OF “bis JAN Ors Received by bequest from Albert H. Lybyer Professor of History University of Illinois 1916-1949 BOOKSTALKS a ‘Ve eS cons i Se i™ » lie i ‘ be ie . ‘ 1 : w ad ¢ . ¥ ‘ ; > : ae a , “ + "> | a ; a * 7 fe , : j 5 ane ‘ nc } P , ' 7 ! oe ee ‘ k j a - ra . P . ‘ F F ’ : ' t (- > * ’ ; a ‘ | J 1 PA z ‘ ® ' ms t A * . , ‘ } ; ‘ ; : * * F a 4 a, : yh o % i ‘ , 7? « é is na ‘ ‘a * : a ‘ 4 A a : od = q id 4 * 4 KK RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LAST FOUR POPES AND OF ROME IN THEIR TIMES. BY H. EH. CARDINAL WISEMAN. “Rome nutriri mihi contigit atque doceri.’”— HoratTivus. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1858. The right of translation is reserved. PF ' ' ‘ : a .4 fl - & , af ~ < 6 > j { ' 1 ‘ 7s | — i » * a 7% ) PREFACE. Tis work hardly requires any preface beyond the introductory matter contained in the first chapters; a few words, therefore, will be here sufficient. Every reader will expect this Volume to pre- sent a view of the subject treated, different from what is presented by other writers. Tourists, politicians, lecturers, and newspaper writers, have given estimates of persons and events here mentioned, often contradictory to what they = may appear in these pages. All that one can ».do in such a case is to require an impartial ' balance of evidence. Can those writers or ns Y\\ a | speakers say, that they have been present, or have witnessed what they describe, or that they have taken pains to test and verify the hearsay evidence which they have accepted? At any rate, here is a writer’s character pledged to the A3 1V PREFACE. sincerity of his views, and to the correctness of his statements. If inaccuracy in any detail have crept in, where the narrative extends over so long a period, this cannot affect views which result from the continued observation of far more occurrences than could be specifically de- scribed. This is not a history, nor a series of biogra- phies, nor a journal, nor what are called memoirs. It is so much of a great moving picture as caught one person’s eye, and remained fixed upon his memory: that portion of it which came nearest to him, touched him most closely, interested most deeply his feelings. The description of all this he has endeavoured to give with fidelity, by recalling, as vividly as possible, the impres- sions which it produced at the time it passed before him, piece by piece. And let this sincere account of one witness have its place among the materials of a future historian, who may perhaps be searching for those, by preference, which proceed not from anonymous sources, or secon- dary evidences, but from such as write what they have seen with their eyes, heard with their ears, and touched with their hands, and who, at PREFACE V the risk of unpopularity, fear not to subscribe their depositions. | It may be said, that a darker and shadier side must exist in every picture: there must have been many crimes within and without the walls of Rome, as well as of Troy, which are not even mentioned here; there must have been men of wicked life as well as men adorned by Christian virtues, who are not alluded to; much vice, cor- ruption, misery, moral and physical, which form no part of our description. True; there no doubt was, and no doubt is yet, plenty of all this. But there is no want of persons to seize upon it, and give it to the public in the most glowing, or most loathsome colouring. Provided they really describe what they have seen, it matters not; let the historian blend and combine the various and contrasting elements of truthtelling witnesses. But to the author, such narratives would have beenimpossible. He does not retain in his memory histories of startling wickedness, nor pictures of peculiar degradation. He has seen much of the people, of the poorest from city and country, in the hospitals, where for years he has been happy in attending to their spiritual vi PREFACE. wants; and he could tell about them just as many edifying anecdotes as tales of crime or woe. And as to wicked persons, it certainly was the providence of his early life not to be thrown into the society of the bad. Hecan add with sin- cerity, that later he has not sought it. His familiars and friends have been naturally those who had been trained in the same school as him- self; and among the acquaintances of his foreign life, he hardly remembers one whose conduct or principles he knew or believed to be immoral. Had he found them so, he hopes the acquaint- ance would soon have been terminated. His looks were, therefore, towards the vir- tuous ; their images stamped themselves habitu- ally upon his mind’s eye; and the succession of these, forms the pleasing recollections of many years. Of others he cannot speak; and to do so would be, even if he could, uncongenial to him. Let the work then be taken for what it is, the recollections of four truly good and virtuous men, and of such scenes as they naturally moved in, and of such persons as they instinctively loved and honoured. Lonpon: March, 1858. CONTENTS. Part the First. PIUS THE SEVENTH. CHAPTER I. Page The Author’s first arrival in Rome : : ae CHAPTER IL The first Audience : : , Z goa ie CHAPTER ITI. Character of Pius the Seventh. ; : eo CHAPTER IV. Continuation . j ; : : + 148 CHAPTER V. Condition and Feelings of Rome : nie CHAPTER VI. Cardinal Consalvi . : , : . 100 Vill CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. Policy of Pius the Seventh’s Government CHAPTER VIII. Relations with England CHAPTER IX. Literature, Science, Art CHAPTER X. Brigandage CHAPTER Xi Close of Pius the Seventh’s Pontificate Part the Second, LEO THE TWELFTH CHAPTER I. His Election CHAPTER IL. Character and Policy of Leo the Twelfth CHAPTER III. Continuation CHAPTER IV. The Jubilee Page old . 139 . 144 pn ie US7 - 209 . 227 » 245 . 269 CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. The Pope and the English College CHAPTER VI. Continuation CHAPTER VIL. The English Cardinalate CHAPTER VIII. Close of Leo’s Pontificate Part the Third. PIUS THE EIGHTH. CHAPTER I. His Election and previous History CHAPTER IL. Personal Character CHAPTER III. French and English Cardinals . CHAPTER IV. The principal Events of the Pontificate ix Page . 290 . 309 - 323 . 342 oo On Cr ae . 391 xX CONTENTS. Part the Fourth. GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. “CHAPTER I. Page His Consecration : : : ; . 415 CHAPTER II. Public Works of Gregory the Sixteenth - 435 CHAPTER III. Events of Gregory’s Pontificate : : . 452 CHAPTER IV. Some of the remarkable Men of Gregory the Six- teenth’s Pontificate 3 ; A . 465 CHAPTER V. Cardinal Angelo Mai . ‘ : : *. 481 CHAPTER VI. Character of Gregory the Sixteenth . : . 508 Part the Hust. PIUS THE SEVENTH. