Chapter II: Part 2

If it could be said that public rejoicings afforded any assistance to the Pope, in his labors as the head of the Roman State, he was not left without aid in his great undertakings. Such things, however, rather hindered than promoted his endeavors. His people had, so to say, commenced, under his auspices, a long and laborious journey. There was no time for mere pleasure and amusement. Nevertheless, whenever a new scene or landscape opened to their view, they stopped to rejoice, and gave themselves up, without control, to the intoxication of delight. In so doing they laid themselves open to the snares and attacks of many secret enemies, who availed themselves of their frequent gatherings to sow the seeds of discord and corrupt their minds with false political doctrines. Far better would it have been if they had left to the Sovereign in whom, at first, they placed unbounded confidence, and the wise Ministers whom he called to his counsels, the care of forwarding the cause of reform. It had been most benevolently and successfully begun, and was proceeding, in the estimation of all but an impatient people, with rapidity which had no parallel in the history of nations. The people, by assembling tumultuously on occasion of every popular measure, no doubt meant no more at first than to show gratitude and affection to their pastor and prince. Such meetings, however, were not without danger to the cause of reform. The political enemies of the Pope easily foresaw that, by his wise and popular improvements in the State, he would certainly secure to himself a peaceful, strong and glorious reign. So, laying hold of the general enthusiasm, they trained and disciplined to their will a people who were naturally good and unsuspecting. These men came at length to give the watchword, and, according to their wishes and the views which it suited them to insinuate into the popular mind, the uneducated and fickle multitude expressed satisfaction or discontent, as they defiled in imposing masses before the mansion of the Pontiff. Thus was formed a sort of government out of doors, which, if it did not yet oppose or appear to oppose at least, powerfully swayed the official authority. Cardinal Gizzi, whose ministry was so popular, deemed it necessary to require by proclamation that these noisy demonstrations should cease. It was too late. The people, defying the Cardinal’s mandate, hastened in crowds to the Quirinal, saluted, as usual, the Pope with enthusiastic _vivats_, expressing, at the same time, their detestation of his ministry, which they were wont to applaud so loudly, and which, if it had not by any great activity done much to acquire, had certainly done nothing to forfeit their favor. “_Viva Pio Nono! Pio Nono Solo!_” was now their cry. The Pope himself next came to be considered as intolerably dilatory in preparing measures of reform. Nor did he escape the accusation, at the same time, of sacrificing to his zeal, as a temporal ruler, the higher duties which he owed to religion and the Church. According to one set of revilers, he was breaking with inviolable tradition. Others insisted that so enthusiastic a reformer of the State must be a revolutionist in the Church. Such attacks were met by anticipation in the Encyclical of 9th November, 1846. This well-known document was received with applause by the civilized world. It leaves no ground for the charges in question. It would only destroy the Church to pretend to reform its dogma and revolutionize its discipline and government. Such an idea could proceed from no other source than the stratagems of unbelief, or from the snares of the wolf, who, in sheep’s clothing, seeks to insinuate himself into the fold. It is nothing short of sacrilege to hold that religion is susceptible of progress or improvement, as if it were a philosophical discovery, which could advance with the march of science. The Holy Father enumerates also in this Encyclical the principal grounds of faith, and exhorts all bishops to oppose with all their zeal and learning those who, alleging progress as their motive, perversely endeavor to destroy religion by subjecting it to every man’s individual judgment. He condemns indifference as regards religion, eloquently defends ecclesiastical celibacy, and, mindful that the Church is the teacher of the great as well as of the humble, he enforces the obligations of sovereigns towards their subjects, not forgetting the fulfilment of all the duties which the people owe to their rulers. In a former Encyclical, Pius IX. had expressed his predilection for the religious orders. This expression was now renewed. Time may have interfered, more or less, with their discipline. Anxious to preserve them and promote their prosperity, he was ever willing to correct such abuses as may have existed. To some communities he offered the most admirable suggestions. Others he honored with personal visits, evincing always a truly pastoral zeal for the well-being of institutions so precious to religion.

Pius IX., although deeply occupied with affairs of State that would have commanded all the attention and energy of any ordinary mind, found time, nevertheless, for the discharge of duties of a still higher order. He never forgot that he was the Bishop as well as the Sovereign of Rome. The Romans, although inhabiting the Holy City, like all other people, stood in need of the instructions and warnings of religion. The Pope was aware, besides, that bad habits prevailed, such as profane swearing, luxurious living, the neglect of parents in the training of their children. The knowledge of such things grieved him exceedingly. He now resolved to have recourse to a measure which was as striking as it was unexpected. In the trying days of the Crusaders, and moved by their zeal for the safety of Christendom, the Popes of an earlier time had addressed, as the ministers of God, immense public assemblages. No Pope, however, had appeared in the pulpit since Gregory VII. The Church of St. Andrew, where the eloquent Father Ventura was accustomed to preach, was selected, but, lest there should be too great a crowd, no notice of the Pope’s intention was published. At half-past three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, just as the congregation were expecting to see Abbate Ventura enter the church, the Pope himself made his appearance. The sermon was not a long one; but it was memorable, and to be long remembered. “In this city,” said the Holy Father, “which is the centre of Catholicity, there are men who insult the holy name of God by profane and blasphemous language. On all those who now hear me I lay this charge: publish everywhere that I have no hope for such men. They cast in the face of Heaven the stone which will, one day, recoil upon them and crush them. I would also most earnestly exhort you as regards the duty of fasting. Many fathers and mothers come to me in order to impart to me the sorrow which they experience in considering the melancholy fact which cannot escape their observation, that the demon of uncleanness exercises a destructive empire over the youth of Rome. Our Lord Himself in the Holy Gospel assures us that, by no other means than prayer and fasting, is it possible to overcome this demon who poisons the sources of life and works the ruin of immortal souls.” The sermon, although comparatively short, spoke of the chief obligations of a Christian life. It was delivered with great unction, and the Holy Father concluded with a fervent prayer for Rome and the Roman State. “Look down upon this vine, O Lord, which Thy right hand hath planted! Look upon it in mercy, and remove from it the hand of iron which weighs so heavily upon it. Pour into the bosoms of the rising generations those two most precious attributes of youth,—modesty and a teachable mind. Listen to my prayer, O Lord, and bestow upon this congregation, on this city and all people, Thy most precious blessings.”

