prophets against those who tolerate iniquity. No, I would not that I were forced to cry out, one day, in presence of the Sovereign Judge: ‘Woe to me because I have held my peace!’ (_Va mihi quia tacui._) I feel inspired at this moment to condemn a sovereign whose vast Empire reaches to the Pole. This potentate, who falsely calls himself the Catholic of the East, but who is only a schismatic cast forth from the bosom of the true church, persecutes and slays his Catholic subjects, and by his ferocious cruelty has driven them to insurrection. Under the pretext of suppressing this insurrection, he extirpates the Catholic religion. He deports whole populations to inhospitable climes, where they are deprived of all religious assistance, and replaces them by schismatical adventurers. He tears the pastors from their flocks, and drives them into exile, or condemns them to forced labors and other degrading punishments. Happy they who have been able to escape, and who now wander in strange lands! This potentate, all heterodox and schismatical as he is, arrogates to himself a power which the Vicar of Christ possesses not. He pretends to deprive a bishop whom we have rightfully instituted. Can he be ignorant that a Catholic bishop is always the same, whether in his see or in the catacombs, and that his character is ineffaceable? Let it not be said that in raising our voice against such misdeeds we encourage the European revolution. We can distinguish between the socialist revolution and the legitimate rights of a nation struggling for independence and its religion. In stigmatizing the persecutors of the Catholic religion, we fulfil a duty laid on us by our conscience. It behooves us to pray, with renewed earnestness, for that unfortunate country. In consequence, we impart our apostolic benediction to all who shall, this day, pray for Poland. Let us all pray for Poland!” It was as if the breath of God’s anger were on the lips of the Holy Pontiff. Pius IX., remarks M. de St. Albin, swayed by his deep emotion, had risen from his throne, his voice was like thunder, and his arm appeared to threaten as if possessed of omnipotence.

(M92) Such apostolic courage commanded the admiration of the enemies of the Papacy. The deputy, Brofferio, said in the parliament of Turin, whilst his colleagues, revolutionists like himself, applauded: “An old man, exhausted, sickly, without resources, without an army, on the brink of the grave, curses a potentate who slaughters a people; I feel moved in my inmost soul; I imagine myself borne back to the days of Gregory VII.; I reverence and applaud.”

(M93) M. Meyendorf, the _charge d’affaires_ of Russia, having been admitted to a private audience on occasion of the Christmas festivities of 1866, Pius IX. naturally directed the conversation to the painful state of ecclesiastical affairs in Poland. The Russian minister denied everything, even the most notorious facts, and ended by casting all the blame on the Catholics, who, he affirmed, had openly transacted with the Polish insurrection, whilst the Protestants generally sided with the government. “Nor was this astonishing,” he added, “considering that Catholicism and revolution are the same thing.” Pius IX. could not tolerate this false assertion, which was so absurd that it could have no other object than to insult him and the whole body of the faithful of whom he was the Chief. “Depart,” said he to the minister, as he dismissed him, “I cannot but believe that your Emperor is ignorant of the greater part of the injustice under which Poland suffers. I, therefore, honor and esteem your Emperor; but I cannot say as much of his representative who comes to insult me in my own house.” Pius IX. vainly hoped that the Envoy would be disowned, and diplomatic relations between Rome and St. Petersburgh continued. When Alexander II. suppressed, by his own authority, in 1867, the Catholic diocese of Kaminieck, Pius IX. was obliged to have recourse to the newspaper press, in order to make known to the Catholics of that unfortunate country that he appointed the Bishop of Zitomir provisional administrator. “I have no other means of communicating with them,” said he “I act like the captain of a vessel who encloses in a bottle his last words to his family, and confides them to the storm, hoping that the waves will deposit them on some shore where they will be gathered up.”

(M94) Pius IX. showed himself as generous to princes as to peoples, acting always as the champion of justice in the cause of the former, as well as in supporting the undoubted rights of the latter. Francis II., of Naples, dethroned by his ambitious cousin, King Victor Emmanuel, was, as the Bonapartes had once been, an exile at Rome, and enjoyed the same princely hospitality which his predecessor, in 1848, had extended to the Holy Father in the Kingdom of Naples. Victor Emmanuel remonstrated against this kindness to a fallen enemy. But in vain! He was powerless. His ally and patron, however, the French Emperor, was not so easily resisted. This potentate gave it to be understood, although not in express terms, that the stay of the French troops at Rome was dependent on the departure of the exiled monarch. The Pope, alluding to the family of Napoleon I., whom Pius VII. had kindly received at Rome, replied, satirically, that the Roman Pontiffs had traditions of hospitality, as regarded their persecutors, and much more in favor of their benefactors. Napoleon was ashamed to persist; and Francis II. remained at Rome as long as Pius IX. was master there.

