Chapter IV: The Election (5)

‘To greater power and to a higher soul
Free, ye are subject; and that power in you
Creates the mind, which no stars can control:
Hence if the present world go wrong, ’tis due
To your own selves; and of this theme the whole
I will expound as an informer true.
Forth from His hand (before its birth who smiled
On his new offspring) into being goes
A little weeping, laughing, wanton child;
The simple infant soul that nothing knows,
Save that, by pleasure willingly beguiled,
She turns to joy as her glad Maker chose.
Taste of some trifling good it first perceives,
And, cheated so, runs for the shining flower,
Unless a rein or guide its love retrieves.
Hence there was need of Law’s restraining power;
A king there needed, that at least some one
Of God’s true city might discern the tower.
The laws exist, but who maintains them? none;
Because the Shepherd, Sovereign of the fold,
Though he may ruminate, no cleft hoof bears:
The people then, seeing their Guide so fond
Of what they crave, and with like greed as theirs,
Pasture with him, and seek no good beyond.
’Tis plain to see that what hath made mankind
So bad is evil guidance, not your own
Corrupted nature. Once of old there shined
The twofold splendors of a double sun
In Rome, which city brought the world to good;
One showed the way of earth to men, and one
Gave them to see the other way, of God.
One hath destroyed the other, and the sword
Is with the crosier joined, that neither fears
The other’s check; so joined they ill accord.
If thou dost doubt me, think what fruit appears
In the full blade, since every plant we know
For good or evil by the seed it bears.
Once in that goodly region by the Po
And Adige watered, valor used to dwell
And courtesy, ere Frederic’s trouble came:
Now one might journey through that country well
Secure from meeting (if it gave him shame
To speak with good men) any that excel.
Three old men yet dwell there in whom the old
Chides the new age, and time seems slow to run
To them till God replace them in his fold;
Currado da Palazzo, he is one,
Gherardo likewise, of the life unblamed,
And Guido da Castello, who perchance
Simply the Lombard might be better named,
After the fashion of their speech in France.
Say thou this day, then, that the Church of Rome,
Confounding human rule and sway divine,
Sinks with her charge beluted in the loam?’[68]
‘Thou reasonest well,’ I said, ‘O Marco mine,
And I perceive now why the sacred tome
The sons of Levi bars from heritage.
But who is that Gherardo who, thou say’st,
Remaineth in rebuke of this rough age
From those who formerly the realm possessed?’

‘Either thy tongue misleads me or thou show’st
A wish to try me,’ he to me replied,
‘That, using Tuscan speech, thou nothing know’st
Of good Gherardo. No surname beside
I know, unless unto that name he bore
One from his daughter Gaia be supplied:
Go thou with God! I follow thee no more.
See! raying yonder through the fog a gleamy
Splendor that whitens it; I must away
(It is the Angel there!) before he see me.’
Thus turned he, nor would hear me further say.

Footnote 67:

By _heaven_, throughout this discourse, Dante means, simply,
_planetary influence_. The lesson taught by Marco Lombardi is the same
as that which Shakspere puts into the mouth of Cassius:

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

Footnote 68:

It is well to note in connection with this passage that Dante was, up
to the time of his banishment by a political faction, a Guelph, the
Guelphs being then the patriotic party in Italy, and supporters of the
pope in his resolute opposition to the foreign invasion under Frederic
Barbarossa. During his exile Dante changed his politics and joined the
Ghibellines. Had he lived in our own days it is certain that he, whose
faith was so high and clear, would have shared the openly expressed
convictions of all responsible men and competent judges in this
matter, that the temporal authority of the Holy See is necessary, as
things now are, to the full liberty and full exercise of its spiritual
authority. Dante’s opinion, as above expressed, is that of a political
partisan in bygone times. Were he living to-day, instructed by the
lessons of the centuries which have passed since he wrote, there can
be no doubt that he would adhere to his earlier, truer, and more
patriotic political convictions and see no impossibility of the union
of “The twofold splendors of a double sun in Rome” in the person of
Rome’s lawful and historic pontiff and king.—ED. C. W.

RESPECTABLE POVERTY IN FRANCE.

Under the title of “Indigence in a Black Coat” an observant French writer[69] draws a painful picture of the sufferings of a class of his countrymen usually much less compassionated than the so-called working-classes. That term, indeed, is a misnomer when applied to any one especial class, as, with rare exceptions, every one in France is hard at work, manually or intellectually. The class, however, with which these few pages are concerned is one still more deserving of respectful sympathy than even those who follow the honest, nay, noble, career of skilled or unskilled labor.

Besides the mechanic and artisan, whose payment follows in a certain measure the progressive price of provisions, there are other categories of men, assuredly not less interesting, whose pecuniary level has never risen or fallen even by a five-franc piece, and who at the present time are compelled to live on the appointed salary which has been attached to their place for an unlimited number of years.

Everywhere in the towns rents have doubled, and even trebled. The system of railways has disseminated local production, which formerly had a local and limited sale, over all parts of France, and even abroad, without any proportionate incomings to compensate for the increase of prices attendant on so great an increase of sale. The latter, it need hardly be said, involves a like increase of production.

In a country like France, where the agricultural riches are immense and the landed property infinitesimally parcelled out, the means of transport, which have increased tenfold within the last thirty years, have carried riches, or at least competency, into the villages and other country parts. To such a degree is this true that there is not now a peasant in France who cannot maintain himself by his strip of land. Formerly he would have carried into the town, on market days, the produce of his land and live stock. Now he rarely takes the trouble to do this, and almost always strikes a bargain with buyers who purchase _en masse_ and pay him a high price. Thus, with hardly any expenditure,[70] he can live on his little property, his aim being to save all he can and to sell as dearly as possible.