Appropriate gesticulations added to the power of words. Another influence, also, came in aid,—an influence peculiar to Pius IX.,—that indescribable expression of goodness which lighted up his countenance as he spoke. The people, whose feelings are naturally fine, were moved even to tears and sighs. The occasion itself was well calculated to move the minds of a Catholic audience. It was an element, no doubt, which, together with the eloquence of the preacher, and the power of apostolic preaching, could not fail to produce a profound impression. And, indeed, the whole congregation were filled with enthusiasm.

Whilst thus finding consolation in the exercise of his sublime ministry, the benevolent Pontiff was destined to encounter formidable attacks on the part of political opponents. On the one hand, the ultra-Conservatives, who held in abomination the mere idea of reform, endeavored by every means to confound in the popular mind the beneficial measures which the Pope was introducing into the economy of the State, with radical changes in the most essential points of religion itself. The Socialists, on the other hand, studied to excite the people and increase their impatience by misrepresenting all the acts of the ministry, and causing it to be believed that, by the delay which was unavoidable in labors of such magnitude and importance, they were only abusing the confidence of the sovereign and betraying the cause of reform. Some remains of chivalry might have been expected in the ranks of the high Conservative party. But, alas! too truly the age of chivalry was gone, and these sticklers for the usages of a bygone age, only showed by their modes of proceeding that they clung to an empty and inanimate form of things from which life and substance had departed. As was related at the time, they stepped down to the depths of calumny and published a cruel libel, in which the Holy Father was held up to the scorn of all right-thinking men as an “intruder,” “an enemy of Religion,” “the chief of _Young Italy_.” In the estimation of such men discretion is the better part of valor. But whilst they fought with the coward’s weapon—slander—they could not wholly escape detection. Their libel was seized in the hands of a _colporteur_. This wretched man offered to disclose the names of the libellers. Pius IX. declined his offer, generously forgave him the offence, and even bestowed upon him a sum of money in order to induce him and enable him to give up his nefarious trade.

Meanwhile, there was at Rome a still more numerous body who sustained the policy of the Holy Father. These friends of order, it is most pleasing to record, made every effort to aid him in carrying out the measures of reform which he contemplated. This influential body of faithful and patriotic citizens, who can never be sufficiently praised, organized a considerable force which kept the populace in check. This party consisted, chiefly, of the burghers of Rome. They were encouraged and headed by the higher nobles, such as the Borghese, the Rospigliosi, the Riguano, the Piombino, and the Aldobrandini. Acting as a noble guard, they were able to preserve order in the city, when, on occasion of celebrating the memorable amnesty, it was seriously threatened by the factions. They were, indeed, a party of reform, order-loving and law-abiding. It can never be sufficiently regretted that, unaccustomed as they were to political turmoil, they knew not how to keep their ground in the face of new dangers which arose so soon.

The health of Cardinal Gizzi had begun to decline. The toils of office were not calculated to improve it, and so he relinquished a post which was, every day, becoming more onerous and difficult. There was another Cardinal whose high character had endeared him to the Romans. Ability and learning were not his only qualities. He was energetic and resolute, faithful, straightforward and self-sacrificing. When the dread scourge of cholera swept over his episcopal city and impoverished his people, Cardinal Ferretti gave up for the relief of the sufferers all that he possessed—money, clothing, plate, furniture, and remained in his empty Palace, as destitute as a pauper. To this eminent Cardinal Pius IX. appealed, offering him the high office which Gizzi could no longer hold. On 26th July, 1847, the new Chief Minister arrived at Rome. He was warmly received. The citizens gave him an ovation.

Shortly before his arrival, news had come to Rome that Austrian troops were marching on Ferrara, a city of the Papal States. They were, indeed, entitled, by the treaty of 1815, to occupy this fortress, as well as that of Camachio. They could urge no better excuse for a display of military power in the Pope’s States on occasion of the threatened disturbance of 16th July. This parade was only the prelude to further military operations. On 13th August, General Count Auesperg occupied all the posts of Ferrara. Whatever may be said as to treaty rights, this was, undoubtedly, an insult to the Papal flag. The most energetic remonstrances were immediately addressed to the Cabinet of Vienna. Austria endeavored to justify her proceeding by a wide interpretation of the right of occupation, by alleging the disturbed state of the public mind at Rome, and by insisting on certain precedents. But to no purpose. The diplomacy of Ferretti contended successfully with that of Metternich. And Austria, yielding with the best grace possible to the representations of the Holy Father, evacuated Ferrara.

