Chapter X: The Dying Penitent's Disclosure (4)

A burst from the band of silver trumpets over the doorway of the church told us that the holy father was entering. Down the lane through the vast crowd might be seen the cross slowly advancing. Then was heard the voice of the choir of the canons, welcoming the pontiff to the basilica, and then aloft, higher than the mass that filled the church, he was seen slowly borne on in the curule chair, robed in a rich cope of white silk, heavy with gold embroidery and wearing the tiara. Slowly advancing, and giving his blessing to the multitudes on either side, he reached the chapel of the blessed sacrament, descended from the chair, and, with the cardinals accompanying him, and his other attendants, knelt for some moments in adoration. Then, rising, he ascended the chair again, and the procession pursued its way through the crowd, now more closely packed than ever, to the sanctuary. Here the pontiff descended again to his robing throne at the epistle side of the altar. The choir commence the chanting of the psalms of terce and sext. Meanwhile the pontiff was robed for mass, and the cardinals, the patriarchs, and primates, and a certain number of the archbishops and bishops, as representatives of their brethren, paid him the usual homage. This over, solemn high-mass commenced in the usual form. After incensing the altar at the Introit, he passed to his regular throne at the end of the sanctuary, just opposite the altar, and fully one hundred and twenty feet distant. There beside him stood a cardinal priest and two cardinal deacons; the senator of Rome, in his official robes and cloak of yellow and gold, with his pages of similar costume, the _conservatori_ of the city; and on the steps, around the throne, stood, or were seated, some twenty assistant bishops; on either side six lines of seats stretching down to the altar were occupied by the cardinals and by a great mass of prelates, Latin and Oriental, all in the richest vestments appropriate to this the greatest festival of the church.

Never was solemn high-mass celebrated with more splendor in St. Peter's than on this Easter-Sunday. To be privileged to assist at it amply repays many a one for all the time and all the fatigue of a journey to Rome. The holy father officiates with a fervor and intense devotion which lights up his countenance. The venerable Cardinal Patrizi, who stood by his side, was the very personification of sacerdotal dignity. The mitred prelates in their places, many of them gray-haired or bald, or bent with age and labors, seemed radiant with the holy joy of the occasion. The masters of ceremony and the attendants moved gravely and reverently, as their duties called them from one part of the sanctuary to another. Even the vast crowd of forty or fifty thousand that filled the church were penetrated with reverent awe, and sank almost into perfect stillness. Nothing was heard save the noble voice of the sovereign pontiff chanting the prayers, and the responding strains of the choir. Yet, in comparison with the music we had heard during the week, the Gloria and the Creed, super-excellent though they were, seemed in some measure to belong to the earth. After the subdeacon had sung the epistle in Latin, a Greek subdeacon, in the robes of his Greek rite, sung it in Greek; and similarly a Greek deacon followed the Latin deacon in chanting the Gospel. A musical antiquarian would have found in the peculiar modulations of their chant traces of the ancient eastern style of music, going back, perhaps, in those unchanging people to the days of Greek classic civilization. The most impressive moment in the mass was certainly the elevation. At a signal, you heard the voice of the officers giving the command, and the thud on the floor as the companies of soldiers simultaneously grounded arms, and every man sank on one knee. The Noble Guard, too, sank on one knee, uncovered their heads, and saluted with their bright swords. The Swiss Guard stood erect and presented arms. In the sanctuary, of course, all were kneeling. There was a sound like the rushing of a wind through a pine forest as the vast multitude strove to sink down too. And then came a dead silence over all. As the pontiff raised aloft the sacred host, turning toward every quarter of the church, there came, faint, and soft, and solemn at first, and gradually stronger and more emphatic, the thrilling tones of those silver trumpets placed over the doorway and out of sight. Their slow, majestic melody, and their rich accords, and the repeated and prolonged echoes of those notes of almost supernatural sweetness, from chapels and nave and dome, produced an effect that was marvellously impressive. As if fascinated by them, no one moved from his kneeling position, or even raised his head, until the last note of the strain and its receding echoes had died away, and the choir went on to intone the "Benedictus qui venit."

At the conclusion of the mass, the pope unrobed, put on his cope and tiara again, and retired in the same manner as he had entered. At once the vast mass of people began to pour forth from St. Peter's, to make their way to the front; for the pope would soon give his solemn benediction _urbi et orbi_--to Rome and to the world. We have already described the square before St. Peter's. It is about fifteen hundred feet long, and averages nearly four hundred feet in breadth. All during the mass it had been gradually filling up, and when now new torrents of men came pouring out of the church, the whole place became so packed that one standing on the lofty colonnade on the side of the Vatican and looking down on the square, perceived that only here and there even small portions of the ground remained visible, such was the closeness with which men and women stood packed together. Especially was this true on the vast esplanades more immediately before the church, and the broad steps leading up to it. Here were gathered all who wished to be as near as possible to the pope during the blessing, or to get a sight from this elevation of the vast basin of the square thoroughly packed with human beings. Nor was the multitude confined to the square alone; on the colonnades, on either hand, stood thousands and thousands, as in favored positions. Every window and balcony looking out on the square was thronged. Every roof had its group, and away down the two streets leading up the square from the bridge of St. Angelo the crowd appeared equally dense. A military man present, whose experience had qualified him to estimate large masses, judged that there were present at least one hundred and twenty thousand persons. Mingling among them, you heard every language of Europe, many of Asia, and, it was said, half a dozen from Africa. It was a representation of the world which the pontiff would bless. From all this multitude, standing in the bright sunlight, which a north wind rendered not disagreeable, came up a roar, as it were, of rushing waters, mingling the hum of so many voices with the blaring of an occasional military trumpet from the troops, and the neighing of horses.