(M95) It was quite natural that Napoleon III. should entertain the idea that he was born to found empires. He had succeeded in establishing one on the ruins of a republic in the Old World. He now sought to build up Imperial power side by side with a republic in the New. Mexico was designed to be the seat of this empire; and, as that country greatly needed government of some kind, the time was deemed opportune for carrying into effect Napoleon’s idea. The Imperial dignity was offered to the Archduke Maximilian of Austria; and this prince, relying on the support of France, consented to ascend the throne of the Montezumas. Before crossing the seas, Prince Maximilian came, together with his wife, the Princess Charlotte of Belgium, to Rome, in order to beg the prayers, the wise counsel and the apostolic benediction of the venerable Pontiff. So desired the new Emperor to inaugurate a reign which, it was hoped, would be great and prosperous. The Holy Father, at the solemn moment of communion, spoke to the Prince of Him by whom kings reign and the framers of laws decree just things. In the name of this King of kings, he recommended to him the Catholic nation of Mexico, reminding him, at the same time, that he was, under God, the constituted protector of the rights of the people as well as those of the church. The Emperor and his youthful spouse were moved to tears; and Maximilian, on leaving Rome, declared that he departed under the protection of God, and with the benediction of the Holy Pontiff. “I am confident, therefore,” he added, “that I shall be able to fulfil my great mission to Mexico.”

Unfortunately for him, however, liberalism, or, rather, ill-disguised socialism, was enthroned, for the moment, in what was destined to be, for a little while longer, the chief seat of European Power. It is not difficult to imagine whence counsel proceeded, and the inexperienced Emperor came to believe that Mexico might be governed as France was, whilst its ruler thwarted the will of the great majority of her people. He may not, indeed, have been free to reject the advice which swayed him. Be this as it may, he most unwisely cast himself into the arms of the party to whom monarchy and religion were alike hateful. He now framed a Concordat which, whilst it could not be acceptable to his new friends, was far from being such as the Pope could ratify. The revolutionary party had gained the new Emperor.

(M96) The Holy Father, ever anxious to promote the well-being of the church, sent a nuncio to Maximilian, in order to remind him of his promises, and induce him to abolish the laws that had been enacted for the purpose of oppressing the church, and completely to reorganize ecclesiastical affairs with the full concurrence of the Holy See. The letter borne by the nuncio required that the Catholic religion should continue to be the stay and glory of the Mexican nation; that the bishops should be entirely free in the exercise of their pastoral ministry; that the religious orders should be restored and organized according to the instructions and faculties imparted by the Sovereign Pontiff; that the patrimony of the church and the rights connected therewith should be guaranteed and protected; that none be allowed to disseminate false and subversive doctrines; that public as well as private education be directed and superintended by ecclesiastical authority; and, finally, that those fetters be broken which had hitherto for some time held the church dependent on the arbitrary will of the civil power. “If,” continued the Holy Father, “the religious edifice be re-established, as we doubt not it will, on such foundations, your Majesty will satisfy one of the greatest wants and realize the most ardent aspirations of the religious people of Mexico; you will dispel our disquietude and that of the illustrious Mexican Episcopate; you will pave the way for the education of a learned and zealous clergy, as well as the moral reformation of the people. You will thus, also, consolidate your throne, and promote the prosperity and glory of your Imperial family.” In all this the Emperor would have been sustained by the great majority of the Mexican people. And there was nothing impossible required of him. It is not shown anywhere that the restoration of church properties, which had been long alienated and had often changed proprietors, would have been exacted, any more than in England, when religion was restored under the reign of Mary. The policy indicated by Pius IX. would have won for Maximilian a host of friends and supporters. The line of conduct which he pursued was most unacceptable to the Catholic nation of Mexico, whilst it was not in the least calculated to satisfy the revolutionary party. Refusing to concede everything that the church required, he wished to retain for himself the ancient regal privileges of the Crown of Spain—the investiture of bishops, the regulating of ecclesiastical tariffs, the limitation of the number of monastic orders and religious associations, &c. So far the revolution was pleased. It was loud in its applause. With what sincerity events failed not to show. Pius IX. insisted on the Emperor’s solemn pledges so recently given at Rome. Maximilian was deaf to the counsels, the complaints, the earnest prayers of the Holy Father. So it remained only for the Papal Nuncio, Monsignor Meglia, to take his departure from Vera Cruz (1st June, 1865). Meanwhile, Maximilian’s chief support, the French Emperor, dreading the formidable hostility of the United States of America, which could not tolerate an empire on the borders of their great republic, was obliged to withdraw from Mexico the army which, from the first, was necessary to sustain the new empire. Napoleon, one would say, was pledged to Maximilian, having induced him to assume the Imperial Crown, and having also promised all necessary support. He could not, however, command success; and chivalry, even if it had still existed, would have availed but little, when power alone could win.

