Chapter XII: Part 12

Let us hear the testimony of the Roman artists. This body, on the one hand, rejoiced in the coming celebration of the centenary; on the other, they were filled with sad forebodings as to the approaching downfall of the Papal sovereignty by the threats of Garibaldi and the predictions of Mazzini. They resolved, therefore, whilst yet the Pope, who, like his predecessors, had shown them much kindness, and munificently rewarded their labors, reigned at Rome, to present to him a dutiful and affectionate address, which should remain, in time to come, as a testimony of their gratitude to that beneficent sovereignty which they had but too much reason to fear would soon come to an end. This address is so important and tells so much truth, that it is deserving of a place in all histories. It is as follows: “Most Holy Father, religion, policy and mere human wisdom have protested in favor of the temporal power of the Papacy. The arts come, in their turn, to lay their homage at the feet of your Holiness, and to proclaim to the world that this power is to them indispensable. Their voice must be heard and listened to. For when the tide of generations recedes, the arts remain as the irrefutable witnesses of the power and splendor of the civilization amid which these generations lived. The sovereigns who encourage and develop them acquire immortal renown; those who neglect or oppress them meet only with the contempt of posterity. What royal dynasty has in this respect deserved so well of civilization and humanity as that of the Sovereign Pontiffs? They have been the watchful guardians of the master-pieces bequeathed to us by antiquity. They have given these a home in their own palaces to show that religion adopts and ennobles all that is truly beautiful. It is the Sovereign Pontiffs who, by opening new avenues for modern art, have brought it to the point of perfection, embodied in the master-pieces of Raphael and Michael Angelo. They alone support in Rome that unique assemblage of all that is beautiful in every order, that splendid intellectual galaxy in whose light the artists of every land are formed. Holy Father, the little spot of earth which the revolution has not yet taken from you is the only place in which the arts find the inspiration that is for them the breath of life, and the quiet without which that life cannot expand. The soul of the true artist is filled with unspeakable apprehension by the possibility of seeing these master-pieces destroyed or scattered abroad, these treasures plundered, all this wealth annihilated; and especially by the danger of seeing the ungraceful and meagre forms of modern utilitarianism usurp the place held by the manners, the habits, the face of all things in this privileged land of beauty, all consecrated by the admiration of ages. Alas! Holy Father, what is happening in the rest of Italy affords but too firm a ground for such apprehensions. The genius of destruction is abroad there, and proceeds to sweep away pitilessly what was the glory of ancient Italy. The spoliation and suppression of the religious orders are one of the most deadly blows ever aimed at the existence of the fine arts. Saddened by those forebodings, fearful of what the future may bring forth, the artists resident in Rome come to the feet of your Holiness to give utterance to their deep conviction that the splendor, the greatness, the very existence of the fine arts in Europe are inseparably connected with the maintenance of the beneficent power of the Sovereign Pontiffs. Were it not that the rival passions which divide Europe are of themselves fatally blind to consequences, the reign of your Holiness would suffice to render this truth evident to all. For while elsewhere national wealth is wasted in frivolous undertakings, or in preparing instruments of destruction, the modest revenues inherited by your Holiness are ever employed in continuing gloriously the noble labor of your predecessors. On the one hand, you have drawn from obscurity the beginnings of Christian art, thereby affording it new and precious data; on the other, you have adorned Rome and the Vatican with works which furnish a new and brilliant page to the grand history of art embodied in the Vatican itself. While elsewhere reigned trouble and agitation, here artists were able, beneath the blessed sway of your Holiness, to enjoy a kindly welcome, an unrestrained liberty, and the peaceful contemplation of those venerable structures and sites preserved so happily by the Pontifical government from the sad alterations blindly wrought in other cities by the troublous life of modern communities. May the Almighty One hear our prayer, and persuade both sovereigns and nations that their honor and glory will be measured, in coming ages, on the degree of protection they shall have afforded to the temporal power of the Papacy, which has ever been the unwearied promoter of the development of all the noblest faculties in man, and which alone can continue to be the custodian of the works of art originated by itself, and by it so faithfully treasured for the benefit of all peoples!” This eloquent address will ever remain carefully guarded by history, a noble monument of gratitude, and not only this, but also as a testimony, all the more valuable as it is the spontaneous utterance of men of the most cultivated intellect, in favor of that sovereignty the destruction of which was sought, and has been accomplished, by a party in whose ranks could be counted only rude soldiers, bands of filibusters and politicians, if such they could be called, whose counsels were inspired, not by the wisdom which distinguishes statesmen, but by blind passion, and the most unworthy of all passions, the passion of hatred—hatred of everything connected with the Christian faith.

The great centennial celebration proceeded. Who would have dared to say, whilst Nero reigned at Rome, and Christians were as pariahs, tolerated only in order to afford the spectacle of their tortures to a heathen multitude, that eighteen hundred years from Nero’s time, Christianity would flourish and celebrate in that city, which was the scene of its greatest trials, as well as all over the world, its victory and the glorious martyrdom of its apostolic founders! The month of June, 1867, will ever be memorable in the annals of the church. Never had so many bishops assembled in the holy city. Nor were there ever there, at one time, so many priests and pilgrims of all ranks and classes. The duties of the time were commenced early in the month. On the 11th and 12th of June, consistories were held in presence of the bishops, in order to make preparation for the canonization of two hundred and five Japanese Christians—priests, catechists, laymen, women and children—put to death in hatred of the Christian faith, from 1617 to 1632. On the 26th of February, 1867, the decree of canonization had already been solemnly read in presence of Pius IX., who, on the occasion, went in state to the Roman College. On the 22nd February of the same year, the Holy Father signed decrees bearing on the beatification of several holy persons, among whom was Clement Maria Hofbauer, a Redemptorist. In an age of unbelief, it was only to be expected that the enquiry should be made why the Pope made so many saints?