Soon the regimental bands are heard to salute the approach of his holiness, invisible as yet to the crowd. A score of mitred prelates appear at the large Balcony of the Blessing. They look out in wonder and admiration at the scene below, and retire to allow another score to view it; a third group does the same. These are the bishops who have accompanied the pope from the sanctuary to the Vatican, and from the Vatican hither. Of the others, some are down on the square with the people, more are on the colonnades, in places reserved for them. After the bishops, the cardinals are seen to fill the balcony once or twice, and then the pontiff himself comes in view, borne forward on his curule chair. He is out on the loggia itself. Ordinarily, besides the ornamental drapery which we see decorating the columns and architrave and tympanum, and the railing in front, there projects overhead a large awning to screen him from the sun. But to-day the north wind does not allow it to stand. Fortunately, the weather hardly calls for it. He is scarcely inconvenienced by the rays of the sun as they are reflected from his rich gold-cloth mitre, studded with precious stones, and from the massive gold embroidery of his cope. The military music has ceased, and there is the silence of awe and of earnest expectation. Those that are near hear the tones of some one chanting the Confiteor beside the pontiff. Two bishops hold the large missal from which he chants the prayers in a clear, rotund, and musical voice. The people are kneeling, and twice is heard the response of united thousands--_Amen_. The book is laid aside. The pontiff rises and stands erect, looks up to heaven, and, with a majestic sweeping motion, opens wide his arms and invokes on all the blessing of heaven. His voice is given forth in its very fullest power, and even at the furthermost end of the square the kneeling crowd sign themselves with the sign of the cross as they distinctly hear the words: "_Benedictio Dei omnipotentis, Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, descendat super vos et maneat semper." May the blessing of Almighty God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, descend upon you and abide with you for ever._ And there came up a swelling _Amen_. As the pontiff sank back on his chair, the kneeling crowd arose, and there burst forth from every portion of it a loud acclaim of _vivas_, of good wishes, of acclamations, that died away only as the pontiff retired from view, and as the cannon of St. Angelo commenced the national salute.

It was a ceremony fitted by its majesty and its magnificence to close the grand ceremonies of Easter-Week. Art cannot do justice to it. Painting, tied down by the laws of perspective, cannot portray what the eye sees on every side, and does not pretend to give the words of solemn prayer, of impressive benediction, and the outburst of acclamation which we heard. Words must fail to convey the emotions that filled thousands of hearts that day, at the sublime and moving spectacle. It was a sensible testimony of the holiness, the authority, and the unity of the church of Christ, a testimony to which not even an unbeliever, if present, could remain indifferent.

It took nearly two hours for that crowd to depart. The cardinals, royalty, the nobles, and many of the bishops in carriages, made their way, at a snail's pace, along the streets leading to the old Roman Elian Bridge across the Tiber, now known as the Bridge of St. Angelo. They could scarcely get on as fast as the foot passengers that filled the street on either side up to the very wheels of the single line of carriages allowed. Others, more in a hurry, went out by the Porta Angelica, so as to cross the Tiber at the Ponte Molle, two miles north of the city, and then reënter by the Porta del Popolo; and others again turned southward, following the streets along the river, and crossing it at the suspension bridge, or at some of the bridges lower down. And so, within two hours, all reached their homes without a single accident, without a single quarrel, without a single call for the interference of the police.

But it was for many of them only to return within a few hours. On Easter-Sunday evening occurs the grand illumination of the façade and dome of St. Peter's. As the shades of evening fell on the city, silvery lights began to mark the lofty cross, and to glow along the huge ribs of the mighty dome, and to map out the lines of the windows and doors, the columns, and cornices, and tympanums, and architectural ornaments and projections, to illuminate the clock-faces and the coats of arms above them, to sparkle along the minor domes, and to stretch away on either side in regular lines along each colonnade, diffusing everywhere a gentle light, and bringing into prominence, with a fairy-like witchery, all the lines of the pile before you. There are about five thousand two hundred of these lights. They are made of broad shallow plates of metal or earthenware, containing a certain amount of prepared tallow and a lighted wick, and surrounded by a cylinder of paper, colored and figured. From this lantern, as it may be called, the light comes diffused, subdued, and white; hence the Romans call this the _silver_ illumination. The square was filled, though by no means as in the morning, with crowds looking, wondering, and admiring. At a quarter past eight, the large bell of St. Peter's began to chime. As the very first stroke came to our ears, a tiny blaze was seen to dart up a guiding wire to the top of the lofty cross, and a clear bright flame burst forth, glowed on the summit; downward the tiny flame flew, lighting two others on each arm of the cross, and then downward lighting still others along the stem. Invisible hands caused other such little flames to flit rapidly hither and thither, like glow-moths, all along the dome, the front, and both colonnades around the square. Wherever they seemed to alight for an instant, there a bright flame sprung into existence. In just twenty-three seconds, and long before the clock had half struck the hour, eight hundred of those bright yellow flames had almost eclipsed the first ones, and the building stood forth in the _golden_ illumination. It was a sight, once seen, never to be forgotten. Whoever first conceived the idea of this instantaneous change of illumination was a poet in the truest sense of the word.