Maximilian was now all alone, face to face with anarchy and the Mexican nation which he had slighted. Faction ruled in his place. The revolutionary party which he had favored proved untrue; and falling into the hands of his enemies, he was solemnly murdered by the ruling brigand of the day. The officers of Napoleon’s army sincerely believed that no better fate could be anticipated; for they earnestly advised him to accompany them on their return to Europe. This he could have done without dishonor. The idea of a Mexican empire was Napoleon’s, and he alone was answerable for its success. On the part of Maximilian it was more than chivalry to remain in Mexico when his guard was gone. But the idea of the youthful Prince in regard to honor appears to have been, like his policy, unsound. The policy may not have been, most probably was not, his. But the sentiment of honor was all his own. And although, in an age of chivalry even, it would have appeared exaggerated, it redounds to his credit. It is not surprising that a man animated by such noble sentiments should have died as became a hero and a Christian.

(M97) The potentate, on whom, as far as worldly power was concerned, depended the Pope’s temporal sovereignty, was throwing himself every day more and more into the hands of the enemies of the church. His ministers, more audacious than himself, carried their blind hatred of “Clericalism” to such an extent as to sacrifice many of the best supporters of the empire. This was singularly apparent at the general election of 1863. M. de Persigny hesitated not to employ all the influence of the government against such Imperialists as had voted for or shown themselves favorable to the Pope’s temporal power. He succeeded in causing such friends of Napoleon as De Caverville, Cochin and Lemercier to be replaced by the most bitter enemies of the Imperial _regime_. He also managed to exclude from parliament Messrs. de Montalembert, de Falloux and Keller. But Messrs. Plichou, Berryer and Thiers, notwithstanding his hostile efforts, were elected. This last-named statesman was himself a host, and his eloquent speeches in support of the temporal sovereignty made all the more impression that they were known to be dictated by far-seeing policy, rather than any leaning towards religion. They deeply impressed the parliament and the country; but availed not with Napoleon III., whom an unprincipled ministry were leading blindfolded to destruction. Meanwhile, the question of Rome entered on a new phase. The Cabinets of Turin and Paris concluded an agreement in regard to the Roman State on 15th September, 1864. The text of this notorious agreement was known to Europe, whilst its meaning remained a mystery. The ministry of Napoleon III. made it appear in France as a guarantee for the safety of the Pope. The Piedmontese government flattered the revolutionary element of Italy, by representing that it did not in the least change their programme, the keynote of which was “Rome the Capital.” They were right. This proved to be the true solution of the mystery. The first article provided that the King of Piedmont should not attack, and he bound himself by oath not to attack, the remaining territory of the Holy Father, to prevent by force, if necessary, all aggression from any other quarter, and to pay the debts of the former States of the Church. By the second clause France became bound to withdraw her troops in two years. A protocol was added, by which Victor Emmanuel engaged to transfer his capital from Turin to Florence in six months. It was more than disrespectful to the Pope; it was of evil omen, of sinister import, that the sovereign whose state was concerned was not a party to the treaty—was not even consulted. The minds of all Catholics were greatly disquieted, and their anxiety was only increased by the Italian interpretation of the agreement. Pius IX., who understood well by what men and by what principles the Cabinet of the Tuileries was governed, made a remark which indicated more his fears for the great French nation than for the fragment which remained to him of his territory. He would have nothing to do with the pecuniary compensation that was offered to him. He could only say that “he pitied France.” The crime of that country was that her government made any agreement at all with the monarch who had so unscrupulously violated the treaty of Zurich, and who was, besides, the chief hero of Gaeta, Naples, Castelfidardo and Ancona. One of the most eloquent of Bishop Dupanloup’s publications, the one which, perhaps, has been the most generally read, exposes the hollowness of this arrangement, which is known in history as the September agreement.