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LAST FOUR POPES. PIUS THE SEVENTH. CHAPTER I. THE AUTHOR'S FIRST ARRIVAL IN ROME. Ir was on the 18th of December, 1818, that the writer of this volume arrived in Rome in com- pany with five other youths, sent to colonise the English College in that city, after it had been desolate and uninhabited during almost the period of a generation. It was long before a single steamer had ap- peared in the Mediterranean, or even plied be- tween the French and English coasts. The land- journey across France, over the Alps, and down Italy, was then a formidable undertaking, and re- quired appliances, personal and material, scarcely compatible with the purposes of their journey. B 2 4 THE LAST FOUR POPES. A. voyage by sea from Liverpool to Leghorn was therefore considered the simplest method of con- veying a party of ten persons from England to Italy. It is not the purpose of this work to describe the adventures and perils, at which many might smile, of “‘ the middle passage” and subsequent travel. It will be sufficient to say that the em- barkation took place on the 2nd of October, and the arrival late in December; that, of this period, a fortnight was spent in beating up from Savona to Genoa, another week in running from Genoa to Livorno; that a man fell overboard and was drowned off Cape St. Vincent; that a dog went raving mad on board, from want of fresh water, and luckily, after clearing the decks, jumped or slipped into the sea; that the vessel was once, at least, on fire; and that all the passengers were nearly lost in a sudden squall in Ramsay Bay, into which they had been driven by stress of weather, and where they of course landed: and the reader, who may now make the whole jour- ney in four days, will indulgently understand how pleasing must have been to those early tra- vellers’ ears the usual indication, by voice and outstretched whip, embodied in the well-known exclamation of every vetturino, “ Ecco Roma.” To one ‘lasso maris et viarum,” like Horace, PIUS THE SEVENTH. 5 these words brought the first promise of approach- ing rest, the only assurance, after months of homelessness, that the bourn was reached, the harbour attained, where, at least for years to come, he would calmly devote himself to duties once more welcomed. partook of his nobler and higher nature, his genius, his grandeur of mind, and his faith, is to be preserved and even developed, as a legacy of family love alone can be; while the errors and the excesses that have clouded it will ever serve as traditionary lessons, where they can be most accurately appreciated for avoidance. All this may, no doubt, appear superfluous ; for no one who recognises what we may call providential crises in history, will refuse to acknowledge one in the appearance of Napoleon Bonaparte, rising suddenly and straight, like a solid sea-wall, from the revolutionary abyss, and protecting against that from which it sprigs — the shaken and shattered earth. And yet the reader must indulge this vein still further, before the writer’s view can be made clear. Europe has experienced many political revolu- tions, but it has witnessed only one social one. It has only been by invasion and conquest, that an entire and ancient royal dynasty has been swept away; every order of rank and nobility abolished ; the whole class of the priesthood, and the national religion, with all its institutions, monuments, rites, and usages, annulled by death, confiscation, destruction, or abrogation; the map of the country pulled to pieces, its provinces remodelled under other names ; its weights and PIUS THE SEVENTH. és measures, from the ton to the grain, and from the league to the inch, changed in name and proportion ; its divisions of time, from the era of its date to the distribution of the year, of its months, and of their subdivisions; and finally the total syste of government, finance, justice, and municipal administration, effaced and pro- duced anew. When the Turks seized on the Byzantine empire they effected exactly such a revolution; and such the Saracens made in Andalusia and Granada. For even they did not change that stubborn element of nationality— language. The Albanian and the Moldavian, the Arab and the Greek, the scattered tribes of the mountains or the sands, retained their mo- ther-tongues. What is called the French revolution did there- fore, for perhaps the only time in the world’s history, what only the complete subjugation of a country by a foreign enemy has ever done. It was a volcano, not so much in the violent and burning outburst of hidden fires, frightfully energetic and appalling, as by its covering with the scoriz# and ashes that had nourished them the rich soil and teeming produce of civilisation. These will indeed reappear ; the surface, new and unnatural, will be abraded by time and storms and gradually the germs, crushed, but not killed, BE4 fir. THE LAST FOUR POPES. of old life, will struggle through, and be green again above the black field. The terrible upheaving of the subsoils over the surface, consist they of mobs or clubs, moun- tains or conventions; the triumph of proletari- anism over the noble and the sacred, the aristo- cracy of genius as of birth; the execrable impar- tiality of wickedness, which could send a Bailly or a Lavoisier to the scaffold as willingly as a Danton or a Robespierre ; the persevering struggle to destroy whatever was enlightened by educa- tion, study, and familiarity with polished litera- ture and elegant society, seemed to lead almost to the very extinction, not only of civilisation, but of whatever could again revive it. Tor there arose, too, from that very slime of corrup- tion and brutality’, a crop of ferocious genius 1 A few years ago, after the barricades, a number of prolétaires, left destitute in Paris, whither they had come to find work or plunder, were kindly provided with food and lodging in a college ; where also pains were taken to give them some moral instruction. All seemed becomingly accepted, when the superior, hoping to soften still more their minds and hearts, showed to some of them the stains of blood which still marked the floor, from the massacres of the great revolution. One of the men, after listening to his account, exclaimed: ‘* Ah, Monsieur! vous ne nous connaissez pas. Nous ferions autant. Nous sommes de la boue nous autres. Nous accepterions votre pain avec une main, et nous vous poi- gnarderions avec l’autre.” Has the reader ever met a crowd coming away from an execution? THas he ever seen another like it? Where did it come from? Similar questions used to be asked at Paris in the days of terror, and used to be answered with almost a superstitious shudder. PIUS THE SEVENTH. ta and prowess, which threatened not only to render the new order of things permanent, but to endow it with power of propagation and ex- tension. It is hard to say whether this giant power was the nation’s will or the nation’s arm ; whether it gave, or followed, an impulse ; whether successive leaders, —as they rose to the surface of that turbid pool, controlled its billows for a while, and then were tossed to be impaled upon its rocks,— forced their way up by innate might, or were pushed and whirled by the tur- bulence below into upper air. But, one after the other, they showed no higher or nobler thoughts and aims, than the basest and most sanguinary of those who had upheaved them ; no more instinct for morality, order, or civilisation, no more reverence for genius or virtue, no more desire to turn the flow of social energies into their usual channels, and regain the calm breath and steady pulse that alone are evidence of national vitality. For this they mistook the tremendous outbreaks of rude strength, and the choking throbs of a maniacal access. Count De Maistre, with truthful humour, de- scribes the human animal as composed of three elements, soul, body, and—déte."