In February, 1867, his Holiness replied, on occasion of a visit to the Convent of the Capuchin Friars: “I have been shown,” said he, “a pamphlet, entitled ‘Why so many Saints?’ Had we ever so much need of intercessors in heaven and patterns in this world?” A little later he also said, alluding to the festivals at Paris: “Man has not been placed on the earth solely in order to amass wealth; still less in order to lead a life of pleasure. The world is ignorant of this. It forgets mind, and devotes itself to matter. Neither you nor I are this world of which I speak. You are come here in the good disposition to seek the edification of your souls. I hope, therefore, that you will bear away with you a salutary impression. Never forget, my children, that you have a soul, a soul created in the image of God, and which God will judge. Bestow on it more thought and care than on industrial speculations, railways, and all those lesser objects which constitute the good things of this world. I forbid you not to interest yourselves in such transient matters. Do so reasonably and moderately. But let me once more beg of you to remember that you have a soul.”

None of the ten or twelve potentates who visited Paris came to Rome. But their absence was amply made up for by the immense concourse of clergy and people from every quarter of the civilized world. The reverence shown to Pius IX. by so many prelates was truly admirable. A Chinese bishop, Mgr. Languillat, Vicar-apostolic of Nankin, coming for the first time into the presence of the Supreme Pastor, fell prostrate on the threshold, and with his arms extended towards the Pontiff, began to exclaim: “_Tu es Petrus!_” (“Thou art Peter!”)

“Come to me, my brother,” said the Holy Father. “_Tu es Petrus!_” replied the Chinese bishop, “_Tu es Petrus!_” Needless to say that when he approached the venerable Pontiff affectionately embraced him, whilst both gave vent to their feelings in tears. The laity of all ranks and classes were no less devoted. A very moving scene which was witnessed this same year (1867) is beautifully described by the Protestant correspondent of the London _Morning Post_: “It is truly delightful to meet Pius IX. in the country on foot, walking faster than one would suppose his age could allow, his majestic person arrayed in a white soutane, and protected by a large broad-brimmed purple hat. The other day, when I was at Aricia, he was proceeding towards Genzano, followed by his guards and his carriage. The ex-Queen of Naples and the Infanta, lately Regent, were walking in the opposite direction, followed by their equipages and domestics. At a turn of the road, exactly below the Villa Chigi, the two groups met. In a moment their Royal Majesties were on their knees. His Holiness quickened his pace in order to raise them up. The peasants of the neighborhood, who were returning from their vineyards and orchards, together with their wives and daughters, were struck with admiration. They also advanced and knelt on each side of the central group formed by the illustrious personages, calling out with all their might: ‘_Santo Padre, la benedizione_.’ ‘Holy Father, your benediction!’ It was a splendid tableau.”

On occasion of the centennial, substantial proofs of devotedness abounded. The numerous pilgrims not only gave the homage of their faith, but also brought magnificent offerings, as Peter’s pence, and presented addresses with millions of signatures. One day fifteen hundred Italians were received at an audience of the Holy Father, and made the offering of a monumental album, together with one hundred purses filled with gold, as the homage of one hundred Italian cities. Cardinal Manning laid at the feet of Pius IX. £30,000—a generous testimony of English piety. The Cardinal Archbishop of Mechlin brought to the centenary celebration £16,000, the Archbishop of Posen £20,000, and the Mexican archbishop £12,000, whilst Cuba offered 100,000 douros. “We are reversing the order of nature,” smilingly observed the Holy Father; “here are the children supporting the Father.” Nor was it too much for the wants of such a Father. He received with one hand and generously dispensed with the other. He took charge himself to lodge and entertain eighty-five of the poorer bishops from Italy, the East, and remote missions. None of these were allowed to depart without receiving abundant aid for their diocesan good works.

Festival followed festival at Rome, from the 20th June till the 7th of July. On the former day was celebrated the grand solemnity of Corpus Christi. The Pope himself bore the holy sacrament, kneeling and surrounded by the greater half of the whole Christian episcopate. It was remarked that he was as calm and collected in the midst of such a great and imposing multitude as if he had been in his private oratory. The vast assemblage was also rapt in silent contemplation. Not a sound was heard save the murmur of the fountains. An eye-witness has observed that if one closed his eyes he could imagine himself in a desert. Next day was celebrated the 21st anniversary of the coronation of Pius IX. He had already said, in reply to an address read by Cardinal Patrizi, when all the visitors to Rome were assembled on occasion of the commemoration of his election—10th June—“Modern society is ardent in the pursuit of two things, progress, and unity. It fails to reach either, because its motive principles are selfishness and pride. Pride is the worst enemy of progress, and selfishness by destroying charity, the bond of souls, thereby rendering union impossible. Now God Himself has established the Sovereign Pontiff in order to direct and enlighten society, to point out evil and indicate the proper remedy. This induced me, some years ago, to publish the ‘Syllabus.’ I now confirm that solemn act in your presence. It is to be, henceforth, the rule of your teaching. We have to contend, unceasingly, with the enemies who beset us. Placed on the mountain-top like Moses, I lift up my hands to God in prayer for the triumph of the church. I ask of you, my brother bishops, to support my arms, for they grow weary. Take courage! The church must triumph. I leave this hope in your hearts, not as a hope merely, but as a prophecy.”