The Pope, far from allowing himself to be disquieted by the presence in his States of Croat troops, proceeded with the work of reform which he had undertaken, slowly, indeed, but with energy and perseverance. In these labors of the statesman, he was ably aided by the Cardinal Minister Ferretti. A promise was given that before the end of the year two great political and administrative institutions would be called into existence. Accordingly, so early as the month of October, two State papers appeared, the one instituting the municipality of Rome, which was to be called _the Senate_, the other decreeing an assembly that should be, to a certain extent, representative, under the name of _Council of State_ (consulta). The City of Rome had not, for a long time, possessed, like the other cities of the Pontifical States, municipal institutions. It was now ordained that there should be a City Council, consisting of the mayor (in the language of the country, _Senator_), with eight colleagues and a hundred other members. This is not unlike our own municipal magistracy, wherein are the mayor, aldermen and common councilmen or councillors. With us, however, aldermen could hardly be called the colleagues of the mayor. This functionary stands alone in his worshipful dignity. The first nomination of the members of this municipal body was reserved to the Pope. But it was appointed that, ever after, it should be chosen by free popular election. None will question the wisdom and liberality of the language in which the Pope expressed himself in the preamble to the new law. “When we were called by Divine Providence to govern the Church and the State, our paternal solicitude was at once directed to every portion of the Dominion subjected to our Government, but especially towards the capital, the chief of all our cities, to which it is consoling for us to devote our watchings and our labors. What was, above all, important, and what we think will be a subject of joy to all, is the restoration to this beloved city of its ancient glory of communal representation, by granting to it a deliberative council. The study of this project has been particularly pleasing to us, and we have not allowed ourselves to be discouraged by any difficulty.” This important decree was published on the 2nd day of October, 1847. On the following day there was a national festival. The people were in raptures, and loudly demonstrated their gratitude to the Holy Father for an institution which recalled the glorious associations of ancient Rome, and restored it to its place and rank among modern cities. The Cardinal-prince Altieri was named president. He opened the first session of the municipal council by a speech which was marked by the homage paid therein to Pius IX. “He considered not,” said the orator, “whether the work be difficult. He sees its utility and hesitates not.” The council almost unanimously elected to the post of Senator (Mayor) Prince Corsini, who was, at that time, devoted to the policy of the reforming Pontiff.

A measure of more general importance now occupied the attention of the Sovereign Pontiff and his Ministers. The Council of State (consulta) was established. It was a deliberative assembly. It was not sovereign, but possessed the right to advise the Sovereign. There were twenty-four councillors. The President was a Cardinal Legate. Each councillor was chosen by the Pope from a list of three candidates presented by each Province of the Pontifical States. The Council was divided into four sections, whose office it was to prepare laws relating to the Departments of Finance, Home Affairs, Public Works and Justice. It was the duty also of these four Committees to hold a general meeting on certain days, in order to take counsel together on the draughts of proposed laws which they had separately prepared. On the 25th November, 1847, the National Representatives met for the first time. Their place of meeting was the throne-room of the Quirinal Palace. Cardinal Antonelli was the first President. The proceedings were commenced, and most appropriately, by a respectful address to the Holy Father. It was well known to Pius IX. that the creation of this institution had awakened exaggerated and premature hopes in the minds of a portion of the people, and that some of the Deputies were not disinclined to encourage them. So he considered it necessary, in his reply, to define, in a very decided manner, the true character and functions of the National Representative Body. “It is chiefly,” said he, “in order that I may become better acquainted with the wants of my people, and that I may better provide for the exigencies of the State, that I have called you together. I am prepared, in time, to do everything, without, however, diminishing the Sovereignty of the Pontificate. That man would be grievously mistaken who should behold in the functions which devolve on you, or in your institution itself, his own Utopias, or the commencement of anything incompatible with the Pontifical Sovereignty.” In concluding, he spoke in a still more determined tone, and reproached his people with the ingratitude which they had already begun to manifest. “There are some persons who, having nothing to lose, wish for disorder and insurrection, and go so far as to make a bad use even of our concessions.”

There was in this Council a commencement of representative government. Deputies from the Provinces assembled—deliberated. They heard a Speech from the Throne. They presented an address in reply. In due time this germ of constitutional monarchy would be developed. But the Sovereign would not proceed rashly. The full measure of reform, he was well aware, must, like all great works, be the fruit of time, of much labor and patient consideration.

Count Rossi, the French Ambassador, considered that it was already time to introduce a lay element into the political administration of the Papal States. The Holy Father, accordingly, after due consideration, appointed some distinguished laymen to the Ministry. In so doing, no doubt, he sacrificed time-honored usage; but not so much to the wishes of his friends and allies, as to the spirit of the age, which, whether right or wrong, will have men of the world to deal with the world.