(M98) The 8th of December, 1864, the tenth anniversary of the proclamation of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, was marked by the publication of the Encyclical, “quanta cura,” and, together with it, the “Syllabus.” This great doctrinal act was a crushing reply to the erroneous assertions of the time, as well as to the vain ideas of those politicians who boasted that, through their efforts, the spiritual office no less than the temporal sovereignty of the Pope was drawing to a close. The Encyclical letter is addressed to all bishops in communion with the Holy See, and through them to all the faithful throughout the world. It contains the teachings of Pius IX., and the Popes, his predecessors, in opposition to the errors of the present age—the mistaken ideas of natural religion; religious indifference which, falsely assuming the name of liberty of conscience and of worship, establishes the reign of physical force in the place of law and justice; communism and socialism; the subjection of the church to the state; and the independence of Christians in regard to the Holy See.

The “Syllabus” consists of eighty propositions, which are a summary of the false teachings of the enemies of the Catholic church, as found in the periodical press, as well as in their writings of a more permanent character. The first seven propositions briefly express the errors on pantheism, naturalism, and absolute rationalism. All who have any Christian belief, to whatever denomination they may adhere, must surely acknowledge the justice of denouncing philosophers of the school of Strauss, who insist that Christ is a myth, and His religion a system of mythology.

From the eighth to the fourteenth proposition inclusively, are pointed out and condemned the errors of modern rationalism. From the fourteenth to the eighteenth, indifferentism and latitudinarianism are exposed. Throughout the rest of the catalogue, secret societies and communism are condemned; erroneous views, as regards church and state, natural and Christian ethics, and Christian marriage are expressed and denounced. Finally, are pointed out the errors that have been uttered in regard to the temporal power of the Pope, together with such as have reference to modern liberalism.

These important documents, the Encyclical, “quanta cura,” and the “Syllabus,” are not so much the work of Pius IX. as of all the Popes of a century back, from the Council of Pistoia, Febronianism and Josephism. Whilst the “Syllabus” was yet in embryo, it was, with the exception of a few propositions which were not yet formulated, confidentially communicated to the bishops on occasion of the canonization of the Japanese martyrs. Each bishop was at that time invited to select two theologians in order to examine the propositions, and give their opinion in six months. The church, therefore, was not taken by surprise, when the “Syllabus” appeared, however much its publication may have struck with astonishment and alarm the party of revolution and unbelief. Catholics, at least, could not fail to be swayed by such a masterly exposition of Catholic theology on so many subjects, all intimately connected with human conduct in private life as well as in affairs of public import. And there were Catholics everywhere—among the rulers of the world and its leading statesmen, no less than in all classes and grades of society. Such now could have no excuse for favoring opinions which were so distinctly condemned by that authority which they all recognized as the highest upon earth. Nevertheless, whatever impression the clear teaching of the “Syllabus,” in regard to the church and her rights, civil society, and both natural and Christian morality, was destined, in time, to produce, but little disposition was shown to be guided by it at the outset. There was all but a universal clamor that the church had pronounced a divorce between modern society and the spiritual order. Nor could it be otherwise, so long as the former held principles which were essentially incompatible with the latter. Neither could reconciliation be easily or speedily brought about. The principles which religion condemned were in the ascendant. The existing civil law of all European nations was founded on them. There was no government that had not adopted them and shown itself inclined to be entirely guided by them. The formal condemnation of the cherished ideas of the age was as a thunderbolt hurled against the social elements of the day. But why disturb their peace? They had no peace. They were already discordant. “_Non esi pax impiis_.” Peace could not be born of unbelief. It could come only through the truth, even as health conquers disease by the most trying curative process. Napoleon III. was the first who openly resisted the “encroachments” of Rome, just as if they had constituted the only danger to his throne. By a decree dated 1st January, 1865, he forbade the publication of the Encyclical and the Syllabus, whilst he caused to be tried and condemned, as guilty of abuse, the Archbishop of Besançon and the Bishop of Moulins, because they had read the Encyclical in their pulpits. The other prelates of France so far submitted as to avoid printing the obnoxious documents, lest their printers should be uselessly compromised. Several bishops declared that the Encyclical was already sufficiently published in their dioceses by the voice of the press. They thus expressed the idea of the whole episcopate. Pius IX. highly commended their zeal. “We must go back,” he said, “to the early ages of Christianity, in order to find an episcopal body that could show such courage.”