| When the 1 Voyage autour de ma Chambre, 74 THE LAST FOUR POPES. bestial element gets the uppermost, it must be for a wild start and headlong career of some sort; and here it was for a mad political debauch. The people, as it was called, had plunged, and reared, struggled, and wrenched itself loose from whatever it considered a load to which it had been unjustly yoked; whether the wain of laborious industry, or a golden car of royal state. In doing this, it had torn every tie which con- nected it with social order. It had broken “ the triple cord” of the domestic charities ; for often the greatest enemies of a man were those of his own house. It had snapped the golden chain of mutual interest which unites different classes, till, after reckless plunder and systematic confiscation, assignats had become the wretched substitute for coin. In fine, it had even rent the tougher thongs, by which justice both binds and scourges delinquent members of society ; for revolutionary tribunals had taken the place of the calm judg- ment-seat, or rather it was a more terrible pro- cedure, by mob accusation, trial, sentence, and execution. 3 One band only remained unbroken, flung loose upon the neck, in this wild career, and he who should have courage enough to seize it, and cool prudence to handle it, so as to wheel round almost unconsciously, and bring back to the PIUS THE SEVENTH. gs beaten track of nations, this yet uncontrollable energy, would, indeed, be the man of his age, and the retrieveryof his country. This rein which no Phaethon could have seized without being dashed, as so many had been, to pieces, was the intense love of country, a love like all else near it, passionate, fierce, and scorching ; that burnt for vengeance on every foe, scorned the opposition of the entire world, was darkly jealous of every glory gained for it by every king, though it turned itself into hatred at the very name. ‘There can only be one man at a time equal to such an emergency ; and looking back after fifty or sixty years, no one can doubt that a higher will than man’s, a better cause than fate, gave him his destiny. He snatched, in the right moment, this only rein which could guide back his country to the beaten way ; seconding its last noble impulse, he gained his mastery over it, soothed it, caressed it; then called into action once more the dor- mant instincts of classified society, subordination, moral responsibility, and at last religion. The opportune appearance of such a man, gifted with such a combination of necessary qualifications, as indispensable then, as at all times rare, becomes, so contemplated, a providential act. This consideration does not oblige nor lead us 76 THE LAST FOUR POPES. to the approbation of a single act against justice, religion, or truth. Not one ageressive war, not one deed of oppression, however bril- liant in its execution, or plausible in its motives, not one act of spoliation, or violence, or irreve- rence to person, place, or thing, nothing, in fine, unjustifiable by the eternal laws of justice can we, or will we, ever approve. Every extenuating consideration must have its weight with us; every pleading motive for excuse we leave to a higher tribunal, where judgment is more merciful than man’s. It is not a little to say, that a young soldier, formed in such times as his, flattered and spoiled by men and by fortune, should have so earnestly sought and obtained the legitimate restoration of religion, its hierarchy, its influence, and its complete organisation, free from modern theories of doctrine, or foreign systems of govern- ment. And especially nobody will, for a moment, sus- pect us of wishing to mitigate the guilt of what he himself deplored and repented of, the treat- ment of the venerated Pontiff whom we may seem to have forgotten. Although, no doubt, his violent removal from Rome was not com- manded by the Emperor, and still less could he have intended the rudeness, irreverence, and sa- crilegiousness of the mode in which it was done, PIUS THE SEVENTH. Ge yet the injury was not repaired, nor were its suf- ferings compensated. The responsibility unhap- pily was assumed, and so incurred. To deplore it, is to testify feelings very different from aver- sion or even anger. It is what one does with the warning offences of a David or a Solomon. Yes, Providence brought the two together for a great and wise purpose. The one, borne away beyond the purposes of his first glorious mission, after he had mastered his noble steed, had al- lowed it to trample underfoot the nations, and dash its hoof over the necks of princes. Like Cyrus he had forgotten from whom came his power and strength; and he believed that nothing could resist his might. Not impressed by early education with any clear idea of the marked limits of two powers essentially distinct on earth, ill-advised by those who should have been his counsellors, who, with a single exception’, left uncorrected, or rather seconded, the feeling which experience had made a second nature-—the very secret of unbroken success—that being irresist- ible he must not be resisted, he brought himself into collision where he could not humanly doubt of victory. The well-wrought iron vase met in the stream the simple vessel of softest clay. The 1 Abbé Emery, and Napoleon respected and honoured him _ for it. 78 THE LAST FOUR POPES. steel armour of the warrior brushed against the soft texture of the sacerdotal vestment. In either case, which was sure to give way ? We come then to the great moral of this his- torical, or rather providential moment. To the catholic mind the reading is simple. It required a man of marvellous genius, of irresistible power, of unfailing success, of singular quickness in measuring opposition, in reading character, in seizing the key to the present position, the passes to the future, a daring master of destiny, a sol- dier, a chieftain, a lawgiver, an emperor in mind and presentiment ; it needed all this, and more, to form the man who should subdue the most tre- mendous of social convulsions, and give a desig- nation to his era in history. Well, and no wonder he deemed himself invin- cible. And while he stood on his own ground, sat on his war-steed, or on his throne, he was so. But there needed only a plain and simple monk, brought up in a cloister, ignorant of the world, single-minded in his aims, guileless and artless in his word and speech, not eloquent, nor brilliant in qualities or attainments, meek, gentle, sweet, humble-minded, and devout; it required only a Pope of average character in the qualifi- cations of his state, to prove that there was a power superior to that of a mighty conqueror — PIUS THE SEVENTH. 