Italy, although divided into several States, looked to Rome as its centre and its capital. Whatever occurred in the city of the Popes was at once known throughout the whole peninsula. Such important and unlooked-for measures of reform as were now carried into effect could not fail, as they were communicated, to affect deeply the Italian mind. Public opinion was aroused. The most profound sympathy was everywhere felt and expressed. Liberty had revived under the auspices of Religion. It had emanated as a new blessing from the Cross. The Chief of Religion, the Father of the Faithful, had become its High Priest. His name was held in benediction. His praises were proclaimed not only by the Italian people, but also by every civilized nation. It was no longer violence—no longer insurrection—that contended for liberty. The greatest of all sovereigns had announced its reign. It was not indebted to any secret society. It relied upon society at large. It rested secure, so men believed, on the firm foundation of enlightened public opinion. Philosophy, as represented by M. Cousin, hailed its advent. The statesmanship of France, headed by M. Thiers, extolled its champion. Protestantism, forgetting its illiberal prejudices, re-echoed with enthusiasm the warm _vivats_ of reformed Italy. Pius IX., meanwhile, enjoyed his reward,—not in the flattering echo of the thousand voices which sounded his praise, but in the one still voice of approving conscience. He was consoled, moreover, by a profound conviction that the cause which he had taken in hand would, one day, prove triumphant.

With every new concession came the desire for further change. The people generally were satisfied, even grateful, and they frequently expressed their gratitude in the most sincere and enthusiastic manner. They were not, however, all sincere. There were not wanting those who studied only to make available for their own ends the tumultuous gatherings and warm expressions of satisfaction in which the people so often indulged. This was the Socialist faction. It aimed at nothing less than to establish a Republic—a _Republic, one and undivided_, or, as it has been called, because of its cruel and blood-thirsty character, the _Red Republic_.

With a view to the establishment of such a Republic, the men of this party took advantage of the numerous assemblages, which could not now either be regulated or diminished in number, to gain new friends, to increase popular excitement, and so to discipline it as to bring it, through some favorite demagogues, under their control. It will shortly be seen with what a dangerous weapon they were arming themselves. It can scarcely be doubted that but for the machinations of these factionists and their influence with the masses, which was every day increasing, Pius IX. would have succeeded in establishing a system of government as constitutional and as free as was at all compatible with his own rights as sovereign. These rights he was not at liberty to abandon. No greater measure of political freedom could be reasonably desired by any people. From all history it is manifest that liberty is as fully enjoyed, and established on a more secure and permanent basis, under the fostering auspices of a constitutional monarchy, than in the best regulated republics. Such a form of government may indeed be said to be more republican than monarchical. But although possessing many properties, and all the popular advantages of a Republic, it does not cease to be a monarchy. The kingly dignity still remains with all that appertains to it, and is an essential element of its constitution. Such was the monarchy that Pius IX. desired to retain, and which he was bound in conscience, he believed, never to relinquish. That in this he was sincere his high character bears witness. Never was there a less selfish sovereign, or a man of more upright mind and sounder judgment. No prince ever held less to prerogative. Essential rights he was firmly resolved to maintain, whilst he never would have shrunk from any legitimate concession. Whatever was adapted to the time and the circumstances of his country, useful to his people, and conformable to a well-informed and sound public opinion, he was prepared to introduce into the economy of the State. But, the complete secularization of public power in the Pontifical States, in other words, the establishment of a Republic based on anti-Christian principles,—the _Red Republic_,—could never for a moment be contemplated. What may be called the consultative Government had just entered upon the discharge of its duties, when Pius IX. resolved to render it completely representative. This important resolution was the subject of frequent conversations with M. Rossi, at the time ambassador at Rome of the French constitutional monarchy. M. Rossi wrote as follows, to his government, in January, 1848:

“It is a problem which, after much reflection, I consider may be
solved. The divisions of sovereignty in the world have been
numerous and diverse. And as they lasted for ages, we might even
try one more, beginning by separating entirely the temporal from
the spiritual—the Pope from the King. Only it would be necessary
to leave wholly to the spiritual, and the clergy, matters which
with us are mixed.”

Not many days later, the ambassador imparted to his government this more decided intelligence: “The Pope will shortly grant the constitution. It is his serious and constant study.” M. Rossi earnestly recommended that there should be no delay in adopting this important measure. It would, he conceived, put an end to agitation,—a most desirable result, surely, when it is considered how fatal to the cause of liberty and reform might any day become the too frequent tumultuous assemblages which, once constitutional government was established, would necessarily cease.