But in the cities and small towns how to live is a more difficult problem. The clerks, secretaries, and small functionaries of every kind, who could formerly support and educate their families in a respectable way, have no longer the possibility of doing so on the meagre and rigidly-fixed salaries dispensed to them by the state. The sea itself is no longer a resource. The railway carries off the produce of the tides to Paris and the other large towns, which purchase the whole and throw away thousands of kilos of spoilt fish every week.

Again, these small official situations generally involve the necessity of being respectably, or even well, dressed. A professor, for example, or a magistrate, an employé of the registration or other government offices, belongs, by education or by the functions he discharges, to a class of persons who must make a good appearance, under pain of being neglected, unnoticed, or even altogether tabooed.

At Paris, where there is an abundance of everything, and into which the provinces pour the overflow of their riches, life, for certain persons, is materially impossible. The _octroi_ absorbs all, and, under pretext of making the capital a rich and beautiful city, peoples it with poor by rendering their means wholly inadequate to meet the increasing exigencies of expenditure.

Thus, while living is difficult to them in the provinces, because the country sends all its produce to the great towns, in the towns they cannot live at all. The imposts there are enormous; while the fact that the necessaries of life are abundant is accompanied by no diminution of price, but the contrary.

Still, nothing is done; and these meritorious persons, obliged to conceal a very real poverty beneath an outward show that eats into their slender resources, and who, unlike so many around them, are disenchanted of the dream that the world is all their own, suffer uncomplainingly. Perhaps they are weary of complaining; in any case they do not noisily insist and threaten, but, at the utmost, plead, and certainly wait until hope and energy wither in the blight of continued disappointment. Hundreds of thousands of persons thus exist, and those who may be called the intellectual essence of the nation: professors, magistrates, men occupied in the various departments of art, and who prepare the intellectual prosperity of a generation to come. These men, especially such of them as have a family dependent upon them, drag on life year after year so miserably remunerated that how they contrive to live, and to strain the two ends to meet by any honorable means, is simply a mystery. In vain may each capable member of the family put a shoulder to the wheel and effect prodigies of economy. With every noble effort they find their life growing harder, and the cost of life increasing in proportions of which it is impossible to see the limit.

In the times through which France is passing even the wealthy, and those who are regarded as the favored ones of fortune, reduce their expenses under the influence of a certain feeling of apprehension which is not easy to define, unless a reason for it may be found in the frequent government changes and general instability of political affairs in this country. They instinctively restrain their expenditure to what they regard as the necessaries of life, and indulge in few of the luxuries of patronage involving outlay. And thus the hardness of the times makes itself so severely felt in all the liberal professions that in the study of the professor or literary author, as in the _atelier_ of the artist, the pressing cares of life not unfrequently absorb the mind so as to eclipse and benumb the powers of imagination and invention. The father and bread-winner anxiously asks himself how, even with marvels of economy and self-denying privation, he is to provide for the present needs and future career of his children.

The question we are considering is for the moment drowned amid the tumult of political strife. It must, however, assert itself with increasing urgency in proportion as misery, in the full acceptation of the word, shows itself as the inevitable consequence of the progressive increase of prices in things of absolute necessity, without such compensation as corresponds with it or even approximates to it.

And yet France is far from being poor. Sober, industrious, and economical, her treasury is rich in spite of the enormous war-tribute by which it was partly diminished of late. That diminution was, by comparison, insignificant. Surely, with all the sources of wealth which France has at command, there must be amply sufficient to pay, at a rate commensurate with their services and due requirements, men who have never bargained for their trouble, but who now, under the continuance of the actual condition of things, will find it impossible to live.

This is a question demanding prompt attention, unless the anomaly is to be maintained that France is a country of great actual and possible wealth, in which the _élite_ of the nation are more and more exposed to the danger of dying of hunger.

The writer on whose words, verified by our own observations, we have based our remarks says that from all quarters he receives letters of which the following extract is a sample: “What you have stated is far short of the truth. Could you lift the veil that conceals our misery, you would see into what a gulf of distress we have been plunged by years of indifference to our needs. From time to time we make earnest representations of our case, but these, as well as the proofs we give of the hard reality of our necessities and expenses, are year after year treated with the same passive disregard; and there are very many amongst us who, in spite of the most rigid economy, will never be able to recover themselves.”

In case our remarks should seem to have too general a character, or to be in any way exaggerated, we will give an example—namely, the parochial clergy, the men who are unweariedly denounced by the radical-republicans as “pillagers of the budget” and “robbers of the state.”

The ordinary income of one of the more opulent among the rural parish priests (by far the larger proportion receive less—some much less) is as follows:

Indemnity of the government for each quarter, paid 900 frs.
three weeks or more after time = 225 francs,
equalling per annum the sum of

Indemnity of the commune 100 frs.

Casual receipts 60 frs

(Say, 40) Low Masses 60 frs

——-

Forming a total of 1,120
frs

Then, as the sum of obligatory expenses, we have the following:

Wages of servant 240 frs.

Door and window tax 53 frs.

_Prestation_, or taking of oaths 5 frs.

Tax for dog 8 frs.

For the Fund for Infirm Priests, as the only means 10 frs.
of securing a morsel of bread if disabled

___

Total 316 frs.