On Easter-Monday evening, the festive celebrations were continued by giving the _Girandola_, or exhibition of fireworks on Monte Pincio. On entering Rome from the north, by the Porta del Popolo, as before the days of the railways the great majority of travellers did, you find yourself at once in a large oval square, called the Piazza del Popolo, in the centre of which stands an ancient Egyptian obelisk, its base surrounded by modern Egyptian lions and fountains. On the south side, three streets radiate into the heart of the city. For a wonder, they are straight; you may look down the central one, the Corso, for full three quarters of a mile. Massive palatial buildings stand around this square; to the west there rises a line of lofty evergreen cypresses, near the Tiber. Through the interstices of their branches and dark foliage you may catch glimpses of St. Peter's. On the east rises the Pincian Hill, the _Mons Hortulanus_ of the olden Romans, then outside and to the north of the city, now within its walls, and forming its beautiful promenade. The hill is about one hundred and fifty feet high, and toward the square is quite steep. Broad carriage-ways, sweeping from right to left, in zigzag courses, give access from the square to the promenade above; and immense walls of masonry, with arches and porticos, and columns, rising in stories, back of and above each other, prevent any landslides, and give an architectural finish to the whole hill-face which the trees and exotic plants growing in the spaces between only embellish and do not mar.

For ten days before Easter-Monday, the public had been excluded from the promenade. As they passed through the square, they could see a lofty scaffolding in the process of erection on the brow of the hill, and other scaffolding interlacing with the architecture of its side. The opposite oval curve of the square was occupied by a line of covered galleries of wood erected for the occasion. On this Monday night, the air was balmy, the sky clear but moonless. At least twenty-five thousand spectators stood in the square. The Roman municipality had assigned the galleries to the bishops and some thousands of other invited guests. Four military bands whiled away the time of expectation with sweet music. At last the appointed hour struck on a neighboring church clock, and a rocket shot up into the air, the sound of its explosion was reëchoed from the mouth of a cannon; and the pyrotechnic display at once commenced. The art of pyrotechnics has been cultivated at Rome with more skill and good taste than in any other city of Europe. We might, indeed, expect this from a people trained as no other is to recognize and appreciate the beautiful and fitting in form and color. The grand features and characteristics of those displays were settled centuries ago. They say that Michael Angelo himself did much toward perfecting them. On each occasion some able artist gives the specialties to be introduced, always in subservience to those general principles. This year, the plan was given by the distinguished architect Vespiniani. At one time, the entire face of the hill and the scaffolding was ablaze with lines of variegated light, representing a vast mass of buildings with towers and cupola, and gigantic gateways, on which there streamed down from above continuous beams of still brighter and purer light. In the distance stood the figure of an apostle, and by him an angel with outstretched arm; and we understood that we were looking at the celestial Jerusalem, revealed in vision to the apostle in Patmos. We marked the gates of precious stones, perfectly represented by the various hues of fire, and the foundation stones bearing in letters of light the names of the apostles. Too soon it seemed to fade away, but only to be renewed with change of colors. For a while we might still study it. Again it faded, again was renewed with still another exquisite arrangement of colors, and then faded away into darkness. Then figure after figure burst out afterward, without any delay or tedious waiting. At one time, a gigantic volcano, amid the booming of cannon that caused the ground to tremble beneath the foot, belched forth thousands of burning rockets, which ascended in streaks of fire and burst over head, seeming to fill the sky with myriads and myriads of many-colored falling stars. At another, the whole hill-side stood before us as a group of majestic triumphal arches, decorated with immense wreaths of roses, lilies, dahlias, and bright-colored flowers. In a niche was seen the bust of the pontiff surrounded by a brilliant frame, and below we read the inscription, in which _Senatus Populusque Romarins_, the municipal authorities of the city, offered to Pius IX. their homage and congratulations on the near approach of the twenty-fifth year of his pontificate. All the minor devices of pyrotechnics, of course, abounded. When, after three quarters of an hour, the brilliant and almost continuous display seemed to be closed, a little fiery messenger started from the hill-side, on an invisible wire, to the summit of the obelisk in the centre of the square, and lighted a bright flame on its point. Soon lines of flame decorated its sides. From its base ten little messengers started out, not very far over the heads of the people, reaching as many pillars around the square, and lighting up simultaneously ten bright Bengal lights. It was as if day had come back to us. The lights on the pillars changed from white to purple and red, and other messengers, this time seemingly still nearer the heads, rushed madly back to the central obelisk and clothed that too in many-colored fire. At last, from obelisk and pillars alike shot up rocket after rocket, bursting loudly in the air, and for the last time casting their bright hues of white, and scarlet, and orange, and green, and purple on the hill-side, the palaces and hotels around, and on the crowd beneath in the square. All was over, and at an early hour the mighty mass was slowly moving like living torrents down the three streets leading from the square into the city. So great was the crowd that it was full half an hour before the careful police would allow the carriages, which filled the by-streets in the neighborhood, to enter those thoroughfares. Gorgeous and artistic as the spectacle was, it had not cost beyond a thousand dollars.