79 and give to the age a rival, though unbelted, hero. And no wonder if the captor was made cap- tive’, and the conqueror was subdued. For he had left his own ground, he had dismounted from his charger, he had descended from his throne :— he had stepped into the sanctuary. And there the old man of mild aspect and gentle voice was in his own. And the whole could only be a repetition of a scene often repeated there; and its result was only the execution of an eternal law. 1 We must naturally reject every unauthenticated story of rudeness personally shown to the holy Pontiff. A celebrated in- terview of Fontainebleau has been made the subject of a picture by an eminent artist (Wilkie); and dramatic accounts have been given of what there passed. The Italian biographer of Pius VII., who published his work two years after the Pope’s death in Rome itself, then full of intimate friends, admirers, and companions of his misfortunes, who had heard his own narrative of his sufferings, gives a very different account of the conclusion of this interview from that generally reported ; and he is by no means disposed to partiality in favour of the Emperor. After giving a description of a conversation, animated on both sides, and carried on in so loud atone as to resound through the neighbouring rooms, he relates in full the Pope’s calm summary of all that he had done and suf- fered for the preservation of the Church and of religion. It ended by a firm, but mild, expression of his determination to undergo anything rather than consent to what was demanded. He con- tinues :—‘‘ Napoleon, who had listened attentively, was moved by this firmness of purpose, joined to such an apostolic simplicity, He was calmed, embraced the Pope, and, on leaving, said, ‘ Had I been in your place, I would have done the same.’” (Pistolesi, vol. iii p- 142.) Was not this taking the captor captive, and subduing in the noblest sense? And what more honourable homage could have been paid to the conduct of the Pope ? 80 THE LAST FOUR POPES. The Emperor Arcadius, more perhaps through evil counsel than through malice, had the great Bishop St. John Chrysostom removed from his patriarchal see, and carried away into the fast- nesses of cold inclement mountains. Years after his death, Theodosius and Pulcheria made repa- ration in the same city, publicly and fearlessly, for the injury inflicted by their parents on so holy a man. And has there been virtually no repetition of this same noble and generous scene ? Upon how many a French soldier and officer has the splendid statue of Pius in the Vatican seemed to look down, smilingly and forgivingly, and with hand outstretched to shed a blessing, at once sacerdotal and paternal ? PIUS THE SEVENTH, 81 CHAPTER V. CONDITION AND FEELINGS OF ROME. At the period to which the foregoing chapters relate, it was not difficult to learn the feelings with which every class in Rome looked back at the times through which the country had lately passed, and those with which the people con- templated their actual condition. The Romans, whatever changes may have oc- curred in their character, have always retained, as an inalienable part of their inheritance, a sen- sitive consciousness that their city can hold no secondary rank. In every vicissitude of fortune this has been the law of her existence. The translation of the empire to Constantinople, or of the kingdom of Italy to Ravenna, or of the papal court to Avignon, might have appeared sufficient to strip her of her rank; while the successive spoliations, sackings, burnings, and demolitions, inflicted by barbarians or factions, would have accounted for her sinking to the position of Veii or Collatium. But the destiny G 82 THE LAST FOUR POPES. of Rome had risen above every catastrophe, supe- rior to all accidents, and all designs hostile to her supremacy. Now, however, for the first time, Rome had been but a provincial city, subject to a foreign dominion, governed by a military chief, with a new municipal and judicial system, and a total change in social relations. Even the com- putation of time was altered. The peace-nurtured children of the soil were subjected to military conscription, which rent them from their families, and sent them far away to the frozen regions of Russia, or the torrid shores of Andalusia, to bleed and die for strangers. From many causes, the population of Rome had dwindled year by year of the occupation, till from 153,000, it had been reduced to 117,000/; many of the best families had left, some indeed to occupy posts of trust in other portions of the Empire, others to escape the responsibilities and honours of a government towards which they felt no attraction, Money had become scarce, the abundant sources of public and private charity had been dried up; assignats had first been freely circulated, and then suddenly made valueless ; 1 The first was the population in 1800; the second, in 1813. This was the minimum. There was a steady increase till 1837, when the cholera augmented the deaths from 3000 to 12,000. Between 1848 and 1849, the population diminished by 13,000. On the present Pope’s return it again increased, and last year it had reached 178,798, PIUS THE SEVENTH. 83 and many honest families had been driven to want.! The sweeping away of the Court, with its many dependencies, the breaking up of the households of perhaps fifty cardinals, of many prelates, and ambassadors, had thrown thousands out of direct employment, and tens of thousands of workmen, artists, and artisans, to whom such establishments gave occupation. At the same time were neces- sarily closed the various offices for the adminis- tration of ecclesiastical affairs, local and general, which give bread to more laymen than clerks. Another, and a sensitive sore in the minds of the Romans had been the loss of so many objects, which elsewhere might be things of luxury, but in Rome were almost necessaries of life. The most precious manuscripts of the Vatican, with which they were by their very names associated ( Codex Vaticanus was a title of honour), the invaluable collection of medals, every statue and group of fame, the master-pieces of painting in all the churches, the archives of the Vatican and of other departments of ecclesiastical government, 1 A gentleman of great credit informed me that, going out one morning early, he saw standing, among many others, a nobleman awaiting the opening of a baker’s shop, that he might buy the bread which had to be the sustenance of his family for the day, He had no servant to send; and he entreated my informant not to tell any one of his having seen him in so painful a situation, Gg 2 84 THE LAST FOUR POPES. and many other, to Rome invaluable, treasures had been removed. The noble halls of the Va- tican and Capitol had been empty and deserted : for, plaster casts, and a few artists obliged to be content with them, could ill replace the original marbles, and the crowds that used to flock to admire them. Private galleries had shared a similar fate. The Borghese collection of statues had been sold to the Emperor; and the Albani museum had been in part removed, but fortu- nately in part was only packed up for the journey, and thus was to a great extent saved.' 