There remains, therefore, for this parish priest to live upon an average income of 804 francs—_i.e._, about $160. He is not even “passing rich” on the traditionary “forty pounds a year.”

With these eight hundred and four francs he must meet all expenses, keep open the hospitable door of the presbytery—the house so readily found, so close by the church, and so accessible; the house which receives the first visit of the poor, the outcast, and the wanderer, and whose occupant, thus poor himself, has neither the wish nor the right to close against any one the way to his fireside. Two francs and four _sous_ a day, however, are the magnificent sum allowed for the inmates of this presbytery and for all the needy, who, regarding it as their natural home, go straight to the kitchen, not knowing what it is to be sent away empty.

We are personally acquainted with several country _curés_ whose governmental stipend is from four to six hundred francs a year, and it is only the more important parishes of the _curés doyens_ or _curés de canton_ to which is attached the ampler revenue of nine hundred francs, or thirty-six pounds sterling. A large proportion of the _curés de commune_ do not receive more from the state than four hundred francs _per annum_. And this stipend is termed, as if in mockery, an “indemnity.” It only deserves that title if we read the word by the light of a wholesale spoliation of church property and revenues, parochial, monastic, collegiate, and eleemosynary, effected by the revolution, and later on ratified, or at least condoned, by the state. If, indeed, as all history proves, the Catholic Church has been the saviour and preserver of the state, the state has often shown itself the Judas of the church, and this “indemnity” is its kiss of peace.

There are now in France more than twenty thousand priests who are the recipients of this exorbitant civil list. They neither complain nor recriminate, but patiently and bravely act for the best in the interest of all. With a calmness derived from faith, they allow to sweep by them, as if heeding it not, the flood of stupid and malignant calumnies with which they and their sacred office are daily assailed. They go on receiving the poor, visiting the sick, consoling the sorrowful, sympathizing with all, assisting, even beyond their power, the distressed out of their own pittance, and thus further lessening the scanty means doled out to them for the sublime service of every hour—services basely misrepresented as to their motive, their spirit, and even their result.

It is not our present intention to dwell on the high social part filled by the second order of the clergy in France, and almost invariably with the most praiseworthy self-abnegation. But, at a time when honor, justice, and moral sense are by so many in France completely forgotten, or treated as an effervescence of obsolete and Quixotic sentimentalism; when it is the order of the day for each to get as much as possible for himself, and thrust himself into any office at hand, irrespective of worth, fitness, or merit; and when legions of “enlightened” and “advanced” “republicans” (especially those who elect to be married like heathens and buried like dogs) are gnashing their teeth at the clergy of France, so excellent, so devoted, and in the truest sense so liberal, it would be well if these men who insult them without stint and against reason were made aware that the more opulent among the men they revile are receiving, for all personal and household requirements, and the satisfaction of the hospitable instincts of their sacerdotal hearts, the munificent revenue of forty-four _sous_ a day.

Footnote 69:

Under the _nom de plume_ of “Jean de Nivelle.” See _Le Soleil_ for
Jan. 4, 1878.

Footnote 70:

The diet of a French peasant is frugal in the extreme. His two meals
usually consist of cabbage-soup—in which on Sundays and other special
occasions a morsel of bacon is boiled—accompanied with rye bread. We
have known a very well-to-do couple make half a rabbit last them four
days in the way of meat. Many kinds of fungi are common articles of
diet with the French peasantry. They cook them with vinegar “to kill
the poison.”

THE CORONATION OF POPE LEO XIII.
(FROM OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.)

ROME, March 20, 1878.

There is a passage in the circular of the cardinals addressed to the diplomatic corps accredited to the Holy See on the eve of the conclave which deserves to be noted in connection with the issue of the conclave and the secular policy of the new Pontiff. The circular, after renewing all the protests and reservations of the deceased Pontiff, and declaring the intention of the cardinals to hold the conclave in Rome, because the first duty of the Sacred College is to provide the widowed church with a pastor as quickly as possible, says: “And this resolution was taken with the greater tranquillity, inasmuch as, pledging the future in no wise, _it left the future Pontiff at liberty to adopt those measures_ which the good of souls and the general interests of the church will suggest to him in the difficult and painful condition of the Holy See at present.” The future for the new Pontiff is a free and open field which he can traverse in the manner he shall judge best for the weal of the church. The protests and reservations of the deceased Pontiff touching the temporalities of the Holy See constitute a realm of principle. Surrounding this is a free border-land for the new Pope.

People here in Rome and elsewhere who speculate much on the present condition of the Holy See, and especially on the so-called antagonism existing between itself and the Italian government, hoped that Leo XIII. would assume a less inflexible attitude before the people. Of the liberals, the conservatives, who are the acknowledged exponents of the sentiments of the crown, hoped for a formal conciliation. The Catholics expected that the new Pope would at least appear occasionally in public to bless them; while the curious tourists of all countries had visions of the solemn and imposing ceremonies in St. Peter’s which were the characteristic feature of Rome in other days. The expectations of all have been falsified so far. Since the 3d of March, the day of Leo XIII.’s coronation, the most sanguine liberals have desisted from their conciliatory speculations, and the rest have settled down into quiet resignation, yet hoping that a propitious occasion may again bring the Pontiff in public before his people.