On Tuesday, the fathers were at work again. A general congregation was held, as usual. The last speeches were spoken, the last explanations were heard; the last touches were given to the _schema_, and the last vote was taken, and every thing was ready to declare and promulgate the _schema_, as a dogmatic constitution or decree of faith, in the next public session, which, it was announced, would be held on Low-Sunday.

The _Girandola_ on Monday night was the celebration of the municipal authorities. On Wednesday night, the people had theirs--a general illumination of the city. The proper day would have been April 12th, the anniversary of the pope's return from Gaeta, and also of his wondrous escape from all injury in an accident by the falling of a floor at St. Agnes, outside the walls, something like the late disastrous one in the capital at Richmond. Though many were injured, cardinals, priests, and laymen, none, we believed, were killed. But the chair in which the pontiff was seated came down with him through the breaking floor without even being overturned, and he was preserved from even the slightest shock. Since then, he ever keeps that day religiously sacred, and the Romans have fallen into the custom of celebrating it by a general illumination of the city. This year, as the day fell in Holy-Week, the celebration was put off until the 20th of April, Wednesday in Easter-Week.

Each householder illuminated his own building with lines of _lampioni_, as they call the plates of earthenware or metal, filled with tallow and a lighted wick, and surrounded by a cylindrical screen of colored paper, through which the light shines as a huge diamond. The wealthier ones affected some ornamental design in a profuser arrangement of such lights. Some used multitudinous cups of colored glass, holding oil, and a lighted taper swimming in it. In each parish, the inhabitants clubbed together to erect one or more special designs of superior artistic taste and brilliancy. The city was all aglow; nobody save the sick staid at home; the streets were filled with streams of people all moving in the same direction; for some one had, with happy thoughtfulness, got up an itinerary or route guide through the city, and all seemed to follow it. It took three hours to walk through the choice parts of the fairy scene, if you went on foot; and more, if you took a carriage. The lines of mellow light, faintly shining from windows and cornices along all the buildings, even the poorest, in the narrowest, and darkest, and crookedest streets of Rome, broken occasionally by a brighter burst from the doorway of some shop well illuminated in the interior; the blaze that rose from the lights more numerous and brighter in the squares, or shone from the fronts of wealthier and larger houses and palaces, from the arches of triumph, and from the temples of Gothic or classic style, constructed of wood and canvas, but to which painting and colored lights lent for the hour a fairy beauty like that of Aladdin's palace; every thing united to charm, to dazzle, and to bewilder the spectator. The pope had gone that afternoon as usual to St. Agnes, to be present at a Te Deum for his escape, and returned only after night-fall. As he reached the square of St. Peter's, a number of rockets shot up into the air, and burst into a thousand stars of every hue. It was a signal. Instantaneously the colonnades on either side and the front of the church were all lighted up with Bengal fires. The columns in front and the walls glowed in a white or golden light; the interior recesses were made mysterious in a rich purple. After a few moments, the tints were interchanged; the bright purple light was in front, and seemed to change the buff travertino into alabaster and precious marbles, and the trembling tints of white and light gold within imparted a supernatural beauty to the interior recesses. Change followed change, until the pope, amid the enthusiastic acclamations of the vast crowd, moved on, and at last disappeared in the rear of St. Peter's, to reach the grand gateway of the Vatican palace. The crowd too passed elsewhere, to wander along streets converted into arcades, roofed by lines of soft and many-colored lights; to admire the triumphal arches, where in niches the Saviour stood as "the way, the truth, and the life," attended by the Evangelists or the Blessed Virgin Mother, to whom David and Isaiah bore testimony; to look on the cross of jewelled light shining in the dark recesses of the front of the Pantheon, or to examine and criticise the temples of light at the Minerva, the Santi Apostoli, or Monticilorio; to rest themselves at times, listening to the music of the bands, which ever and anon they encountered; to look with delight on the illuminated steamers and barges on the river, bearing (for the nonce) the flags of every Christian nation, and to study the play of light reflected on the rippling surface of old Father Tiber; to wonder at the obelisks converted into columns of fire, or the grand stairway of Trinità di Monte, made a mountain of light, and a glorious grand stairway seeming to reach the heavens, or to watch the changing colors of Bengal fires, illuming the statues of old Neptune and his tritons and sea-horses, and the wild cavernous rocks and dashing waters of the exquisite fountain of Trevi; or, after all, to stroll through some square, where yellow gravelly walks led you between beds of green herbage, where tiny fountains were bubbling, where trees were laden with fruits of light, and where flowers filled the air with sweet perfumes. All Rome was in the streets, and in their orderly, calm, and dignified way enjoyed the scene hugely. Not a loud voice or an angry word was heard, not the slightest symptom of intoxication was seen. Everywhere the hum of pleasant talk of friends and family groups arose, made sparkling and brilliant to the ear, rather than interrupted, by the low but hearty and silvery laughs of men, of women, and of delighted children. The Romans were out, all in their best apparel; and not they alone, but thousands from the villages of the campagnas and the neighboring mountains, in their bright colors and quaint mediæval traditional costumes. All these were a study to the sixty thousand visitors then passing through the streets of Rome, not less interesting and instructive than the gorgeous illumination itself. Among those sixty thousand strangers there was but one decision--that nowhere else in Europe could there be an illumination so spontaneous, so general, so perfectly artistic, so exquisitely beautiful and grand as this was, and nowhere else could such a vast crowd walk these narrow streets for hours with such perfect order, such good humor, and such universal courtesy.