1 The collection of antiquities in the Borghese villa, 255 in number, including the monuments of Gabii, were bought in 1808 by the Emperor, and paid for according to contract. The sale may be considered a forced one; though, in truth, fear of an English invasion was the only real constraint. For the Emperor had negotiated in vain with his brother-in-law, the Prince, up to that period. ‘The sale was made under protest from the Govern- ment, as it was contrary to law. In 1814, the family claimed back its antiquities; but Louis XVIII. refused to part with them, as lawfully purchased. The case of the Albani collection was more severe. In 1798 the French Directory confiscated the whole Albani property, as well as that of the Braschi family. The magnificent Albani villa, near Rome, was stripped of its sculptures and marbles, and they, with | the books and paintings of the house, were sent to Paris. Only a few cases that were lying sealed in the Roman custom-house in 1802, were then restored. In 1814, the Cardinal Joseph Albani, backed by the Austrian and Roman governments, demanded resti- tution of the family property. Although allied to the House of Austria by blood, the family had been suffering distress from the confiscation. On the 9th of October, 1815, the celebrated relief of Antinous was restored to Sig. Santi, the Cardinal’s com- missioner; and in December following, the remaining pieces of PIUS THE SEVENTH. 85 If Rome had deplored, and most justly, the loss of her arts, her greatest secular ornaments, what must have been her grief at the religious desolation into which she had been plunged ? For to the letter almost it might have been said, that ‘her streets had mourned, because no one came any longer to her solemn festivals.” The crowds of strangers who yearly visit Rome will acknowledge, that it is not merely for the sake of her unrivalled monuments that they travel so far, but that the religious ceremonies, which they expect to witness, form no small portion of their attraction. Why also do all flock to Naples during the weeks that intervene between those celebrations, and abandon its early spring, its transparent sea and golden orange-groves, just at the moment when Rome is stripped of everything cheerful, its very bells are hushed, and its music consists of lamentations and musereres ? Rome is a city of churches, neither more nor less than a city of galleries and museums: for its churches enter into this class of wonders too. sculpture of his museum, thirty-nine in number, were purchased for the Louvre by Louis XVIII. Among these are the beautiful statue of Euripides, another Antinous as Hercules, equally valu- able, with several precious busts. Of the pictures and books, and of many other pieces of glyptic art, no account was ever had, so far as we have heard. G3 86 THE LAST FOUR POPES. Architecture, painting, sculpture, rich marbles, metal-work, decoration, artistic effects of every sort, are to be found, separate or combined, in the churches. Many are grand in their outlines, though poor in detail, while others present no creat features, yet are teeming with artistic trea- sure. Here is a fresco by Raffaele, there a chapel or a group by Michelangelo; in this is a dome by Lanfranco, in that spandrils by Dome- nichino; in one a mass of unique marble, a huge flight of steps of materials sold elsewhere by the ounce, in another a gorgeous altar of precious stones enshrining a silver statue. But I well remember old men who wept when you spoke of these things ; as the sires of Israel did, who could contrast the new temple of Jerusalem with the vanished glories of the old. Everything was now poor, compared with what they had seen before the treaty of Tolentino, and the subse- quent levies of church treasure, during foreign occupation. However, even all this was but secondary to the greater loss of persons compared with things. Many of the churches of Rome are built for large bodies of clergy to serve them; and these had disappeared. Then came the still more irre- parable loss of a sovereign-priest (like Melchi- sedec) officiating before and for his people; with PIUS THE SEVENTH. 87 his ministers of state, his high princes and nobles surrounding and assisting him, bringing to the service of God what elsewhere is royal state. Such a ceremonial had its own proportioned seats, in the greater basilicas, never seen as they deserve to be, at other times. St. Peter’s, else, is a grand ageregation of splendid churches, chapels, tombs, and works of art. It becomes then a whole, a single, peerless temple, such as the world never saw before. That central pile, with its canopy of bronze as lofty as the Farnese palace, with its deep-diving stairs leading to a court walled and paved with precious stones, that yet seems only a vestibule to some cavern of a catacomb, with its simple altar that disdains ornament in the presence of what is beyond the reach of human price—that, which in truth forms the heart of the great body, placed just where the heart should be,—is only on such occasions ani- mated, and surrounded on every side, by living and moving sumptuousness. The immense cupola above it, ceases to be a dome over a sepulchre, and becomes a canopy above an altar; the quiet tomb beneath is changed into the shrine of relics below the place of sacrifice —the saints under the altar ;—the quiet spot at which a few devout worshippers at most times may be found, bowing under the 100 lamps, is crowded by rising a4 88 THE LAST FOUR POPES. groups, beginning from the lowest step, increasing in dignity and in richness of sacred robes, till, at the summit and in the centre, stands supreme the Pontiff himself, on the very spot which becomes him, the one living link in a chain, of which the very first ring is riveted to the shrine of the apostles below. This position no one else can occupy, with any associations that give it its singular character. It is only his presence that puts everything there in its proper place, and combines all the parts into a significant unity. St. Peter’s is only itself when the Pope is at its high altar; and hence only by, or for, him is it ever used. All this of course had ceased to be: it was a plain impossibility to attempt any substitution for it. It might be said, that the highest form of religious celebration known in the Catholic Church, as indeed in the Christian world, had been abolished, or suspended without intention of its being ever resumed. It was impossible for a people, so proud of the spiritual preeminence of its ecclesiastical government, and of the grandeur with which this was exhibited on solemn occa- sions, not to feel all the mortification and abase. ment involved in this privation. There can be no difficulty, therefore, in ima- gining that the restoration of the Pontifical PIUS THE SEVENTH. 89 Government had been hailed, and continued, at the time of which we write, to be considered as a return to happiness and prosperity, as a passage from gloom and sullenness to brightest cheerfulness. And so, at that time, everybody spoke. No doubt the seeds of other thoughts had been left in the ground, by those who so long had held it. It will always happen that some profit more under an unlawful tenure, than under a legitimate master; and it had always been noticed, that in every measure of spoliation and violence, not only was the necessary infor- mation furnished, but the most disloyal part was taken, by natives and subjects. But these, and others like them, must be considered as, then at least, exceptions. The many who had experienced “Come sa di sale Il pane altrui, e come é duro calle Lo scendere e il salir per le altrui scale,”! the nobles, that is, who, of blood scarcely less than royal and even imperial, had been obliged to pay court to strangers of much lower rank, and indeed to solicit their patronage; the merchant class who had suffered from general stagnation ; and the peasantry, whose traditional loyalty had always been seasoned with religious reverence, 1 Paradiso, xvii. 90 THE LAST FOUR POPES. were here of one mind. With more general truth than when the words were first written, we may say, that, on Pius the Seventh’s return, ‘“Ttaly changed her mourning attire.”