On the 23rd was consecrated the Church of St. Mary of the Angels, an admirable architectural monument, built originally according to the plans of Michael Angelo, and rebuilt by Pius IX. The 24th, on leaving the Basilica of St. John Lateran, the Pope was the object of a more splendid ovation than any, perhaps, that he had as yet received. Kneeling on the vast place, and completely filling it, the multitude which had not been able to enter the Basilica waited for the Pontifical benediction. After the Holy Father had raised his hand and pronounced the words of blessing, the whole people rose, and, by a simultaneous movement and with one voice, replied: “Live Pius IX.! Live the Pope-King!” Arms and handkerchiefs waved amidst a rain of beautiful flowers. The Pope’s carriage was detained a considerable time, and he himself, accustomed as he was to the demonstrations of a devoted people, was moved to tears. His hood was almost taken to pieces, thread by thread, by French ecclesiastics who were close behind his Holiness, and who deposited the fragments, as precious relics, in their breviaries. The crowd thronged around the Holy Father and continued their acclamations as far as the Vatican, a distance of three miles. Every new day gave proof of a like enthusiasm.

Pius IX. was anxious to address words of encouragement to the twenty thousand priests of the church who had come to Rome. The greatness of their number was a serious hindrance to this laudable purpose. The spacious consistorial hall was by far too small to contain so many. On the 25th of June, however, they came to the hall, crowding its approaches, the passages, the great staircase and the outer court. The Holy Father, desiring to show his respect and affection for so many pilgrims of the sacred order of the priesthood, came to the assembly in more than usual state. The throne was raised a few steps, in order to afford an opportunity of seeing and hearing the Supreme Pastor. The Pontiff was preceded by the noble guard and the household prelates. As he entered the hall, loud and joyous acclamations burst from the assembled priesthood, for whom it was impossible to restrain their feelings of love and veneration. The Holy Father himself was deeply moved, and, gathering enthusiasm from the unusual scene around him, spoke so as to be heard even in the remotest corridors, whilst those at a still greater distance were visibly moved by the thrilling tones of his sonorous voice. There are no readers who will not be interested in the words which fell from the lips of the Sovereign Pontiff on this unique and solemn occasion. He began by thanking the assembled clergy for their attendance in such imposing numbers. They were the tribe in Israel, he continued, whose special inheritance was the Lord. They stood between him and his people evermore, offering with prayer and supplication the spotless victim of the new law. Let them look well to the ministry entrusted to them, shining in the presence of all men by the dignity of their bearing, the innocence of their life, by integrity and charity, and the golden ornaments of every virtue. “You,” he said, “who are the interpreters of the word of God, you must preach it unweariedly to the wise and the unwise. Preach to them Christ and Him crucified, not in loftiness of speech, but in the knowledge of the spirit, never ceasing to call into the right road all who stray, and confirm them in sound doctrine. Dispensers of the divine mysteries and of the manifold grace of God, deal it out to the faithful people, to the sick especially, in order that no help may fail them in their last struggle with the evil one. Do not refuse to the little ones of the flock the milk which they need. Let it be your dearest care to teach them, to train them, to form them. Be the faithful and devoted helpmates of your respective bishops; obeying them in all things, zealous to heal in your parishes whatever is ailing, to bind up what is broken, to raise up what is fallen, to seek what is lost, in order that in all things God may be honored through our Lord Jesus Christ. Lift up your souls and contemplate the immeasurable height of glory prepared by him for all true and faithful laborers.”

On the 26th a great public consistory was held. The five hundred bishops then at Rome were invited to attend. So great a number had never before assembled in Italy or any part of Western Christendom. Nor indeed was there ever, or could there ever have been, so great an occasion for their assembling. There was question of celebrating the eighteen hundredth anniversary of the glorious martyrdom of Rome’s first great bishop, so many prelates had come together, also in order to venerate Peter in the person of his venerable successor, who had now so long and so gloriously borne witness to the Truth—the Truth in its plenitude, as first committed to Peter and his fellow-apostles. The world was no longer heathen, and no Nero reigned, but the spirit of unbelief was abroad, and its champions were even then seeking to drive the Sovereign Pontiff from the holy city, and were waging war with as determined wickedness as that of the early persecutors against whom the apostles had so successfully contended.

The number of pilgrims from all parts of the Christian world, who had come to Rome on occasion of the centennial celebration, is said by some writers to have been not less than half a million. The presence of so great a number of devoted Christian people on such an occasion was the noblest protest that could be imagined against the vain boasts and prophecies of the enemies of the Church which Peter founded. That church was not yet forsaken, or destined soon to perish, which, in the nineteenth century of her uninterrupted existence, could speak through so many witnesses—the representatives of every civilized nation of the world.