A more fitting occasion than the day of his coronation could not be desired. Nay, the Pontiff himself had resolved to make his appearance, and be crowned before the people, in the upper vestibule of St. Peter’s. The Mass and other functions, prefatory of the coronation, were to have been performed in the Sistine Chapel. In fact, on the 1st of March the members of the Sacred College each received an intimation from the acting Secretary of State that the ceremonies preceding the coronation would be performed in the Sistine Chapel of the Vatican Palace. In the vicinity of the inner balcony of St. Peter’s temporary balconies were erected for the diplomatic corps, the Roman nobles, and persons of distinction, native and foreign. The confession of St. Peter and the papal altar under the dome were surrounded with a strong railing to prevent accidents, while the central balcony itself was enlarged by extending it farther out into the basilica and back into the vestibule. It had been the intention of His Holiness to be crowned here, and afterwards to bestow the apostolic benediction upon the people below. But on Friday afternoon, March 1, the workmen received orders not only to discontinue but to undo the preparations. It is unnecessary to speculate on the cause of this order in the presence of explanatory facts. A demonstration of enthusiastic devotion on the part of the multitude of Catholics who would be assembled there was naturally expected, and in this there was nothing deterrent whatever. But the information had eked abroad, and was duly reported to His Holiness, that a party of _Conciliators_ had resolved to seize the occasion of the solemn benediction, and create a demonstration in favor of a conciliation with the existing order of things. Flags, Papal and Italian, were to have been produced just at the moment of benediction, and an interesting tableau of alliance to have succeeded. But this was not all. A counter-demonstration of the radicals was also mooted. This is no trivial hearsay, as the events of the same evening sufficiently attest. I pass over the allusions to the explosion of Orsini shells in the church. In the face of such expectations ordinary prudence would have suggested to the Sovereign Pontiff the inexpediency of a public ceremony. Yet if he were disposed to hesitate before giving credence to what was related to him by reliable authority, the attitude suddenly assumed by the government left no doubt in his mind as to what was expedient in the matter. Crispi, the garrulous Minister of the Interior, had given out that the government would not consider itself responsible for the maintenance of order in St. Peter’s on the 3d of March. He had previously addressed a circular to the prefects and syndics of the realm, interdicting any participation of theirs in the public rejoicings for the election of Pope Leo XIII., because, forsooth, he had not been officially informed of the election! He seems to have overlooked the inconsistency of this act with the efficient service rendered by the troops in St. Peter’s during the funeral ceremonies of Pius IX., albeit the government had not been officially informed of his demise. The church, however, has long since learned that it is vain to look for consistency in men who are strangers to truth and fair dealing. Moreover, she has, within the past few years, had bitter experiences in the doctrine of provocation, as inculcated by the Italian government. Leo XIII. was crowned in his own chapel, in the presence only of the cardinals, the prelates, and dignitaries, ecclesiastical, civil, and military, of the Vatican, the diplomatic corps, the Roman nobility, and a few guests.

At half-past nine o’clock on Sunday morning, the 3d of March, Pope Leo XIII., preceded by the papal cross, and surrounded by the attendants of his court, by the Swiss and Noble Guards, descended from his apartments to the vestry hall. The two seniors of the cardinal deacons, the penitentiaries of St. Peter’s, and the archbishops and bishops awaited him there. When he had been vested in full pontificals, with golden mitre, a procession was formed, moving towards the ducal hall. A Greek deacon and subdeacon, in gorgeous robes, attended upon the deacon and subdeacon of honor. The cardinals were assembled in the ducal hall, where an altar was erected. His Holiness knelt for a moment in prayer, and then mounted a throne which stood on the gospel side of the altar. There he received what is termed the first obeisance of the cardinals, who approached, one by one, and kissed his hand. The archbishops and bishops kissed his foot. Having imparted the apostolic benediction, the Pope intoned Tierce of the Little Hours. Another procession was formed, preceded by the first cardinal, who bore the sacred ferule in his hand and chanted the _Procedamus in pace_. The Pope was carried in the gestatorial chair under a white canopy borne by eight clerics. The Blessed Sacrament had previously been exposed in the Pauline Chapel. Thither the procession moved. At the door of the chapel the Pope descended from his chair, entered the chapel bare-headed, and knelt for a time in silent prayer. It is to be supposed that in those moments he prayed for humility of self, as well as peace and benediction upon his reign. It is the fitting prelude to the significant ceremony which followed. Just as the procession was about to move from the chapel-door towards the Sistine Chapel a master of ceremonies, bearing in his hand a gilded reed, to the end of which a lock of dry flax was attached, approached the throne, and, going down upon one knee, gave fire to the flax. As it burned quickly to nothing he said: _Pater Sancte, sic transit gloria mundi_—“Holy Father, thus passeth away the glory of the world.” He repeated the same ceremony at the entrance to the Sistine Chapel, and again just as the Pope was approaching the altar—a sage reminder, for the Sistine Chapel at that moment presented a spectacle of glory and magnificence which has no parallel.