The Pope held the same idea as the eminent diplomatist. The great idea was as yet, however, far from being realized. A new and most serious difficulty unexpectedly arose. On the 5th of March, 1848, a courier arrived, bearing the startling intelligence that the constitutional monarchy of France had fallen, and that a Republic was established at Paris. No greater misfortune could have befallen Rome. The public excitement was increased beyond measure, and exaggerated hopes were enkindled that could never be fulfilled. The people, at first enthusiastic only, were now turbulent. The events in France exercised a still more fatal influence. They caused anarchy to prevail. The extreme or Socialist Republicans, whom the proclamation of the constitution would have paralyzed, were now in the ascendant. What had been done at Paris, they conceived, might be done at Rome. And they induced the inexperienced multitude to share their conviction. Such belief was only an idle and a culpable dream. For surely it could not be guiltless to resolve on sacrificing thousands on thousands of precious lives for an Utopia,—a system that could never be realized. Events have shown that in France itself, which was entirely free to make whatever political arrangement it pleased, a Republic was not possible, even such a Republic as was established at the downfall of the citizen monarchy, in preference to the Red Republic. How, then, should it be possible to build up at Rome an extreme system in opposition to the views and wishes of the whole Christian world,—in opposition even to the people of Rome themselves, who, when free from undue excitement, were the loyal supporters of the sovereign who had already introduced into the economy of the State so many liberal institutions—institutions that were in perfect harmony with their ideas, and admirably adapted to the exigencies of the times? There was no need, as yet, that the Catholic nations should come to the aid of their Chief. It was necessary only to appeal, in defence of his sovereignty, _from Rome drunk to Rome sober_,—from Rome intoxicated with unwonted draughts of liberty to Rome in its normal state—to Rome, cool, and calm, and intellectual, even as in the days of her ancient glory, when her sages and grave senators sat by her gates sorrowing but dignified in their defeat. With the like countenance ought modern Rome to have met the tide of Socialist invasion, which every successive endeavor to establish the Red or Communist Republic proves to be more destructive than the war of mighty legions, which can only cast down material walls.

A Socialist Republic was impossible at Rome, the city of the Popes. It never could have held its ground against the sound principle which universally prevailed throughout the Pontifical States. Nor would it ever have been able to obtain the countenance, or even the recognition, of the European governments. Not France and Austria only; every other Catholic nation as well would have exerted all their influence against it. Nor in doing so would they have acted unwisely or unjustly. Had not Rome been the residence of their Chief Pastor, that great historic city would have ceased long ago to exist, or would be known only as an insignificant village, scarcely perceptible on the map of Europe. How often has not the celebrated city been rescued from destruction by the direct agency of the Popes? How long have they not governed it with wisdom and blessed it with prosperity? If there be any such thing as prescriptive right, undoubtedly it is theirs. If there be any right better founded and stronger than that of conquest, such right belongs unquestionably to the saviors of Rome. They have saved it for the Christian world, for mankind, for the Church. It is no man’s property. It cannot be let, like a paltry farm, to those who shall bid the highest, in vain compromises and delusive hopes of liberty. Should the Roman people, of their own free will, pretend to give themselves away,—to sell themselves to a faction whose subversive principles they abhor, their forefathers of all preceding ages would protest against their base degeneracy; the children of the generations to come would curse their memory; all reflecting men of the present time would accuse them of black ingratitude,—ingratitude to the mighty dead among their Pontiffs, to whom they are indebted for their very name, their city’s fame, its honored State, its very existence in modern times; ingratitude, above all, to that ruler who offered them, who bestowed upon them, liberty, and who would have gladly rescued them in his day from tyranny,—the tyranny of faction,—even as his predecessors, in bygone times, snatched them from the cruel grasp of barbarism.

Pius IX. had made up his mind to institute thoroughly representative and constitutional government. And this was all that the Roman people, as yet, desired. They were only anxious that the views of the Pontiff should be speedily carried into effect. Accordingly, Prince Corsini, the Senator (Mayor), and the eight principal members of the Municipal Council, were commissioned to make known their wishes to the Pope. His reply was dignified and candid. In declaring his intention to grant the constitution which they asked for, he took care to intimate in the most decided manner that he was not making a concession to the urgency of the moment, but accomplishing his premeditated purpose. “Events,” said he, “abundantly justify the request which you address to me in the name of the Council and Magistracy of Rome. All are aware that it is my constant study to give to the Government the form which appears to me to be most in harmony with the times. But, none are ignorant, at the same time, of the difficulties to which he is exposed, who unites in his own person two great dignities, when endeavouring to trace the line of demarcation between these two powers. What, in a secular Government, may be done in one day, in the Pontifical can only be accomplished after mature deliberation. I flatter myself, nevertheless, that the preliminary labours having been completed, I shall be able, in a few days, to impart to you the result of my reflections, and that this result will meet the wishes of all reasonable people.”

On the 14th of March, accordingly, was published _the fundamental statute for the temporal government of the Holy See_, and so was inaugurated constitutional rule in the most complete and straightforward manner which it is possible to conceive.

The constitution was framed according to the model of the French Liberal Monarchy of 1830, so modified as to render it capable of being adapted to the Pontifical Government. Under its provisions there were a Ministry which was responsible, and two Houses of Parliament, one of which was elective, and the other composed of members who should hold their appointment during their lifetime. To the Council of State belonged the framing of laws to be afterwards submitted to the votes of the two Chambers.

In all constitutional monarchies, the assent of the sovereign is necessary, in order to give the force of law to measures voted by Parliament. So, under the constitution promulgated at Rome by Pius IX., the College of Cardinals were constituted a permanent council, whose office it was to sanction finally the decisions of the Legislative Chambers. Such, in substance, was the statute by which the Pontifical States became undeniably constitutional. A few days later the Ministry was named. Three-fourths of their number were laymen. Cardinal Antonelli was appointed President or First Minister. And thus the constitution was no sooner framed than it came into operation, so anxious was Pius IX. to advance the interests and meet the wants and wishes of his people.

Now, one would say, gratitude only could await the Pontiff. But no! at the moment when, of all others, he was entitled to rely on the devotedness of his people, a new and great difficulty arose.