The great consistorial hall in the Vatican Palace being too small to contain so great a crowd of dignified listeners, the assembly was held in the more spacious room which is situated above the vestibule of St. Peter’s Church. At the opening of the consistory the cardinal’s hat was conferred on the Archbishop of Seville, Luis de la Lastray Cuesta. A formal petition for the beatification of Marie Rivier, the foundress of the presentation Nuns of France, was then presented. After this ceremony, the Holy Father, as was expected, delivered an allocution to the bishops. He was full of admiration for their zeal in coming in such numbers on his invitation, and he could not do less than express to them his gratitude. Their presence was a striking proof of the unity of the Catholic Church. “Yes, everything here proclaims that admirable unity by which, as through a mysterious channel, all the gifts and graces of the Holy Spirit flow into the mystic body of Christ, calling forth in every one of its members those acts of faith and charity which excite the wonder of all mankind. What has brought you here? Are you not come to decree the honors of sanctity to those heroes of the church, the greater number of whom bore away the palm of victory in their glorious witness for Christ? Of these some died in defending the primacy of this apostolic see, which is the centre of truth and unity; others gave their lives in defence of the unity and integrity of the faith; others again shed their blood in the endeavor to bring back schismatics to the one fold. Is it not providential that such heroism should be commemorated and honored at the very moment when the Catholic faith and the authority of the Holy See are the objects of such furious and implacable conspiracies? We are also here to celebrate with solemn rites the memory of that auspicious day, eighteen hundred years ago, when Peter and Paul consecrated by their heroic witnessing and their precious blood this impregnable stronghold of Catholic unity. What can be more reasonable than that our joyous commemoration of this triumphant death of the prince of the apostles should be graced by your presence? For he belongs to the entire Catholic world. It is also most important that the enemies of religion should conclude from what they witness here how mighty is the energy, how unfailing the life, of that Catholic Church which they so bitterly hate; how little wisdom they display in matching their strength and their temporary triumphs over her against that incomparable union of living forces which the creative power of Christ has bound around this central rock. More than ever is it needful in our age, that all men should see and understand that the only strong and lasting tie between men’s souls depends on the reign over all of the same Spirit of God. Besides, what can make a more abiding impression on Catholic nations; what can draw them more powerfully and bind them more closely in obedience to this apostolic chair and to us, than to see how much their pastors cherish the rights and duties of Catholic unity, than to behold them journeying from the farthest lands, notwithstanding every inconvenience and impediment, in order to visit Rome and the apostolic chair, as well as to revere in our humble person the successor of Peter and the Vicar of Christ? We have been always convinced, from the moment we beheld you approaching Peter in the person of his successor, or even entering this city, which is impregnated with his blood, that from thence to each one of you should go forth a special virtue. Yes, from this tomb, where Peter’s ashes repose amid the veneration of the Christian world, a hidden power, a salutary energy, emanates which instils into the souls of the Chief Pastors the desire of great undertakings and of vast designs, inspiring that fearlessness and magnanimity which enable them to put down the impudent boldness of their assailants. There cannot be offered to the eyes of men and angels a more magnificent spectacle than what one beholds in such a concourse of pilgrims as this. You who come from the ends of the earth to this home of your Father remind us not only of that pilgrimage which leads us all to the eternal home, you also call to mind the journey of the chosen people from Ægypt to the promised land, the twelve tribes marching together, each under its chief, bearing its own name, having its own appropriate place in the camp. Every family there was obedient to its parents, every company of warriors hearkened to the voice of its captain, and the entire multitude to the divinely-appointed leader. All these tribes, nevertheless, were but one people, adoring the same God, worshipping at the same altar, obeying the same laws, having one Pontiff, Aaron, and one leader, Moses—one people, enjoying common rights in the perils and labors of warfare as well as in the results of victory, dwelling in the same tents, and fed by the same miraculous bread, whilst all yearned for the same end of their pilgrimage. Nothing is to us the subject of such ardent longing as to see both ourselves and the whole church deriving from this precious union the most salutary blessings. It has long been a serious matter of thought for us, and which, indeed, we communicated to several of the episcopal body, to hold an Œcumenical Council, in which, with the Divine assistance, our united counsels and solicitude should devise such efficient remedies as are necessary for the evils that afflict the church.”

Pius IX. had for a long time entertained the idea of holding an Œcumenical Council. And no doubt his mind found relief when he communicated his purpose to the assembled bishops. Two years later, as is well known, the proposed council was convened at the Vatican, and from this circumstance is known in history as the Vatican Council. Bishops, priests and laity heard the intimation with delight. Their fervor and enthusiasm increased as the day of the grand centennial celebration approached. The vigil, 28th June, was enlivened by illuminations. By early dawn on the 29th, the feast of SS. Peter and Paul, people poured into Rome from the surrounding territory. They were welcome visitors. The Romans, far from being jealous of so great a concourse of strangers, hailed them as brothers, engaged, as they also were, in the great object of doing honor to the memory of Rome’s apostles. The first grand public ceremony of the day was the solemn canonization, of which no description need be given in this place, as everything was conducted in the same way as in 1852 and 1863. The Holy Father himself then celebrated High Mass, and, what is still more noteworthy, delivered the sermon of the day. Until the time of Pius IX., no Pope had preached in public since the epoch of the Crusades and the Pontificate of Gregory VII. The Holy Father set an example to all who preach on great and solemn public occasions. His sermon was short, but replete with instruction, and marked by that earnestness which commands attention and moves the soul. The music, as was fitting at so great a celebration, was given by three choirs, in all four hundred voices, which completely filled the immense Basilica, conveying, by the exquisite music which they gave forth, an idea of that more than earthly harmony which ever ascends to the throne of heaven from the angelic choirs. There was also a solemn service in the afternoon, which was alike highly interesting and calculated to inspire devotion. The general illumination which took place at night rivalled the splendor of the bright Italian day. On June 30th was celebrated the special feast of St. Paul in the fine church dedicated to this great apostle, and with scarcely less magnificence than that of St. Peter had been honored.