Sixty-two cardinals, in flowing robes of the richest scarlet, the magnificence of which was enhanced beneath tunics of the finest lace, and as many attendant train-bearers in purple cassocks and capes of ermine; archbishops and bishops vested in white pontificals; clerics of the apostolic palace in robes of violet; Roman princes, gentlemen of the pontifical throne, in their gorgeous costumes; officers and guards in splendid uniforms; diplomatic personages ablaze with decorations; Knights of the Order of Jerusalem in their historic vesture; ladies in black habits and veils, gracefully arranged, and gentlemen in the full dress of the present day. Despite all this splendor, the most trivial worldling could not but be impressed with the sacred solemnity, the awful genius of the occasion. A Pope was to be crowned—“the Great Priest, Supreme Pontiff; Prince of Bishops, heir of the apostles; in primacy, Abel; in government, Noe; in patriarchate, Abraham; in order, Melchisedech; in dignity, Aaron; in authority, Moses; in judicature, Samuel; in power, Peter; in unction, Christ.”[71]

The Mass has begun. The choir has sung the _Kyrie Eleison_ in the inimitable style of the Sistine Chapel. The Pope has said the _Confiteor_. He returns to the gestatorial chair. The three senior cardinals of the order of bishops, mitred, come forward, and each in turn extends his hands over the Pontiff and recites the prayer of the ritual, _Super electum Pontificem_. Cardinal Mertel, first of the officiating deacons, places the pallium upon his shoulders, saying at the same time: _Accipe pallium, scilicet plenitudinis Pontificalis officii, ad honorem Omnipotentis Dei, et gloriosissimæ Virginis Mariæ, Matris ejus, et Beatorum Apostolorum Petri et Pauli et Sanctæ Romanæ Ecclesiæ._ Leaving the gestatorial chair, and ascending the throne on the gospel side of the altar, the Pope again receives the obeisance of the cardinals, of the archbishops and bishops. The Mass proper for the occasion is then celebrated by the Pontiff, and the Litany of the Saints recited.

The solemn moment has arrived. The Pope again ascends the throne, while the choir sings the antiphon, _Corona aurea super caput ejus_. The subdean of the Sacred College, Cardinal di Pietro, intones the _Pater noster_, and afterwards reads the prayer, _Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, dignitas Sacerdotii_, etc. The second deacon removes the mitre from the head of the Pontiff, and Cardinal Mertel approaches, bearing the tiara. Placing it on the head of the Pope, he says: _Accipe thiaram tribus coronis ornatam, et scias te esse Patrem Principum et Regum, Rectorem Orbis, in terra Vicarium Salvatoris Nostri Jesu Christi, cui est honor et gloria in sæcula sæculorum._

The Pope then arose and imparted the trinal benediction. This was followed by the publication of the indulgences proper to the occasion. From the Sistine Chapel the Pope, with the tiara still glittering on his brow, was borne in procession back to the vestry hall, whither the cardinals had preceded him. When he had been unrobed and seated anew in the middle of the hall, Cardinal di Pietro approached and read the following discourse: “After our votes, inspired by God, fixed upon the person of your Holiness the choice for the supreme dignity of Sovereign Pontiff of the Catholic Church, we passed from deep affliction to lively hope. To the tears which we shed over the tomb of Pius IX.—a Pontiff so venerated throughout the world, so beloved by us—succeeded the consoling thought, like a new aurora, of well-founded hopes for the church of Jesus Christ.

“Yes, Most Holy Father, you gave us sufficient proofs, while ruling the diocese entrusted to you by divine Providence, or taking part in the important affairs of the Holy See, of your piety, your apostolic zeal, your many virtues, of your great intelligence, of your prudence, and of the lively interest which you also took in the glory and honor of our cardinalitial college; so that we could easily persuade ourselves that, being elected Supreme Pastor, you would act as the apostle wrote of himself to the Thessalonians: ‘Not in word only, but in power also, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much fulness.’ Nor was the divine will slow in manifesting itself, for by our means it repeated to you the words already addressed to David when it designated him King of Israel: ‘Thou shalt feed my people, and thou shalt be prince over Israel.’

“With which divine disposition we are happy to see the general sentiment immediately corresponding; and as all hasten to venerate your sacred person in the same manner as all the tribes of Israel prostrated themselves in Hebron before the new pastor given them by God, so we too hasten, on this solemn day of your coronation, like the seniors of the chosen people, to repeat to you as a pledge of affection and obedience the words recorded in the sacred pages: ‘Behold, we shall be thy bone and thy flesh.’

“May heaven grant that, as the holy Book of Kings adds that David reigned forty years, so ecclesiastical history may narrate for posterity the length of the pontificate of Leo XIII. These are the sentiments and the sincere wishes which, in the name of the Sacred College, I now lay at your sacred feet. Deign to accept them benignantly, imparting to us your apostolic benediction.”

His Holiness replied: “The noble and affectionate words which you, most reverend eminence, in the name of the whole Sacred College, have just addressed to us touch to the quick our heart, already greatly moved by the unlooked-for event of our exaltation to the supreme pontificate, which came to pass contrary to any merit of ours.

“The burden of the sovereign keys, formidable in itself, which has been placed upon our shoulders, becomes still more difficult, considering our insufficiency, which is quite overcome by it. The very rite which has just been performed with so much solemnity has made us comprehend still more the majesty and dignity of the see to which we have been raised, and has increased in our soul the idea of the grandeur of this sublime throne of the earth. And since you, lord cardinal, have named David, spontaneously the words of the same holy king occur to us: ‘Who am I, Lord God, that thou hast brought me hither?’

“Still, in the midst of so many just reasons for confusion and discomfort, it is consoling to us to see the Catholics all, unanimous and in harmony, pressing around this Holy See, and giving to it public attestations of obedience and of love. The concord and affection of all the members of the Sacred College, most dear to us, console us, and the assurance of their efficient co-operation in the discharge of the difficult ministry to which they have called us by their suffrage.