By the diplomacy of 1815, at the close of the great European War, certain portions of Italy had been left subject to German rule. By war only, some Italians imagined, could this evil be removed. This was an extravagant idea. War could only raise up new enemies to the cause of Italy and that regeneration which appeared to be so near at hand. Diplomacy would have served them better. What it had done at one time, under pressure of the most trying circumstances, it would have been ready to achieve when circumstances were changed, and imperatively demanded a new order of things.

In the new emergencies that had arisen, the learning and ability of statesmen ought, at least, in the first instance, to have been appealed to. As between individuals, it is reasonable that all peaceful means of adjusting a quarrel should be employed, so, in the greater affairs of nations, all the arts of statesmanship ought to be had recourse to before resort is had to bayonets and blood. How successful such a course would have proved, and how beneficial to the cause of Italian liberty, is more than sufficiently shown by the great result which diplomacy obtained, when Austria, insisting on treaty rights, displayed the flag of war at Ferrara. In that case, no doubt, the Pope was the chief diplomatist. But would he not have been so, likewise, when there was question, not of one city only, but of many of the greatest cities and best provinces of Italy? It is not to be supposed, that in these more momentous circumstances he would have found “the Barbarians” more hard to deal with. Austria, indeed, was so barbarous as to ignore that exquisite refinement of modern times, which despises religion and its ministers; and so she would have shown, as of old, her reverence for the Pontiff, by withdrawing, at his request, her soldiers from Italian soil.

The Italians, however, did not think so. They would have war, cost what it would. The people even of the Papal States, whose august Chief could have conquered without war, were bent on the same fatal purpose. They were wholly under the influence of the Socialist agitation, and no wiser counsel could be made to prevail.

It was decided among the popular leaders that the question of war should be agitated in the greatest assembly which it was possible to gather together. The Coliseum was appointed as the place of meeting, and it was destined to present an unwanted spectacle, a grand but ill-omened scene. All Rome, it may be said, was congregated in the ancient arena, the favorite tribunes at their head. These demagogues were determined that the question of war should be settled by acclamation, hoping thus to influence the Sovereign Pontiff to induce him to abandon his policy of neutrality by this imposing display of opinion and excitement, by so much popular enthusiasm, by such intoxication, so to say, of patriotism. At an early hour the vast arena was already crowded. All orders of the State were there—Nobles, Burghers, Soldiers, Princes—everybody. Priests even came in tolerable numbers to swell the crowd, and monks of every order, ecclesiastics of every college, members of every congregation. Such was the immense open air assemblage in which the question of the new crusade was to be solemnly discussed. It would have been a grand and noteworthy spectacle, had it not been arranged beforehand by skilful leaders who were adepts in the art of getting up revolutionary displays. In the great assembly there may have been sincerity. In the chief actors there was none. Such a spontaneous expression of public sentiment, if really such, would, indeed, have been imposing—grand. Viewed only as a theatrical performance of parts learned to order—and it was nothing more—it was deserving of nothing but contempt. There was in this display, besides, a sinister and melancholy feature—a set of actors practising on the popular mind to-day, in order to discover what they might safely attempt to-morrow.

Near the tribune which overlooks the arena were ranged all those agitators who were destined to become, at a later period, so notorious in the commotions of the time. Among them was observed Padre Gavazzi, a Barnabite monk, whose puerile vanity made him aspire to distinction, and whose career was already marked by pretentious eloquence, a bombastic style, confused ideas, and a mind still undecided as to the limits of orthodoxy, which, a little later, he stepped beyond. He was the preacher of _the crusade_. Next came the shepherd poet, Rosi; Prince Canino’s Secretary, Masi; a young French monk of the order of Conventualists, Dumaine; Generals Durando and Ferrari; the journalist, Sterbini, afterwards so fatally popular; and, of course, the demagogue, Cicerruacho, who had been, at first, enthusiastic in the cause of the Pope, but who now burned for war, and, ere long, imparted to the revolution a character of fitful fanaticism and absurd sympathies. The day was spent in magniloquent addresses, which affected the style of ancient types, urgent exhortations to war, poetical orations, rounds of applause, rapturous demonstrations. The result was, lists for the enrolment of volunteers; the establishment in the different quarters of the city of tables for receiving patriotic offerings, and a threatening demonstration against the Quirinal Palace, where it was intended to force the Pope to bless the colours for the expedition against Austria.

The movement was now beyond all control. The orders of the Pope were treated with a sort of respect, but not obeyed. The spirit of rebellion was abroad, although the people still made a show of reverence. They were no sooner from the presence of the Pontiff than they transgressed his most sacred commands. Pius IX. had distinctly specified, when he authorized the enrolment and the departure of volunteers, that it was his intention and his will that the expedition should be exclusively defensive; that it should protect the territory, but avoid passing the frontier. The leaders, notwithstanding, adding perfidy to rebellion, made use of the Pontiff’s name in order to deceive the people. General Durando had no sooner arrived at Bologna than he issued a proclamation, in which, falsifying the Pope’s wishes, he adduced his authority in order to encourage the war. “Radetsky,” said he, “fights against the cross of Christ. Pius IX. has blessed your swords together with those of Charles Albert. This war of civilization against barbarism is not merely national, it is a Christian war. With the cross and by the cross, we shall be victorious. God wills it.”