* Not only the artist, but the homeliest citizen of Rome, rejoiced, as he saw the huge cases pass along the streets, which he was told contained the Laocoon, or the Apollo, the Transfiguration, or the Com- munion of St. Jerome. And even objects of minor interest to the many, the manuscripts of the Vatican, the archives of the Palace, of the public ministries, even of the Holy Office, were welcomed back with joy, as evidence of a return | to what everyone considered the normal state. And so when, upon his return to Rome, Pius VII. proceeded for the first time, after many years, to the balcony in the porch of the Vatican basilica, to pronounce once more his solemn benediction over the assembled crowds, not only of Rome, but of its neighbouring towns and surrounding territory, the commotion of all was, beyond description, tender. To many still young this was the first occasion of witnessing a scene never to be forgotten. As, within the church, all may be said to have been arranged and almost predestined for the function at the great ponti- 1“ Ad ejus reditum lugubres vestes Italia mutavit.” — Sé. Jerome. PIUS THE SEVENTH. 91 fical altar, so, outside, one would almost suppose that everything was accessory to the papal bene- diction. Atany rate, the great square basks, with unalluring magnificence, on any other day, in the midday sun. Its tall obelisk sends but a slim shadow to travel round the oval plane, like the gnomon of a huge dial ; its fountains murmur with a delicious dreaminess, sending up massive jets like blocks of crystal into the hot sunshine, and receiving back a broken spray on which sits serene an unbroken iris, but present no “cool erot” where one may enjoy their freshness ; and, in spite of the shorter path, the pilgrim looks with dismay at the dazzling pavement and long flight of unsheltered steps between him and the church, and prudently plunges into the forest of columns at either side of the piazza, and threads his way through their uniting shadows, intended, as an inscription tells him, for this express pur- pose’; and so sacrifices the view of the great church towards which he has perhaps been wend- ing his way for days, to the comfort of a cooler approach. But on the days that the sovereign Pontiff bestows his blessing from the loggia, as it is 1 The inscription is from Isai.iv. 6. “A tabernacle for a shade in the daytime from the heat, and for a security and covert from the whirlwind, and from the rain.” 992 THE LAST FOUR POPES. called, that is, from above the principal entrance to the portico of the church, no one thinks of the heat, or sultriness even, of the day, aggravated though it may be, by the additional caloric of many thousand panting bodies. Every thing seems arranged on purpose: and no other place on earth could answer half so well. The gi- gantic flights of steps leading to the church, with immense terraces between, are covered with such a carpet as no loom ever wove. Groups of peasantry from the neighbouring towns and villages cover it, some standing in eager expectation, many lying down at full stretch, waiting more calmly; chiefly women and children. The men are in their gayest attire, with blue or green velvet jackets, their hair gathered in a green silk net, with white stock- ings, and such silver buckles at the knee, and still more on the foot, that if such articles had been discovered in an ancient tomb, and sup- posed to give a rule of proportion for the primeval wearer, they would have given the lie to the old proverb: ‘ ex pede Herculem.” But the female attire on those occasions was, far more than now since the invasion of Manchester has reached even Apennine villages, characteristically distinct. The peasants of Frascati and Albano, with immense gold earrings and necklaces, the PIUS THE SEVENTH. 93 silver skewer through the hair under the snow- white flat kerchief, with richly brocaded sto- machers and showy silks, looked almost poor beside the Oriental splendour of the costume, supposed to be in truth Saracenic, of the dames from Nettuno. ‘ i ‘ as ‘: x, 3 im 5 Nis . ’ ‘ . ° ‘ ) i . i i 1 > ‘4 | z r- i'« Ab. ‘ \ . } . { ' The. ' Mays / i ( ' , s - . ' z | af ’ Pay y iy ay s ‘ai / Fi 6 a P a , . ? , : ‘wel i é ‘ } J #| > f f all + : | 1 i - . ' . Uy ia x A~ Py 5 6 { 4 4 , LZ LLL LZ LEA LAA LZ HEEL} egal i) o PIUS THE EIGHTH. ne CHAPTER I. HIS ELECTION AND PREVIOUS HISTORY. A PONTIFICATE which commenced on the 31st of March, in 1829, and closed on the Ist of Decem- ber of the following year, limited thus to a duration of twenty months, cannot be expected to afford very ample materials for either public records or personal recollections. Such was the brief sovereignty in Church and Staté of the learned and holy Pius VIII. The election to this high dignity, and the suc- cession to this venerable name, of Cardinal Francis Xavier Castiglioni cannot be said to have taken Rome by surprise. At the preceding conclave of 1823 he was known to have united more suf- frages than any of his colleagues, till the plenary number centred suddenly on Cardinal della Genga; nor had anything occurred since to dis- qualify him for similar favour, except the addi- tion of some six years more to an age already sufficiently advanced. In fact the duration of the conclave was evidence of the facility with eas 2 356 THE LAST FOUR POPES. which the electors arrived at their conclusion. Leo XII. died, as has been stated, February 10. On the 23rd the cardinals entered the conclave; and fresh arrivals continued for several days. Indeed it was not till the 3rd of March that the Cardinal Albani, accredited representative of Austria in the conclave, and charged with the veto held by the Emperor, entered within the sacred precincts. On the 31st of that month, he was the first to break through them, and from the usual place announce to the assembled crowds, that Cardinal Castiglioni was elected Pope, and had taken the name of Pius VIII. It will be naturally asked, what were the qualities which secured to him this rapid nomination. His short pontificate did not allow time for the display of any extra- ordinary powers; nor would it be fair, without evidence of them, to attribute them to him. But there was all the moral assurance, which a pre- vious life could give, of his possessing the gifts necessary to make him more than an ordinary man in his high elevation. In an hereditary monarchy, the successor to the throne may be known for many years to his future subjects, and he may have been, during the period, qualifying himself for his coming responsibility. He may have manifested symp- PIUS THE EIGHTH. 