“Above all, we are comforted by confidence in the most loving God, who has willed to raise us to such an eminence, whose assistance we shall never cease to implore with all the fervor of our heart, desiring that it be implored by all, mindful of what the apostle says: ‘All our sufficiency is from God.’ Persuaded, moreover, that it is he who ‘chooses the weak things of the earth to confound the strong,’ we live in the certainty that he will sustain our weakness, and will raise up our humility to show his own power and cause his strength to shine forth.

“We heartily thank your eminence for the courteous sentiments and the sincere wishes which you have now addressed to us in the name of the Sacred College, and we accept them with all our heart. We conclude, imparting with all the effusion of our soul the apostolic benediction. _Benedictio Dei_, etc.”

His Holiness then retired to his apartments, and the solemn assembly dispersed.

Meanwhile, the vast basilica of St. Peter had been crowded with people since ten o’clock in the morning, who hoped on, despite the contrary appearances, that His Holiness would come out at the last moment to bless them. Deeming such an event not unlikely, the Duke of Aosta, now military commander in Rome, had ordered several battalions of soldiers into the square, with orders to render sovereign honors to the Pontiff if he appeared on the outer balcony. This measure inculpated still more the Minister of the Interior, inasmuch as the unofficial information which was acted upon by the Minister of War should have been sufficient for the Interior Department. Save and except the salaried organs of the ministry, the journals of every color in Rome concurred in censuring the action of Signor Crispi, adding, at the same time, that it was the duty of the government to show every consideration for a Pontiff whose election has given such universal satisfaction. The breach between the church and state, they concluded, was only widened and the antagonism intensified.

Though the ceremonies of the coronation terminated at half-past ten o’clock, and the equipages of the cardinals and dignitaries had disappeared from the neighborhood of the Vatican, still the expectant and anxious people lingered in the basilica until the afternoon was far advanced. Then only did they turn homewards, supremely dissatisfied, not with the Pope but with the civil authorities. The demonstration of the _canaille_ in the evening against the Pope and the clerical party only confirmed the report of an intended tumult in St. Peter’s, to be provoked by the radicals. The palaces of the nobles had been illuminated about an hour on the Corso, when the mob assembled at the usual rendezvous, Piazza Colonna. With a movement which betokened a previous arrangement they rushed down the Corso to cries of “Death to the Pope!” “Down with the clericals!” “Down with the Law of the Papal Guarantees!” etc. They halted before the palace of the Marquis Theodoli, and assailed the windows with a prolonged volley of stones, which they had gathered elsewhere, as no missives could be had on the Corso, unless the pavement were torn up. A full hour elapsed before the troops appeared on the scene and the bugles sounded the order to disperse. Only a few were arrested.

That same afternoon the Mausoleum of Augustus was the witness of a more systematic and dangerous demonstration against the Law of the Guarantees. The speakers, several of whom are members of the Parliament, indulged in the most villanous tirades against the Papacy, coupled with no measured votes of censure upon the government. A strong memorial was drawn up and addressed to Parliament, demanding the abrogation of the Law of Papal Guarantees.

Two days after his coronation Pope Leo XIII. appointed to the office of Secretary of State his Eminence Cardinal Alessandro Franchi, formerly prefect of the Propaganda. Whether it be that the moderate liberals still harbor visions of a formal conciliation, or that their esteem for Leo XIII. is superior to every party question, or both the one and the other motive actuate them, is not yet established; but the fact is, every act of the new Pontiff has been more warmly commended, as an additional instance of his unquestionable capabilities and profound sagacity, by the liberal than by the Catholic press. I am far from wishing to intimate that the latter displays no enthusiastic admiration for the inaugurative acts of Pope Leo’s pontificate. But the liberal press is particularly demonstrative in its admiration. The nomination of Cardinal Franchi to the Secretaryship of State has been hailed with jubilation by organs which hitherto have devoted every energy to bringing the late incumbents of that office, living and dead, into disrepute. “Cardinal Franchi,” say they, “is the man for this epoch. Accomplished, polished, bland of manner, skilled in diplomacy, and of accommodating disposition, he will be a worthy companion and counsellor to Leo XIII. in the new era for the church just inaugurated.” It is to be regretted, however, that their admiration for the Sovereign Pontiff and his secretary has not been able to keep their usual powers of invention from running riot in their regard. Cardinal Franchi is already credited with addressing a circular to the nuncios abroad, asking how a change of the Vatican policy _in a less aggressive sense_ would be regarded by the powers of Europe. He is also said to have made the first step towards an understanding with Prussia, while the Pope himself is asserted as having addressed an autograph letter to the Czar of Russia, in which he expresses the hope that the difficulty between the Holy See and the imperial government, touching the condition of the church in Poland, will soon be removed.