Nothing could have tended more completely to compromise the character of the Pontiff. It became necessary, accordingly, to publish the Encyclical Letter of 29th April, 1848. “Men are endeavouring,” said the Holy Father, in this admirable document, “to disseminate suspicions that are injurious to the temporal administration of our States. It is our duty to prevent the scandal that might thus be given to the simple and unreflecting.” He then proceeds to declare that he is resolved to expose clearly and to proclaim loudly the origin of all the facts of his Government. He refers to the memorandum of 1831, which contained the collective counsels of the European Cabinets to the Apostolic See, recommending the necessary reforms. Some of these reforms were adopted by Gregory XVI. Circumstances and the danger of the times caused others to be deferred. Pius IX. considered that it was his duty to complete what his predecessor had begun. He does not disclaim having taken the initiative on certain other points. He had pardoned extensively, and he congratulates himself on this clemency. He repels the calumny which would ascribe to the reforms which he had inaugurated the general movement of Italy towards its enfranchisement. This agitation he attributes to events that occurred elsewhere, and which became facts of overwhelming influence for the whole of Europe. Finally, he protests that he gave no other order to his soldiers than that which required that they should defend the Pontifical territory. He cannot be held responsible for the conduct of those amongst his subjects who allow themselves to be swayed by the example of other Italians. He had given his orders distinctly. They had been transgressed. On the disturbing question of war with Austria, the _Encyclical_ bears the following words:

“They would have us declare war against Austria. We have thought
it our duty to protest formally against such a resolution,
considering that, notwithstanding our unworthiness, we hold on
earth the place of Him who is the Author of peace—the Friend of
charity; and that, faithful to the Divine obligations of our
Apostolate, we embrace all countries, all peoples, all nations, in
a like sentiment of paternal love. Nor can we refrain from
repelling, in the face of all nations, the perfidious assertions
of those who desire that the Roman Pontiff should be the chief of
the government of a new republic, consisting of all the peoples of
Italy.

“Moreover, we earnestly exhort, on this occasion, these same
Italian peoples to keep particularly on their guard against these
treacherous counsels. We conjure them to remain devotedly attached
to their princes, whose affection they have experienced. To act
otherwise would be not only to fail in their duty, but also to
expose Italy to discord and factions. As regards ourselves, we
declare once more that all the thoughts and all the efforts of the
Roman Pontiff tend only to increase every day the kingdom of Jesus
Christ, which is the Church, and not to extend the limits of the
temporal sovereignty, with which Divine Providence has endowed the
Holy See, for the dignity and the free exercise of the sublime
Apostolate.”

No better argument could have been offered in reply to those parties who clamored so unreasonably for war. Nor could the Pontiff have vindicated more eloquently the pacific character of that religion of which he is the Chief and Representative on earth. At the same time, he offered wise and authoritative counsel to the Italian nationalities. It was too late. The voice of friendly warning remained unheard amidst the din of strife and revolution. Need it be added—the cause of liberty perished for a time, victimized by its own excess.

The Socialist party had succeeded in gaining the populace of Rome, and they now constituted a power which prevailed in the city, whatever it might have been in the field. Skilfully managed by its leaders, it gave law to the Pontifical government. The Pope was not, however, powerless. A merely secular sovereign would have been crushed. He would have had no other resource than to abdicate. The Holy Father was not reduced to this extremity. He was still able to repel the unacceptable measures which the Socialists endeavoured to thrust upon him. They and their myrmidons vociferated for war with Austria. The Pope could still say there should be no war, and his people did not engage in the contest. A few among the Roman youth took the field. But, as effeminate as they were ardent, their courage cooled at the first sight of a _barbarian_ camp. They returned to their hearths, and there talked magniloquently of the tented fields which they had traversed, the savage hordes which they had encountered, and the dangers they had escaped. The party succeeded, however, in forcing a ministry on the reluctant Pontiff. Such a thing, when done through the representative body, however unreasonable, does not so much shock our idea of constitutional government. Neither can we approve the conduct of a faction which, whilst it was anything but constitutional, imposed a minister who held its principles, on the prince who had, of his own accord, become a constitutional monarch. Count Mamiani was one of those whom the clemency of Pius IX. had restored to their country, of all the parties thus favored, he alone refused to become bound in honor to the Holy Father never to abuse the favor, but to remain always a good and faithful subject. He was not without ability; was well informed, cool and resolute, but without any fixed principle in politics. He would as readily have set up a Red Republic as a constitutional monarchy. His political conduct was guided more by events and circumstances than by any well-conceived idea of what is right and fitting. He was one of those Italian Liberals who might be compared to the Necker of the French Revolution, whilst Mazzini and his followers were the ultra-radicals—the Robespierres of Roman politics. The Mamiani ministry necessarily arose out of the popular commotions, and was a protest of the excited masses against the Encyclical of 29th April. Its policy was no secret. In the days of popular turmoil they immediately preceded his nomination. Mamiani had declared distinctly in his harangues to the people that no priest should be appointed to any public office; that although Pius IX. should remain at the head of the government, they ought to obtain from him the revocation of his Encyclical of 29th April, and a declaration of war against Austria; that a new expedition should be speedily organized, and that an official bulletin of the war should be published daily. The warlike and revolutionary pronunciamentos, thus pompously made, could not fail to arouse the enthusiasm of the multitude, whose excitement was already so great. In matters of this nature, however, it is more easy to make fine speeches than to act. The popular Tribune was no sooner elevated to the ministry than he came to experience this difficulty. So it was convenient to forget the grand lessons which he had labored so vehemently to impress upon the people. He still, however, insisted, or appeared to insist, on the Austrian war. It may have been necessary for the new minister, in order to maintain his influence over the masses, to announce a war policy. Such policy, nevertheless, was chimerical. It was decidedly opposed by the legitimately-constituted powers of the State—the Sovereign on the one hand, who, by his name, his character, his virtues, his office, was still powerful; and on the other, the representative body. Accordingly, when this body came together in the beginning of June, there was an end to the government of the streets. But there arose new difficulties, and these difficulties the government of the Holy Father diligently studied to overcome. Cardinal Altieri delivered, on the part of the Sovereign Pontiff, an energetic and moving exhortation in support of unity and concord.