There were other celebrations during these two weeks, both ecclesiastical and social, but it will suffice to have spoken of the chief ones. The repositories or sepulchres of Holy-Thursday evening, the services of the three hours' agony in many churches about noon on Good-Friday, and the sermons and way of the cross in the ruins of the Colosseum, the scene of so many martyrdoms, on Good-Friday afternoon, would all deserve special mention; but we have not the space, and must pass on to the third public session of the Vatican Council.

This, as we have already stated, was fixed for Sunday, April 26th--Low-Sunday. At nine A.M., the cardinals, patriarchs, primates, archbishops, bishops, mitred abbots, and superiors of religious orders were in their places. The council hall had been restored to the original form in which we had seen it on the day of the opening. All the changes to fit it for the discussions of the general congregations were removed. The Noble Guard and the Knights of Malta were on duty as custodians of the assembly. Cardinal Bilio celebrated a pontifical high-mass, as had been done in each of the previous sessions. At its termination, the Gospel was enthroned on the altar. The holy father intoned the "Veni Creator Spiritus," and the choir and united assembly of prelates sung the strophes alternately to the conclusion of that sublime hymn. The pontiff chanted the opening prayers, and all knelt when the litany of the saints was intoned in the varied and well-known antique melodies of Gregorian chant. At the proper place, the pontiff chanted the special supplications for a blessing on the council, and the chanters and the assembly, and, in fact, thousands of the audience, joined in the swelling responses. The effect seemed even to surpass that which we described in our first article, giving an account of the opening of the council. Other prayers followed, prescribed by the ritual. At their conclusion, the special work of this session commenced.

According to the olden time ritual of councils, all in the hall, not belonging strictly to the council, should at this point be sent away, and the gates should be closed, that in their voting the fathers might be free from all outside influence, and each might speak his mind, unswayed by fear or favor. But if, in stormier times, when clamorous mobs might invade a council hall, such precautions were necessary, here, to-day, they are certainly unnecessary. There is no need to close the wide portals against these thousands and tens of thousands who have gathered to look with reverence and rapture on this venerable assembly. Let the doors then stand open to their widest extent, that all may see.

And it was a scene worth coming, as many had done, across oceans and mountains to look on. The pillars and walls of the noble hall were rich with appropriate paintings, with mosaics, and statuary, and marbles. At the furthest end, on his elevated seat, sat the venerated sovereign pontiff, bearing on his head a precious mitre, glittering with jewels, and wearing a cope rich with massive golden embroidery. On either hand sat the venerable cardinals, arrayed in white mitres, and wearing their richest robes of office. In front of them sat the patriarchs, mostly easterns, in the rich and bright-colored robes of their respective rites, and wearing tiaras radiant with brilliants and jewelry. Down either side of the hall ran the manifold lines of primates, archbishops, bishops, and other prelates, all in white mitres, and in copes of red lama; all save the oriental prelates, who wear many-colored copes and vestments, and rich tiaras, ever catching the eye of the spectator as they sat scattered here and there in that crowd, and excepting also the heads of religious orders, who wear each his appropriate dress of white, or of black, or of brown, or mingle these colors together. The contrast and play of various colors in all these vestments give a brilliancy to the whole scene, much beyond what the uniform white of the first two sessions had yielded.

But what mattered the color of their vestments, when one considered the venerable forms of the bishops themselves. They sat still, and almost as motionless as so many marble statues. Now and then some aged prelate, with bald head and snow-white locks, would lay aside for a few moments the heavy mitre, that perhaps was pressing his aged brows too heavily. All else seemed motionless. Their countenances, composed and thoughtful, told how thoroughly they, at least, were impressed with the importance and the solemnity of their work.

In the middle stood the altar, rich and simple, on which lay enthroned the open book of the Gospels. Near by stood the light and lofty pulpit of dark wood.

Into this pulpit now ascended Monsignor Valenziani, Bishop of Fabriano and Matelica, one of the assistant secretaries, and in a voice remarkable for its strength and distinctness, and not less so for its endurance, read with most appropriate emphasis, and with the musical intonations of a cultivated Italian voice, the entire _Dogmatic Constitution_, from the beginning to the end. It occupied just three quarters of an hour.

At the conclusion he asked, "Most eminent and most reverend fathers, do you approve of the canons and decrees contained in this constitution?"

He descended from the pulpit, and Monsignor Jacobini, another assistant secretary took his place, to call for the votes of the fathers, one by one.

"The Most Eminent Constantine Cardinal Patrizi, Bishop of Porto and Santa Rufina!"

The venerable cardinal arose in his place. We heard his answer, PLACET;--_I approve_. An usher standing near him repeated, _Placet_; a second one on the right hand side repeated, _Placet_; a third on the other side repeated aloud, _Placet_.