357 toms of principles completely opposed to those of his father, or of his house; and given promises, or thrown out hints, of a total departure from domestic or hereditary policy. Or, he may have been a loose and abandoned crown-prince, a threat, rather than a promise, to the coming generation. Perhaps the young Prince Hal may turn out a respectable King Henry; or, more likely, Windsor Castle may continue, on a regal scale, the vices of Carlton House. ‘The nation, however, rightly accepts the royal gift, and must be content. For in compensation, the ad- vantages of succession to a throne by descent are so great and so manifest, that the revival of an elective monarchy in Europe would be con- sidered, by all who are not prepared to see it lapse into a presidency, as a return to times of anarchy and revolution. The quiet subsidence of an empire by election into one of succession, within our own days, proves that, even in a country which violent changes have affected less than they would have done any other, the best safeguards to peace and guarantees of order are most certainly found in the simple and instinc- tive method of transmitting royal prerogatives through royal blood. How much of Poland’s calamities and present condition are due to per- severance in the elective principle! AA 3 358 THE LAST FOUR POPES. But there is one, and only one, necessary exception to this rule. The sovereignty of the Church could not, under any circumstances, be handed down in a family succession; not even did it not enforce the celibacy of itsclergy. The head of the Church is not the spiritual ruler of one kingdom, and his office cannot be an heir- loom, like crown-jewels. His headship extends over an entire world, spiritually indeed, yet sen- sibly and efficaciously: kingdoms and republics are equally comprised in it; and what belongs to so many must in fact be the property of none. At the same time, it is evident that the duties of this sublime functional power, running through every problem of social polity, can only be dis- charged by a person of matured age and judg- ment: there could be no risk of regencies or tutorships, of imbecility or hereditary taints, of scandalous antecedents or present vices. Only an election, by men trained themselves in the preparatory studies and practices of the ecclesi- astical state, of one whose life and conversation had passed before their eyes, could secure the appointment of a person duly endowed for so high an office. ‘They look, of course, primarily to the qualities desirable for this spiritual dignity. It is a Pope whom they have to elect for the ecclesiastical rule of the world, not the sovereign PIUS THE EIGHTH. 359 of asmall territory. His secular dominion is the consequence, not the source, of his religious posi- tion. Certainly it cannot be doubted that in later times the electors have been faithful to their trust. What Ranke has shown of their prede- cessors is incontestable of more modern Pontiffs; that, not only none has disgraced his position by unworthy conduct, but all have proved them- selves equal to any emergency that has met them, and distinguished by excellent and princely qualities. That those characteristics which determine the choice of the electors do not first manifest themselves in conclave, but have been displayed through years of public life in legations, in nunciatures, in bishoprics, or in office at home, must be obvious. Hence men of accurate obser- vation may have noted them; and a certain inde- finite feeling of anticipation may be general, | about the probable successor to the vacant chair. In Cardinal Castiglioni many qualities of high standard had been long observed ; such as could not fail to recommend him to the notice and even preference of his colleagues. To say that his life had been irreproachable would be but little: it had been always edifying, and adorned with every ecclesiastical virtue. Though born (November 20, 1761) of noble AA 4 360 THE LAST FOUR POPES. family, in the small city of Cingoli, he had come early to Rome to pursue his studies, and had distinguished himself in them so much, that in 1800, when only thirty-nine years old, he had been raised to the episcopal dignity in the See of Montalto near Ascoli. Here he had signalised himself by his apostolic zeal, and had conse- quently drawn upon his conduct the jealous eye of the French authorities. He was known to be staunch in his fidelity to the Sovereign Pontiff, and to the rights of the Church: consequently he was denounced as dangerous, and honoured by exile, first to Milan, and then to Mantua. We are told that those who had charge of him were astonished to find, in the supposed fire- brand, one of the gentlest and meekest of human beings. In all this, however, there was much to recommend him to those who had met to elect a shepherd, and not a hireling for Christ’s flock. But in this proof of his constancy there had been testimony borne to another, and if not a higher, at least a rarer, quality. This was ecclesiastical learning. Of his familiarity with other portions of this extensive literary field, there will be occasion to speak later. But the branch of theological lore in which Cardinal Castiglioni had been most conspicuous was Canon law. Some readers may not be willing to con- PIUS THE EIGHTH. 361 cede any great importance or dignity to such a proficiency, the value of which they may have had few opportunities of estimating. Canon law is, however, a system of ecclesiastical jurispru- dence, as complex and as complete as any other legislative and judicial code: and since it is in force at Rome, and has to be referred to even in transactions with other countries where ecclesi- astical authority is more limited, a person solidly grounded in it, and practically versed in its application, naturally possesses a valuable advan- tage in the conduct of affairs, especially those belonging to the highest spheres. We would not allow a foreigner the right to despise that pecu- liar learning which we think qualifies a lawyer of eminence for the woolsack ; especially if from his ignorance of our unique legal principles and practice, he may not have qualified himself to judge of it. However, the attainments of Car- dinal Castiglioni rose even higher than these. He had been originally the scholar of the first Canonist of his day, and had become his assistant. The work which stands highest among modern manuals on ecclesiastical law is Devoti’s Insti- tutes: and this was the joint work of that prelate and Castiglioni. Indeed, the most learned por- tion of it, the notes which enrich and explain it, were mainly the production of the pupil. Now 362 THE LAST FOUR POPES. it so happened, that when the relations between Pius VII. and the French Emperor became intri- cate and unfriendly, and delicate questions arose of conflicting claims and jurisdictions, it was to the Bishop of Montalto that the Pope had re- course, as his learned and trusty counsellor in such dangerous matters. He was found equal to the occasion. His answers and reports were firm, precise, and erudite; nor did he shrink from the responsibility of having given them. It was this freedom and inflexibility which drew upon him the dislike of the occupying power in Italy. Surely such learning must receive its full value with those who have seen its fruits, when they are deliberating about providing a prudent steers- man and a skilful captain for the bark of Peter, still travailed by past tempests, and closely threatened by fresh storms. When the Pope was restored to his own, Cas- tiglioni’s merits were fully acknowledged and rewarded. On the 8th of March, 1816, he was raised to the cardinalitial dignity, and named Bishop of Cesena, the Pope’s own native city. He was in course of time brought to Rome, and so became Bishop of Tusculum, or Frascati, one of the episcopal titles in the Sacred College. He was also named Penitentiary, an office requiring great experience and prudence. He enjoyed PIUS THE EIGHTH. 