To persons accustomed to theological studies, it is sufficiently apparent why each proposition of the “Syllabus” stands condemned. To others, cause is shown in the consistorial allocutions, Encyclical and other letters apostolical of the Holy Father, in relation to each proposition. Some things must be interpreted by the conduct of the Pope himself. For instance, what is said in regard to the liberty of public worship and of the press must be read in the light of that reasonable tolerance which the Popes were accustomed to exercise when they ruled at Rome as sovereign Princes. There is no liberty without some restraint. The press, in this respect, is in the same position as individuals. According to the laws of all civilized lands, when it abuses its liberty and commits crime, it is visited with severe punishment. The greater liberty which the press enjoys, and must enjoy, in the present circumstances of the world, by no means clashes with the condemnation of proposition 79 of the “Syllabus.” The press can no more be free to publish anything whatsoever, however offensive it may be, than persons are free to perform such acts as necessarily subject them, even in states where there is the greatest attainable degree of liberty, to condemnation and punishment. If every organized community possesses, as it certainly does possess, the right so to stigmatize an offending citizen, and that without any violation of liberty, it is equally entitled to judge and punish an offending press.

(M99) Not satisfied with the blow which so greatly weakened Austria in the Italian campaign, Napoleon III. plotted with Prussia for a further humbling of the great Catholic Power. To this end he held dark consultations with Count Bismark, at Biarritz, as he had formerly done with Count de Cavour at Plombieres. The former, however, proved to be more than a match for him. Hence the great victory of Sadowa which paved the way for Sedan. Prussia, without a rival in Germany, could freely pursue her ambitious schemes. Napoleon, apparently suspecting nothing, left the Rhine frontier comparatively unprotected; and Prussia, victorious in the struggle with Austria, refused to France all compensation for her complicity and encouragement. This hindered not Napoleon from taking part in the treaty of Prague, as president, and sanctioning by his signature the expulsion of Austria from Germany, and the confiscation of Hanover, Nassau, the two Hesses and other small independent sovereignties, in the interest of Prussia. This Power, besides, assumed the military direction of Southern Germany, and so was, literally, doubled in extent and population. Thus was swept away in the course of seven years, through the agency of Napoleon III., the barrier of small states which the wisdom of ages had placed along the continental frontier of France, from the Mediterranean to the ocean, and which moderated the shocks of the greater Powers. France, accordingly, by her own act, was confined between unified Italy on the one hand, and on the other, the formidable German Empire.

In exchange for combinations which proved so disastrous, Venice was ceded to Napoleon, and immediately made over by him to Italy. Defeated both by sea and land in his struggle with Austria, Victor Emmanuel, nevertheless, accepted the present, as if it had come to him by conquest, and Italy was free to the Adriatic, and the celebrated Milan programme of 1859 completely carried out. This result, whilst it flattered the vanity of Napoleon III., crowned the wishes of the secret societies. Protestants, Jews, Freemasons, and people of all shades of unbelief, deputies of the French left, and the revolutionary journals, all zealous in the service of Prussia, enthusiastically applauded. The French Emperor’s ministers, even, M. Rouher, in the Legislative Chamber, and M. de Lavalette, in a diplomatic circular, were not ashamed to congratulate themselves publicly on the stipulations of the treaty of Prague. In their mania for Italian unity, these wise statesmen became blind to the interests of their own country—condign punishment, surely, of their disloyal and unprincipled policy.

(M100) Whilst the political world was extraordinarily agitated, and a great potentate was endeavoring to destroy the last remnant of Papal sovereignty, and was himself at the same time, hastening blindly but surely to ignominy and ruin, the Pontiff against whom he warred calmly and successfully continued to accomplish the sublime work of his spiritual mission.

(M101) Nothing tends more to the instruction and edification of the Catholic people than the canonization of saints and martyrs. But for the care which the church bestows in bringing to light the acts and sufferings of those heroes of the Christian faith, many of them, remaining unknown, would be lost as examples to the rest of mankind. It is also due to the saints themselves that the church should honor them, although, indeed, earthly celebrity and true fame which lasts throughout all time is as nothing compared to the glory which they enjoy. John Baptist de Rossi (de Rubæs) was a canon of the Collegiate Basilica of Saint Mary, _in cosmedin_. The venerable John Baptist de Rossi was in every respect a worthy minister of God. He labored last century at Rome, in the vineyard of the Lord, with so much, patience, longanimity and meekness, and was so filled with the Holy Ghost and sincere charity, that he spent his whole life in evangelizing the poor, to the great gain of souls. He instructed others unto righteousness, and God willed that he should shine for evermore as a star in the firmament. And not only was he crowned with light in heaven, in order that, transformed to the Divine image, he should appear in God’s presence environed with heavenly splendor; but God, through His unspeakable bounty, appointed that His servant, enriched by an abundant harvest of merits, illustrated by triumphal honors, and glorified by miracles, should also enjoy upon earth a name glorious in the estimation of mankind, and should thus be a new ornament to the church militant. The process of canonization was commenced in the time of Gregory XVI., and completed by Pius IX., when in March, 1859, the name of John Baptist de Rossi was inscribed on the sacred diptychs.