"The Most Eminent Aloysius Cardinal Amat, Bishop of Palestrina!" The aged cardinal rose slowly, and in a feeble voice replied, PLACET. And from the ushers again we heard echoing through the hall, _Placet! Placet! Placet!_

Thus there could be no mistake as to the vote, and not only the notaries but all who wished could keep a correct tally.

Cardinal after cardinal was thus called in order and voted; then the patriarchs, each one of whom, rising, declared his vote, and the ushers repeated it loudly. _Placet! Placet! Placet!_

Then on through the primates, the archbishops, and bishops, the mitred abbots, and the heads of religious orders, admitted to the right of suffrage. Where a vote was given, the three ushers invariably repeated it. Sometimes when a name was called the answer was given, ABEST--_he is absent_. In all, six hundred and sixty-seven votes were cast, all of them in approval, not a single one in the negative. Not a few of the bishops had obtained leave to go to their dioceses for the Holy-Week and the Easter festivities, and had not yet been able to return to the council. We knew of one who, after two weeks of hard work at home, had travelled all Saturday night, on the train, and had reached Rome only at nine A.M. Sunday morning. He had at once said mass privately in the nearest convenient chapel, and, without waiting for even the slightest refreshment, had hurried to St. Peter's, that he might take his place among his brethren and record his "_Placet_." The whole form of voting occupied about two hours. It was, in truth, a solemn and most impressive scene. There was a pause at the end, while the notaries counted up the votes, and declared the result. This done, the pope spoke aloud, "_The canons and decrees contained in this constitution, having been approved by all the fathers, without a single dissentient, we, with the approbation of this holy council, define them, as they have been read, and by our apostolic authority we confirm them_." It was the official sanction sealing their force and truth.

The pontiff paused for a moment, evidently struggling with the emotions of his heart, and then continued in an impromptu address in Latin, which we caught as follows:

"Most reverend brethren, you see how good and sweet it is to
walk together in agreement in the house of the Lord. Walk thus
ever; and as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ on this day said
to his apostles, PEACE, I, his unworthy vicar, say unto you in
his name, PEACE. Peace, as you know, casteth but fear. Peace,
as you know, closes our ears to words of evil. May that peace
accompany you all the days of your life. May it console you and
give you strength in death. May it be to you everlasting joy in
heaven."

The bishops were moved, many of them to tears, by the dignity and the paternal affection with which the simple words came from his heart. He was himself deeply moved.

Other prayers were chanted. The pontifical blessing was given, and the pope intoned the Te Deum. The choir, the bishops, and the thousands of priests and laity in the church, who had looked on this solemn act of the church just executed, joined in with their whole heart and soul, and swelled the grand Ambrosian melody, making it roll throughout the church, and calling echoes from every chapel and arch, from nave and transept and dome. And with this concordant song of gratitude to God, the third session of the Vatican Council was appropriately closed.

The pontiff departed, accompanied by some of the cardinals, by the senator and _conservatori_ of Rome, the masters-at-arms of the council, and the attendants of his pontifical household. Soon the cardinals and prelates moved slowly from the council hall into the vast church, unrobed in a chapel set apart for the purpose, and wended their way homeward, and the third public session of the council was over.

We were able, in our last number, to present to our readers the original text, in Latin, of the constitution promulgated in this session, and also a correct translation of it in English. It will be seen on examining the subjects treated of, and by the absolute unanimity of the votes given, how far astray "our own correspondents" were, both as to the matters under discussion in the council, and as to the divisions which they imagined to exist among the fathers.

Since Low-Sunday, the general congregations have resumed their sittings, and the committees on matters of faith and on matters of discipline have been busily engaged. Matters from the latter committee have already been rediscussed, and some preliminary votes have been taken. It is understood that ere long the committee on matters of faith will report back to the general congregation another _schema_ on the church, in the course of which the question of the infallibility of the pope, of which so much has been written and said, will at last come formally before the council. Should this be the case, we may be sure the whole subject will be examined with the care and research which its importance requires, and which the dignity and the learning of the fathers demand. The result will be that decision to which the Holy Spirit of truth will guide them.

ROME, May 8, 1870.

NOTE.--We may add to this announcement of our correspondent, that the discussion of the _schema_ on infallibility was begun on the 10th of May, and is expected to be finished before the 29th of June.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

AN AMERICAN POLITICAL ECONOMY; INCLUDING STRICTURES ON THE
MANAGEMENT OF THE FINANCES SINCE 1861. With a chart showing the
fluctuations in the price of gold. By Francis Bowen, Professor
of Natural Religion, Moral Philosophy, and Civil Polity in
Harvard College. New York: Scribner & Co. 1870. 16mo, pp. 495.

We took up this book with an old prejudice against the author of some thirty years standing, as well as with an inveterate dislike to almost all works on political economy, which it has ever been our misfortune to read; but we have been pleased and instructed by it. Professor Bowen is not a philosopher; has not, properly speaking, a scientific mind; but he has great practical good sense, and a wide, and we should say a thorough, acquaintance with the facts of his subject, and the ability to set them forth in a clear and strong light. He is no system-monger, is wedded to no system of his own, and aims to look at facts as they are. It is a great merit of his book that it recognizes that each country should have its own political economy growing out of and adapted to its peculiar wants and circumstances. Free-trade or protection may be for the interest of one country and not for another, and no universal rule as to either can be laid down.