It is needless to observe that the nomination of Cardinal Franchi as Secretary of State is pleasing to the Catholics. His career has been throughout one of eminent service to the Church. He was born of distinguished parents in Rome, on the 25th of June, 1819. At the age of eight years he entered the Roman Seminary, where he graduated with distinction, and was ordained priest. Soon after he was appointed to the chair of history in both his Alma Mater and the University of the Sapienza. Later on he became professor of sacred and civil diplomacy in the _Accademia Ecclesiastica_. Some of his pupils are now members of the Sacred College. In 1853 he was sent as _chargé d’affaires_ to Spain, where he remained, with honor to the Holy See and to himself, until 1856. Recalled from Spain, Pope Pius IX. himself consecrated him Archbishop of Thessalonica _in partibus_, and appointed him nuncio to the then existing courts of Florence and Modena. He remained in that capacity until the annexation to Piedmont of both duchies in 1859. Returning to Rome, he was nominated in 1860 secretary of the Congregation of Ecclesiastical Affairs. In 1868 he was sent back to Spain as apostolic nuncio. The Spanish Revolution of 1869 brought his useful labors in that country to a close, and he again sought his native city, but only to be sent to Constantinople in 1871, on the delicate mission of arranging the serious difficulty then existing between the Holy See and the sultan touching the Armenian Catholics in the Turkish capital. His sound judgment, coupled with his proverbial urbanity, enabled him to bring his mission to a successful conclusion in a short time, and he returned to Rome laden with presents from the sultan to the Holy Father. He was created cardinal in the consistory of December 22, 1873, and in the March of the following year was appointed prefect of the Propaganda. His qualifications for the present office need not be enlarged upon after a consideration of his antecedents. With the office of Secretary of State is joined that of prefect of the Apostolic Palace, and administrator of the revenues and possessions of the Holy See. In the latter capacity he will be assisted by their Eminences Cardinals Borromeo and Nina, recently nominated at his request by the Sovereign Pontiff.

Pope Leo XIII. has inaugurated an era of reform in the administrative department of the Vatican. He is fast retrenching unnecessary expenses. He has brought into the Vatican his old frugal habits which distinguished him as the bishop of Perugia. He still uses the midnight lamp of study, and is at the moment of the present writing busily engaged in drawing up the allocution which he will pronounce in the coming consistory.

In that document Leo XIII. will stand revealed in his attitude before the Powers, friendly and hostile, of the world.

Footnote 71:

St. Bernard.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

A LIFE OF POPE PIUS IX. By John R. G. Hassard. New York: The
Catholic Publication Society Co. 1878.

“It is ... with the story of the private virtues of Pius IX., the outlines of his public life, and the most important works of his pontificate that the present biography will be chiefly concerned,” says the author of this really excellent life of the late Pope. Mr. Hassard has closely kept to the programme which he thus clearly set down for himself in the beginning, and the result is one of the most comprehensive biographies of Pius IX. that we have yet seen. The book is by no means a bulky one, yet the story of the wonderful pontificate is all there; the events that mark it grouped with the skill of a thoroughly practised and efficient pen: the secret forces that impelled those events brought to light; and the lights and shadows of the ever-shifting scene pictured with a rapid yet bold and true hand. Mr. Hassard has the happy gift of collecting his facts, setting them together in the briefest and most intelligible form, and leaving the reader to make his own comment on them. The comment is sure to be such as the author himself would make, so clear and logical is his arrangement of the premises. Another happy feature marks this biography: there is an absence of gush. The author writes tenderly and with an open admiration of his subject; but the tenderness never sinks into sentimentality, and the admiration is always manly and reasonable. The anecdotes are well chosen and happy, and most, if not all, of them will be new to the general reader. The author’s study of the workings of the secret societies, which play so prominent a part in the history of the last pontificate, has been close and searching. His acquaintance with European politics generally, so necessary in a biographer of Pius IX., is equally thorough. These necessary qualifications give a special value to the present _Life_, while the whole story is told with a genial glow of personal regard and admiration for its subject, none the less charming that its tone is rationally subdued. Mr. Hassard is to be congratulated on having produced a biography that will be cherished by Catholic readers as we cherish and keep by us, and look at again and again, a faithful miniature of one very dear to our hearts.

LETTERS OF JOHN KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE. From the original
manuscripts, with introduction and notes by Harry Buxton Forman. New
York: Scribner, Armstrong & Co. 1878.

Were these the letters of John Brown instead of John Keats the world would wonder, with reason, what possible motive could have induced their publication. Well might poor Keats, were he alive, say on seeing them in print and exposed to the public gaze, “Save me from my friends!” Their publication is, perhaps, the greatest injury that the unfortunate poet, or his memory, ever had to sustain. As letters, even as love-letters, they are remarkably dull and insipid. How Miss Fanny Brawne received them of course we do not know. Love is reputed to be blind. It is certainly color-blind. Othello could never have looked black—at least not very black—to Desdemona. Had he worn his native sable that poor lady would undoubtedly have been reserved for a better fate. So it is presumably with love-letters. They may contain wells of wit and wisdom and eloquence and fire to the party to whom they are addressed, and who is bewitched by love’s potion, though to all the rest of the world they are the very embodiment of absurdity and nonsense. Titania, over whom the spell has been wrought, sees an Adonis where everybody else only sees honest Nick Bottom, the weaver, fittingly capped by an ass’s head. It is an evil day for Bottom when the love potion has lost its virtue and the scales drop from the eyes of Titania. Such an event does happen at times to all the Bottoms and Titanias, and probably it happened to Miss Fanny Brawne, who never became Mrs. Keats, but Mrs. Somebody Else. If ever she had cause for a grudge against Keats she has more than revenged it by allowing some prying busybody access to these very silly letters which are now given to the public for the first time.