The bishops now desired, before leaving Rome, to present an address to the Holy Father, as well in reply to his allocution of 26th June as to express their gratitude for the great kindness which he had shown them. The 1st July was the day chosen for the presentation of this address. It is a model of elegant Latinity, and completely refutes the modern assertion that churchmen are unacquainted with the Latin of the classics. The reply of the assembled bishops to the fatherly allocution of Pius IX. affords, moreover, an admirable proof of the sympathy of the united episcopate with the Supreme Bishop. It shows the excellent union of the bishops with one another, and their no less perfect union with their Head. What more could there have been in the brightest days of the church’s history?

(M106) The French garrison had departed before the commencement of the memorable celebrations that have been just described. Although the population of Rome was literally doubled by the presence of pious strangers, not the slightest breach of order was ever observed. The exercise of filial duty required not to be watched over by any outside power. It was now seven months since Napoleon III. had withdrawn his troops.

On the 6th December, 1866, Pius IX. had taken leave of them in the following words:

“Your flag, which left France eighteen years ago with commission to defend the rights of the Holy See, was at that time attended by the prayers and acclamations of all Christendom. To-day it returns to France. I desire, my dear children, that it may be welcomed by the same acclamations. But I doubt it. It is only too manifest, indeed, that because it will appear to have ceased to protect me my enemies will not on that account cease to attack me. Quite the contrary. We must not delude ourselves. The revolution will come here. It has declared and still declares that it will. An Italian personage in high position lately said that Italy is made but not completed. Italy would be undone if there were here one spot of earth where order, justice and tranquillity prevail! Formerly, six years ago, I conversed with a representative of France. He asked me if there were anything I wished to transmit to the Emperor. I replied: St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, which is now a French city, beholding the barbarians at the gates of the town, prayed the Lord that he might die before they entered, because his mind was horror-struck by the thought of the evils which they would cause. I added: Say this to the Emperor: he will understand it. The ambassador made answer: Most Holy Father, have confidence; the barbarians will not enter. The ambassador was no prophet. Depart, my children, depart with my blessing and my love. If you see the Emperor, tell him that I pray for him every day. It is said that his health is not very good; I pray that he may have health. It is said that his mind is not at ease. I pray for his soul. The French nation is Christian; its Chief ought also to be Christian. Let there be prayer with confidence and perseverance, and this great and powerful nation may obtain what it desires. Depart, my children; I impart to you my benediction, and with it my wish that it may attend you throughout the journey of life. Think not that you leave me here alone and deprived of all resource. God remains with me; in Him I place my trust!”

Pius IX., in a more private communication, said: “Yes, God sustains His vicar and aids his weakness. He may permit him to be driven away, but only in order to show, once more, that he can bring him back. I have been exiled; I returned from exile. If banished anew, I will again return. And if I die—well! if I die, Peter will rise again!”

Thus did Pius IX. clearly foresee the danger but was not on that account less confident. Nor did his confidence lessen his foresight. What, indeed, he said publicly, “The revolution will come here,” everyone capable of reasoning said in secret. The September convention left the small Pontifical sovereignty surrounded on all sides by its enemies, just as the government of Napoleon III. would have been if isolated in Paris and the two neighboring departments, all the rest of the French territory being in the power of a republic, or a Bourbon Monarchy. In vain did M. Rouher endeavor to demonstrate to the Chambers that a stable equilibrium was established, and which was of such a character as to remain by itself for an indefinite period. Nobody was convinced by his reasoning. But the Imperial majorities, recruited as they were by the system of official candidatures, asked not of the complaisant minister reasons which he had not to give. They sought only pretexts which should allow them to vote, with a show of decency, according to the wishes of the master.

The Holy Father was destined to enjoy a period of success before his prophecy came to be fulfilled. Immediately after the disastrous but glorious events of 1860, the courageous Belgian, Mgr. de Merode, as Minister of War, and afterwards General Kanzler, in this same capacity, greatly renewed the small Pontifical army. As their labors deserved, they were attended with success. Lamoriciere died towards the end of 1865; but on the new alarm of danger, many of his veterans of Castelfidardo and Ancona, returned to Rome in 1866. The flower of the French, Dutch, Belgian, English, Swiss and Roman youth made it a point of honor to swell the ranks of the Papal Zouaves. The high tone, the illustrious names of several of these new crusaders, and the admirable discipline which prevailed among them all, soon won for them the respect even of the few revolutionists who were at Rome. These brave and self-sacrificing youths, many of whom served at their own cost, were addressed as “Signor Soldato” (Signor Soldier) by the passers-by, whilst the venal scribes of the outside revolutionary press did their best to stigmatize them as “the mercenaries of the Pope.” Whilst some of these warriors devoted their life, others bestowed their gold. It is honorable to the Catholic people that, in the circumstances, they added the good work of supporting the Pontifical army to their collections of Peter’s pence. In order to furnish the sum of 500 francs (£20 sterling) yearly, which was required for each soldier, artisans and even domestic servants freely subscribed. In 1867, the Catholics of the diocese of Cambrai, sent two hundred Zouaves; those of Rodez and Arras, one hundred for each diocese; whilst Cologne, Nantes, Rennes and Toulouse did almost as much.