(M102) John Sarcander was born at Skoczovia, in Upper Silesia, in the year 1577. He obeyed the call of God and joined the ranks of the priesthood. When ordained priest, he showed himself in every way a pattern of excellence—by his good works, his science, the integrity and gravity of his character. He was appointed, accordingly, to the charge and guidance of souls. He fulfilled so well all the duties of a good pastor that the four parishes to which he was successively called by episcopal authority received him as an angel sent to them from heaven, and bore witness by their tears to their regret when they were deprived of his presence. Meanwhile, the ministers of the sect of Pikardites were driven from the parish of Holleschow, where the scourge of heresy, like the wild boar of the forests, had spread devastation during eight years. John Sarcander was selected in order to repair the incalculable evil that had been done to that unfortunate vineyard. He shrunk not from the struggle which it behooved him to maintain in the cause of the true faith. He was in every sense an example to his flock. He exhorted, beseeched, reprimanded with patience and wisdom, neglecting nothing that was calculated to strengthen whatever was weak and heal what was sick, to reunite those who were separated, to raise up the fallen and seek such as were astray. Such exemplary conduct only excited the extreme hatred of the heretical party, and he was obliged to leave Holleschow and retire to Poland. But moved by the dangers to which were exposed the people whom he loved so dearly in Christ, he returned to his parish, after having venerated the Holy Virgin at her shrine of Crenstochow, in fulfilment of a vow which he had made. Soon after his return the heretics cast him into prison as a traitor to his country, but, in reality, on account of his zeal in preaching the Catholic faith. He was subjected to vigorous interrogatories, and in order to induce him to reveal what the supreme head of the administration in Moravia had confided to him in confession, he was made to undergo the most exquisite torture. Preferring a glorious death to a miserable life, he combated to his last breath for the work of Christ, and gave up his soul to God, leaving to all the people the remembrance of his death as an example of fortitude and courage. Fearfully tortured on the rack for three hours, burned slowly in almost every part of his body, by torches and bundles of feathers steeped in rosin, oil, pitch and sulphur, he was carried back almost lifeless to his prison. There he lingered a whole month, suffering more than the pain of death, whilst his mind and heart were so fixed on God that he ceased not to sing His praises as long as life remained. He fell asleep in the Lord, the sixteenth of the calends of April, 1620. It was not appointed that such heroic suffering should be doomed to oblivion. Public report, the witness of contemporary writers, the monuments of the time, and the splendor of miracles caused them to be so celebrated that, notwithstanding the wars, losses and other impediments which had prevented the Archbishops of Olmutz from considering this grand and beautiful cause, and reporting it to the Holy See sooner than the 18th century, the sanctity and martyrdom of the venerable John Sarcander were not only known to the populations of Moravia and the neighboring countries, but were also remembered with the most profound veneration. From 1754 till the time of Pius IX., this celebrated cause was before the church, and subjected to the usual searching investigation. Finally, in February, 1859, it was concluded, and the blessed John Sarcander recognized, as a saint and martyr, by the universal church.

(M103) This same year, 1859, was canonized the venerable servant of God, Benedict Joseph Labre, of the diocese of Boulogne. Voluntary poverty was the lot in life of this saint of modern times. Worldly wisdom condemns as folly, the choice of this devoted Christian who preferred to all earthly advantages the most abject poverty. God is, indeed, wonderful in His saints; and as He often chooses what is folly in the estimation of the world, in order to confound what it holds to be wise, so He appointed that the humble Labre who, for the love of Christ, led a life of poverty, and taught mankind the excellence of self-denial in an unbelieving and selfish age, should be exalted, even upon earth, and ranked among the princes of God’s people. In June, 1842, Gregory XVI. declared, by a solemn decree, that Benedict Joseph Labre had practised, in a heroic degree, all the Christian virtues. The necessary investigations and formalities were continued, and in September, 1859, Pius IX. ordained that apostolic letters should be issued, ordering the celebration of the solemn rite of his beatification in the Patriarchal Basilica of the Vatican.