The author, a follower of John Locke in philosophy, is of course not good at definitions, and his definition of wealth is rather clumsy, but he contrives as he proceeds to tell us what it is. All wealth is the product of labor, and a man is wealthy just in proportion to his ability to purchase or command the labor of others. Hence the absurdity of those theorists who demand an equal division of property or an equality of wealth, as well as of the legislation that seeks to ameliorate the condition of the poor by making them rich, or furnishing them with facilities for becoming rich. If all were wealthy, all would be poor; for then no one would sell his labor; and if no one would sell his labor, no one could buy labor, and then every man would be reduced to the necessity of doing every thing for himself. All men have equal natural rights as men, and this is all the equality that is practicable or desirable.

The reader will find the professor has treated the question of banks with rare lucidity, as also that of paper money, and even money itself. But the portion of his work that most interests us is his strictures on the management of our national finances since 1861, and especially Mr. Secretary Chase's pet scheme of national banks. According to his showing, it would exceed the wit of man to invent and follow a more ruinous financial policy than that pursued by the national administration since the inauguration of the late Mr. Lincoln as President. He shows that the Northern States could have met and actually did pay enough during the civil war to meet all the expenses of the war without contracting a cent of debt, and consequently the two or three thousand millions of dollars' debt actually contracted was solely due to our national financiers. There never was any need of resorting to any thing more than temporary national loans if the government had had in the beginning the wisdom or the courage, or indeed the confidence in the people, to adopt the scale of taxation subsequently adopted. There never was any need of compelling the banks to suspend specie payments, or for it to issue legal-tender notes, but what was created by its own blunders. The people could have paid as they went for the war, and been richer at its close than at its beginning.

As if creating paper money for all purposes except customs dues, demeritizing gold and silver, depreciating the currency, and enormously inflating the prices of all commodities, was not enough, it must needs create the national banks, and make them a free gift of $300,000,000 of circulation, and that without the least relief to the government, but to its great embarrassment, still more inflating the currency, and running up gold to a premium of 285. Even since the war it continues its blunders, and does all in its power to increase the burdens of the people. It seems from the first to have proceeded on the principle of securing the support of the people by enabling individuals to amass huge fortunes at the public expense. Why, if it must have national banks, need it make them banks of circulation? Why not compel them to bank on its own legal tenders instead of their own notes, and thus save to itself the profits on $300,000,000 of circulation? It would have run no risk it does not now run; for the treasury is responsible for the redemption of the notes of the national banks, and the security it holds from them would be perfectly illusory in any monetary crisis. But we have no room to proceed. We, however, recommend this part of the work to the serious consideration of our national financiers. There are in political economy deeper problems than Professor Bowen has grasped; but upon the whole, he has given us the most sensible work on the subject that we are acquainted with.

* * * * *

THE DAY SANCTIFIED. Being Meditations and Spiritual Readings
for daily use. London: Burns, Oates & Co. 1870. Pp. 318. For
sale by the Catholic Publication Society, 9 Warren Street, New
York.

This volume consists of a series of meditations drawn from the Holy Scripture and modern spiritual writers. It is not, however, a book containing meditations for the entire year, as one would be led to imagine from its title. The number of meditations is only ninety. So it is supposed--and the plan is a good one--that the subjects will be selected according to each one's devotion. A word may very fitly be said in praise of the composition of these spiritual readings. They appear to be really addressed to the reader. Moreover, they contain no foolish exaggerations. These two merits are not unfrequently wanting in books of meditations. The present volume relates to the duties and doctrines of our holy faith. Another series is promised, which will contain suitable meditations for the ecclesiastical year, and the feasts of the Blessed Virgin and the saints.

* * * * *

CÆSAR'S COMMENTARIES ON THE GALLIC WAR. With Notes, Dictionary,
and Map. By Albert Harkness, LL.D., Professor in Brown
University. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

This edition of Cæsar's _Commentaries_ is altogether the best we remember to have seen. Besides the advantage of a copious and accurate dictionary, the notes are ample without being extravagant. There is an introductory sketch of the great Roman's life, which is interesting, and the map of Gaul is excellent.

* * * * *

REFLECTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR HOLY COMMUNION. London: Burns,
Oates & Co. 1869. Pp. 498. New York: For sale by the Catholic
Publication Society, 9 Warren Street.

When Archbishop Manning says that "this volume is a valuable addition to our books of devotion," it needs no further recommendation. But, in addition to his opinion, it comes to us sanctioned by the approbation of the Archbishop of Lyons, and the Bishops of Aix, Nancy, and Redez. Still, we will not forbear to give it our mite of praise. The book abounds in beautiful methods of learning to love Jesus in his sacrament of love. Yet the meditations are not merely beautiful, they are also very practical. In our reading, we have never met so touching and so useful a thanksgiving, after communion, as the exercise which, in this volume, is called "The Hem of our Lord's Garment." If good use is made of the suggestions and reflections in these pages, they will certainly accomplish their author's intention of "gently drawing the soul entirely to our Lord."

* * * * *

A TREATISE ON THE CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE OF MARRIAGE. By Hugh Davey
Evans, LL.D. With a Biographical Sketch of the Author, etc. New
York: Hurd & Houghton. 1870.