Meanwhile, having its eyes somewhat opened by the light from Sadowa, the French government appeared to have abandoned, as regarded the protection of the Holy See, its secret maxim of 1860: “Neither do anything nor allow anything to be done.” In withdrawing from Rome, it had authorized the creation, under a chief whom it was pleased itself to designate, a body of volunteers, selected chiefly from the French army, whose duty it should be to guard the Pope. This corps was called the Legion of Antibes, from the name of the city where it was formed. Pius IX., besides, could rely on the fidelity of the Roman army, properly so called. Thus was he more than sufficiently provided against any possible internal disturbance. It was not to be expected that he should be prepared to meet a formidable foreign invasion of his state.

The notorious Garibaldi had already made preparations for invading the Roman territory. Whilst he neglected not to strengthen the _International_ at the Geneva Congress of Demagogues, the indefatigable brigand availed himself of the crowding of pilgrims to Rome in order to deceive the Pontifical police, and to introduce into the city bands of cutthroats, munitions of war, and arms of every kind, not excepting Orsini bombs. After the departure of the bishops, he opened publicly, in Italy, subscription lists, and enrolled soldiers. The Piedmontese government stores were at his service as they were in 1860, in order to aid him in clothing and arming his volunteers. These were joined by numerous functionaries and officers of the regular army, who took no pains to conceal their Piedmontese arms and uniforms. Municipalities, at public deliberative meetings, voted subsidies to the Garibaldians, and railway managers provided them with special trains. Whilst so many things that clearly showed the complicity of Piedmont were done, Victor Emmanuel sent protestation after protestation to Paris. He did not, by any means, intend, he said, to disembarrass himself of the obligations which were imposed on him by the first article of the convention of the 15th September, 1865. It might be relied upon, besides, that he would check the agitators and repress by force, even, if necessary, all violation of the Pontifical frontier. Nor did the wily monarch confine himself to words. He acted as he could act so well. Garibaldi was sent to his island, Caprera; but only in order to escape from it at the opportune moment, through the seven vessels by which he was guarded. An order for his arrest was then issued. Active search was made for him at Genoa, at Turin, everywhere except at Florence, where he harangued the people in the most public places, even under the windows of the King’s palace. Later, when it was undertaken to arrest him at Florence, it so happened that he had started by a special train for the Roman frontier, together with a complete staff. (M107) The telegraph was put in requisition in order to turn back the train. But, possibly through the fault of a disobedient employee, the telegraph failed to accomplish its purpose. The Italian government neglected not to hold an investigation in regard to this matter, and swore that the guilty party, if found out, would be punished. What more could be desired? Was not France satisfied with much less than this in 1860? Whilst diplomacy was thus playing its _role_, Garibaldi and his myrmidons were penetrating on all sides at once the Pontifical territory. Twenty-seven gensd’armes, who guarded the small town of Aquapendente, were surprised by two hundred and fifty Garibaldians, who, on being re-inforced by another band, marched thence on Ischia, Valentano and Canino, pillaging the public chests, sacking the convents and churches, prudently retiring as often as they met Pontifical forces in any considerable numbers. Eighty-five Zouaves, or soldiers of the line, having rashly pursued them at Bagnorea, and attacked them with the bayonet, were repulsed with loss. It could not well have been otherwise, considering the great disparity of numbers. Garibaldi shouted victory, in his usual emphatic style: “Hail to the victors of Aquapendente and Bagnorea! The foreign mercenaries have fled before the valiant champions of Italian liberty. Those braggarts who thirsted for blood have experienced the noble generosity of their brave conquerors. As to you, priests, who know so well how to burn, torture and imprison; you who drink, with hyena-like delight, in the cup of your deceit, the blood of the liberators; we pardon you, and, together with you, that butcher soldiery, the pestilent scum of a faithless faction.”

The conquerors, however, were driven from their easy conquests before they received this proclamation which spoke of mercy in terms that expressed it so poorly. Events which were a cruel satire on Garibaldi’s words, and which he had not foreseen, caused his bands to fall into the power of the Pontifical troops, so that it was they who sued for pardon and obtained it. It can even be said that on this occasion the generosity of the soldiers of the Pope was excessive, for the vanquished enemy had been guilty of many other crimes besides that of rising in arms against the legitimate government. They had pillaged the Cathedral of Bagnorea, broken the tabernacle, stolen the sacred vessels, defiled the image of the Madonna, pierced the crucifix with their bayonets, decapitated the statues of the saints, and enacting an infernal parody, shot an inoffensive man, in order that human blood might be shed on the altar of sacrifice.