At the same time, he expressed his earnest hope that the newly-elected deputies would show their good will by concurring with the ministry in rendering the new adaptation of the constitution compatible with the Pontifical government.

This address, however ineffectual, possessed the merit of being thoroughly constitutional. The same praise cannot be awarded to Count Mamiani’s inaugural oration. Next day, which was the 9th of June, he ascended the Tribune, and there enunciated ideas which belonged more to the ministry in their individual capacity, than as the representatives of their Sovereign. This was supremely unconstitutional, and could only be the result of inexperience. What knowledge could those men have had of a free and national constitution? They ought, at least, to have been guided by the laws of honesty and honor. Who will say that they were so, when they gave out that the opinion which they expressed in favor of war was also that of the Pontiff? They endeavored thus to extend the sanction of a venerated name to designs that were subversive of Pontifical rule. Neither inexperience nor ignorance of constitutions presents any valid excuse, or even palliation of such a proceeding. No doubt they called it policy. It was the basest trickery.

In the hands of honest and judicious ministers the new constitution might have proved successful. So thought many persons who were well informed and competent to form an opinion in regard to so difficult a question. It had also many well-wishers. But for the war agitation, it would, to all appearance, have had a different fate. According to the exaggerated idea of Italian patriotism which prevailed, all true Italians were bound to fight for their country. On the Mamiani ministry devolved the very arduous task of reconciling this warlike spirit with the pacific character of the Pontificate. The Pope, like any other sovereign, had a right, no doubt, to defend himself. But both the theology which guided him and the traditions of his sovereignty forbade him to wage war on any people. Such was the difficulty which it fell to the lot of his ministry to solve. The arguments to which they had recourse, however well meant, were certainly very puerile. The Pope, as such, they insisted, might decide for peace, and condemn the shedding of blood, whilst, as temporal sovereign, he would authorize his ministers to act as should seem to them proper, and they would declare for war. This miserable sophistry only showed the weakness of the government which employed it. The Pontiff could not be expected to act as if he were two distinct persons. Nor whilst his ministers waged war, could he, whose representatives they were, be considered as neutral. For a few months that this ministry remained in office, the Pope continued to save his States by resisting the war-cry in opposition to their wishes. They were constantly at variance with him on this one great topic. His repugnance to war they could neither comprehend nor overcome. Popular demonstrations of the most threatening kind were often made, but to no purpose.

Justum et tenacem propositi virum,
Non civium ardor prava jubentum mente quatit solida.

The Pontiff could not be moved from his firm resolve. The ministry, however, was shaken. With no better stay than sophistry and inconsistency, its weakness became apparent, and, as had been for some time clearly inevitable, it fell.

Before considering further the statesman-like efforts of Pius IX. in the cause of reform, it may not be out of place to review briefly the political opinion of the time. Although all men cannot be expected to accept, especially in many important matters, all the ideas of those distinguished writers, Gioberti, Balbo, D’Azeglio, it would be unjust, nevertheless, to deny them the credit of having imparted new vigor, if not its first impulse, to the cause of reform in Italy. They were not, like so many others, rash and inconsiderate. They desired not to hurry on recklessly to the wished-for goal. They thought it was unwise to aspire, all at once, to the greatest degree of liberty that might be attained. The end in view could be best reached, they conceived, by judicious and well-timed measures of reform, and by such institutions as might be developed at a later period, when the Italian people, unaccustomed as yet to a constitutional _regime_, should be capable of a greater degree of freedom. Nothing more wise can be supposed than this view of educating the people for liberty before bestowing on them the precious boon. Their idea of commencing the work of reform by waging war on Austria does not appear to be so commendable. It was not, surely, the part of prudence, when on the eve of a great and arduous undertaking, to stir up enemies on every side. And this was really what they sought to do by provoking Austrian hostility. The government at Vienna was not inclined to be hostile. It had joined with other powers in recommending reform to the late Pope. And now it would rather have been an ally than an enemy. But the “barbarian” Germans were entirely odious to the Italian people. The power of education ought to have been brought to bear on this same people, if only in order to disabuse their minds of this one noxious prejudice. It had become necessary at length to extend to them the benefits of a political education. And surely the eradication of illiberal ideas would have formed a profitable branch of study.