(M104) The year 1859 was also marked by the solicitude of Pius IX. for the Church of Ireland. In a letter to the archbishops and bishops of that country, he commends their zeal in promoting Catholic education, and concurs with them in pointing out the dangers of mixed schools. In the same letter the Holy Father earnestly entreats the venerable pastors of the Irish Church to pray that the designs of the wicked may not succeed, that it would please God to bring to naught the machinations of those misguided men who, by their false teachings, endeavor to corrupt the people everywhere, and to overthrow, if that were possible, the Catholic religion. At the same time, it was appointed that the feast of Saint Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland, should be celebrated according to a higher rite.

(M105) The anti-President Juarez had succeeded in establishing himself at Vera Cruz, whilst Miramon was recognized by Mexico, after General Zuloago, as the successor of Santa Anna. Juarez was a revolutionist and persecutor of the church; Miramon, a conservative and friend of religion. As proof of the tyranny of the former, may be cited a decree which he published in July of this year (1859). This decree, which aimed at nothing less than the destruction of religion, and was, at the same time, a cruel outrage on the Catholic nation of Mexico, accounts for the earnestness and determination with which Pius IX., a little later, as has already been shown, insisted that the Emperor Maximilian should adopt a policy friendly to the church, and in harmony with the wishes of the great majority of the Mexican people. Such policy, if only followed in time, would have so strengthened the hands of Maximilian that, in all probability, he would have been able to hold his ground when most unchivalrously abandoned by his faint-hearted ally. No doubt the anti-president claimed that he was a reformer of the church. And surely, indeed, he was, if it was reform to suppress all religious societies whatsoever, to rob the clergy of their property, and that so completely as to reduce them to mendicancy. But let the decree speak for itself:

Art. 1. All property administered under divers titles, by the regular or secular clergy, whether real or personal, whatever its name or object, is henceforth the property of the nation.

Art. 3. There shall be complete independence between affairs of state and such as are purely ecclesiastical. The government will confine itself to protecting the public worship of the Catholic religion the same as any other religion.

Art. 4. The ministers of religion can accept such offerings as may be made on account of the administration of the sacraments and the other duties of their office. They may also, by an agreement with those who employ them, stipulate for remuneration for their services. But in no case can these offerings or this remuneration be converted into permanent property.

Art. 5. All religious orders, whatever their name or their object, are suppressed throughout the whole republic, as well as confraternities or associations connected with a religious community or any church whatsoever.

The 6th article, whilst it prohibits the erection of new convents and new confraternities, forbids also the use of the religious habit.

THE EIGHTEENTH CENTENARY OF THE MARTYRDOM OF SS. PETER AND PAUL.

A new joy awaited the Holy Father. The year 1867 will be ever memorable in sacred annals, as the year of the great centennial celebration of the glorious martrydom of SS. Peter and Paul. “Peter went to Rome,” St. Jerome writes, “in the second year of the Emperor Claudius, and occupied there the priestly chair for twenty-five years.” On the same venerable authority it is known that Peter suffered two years after the death of the great Roman philosopher, Seneca, who was executed by order of Nero in the sixty-fifth year of the Christian era. In the same work (_de viris illustribus_), St. Jerome says that SS. Peter and Paul were put to death in the fourteenth year of Nero’s reign, which corresponds with the sixty-seventh year of our era, when reckoned from the first of January, and not from the 13th October, the date of Nero’s accession.

The French troops had scarcely been withdrawn from Rome in fulfilment of the September agreement, when Pius IX. invited all the clergy and people of the Catholic world to visit the city in order to participate in the celebration of the centenary, and witness the canonization of several holy persons long since deceased. Their names were Josaphat, the martyr Archbishop of Solotsk; Pedro de Arbues, an Augustinian friar; the martyrs of Gorcum; Paul of the Cross, founder of the Passionists; Leonardo di Porto Maurizio; Maria Francesca, a Neapolitan of the third order of St. Peter of Alcantara, and Germaine Cousin, of the diocese of Toulouse. Shortly before, in the preceding December, the Holy Father enjoyed the great happiness of celebrating, with even more than ordinary solemnity, the beatification of the Franciscan Monk, Benedict of Urbino, who died in odor of sanctity, at Fossombrone, in 1625, within a few miles of Sinigaglia, the birthplace of the Pope, leaving the whole country bordering on the Adriatic and the province of Umbria in a manner embalmed by a life of sanctity and extraordinary self-denial. Pius IX., from early youth, was familiar with the history of this saint, whose noble birth and distinguished abilities opened to him the way to worldly fame and prosperity, but who, nevertheless, chose the cross, becoming a Capuchin, and having no other ambition in the seclusion of the cloister than to be a worthy disciple of his crucified Saviour.