At Subiaco, the governor, who was a priest, fell, together with the town, into the hands of the banditti. They were preparing to sack the place and put the governor to death, when a Pontifical troop appeared. The struggle was short. The Garibaldian chief was slain, and the rest fled. They who guarded the prisoner threw themselves at his knees, imploring mercy. “Have pity on us, my Lord; do not give us up to the Zouaves; they would kill us.” The governor made them go into his oratory and closed the door. Meanwhile the commandant of the Zouaves arrived, gave him the details of the battle, and spoke of the prisoners he had taken. “Everybody makes prisoners,” said the governor, smiling. “I have some also, although not, like you, a man of the sword.” “Where are they?” “Ah! they are mine and not yours. Promise that you will respect my absolute right of conqueror; if not, I will not show them.” The commandant made the desired promise, and the governor opened the door of his oratory and made the Garibaldians come out. These prisoners were greatly amazed. Having asked and obtained the governor’s priestly blessing, they freely recrossed the Italian frontier.

The action at Monte-Libretti, which took place on the 14th October, was of a more serious character. Eighty Zouaves contended from half-past five in the evening till eight o’clock against twelve hundred Garibaldians. Arthur Guillemin, their captain, and Urbain de Quelen, their second lieutenant, fell gloriously. When night came, the Zouaves being unable to fight any longer, and not venturing to establish themselves in the first houses which they had taken, whilst all the rest of the town still swarmed with the enemy, retired in good order, bearing away their dead, and also twelve prisoners. They returned next morning, in order to renew the attack, but found the place evacuated.

The violation of the Pontifical territory was now too flagrant to be denied any longer, and the more so, as the Cabinet of the Tuileries was not ignorant of anything that was taking place. It was, by a fortunate accident, represented at Rome by a diplomatist of a different school from that of Thouvenel and Lavalette. The ambassador, M. de Sartiges, was absent on leave, and was replaced by his first secretary, M. Arman. The latter understood his duty, and, at the risk of being importunate, ceased not to make known, every day, to France, the events which were so rapidly occurring. Thus did a comparatively humble secretary save the honor of his country. Compelled by the terms of the September convention to stay the invasion, the Government of Florence stationed a corps of forty thousand men, under the command of Cialdini, around the Pontifical frontier, and intimated to the Tuileries that it was for its protection. It soon became evident that it was in order to fall upon it, in the wake of Garibaldi, as they had fallen upon the Kingdom of Naples in 1860. Meanwhile, the invaders passed without any difficulty between the different posts, and when beaten and pursued by the Pontifical troops, they retired and reformed behind the ranks of the Piedmontese.

(M108) Hence the small body of Pontifical soldiers was easily overwhelmed, and the Garibaldian hordes, although beaten, were always advancing. Rome was filled with consternation. The cutthroats of the revolution spoke of applying gunpowder to public edifices. And indeed they set about fulfilling their threat by blowing up the Serratori barracks, which they had undermined, and which buried, one evening, in their ruins, the music band of the Zouaves, whilst they were engaged at a rehearsal. Fortunately the bandsmen were the only victims. The rest of the corps which remained to guard the city was at the moment patrolling at a distance from the barracks. The Garibaldians expected the explosion. They rushed into the streets and endeavored to avail themselves of the terror and confusion which generally prevailed in order to seize the military posts. They managed to assassinate, in the dark, a few soldiers and some gensd’armes; but they succeeded not even in ringing the alarm-bell at the Capitol, which was intended to be their signal. Their principal leader, a Milanese, whose name was Cairoli, was killed with arms in his hands, together with some twenty of his followers, in a vineyard near the city; and so failed the enterprise.

The French Cabinet ceased, at length, to persist in the face of the clearest evidence and against the unanimous voice of the national conscience. A small body of soldiers had been sent to the French port of Toulon. It received orders to embark for Civita Vecchia. Catholics were relieved from their anxiety. Meanwhile came new assurances from Florence. A counter-order was given, and the embarkation suspended. Victor Emmanuel and his minister, Ratazzi, thought they understood the secret meaning of this counter-order. They remembered the past, and the troops of Cialdini boldly crossed the Pontifical frontier.

(M109) French historians relate that, on receiving this news, all who had any concern for the honor of France believed that it had come to an end, and made up their minds, in sullen silence, to swallow the new disgrace. They who were indifferent, even, became indignant. People who met on the boulevards of Paris asked one another to what extremes those Italian mountebanks (farceurs) would bring them. The enemies of the Pope, who were equally hostile to the Emperor, rejoiced, but secretly. The deputies either protested together with the Catholics, or dared not show themselves; the ministers were silent. Finally, the army took its departure from Toulon. It was time that it should; and this appeared to be well understood. There was great irresolution in coming to a decision. It was no less promptly carried into effect. The French army disembarked at Civita Vecchia on the 29th October, under the command of General de Failly.

Three days earlier, 26th October, the small town of Monte Rotondo, five leagues from Rome, was attacked by Garibaldi in person, attended by a band of five thousand four hundred fighting men. Its garrison consisted of five hundred men of the legion of Antibes. These few brave soldiers held their ground for two days and repelled five attacks. They were compelled at last to yield, having exhausted all their munitions of war. They retired, but left Garibaldi so much weakened and disorganized by his inglorious victory that he was unable for several days to advance. Thus, for the moment, did the legion of Antibes save Rome.