They show nothing but weakness, mental and moral, in their author. It should be remembered, however, that they are the letters of a man marked for death. They exhibit not a trace of the wit and humor which Keats really had, and to which he sometimes gave expression. They are utterly without his classic grace and profound, if pagan, sympathy with nature. They are the expressions of morbid feeling, and of nothing else. They can serve no purpose but to lower Keats in the estimation of all who read them. He was never a robust character; but these exhibit him as a weakling of weaklings, and it was simply cruel to publish them. The whole thing is a piece of the worst kind of bookmaking we have seen. The introduction, which is worth nothing save to perplex, occupies sixty-seven pages; the letters, which are of about equal value, occupy one hundred and seven pages; an appendix of nine pages sets forth “the locality of Wentworth Place”; to all of which there are no less than six pages of an index with such headings as these: “Arrears of Versifying to be Cleared”; “Books lent to Miss Brawne not to be sent home”; “Brawne, Fanny”; “Brawne, Margaret”; “Brawne, Mrs.”; “Brawne, Samuel, Jr.”; “Brawne, Samuel, Sr.” (why not “The Brawne Family” at once?); “Café, Keats will not sing in a”; “Flirting with Brawne”; “Front parlor, Watching in”; “Getting Stouter”; “Laughter of Friends”; “Sore throat, Confinement to the house with”; and so on. We do not know who Mr. “Harry” Buxton Forman may be, but if ever it came to pass that we were threatened with fame at the cost of a future Harry Buxton Forman to hunt up our love-letters or butchers’ and bakers’ bills, or every scrap that we might write in an incautious moment, we should certainly prefer to all time our present happy obscurity.

LIFE OF HENRI PLANCHAT, Priest of the Congregation of the Brothers
of St. Vincent de Paul. By Maurice Maignen. Translated from the
French, with an introductory preface. By Rev. W. H. Anderdon, S.J.
London: Burns & Oates. (For sale by The Catholic Publication Society
Co.)

This Life is a beautiful one. In reading it we are constantly reminded of the just and faithful man—the privileged servant of God—who, amidst the turmoil of the world, possesses his soul in peace. Henri Planchat was born of good parents at Bourbon-Vendée on November 22, 1823. After a holy youth he was called to the sanctuary and studied under the venerable Sulpitians at Paris. Being ordained priest on December 22, 1850, he offered his first Mass the next day, and the day after that “attained,” says his biographer, “the climax of his wishes by becoming a member of the little community of Brothers of St. Vincent of Paul, in order to live and die in the service of the working classes and of the poor in general.” Interior recollection, humility, and the perfect performance of the duties of his ministry raised him to a martyr’s throne. A dreadful storm, the fury of the Commune, suddenly burst upon this life of singular simplicity and charity, devoted to the needy and the ignorant for upwards of twenty years, and he was basely massacred, out of hatred to religion, in the Rue Haxo, on the 27th of May, 1871, among that very class of people for whom he had labored so earnestly and so long. “We are the good odor of Christ,” says the apostle, and in the untimely yet happy death of Henri Planchat we perceive the aptness of Bacon’s saying about adversity, that “virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed or crushed.”

The Rev. Father Anderdon, S.J., has written an introductory preface to this English translation which is short and to the point; but a scholar like Father Anderdon should not have mistaken (preface) Poitou for _Picardy_, which was an altogether different province of the territorial divisions of France before the Revolution.

ONE OF GOD’S HEROINES: A Biographical Sketch of Mother Mary Teresa
Kelly, Foundress of the Convent of Mercy, Wexford. By Kathleen
O’Meara. New York: The Catholic Publication Society Co. 1878.

Nothing that the very gifted author of the _Life of Frederic Ozanam_ writes can fail to attract attention or excite admiration. Miss O’Meara seems equally happy in biography as in fiction. Her stories, such as _Are You My Wife?_ _Alba’s Dream_, etc., etc., need no recommendation to readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD. In the touching little biography which calls for the present notice Miss O’Meara has evidently performed a labor of love. The title exactly describes the subject of the sketch. Mother Kelly was indeed “one of God’s heroines,” called up at a time when such heroines are peculiarly needed—in our own days. She was born in 1813; she died on Christmas day, 1866. Her religious life was a sustained series of heroic actions—actions none the less heroic that they were done in a practical, unostentatious, matter-of-fact manner. Her good works live after her, and it was a kindly and just thought to commemorate them as they have been commemorated in the bright pages of this tender and graceful little memoir by so skilful a hand and appreciative a heart. No one can read _One of God’s Heroines_ without feeling that after all the world is a brighter place than so many writers are wont to picture it. It will always be bright and worth living in while it can boast of such pious and charitable souls as Mother Mary Kelly. The only fault to be found with the present sketch of that life is its brevity.

TO THE SUN? From the French of Jules Verne. By Edward Roth.
Philadelphia: Claxton, Remsen & Haffelfinger. 1878.

That very clever Frenchman, Jules Verne, has again given us a most interesting and wonderful tale, which has been very successfully translated by Mr. Roth. It is to be wished that all translations were equally well done. Captain Hector Servadac and his servant, Ben Zoof, a typical Frenchman, are hurled into space upon a piece of the earth’s surface, and proceed with alarming velocity toward the sun. Of course they are not the only ones removed from this sphere. There are some Englishmen and Spaniards, and a Dutch Jew. We must not forget a Russian count and his companions, who all play an important part in this wondrous story. Verne’s object is to interest boys in the exact sciences, as Mayne Reid’s was to awaken a corresponding interest in natural history. At the present day, when stories for boys are becoming so intensely vulgar, and contain so much slang which passes for wit and playful badinage, it is a relief to find a story that is told in good English, and that contains, moreover, in a marked degree the highest sentiments of manly honor. There is in it an undercurrent of the strongest feeling against the Germans, which is vented upon a Holland Jew. The book would have been better without this. Some English officers come in for a few hits at their national characteristics, but, on the other hand, our young captain himself is frequently reproved by his Mentor, the Russian count, who, of course, is nearly faultless.