It was by no means to indulge his own pious feelings, or to gratify the clergy and Catholic people, that the venerable Pontiff invited so many from Italy and all parts of the Christian world to take part with him in celebrating these canonizations, and, at the same time, the eighteen hundredth anniversary of the martyrdom of the blessed Apostles, the founders of the Church. His object was to edify, to place in contrast with, and in opposition to, the worldly and unbelieving spirit of the time the teachings and the solemn offices of religion, together with the power of holiness, so admirably shown forth in the lives and glory of the saints. The revolution aimed at nothing less than the destruction of everything spiritual. It was good for it to be taught that true spirituality is beyond its reach.

It would hardly be fair to contrast as purely worldly the grand exposition at Paris, the World’s Fair, with the religious celebrations at Rome. The rich and varied display of the objects of art and industry, in the beautiful capital of France, was the result of an advanced Christian civilization. It was recognized as such by the greatest statesmen, the ablest men of science, and the wisest rulers of the age. No doubt it savored more of the world and of things worldly than the festivals at Rome. But the holy city bore it no grudge. It was other powers and other arts than those which furnished out so grandly the Parisian exposition against which Rome waged perpetual war. A Roman, let it not be forgotten, and not the least pious among the Romans, the illustrious scientist, Father Secchi, whose recent decease the world laments, took the highest honors at the great industrial and artistic fair.

Paris, indeed, was in contrast with Rome, but more by its materialist philosophy than by its magnificent exhibition of material improvements. This philosophy availed itself of the exposition in order to show to what extent it prevailed; and Paris extolled mere worldly power, luxury, comfort and voluptuousness, whilst Rome had no praise but for humility, poverty, self-denial, chastity. Paris applauded Alexander II., who massacred the Poles; Rome, on the other hand, did honor to a Polish bishop, Joseph Kunicievicz, who was cruelly murdered by Russian fanaticism. Paris celebrated the apotheosis of free-thinking and religious indifference; Rome, on the contrary, heaped honors on an Inquisitor, Peter d’Arbues, who suffered martyrdom. Paris was loud in her acclamations to the potentates and conquerors of the day, whilst Rome exalted an humble shepherdess, Germaine Cousin, and some poor and obscure monks who were hanged by heretics three hundred years ago, in a small town of Holland. Yet was not Paris distinguished only by material glories, nor was Rome altogether free from the taint of modern worldliness. There were those in the latter city who, in the midst of an atmosphere of pious thought, plotted deeds of diabolic wickedness, whilst Paris, which honored the arts, was not without sympathy at Rome, and her prelates, the bishops of France, were far from being the least among those five hundred high dignitaries, twenty thousand priests of God’s Church, and more than one hundred and fifty thousand Christian people from all quarters of the known world, who took part in celebrating the glorious centenary and the no less glorious victory of more than two hundred martyrs. The display of art, industry and modern improvements of very kind presented, indeed, in the midst of the beautiful French capital, a magnificent and cheering sight. It was nothing, however, to the moral spectacle afforded by the presence of ten or twelve mighty sovereigns around the now Imperial author of the _coup d’etat_. It was supremely worldly. Who would then have said that William of Prussia, and Napoleon III., the Czar of Russia, and the successor of the caliphs, who, at the exhibition _fetes_, joined hands in apparent friendship, were so soon to be engaged in deadly strife? and that that capital, where so many great potentates came to honor Napoleon, should, in a year or two, know him no more, and even struggle with all the energy of desperation to obliterate every vestige of the improvements with which he had so enriched and beautified the city? This was the world; for the world is insincere. This was the world; for the figure thereof passeth quickly away.

In Rome it was not so. There art and religion walked hand in hand. Religion fostered art. Art was dutiful, and repaid the boon. It became the handmaid of religion. Everywhere within the walls of her temples were seen the products of art’s filial labor, in sculpture, painting, poetry and music, her inexhaustible treasury of thought and history ever presenting new sources of artistic power to the hand of genius. Those temples themselves being, indeed, the finest monuments of architecture, bear glorious witness to the excellent union of art and religion. Worldliness, on the other hand, when at the height of its passion against religion, seeks to destroy all the creations of art and genius. It aims at nothing less than to reduce mankind to the condition of the savage, and is not ashamed to acknowledge that such is its aim.