(M110) Monte Rotondo, it is almost superfluous to relate, experienced the fate of Bagnorea. Nothing comparable in point of atrocity had occurred since the invasion of Italy by the barbarians. In justice to Garibaldi, it must be said that he rebuked publicly by an order of the day, dated 28th October, the “shameful excess” of his fellow-adventurers, and proceeded to expurgate their ranks. But he could not hinder them from being what they were, a mob of miscreants that the secret societies of the whole world had discharged on the Pontifical State. He was not less astonished to meet with so poor a welcome on the part of the people whom it was supposed he came to deliver. His chief lieutenant, Bertani, bears witness to this state of things, in the _Riforma_ of 18th November, 1867: “It must be admitted,” said this writer, “that the people of the Roman States have no idea of an Italy one and free. We have not been greeted or encouraged by a single cry of rejoicing; nor have we obtained either any spontaneous assistance, or even a word of consolation, from these brutified people.”

General Kanzler, the pro-Minister of War, well understood that it was impossible to defend for any length of time the frontier against bands that were constantly recruited. Accordingly, he ordered all the isolated garrisons to concentrate at Rome. It was more important than anything else to preserve the Papal city from being surprised by the invaders. Garibaldi, when re-inforced, marched in advance of Monte Rotondo. Cialdini followed him at some distance, but without daring as yet openly to join the banditti. The French, however, were _en route_. Kanzler took his departure from Rome on 3rd November, at two o’clock in the morning, followed by 3,000 Pontifical troops and 2,000 French soldiers. “Come,” said he, to M. Emilius Keller, Dr. O’Zannam, and some others who had just arrived from Paris, in order to organize the ambulance service of the Pontifical army, “come, and you will see a fine battle.” The small army met the enemy at one o’clock in the afternoon, at a short distance from the town of Mentana, the ancient Nomentum from which the Nomentan way (_via Nomentana_) took its name. Garibaldi’s command was from 10,000 to 12,000 strong. He placed his men in ambuscade, partly on small hills that were covered with wood, and partly scattered them, as fusileers, along the hedges. His left wing was commanded by Pianciani, who, some time later, was Mayor of Rome. Kanzler’s force commenced firing. But what could it avail against an enemy that was invisible and in superior numbers? A veteran of Castelfidardo, Lieutenant-Colonel de Charette, the same who was destined afterwards to immortalize himself at Patay and at Mans, understood that nothing was to be gained by a fusillade. “Forward,” he cried, “my Zouaves! charge with the bayonet; and, remember, the French army is looking on.” The Zouaves reply: “Live Pius IX!” and spring forward with their leader. The Garibaldians are dislodged from the first hill—from the other hills, and would have been utterly routed but for the formidable intrenchments presented by the Santucci vineyard, which was laid out in gardens rising in storeys, one above the other, and intersected by walls. Garibaldi was posted on the summit, in a villa, whence he directed his fire without being exposed to personal danger. His position was, indeed, strong. Charette’s troop was observed to waver. “Forward, Zouaves!” cried their leader, “or I shall die without you!” As he spoke, his horse was struck by a ball and fell dead. Meanwhile, the Zouaves scaled the walls and the ravines, without heeding those who fell. Garibaldi was disconcerted by this living tornado. He fell back from his villa to the houses, and thence to the Castle of Mentana. The Zouaves followed in the face of a murderous fire, discharged from the walls of the castle; but they always advanced, and finally, repelled, by a bayonet charge, a renewed and general attack of the enemy. Such efforts, however, could not have been sustained for any length of time unaided, and bravery must, in the end, have given way to numbers. General de Courten, who directed this attack, sent to ask assistance from General Polhes, who commanded the army of France. The French soldiers had been, hitherto, inactive, although by no means unheeding spectators of the combat. “Bravo! Zouaves, bravo!” cried they, eagerly desiring to share in the fight. At a sign from their chief, they sprang forward in their turn. At their head was Colonel Saussier, of the 20th regiment of the line, who was afterwards general and member of the National Assembly at Versailles. The sudden and hitherto unknown fire of the chassepots carried death and terror within the precincts of the castle. Meanwhile, a detachment of Zouaves managed to place themselves between Mentana and Monte Rotondo, and so intercepted the reinforcements which were hastening from the latter place to join the Garibaldians. At sight of this achievement, the bands, already much demoralized, were thrown into confusion. Night came, and, favoring their flight, changed it to a rout. Garibaldi himself, who had so often shouted, “_Rome or death_”—stole away, under cover of the darkness, like the meanest of the fugitives. His sons did in like manner. It was expected that they would renew the battle next day, as Monte Rotondo, which they still held, presented a convenient position for rallying. They did nothing of the kind. On the very night which followed the engagement Garibaldi and his sons recrossed the Italian frontier. “He always runs away” (_si salva sempre_), said his followers, in the bitterness of their disappointment, when so shamefully betrayed and abandoned. The French soldiers, on the other hand, always inclined to raillery and punning, baptized the action of the preceding day, calling it the battle of _Montre ton dos_. The Garibaldians, who held the castle, as well as the rest of the banditti who could not get away in time, surrendered, unconditionally, to General Polhes. There was but little bloodshed on the side of the victors, thanks to the rapidity with which the victory was won. The losses of the French troops were not more than two killed, two officers and thirty-six privates wounded. Of the Pontifical force there were twenty killed and one hundred and twenty-three wounded. Several of these died of their wounds.