Dr. Evans was a friend of ours in days long gone by, and we used frequently to contribute articles to the magazine which he edited, one of which, entitled "Dissent and Semi-Dissent," has been incorrectly attributed to him by his biographer. We have always cherished a sentiment of respect for the quaint and learned old gentleman, whose portrait has been drawn in the brief biographical sketch prefixed to this volume with singular fidelity and accuracy. Dr. Evans was a regular old-fashioned High-Churchman, after the model of Hooker and Wilson, and consequently imbued with many soundly Catholic principles and sentiments, mixed up with many other incongruous English and Protestant prejudices. In the work before us, he has with masterly learning and ability defended the Christian doctrine of marriage in a manner which is in the greater number of essential respects sound and satisfactory. Unfortunately, having only his own individual judgment as his tribunal of last resort in defining Catholic doctrine, instead of councils and popes, he has sanctioned one most fatal error, the lawfulness of divorces _a vinculo_, and subsequent remarriage, in the case of adultery on the part of the wife. We are glad to see that his editor dissents from him in this respect, and has republished the admirable little treatise of Bishop Andrews sustaining the opposite side of the question. It is a wonder that any person can fail to see how utterly worthless is any pretended church authority which leaves such an essential matter as this open to dispute. We are glad to see works circulated among Protestants which advocate any sound principles on this subject, even though they are incomplete. They have much more influence than the works of Catholic authors; they form a "serviceable breakwater" to the inflowing tide of corruption, and prepare the way for the eventual triumph of the Catholic doctrine and law, which alone can save society from dissolution. The _Atlantic Monthly_, which is the favorite magazine of a very large class of the most highly cultivated minds in New England and in other portions of the United States, has descended to the lowest level of the free-love doctrine, and thus fixed on itself the seal of that condemnation which it has been earning for a long time past, as the most dangerous and corrupting of all our literary periodicals. We hope that it will be banished hereafter from every Catholic family, and receive no more commendatory notices from the Catholic press. We are glad to see the strong and manly refutation of its immoral nonsense given by _The Nation_, although its argument fails of the sanction which is alone sufficient to compel assent, and efficiently control legislation and public opinion in a matter where so severe a curb is placed on passion and liberty to follow the individual will. We are happy to welcome such sensible and valuable aid to the cause of social morality as that given by _The Nation_, but we must disown entirely another champion of monogamy, to wit, the Methodist preacher, Dr. Newman, as more dangerous than an open antagonist. We see that this conspicuous declaimer intends to maintain in a public discussion, to be held in the Mormon temple, the irreligious and scandalous thesis that the holy patriarchs of the old law who practised polygamy were adulterers and sinners against the divine law. This is quite consistent with Luther's immoral doctrine that men totally depraved and steeped in deadly sin can be friends of God through a legal fiction of imputed righteousness; but it is equally shocking to piety and common sense, and as completely subversive of Christianity as the superstitious imposture of Joe Smith. We predict an easy victory of Brigham Young over Dr. Newman. Dr. Evans, as corrected by his editor and Bishop Andrews, advocates the sound Christian doctrine of marriage, and the circulation of his work must therefore have a most beneficial influence.

* * * * *

CRIMINAL ABORTION; ITS EXTENT AND PREVENTION. Read before the
Philadelphia County Medical Society, February 9th, 1870, by the
retiring President, Andrew Nebinger, M.D. Published by order of
the Society. Philadelphia: Collins. 1870.

This exhaustive essay, read before the Philadelphia County Medical Society, by its able president, Dr. Nebinger, will, we trust, have a great influence toward remedying the present loose domestic morals of our country. We suppose the _exposé_ here made had much weight with the Pennsylvania Legislature, which has recently passed a bill making it a penal offence for any one to advertise the vile nostrums which are now exposed for sale in our drug-stores with such unblushing effrontery.

Recent statistics, published by Dr. Storer and others, prove the fearful prevalence of the crime of fœticide among the native population; and the next census will no doubt show an absolute decrease of that class in the New England States. We hope when thus placed officially before the eyes of the Protestant clergy, they will awaken to the necessity of at least informing their congregations of the enormity of this sin; so that the plea of ignorance, now urged to extenuate their guilt, can no longer be used.

Physiology has definitely settled that vitality begins from the moment of conception. Theology pronounces the destruction of human life to be murder, and consequently the Catholic Church impresses in every possible way upon her children the fearful retribution that will be visited upon those who in any way tamper with the helpless unborn. We commend the paper to the careful perusal of our medical readers.

* * * * *

CONFERENCES OF THE REV. PERE LACORDAIRE. Delivered in the
Cathedral of Nôtre Dame, in Paris. Translated from the French
by Henry Langdon. New York: P. O'Shea, 27 Barclay street. 1870.

Mr. O'Shea deserves our thanks and those of the entire body of educated Catholics in the United States for his republication of this great work. F. Lacordaire was a genius, a great writer and a great orator; one of those shining and burning minds that enlighten and enkindle thousands of other minds during and after their earthly course. In the graces of writing and eloquence, he far surpassed that other popular preacher at Nôtre Dame who has proved to be but an _ignis fatuus_. In originality of thought, intellectual gifts, and sound learning, he was eminent among his compeers. Better than all, he was a holy man, a true monk, an imitator of the severe penance of the saints, and a devoted, obedient son of the Holy Roman Church.