363 the friendship of Consalvi as well as the confi- dence of their common master, and thus his ecclesiastical knowledge was brought most opportunely to assist the diplomatic experience and ability of the more secular minister. In fact, it might be said that they often worked in common, and even gave conjointly audience to foreign ministers, in matters of a double interest. And such must often be transactions between the Holy See and Catholic Powers. Again, we may ask, was it not more than probable that such experience in ecclesiastical affairs of the very highest order, and such results of its appli- cation, should carry due weight with persons occupied in the selection of a ruler over the Church, who should not come new and raw into the active government of the whole religious world ? Such were the qualifications which induced the electors in conclave to unite their suffrages in the person of, Cardinal Castiglioni; and it is not wonderful that he should have selected for his pontifical name, Prus THe Eicutu. Indeed, it has been said that the Holy Pontiff, to whom he thus recorded his gratitude, had long before given him this title. For, on some occasion when he was transacting business with him, Pius VII. said to him with a smile, “ Your 364 THE LAST FOUR POPES. Holiness, Pius the Eighth, may one day settle this matter.” ? Such auguries being seldom told till after ful- filment,—for without the modesty that would conceal them, there would not be the virtues that can deserve them, — they are naturally little heeded. To tell the truth, one does not see why, if a Jewish High Priest had the gift of prophecy for his year of office’, one of a much higher order and dignity should not occa- sionally be allowed to possess it. In this case, however, the privilege was not necessary. As it has been already intimated, the accumulation of merits in the Cardinal might strike the Pope even more, from his closer observation, than they would the electors; and the good omen might only be the result of sagacity combined with affection. In like manner, a natural shrewdness which Pius possessed might have guided him to a similar prediction, if true as reported, to his intermediate successor, Leo XII. It used to be said that when Monsignor della Genga was suddenly told to prepare for the nunciature, and consequently for episcopal con- secration and was therefore overwhelmed with grief, he flew to the feet of Pius to entreat a 1 D’ Artaud, Life of Pius VIII. 2 Jo. xi. 52, PIUS THE EIGHTH. 365 respite, when the holy man said to him; “ It is the white coif! that I put upon your head.” The many noble gifts which showed themselves in the youthful prelate, sufficient to induce the Pope at once to send him abroad as his repre- sentative in troublesome and dangerous times, may have carried his penetrating eye beyond the successful fulfilment of that mission, to the accomplishment of one higher and more distant. But it is more difficult to account for other auguries, where there can be no recourse to prophecy or to shrewdness. All history is full of them: some we throw aside to the score of superstition, others we unhesitatingly give up to fiction; an immense amount we make over to what we call singular or happy coincidences; while a residue is allowed to remain unappro- priated, as inexplicable or devoid of sufficient evidence to be judged on, as too slight to be be- lieved yet too good not to be repeated. In the first book of this volume, a little incident was told of a coachman’s good-natured omen to the young Benedictine monk, afterwards Pius VIL, and the authority was given for it; only one remove from the august subject of the anec- dote. Another, and more strange one, recurs 1 The zucchetto, worn white only by the Pope. 366 THE LAST FOUR POPES. to mind, and rests upon exactly the same autho- rity. I received it from the venerable Monsignor Testa, who assured me that he heard it from the Pope. When he was a monk in Rome, he used often to accompany his relation Cardinal Braschi in his evening drive. One afternoon, as they were just issuing from his palace, a man, appa- rently an artisan, without a coat and in his apron, leaped on the carriage step (which used then to be outside), put his head into the carriage, and said, pointing first to one and then to the other: ‘Ecco due papi, prima questo, e poi questo.” ‘See two popes, first this and then this.” He jumped down, and disappeared. Had any one else witnessed the scene from without, he might have been tempted to ask: “ Are all things well? Why came this madman to you?” And the two astonished inmates of the carriage might have almost answered with Jehu; “ Thus and thus did he speak to us; and he said, Thus saith the Lord, I have anointed you kings over Israel.”* The Pope added that, after the fulfilment of the double prophecy, he had ordered every search and inquiry to be made after the man, but had not been able to find him. There had, however, been ample time 1 TV. Reg. ix. 11, 12. PIUS THE EIGHTH. 367 for him to have finished a tolerably long life; for Braschi, as Pius VI., reigned nearly the years of Peter.! 1 This anecdote brings to mind another concerning a very different person, which I do not remember to have seen published. A gentleman, who, though he differed materially in politics and in religion from the illustrious Daniel O'Connell, enjoyed much of his genial kindness, and greatly admired his private character, told me that he received the following account from him of his first great success at the Bar. He was retained as counsel in an action between the city of W. and another party respecting a salmon-weir on the river. The corporation claimed it as be- longing to them; their opponents maintained it was an open fishery. Little was known of its history further than that it was in the neighbourhood of an ancient Danish colony. But it had always been known by the name of “the daz weir,” and this formed the chief ground of legal resistance to the city’s claim. Able counsel was urging it, while O’Connell, who had to reply for the city, was anxiously racking his fertile brains for a reply. But little relief came thence. Lax, it was argued, meant loose; and loose was the opposite of reserved, or preserved, or guarded, or under any custody of a corporation. The point was turned every way, and put in every light, and looked brilliant and dazzling to audience, litigants, and counsel. The jury were pawing the ground, or rather shuffling their feet, in impatience for their verdict and their dinner; and the nictitating eye of the court, which had long ceased taking notes, was blinking a drowsy assent. Nothing could be plainer. A Jax weir could not be a close weir (though such reasoning might not apply to corporations or constituencies); and no weir could have borne the title of lax, if it had ever been a close one. At this critical conjuncture some one threw across the table to O'Connell a little screwed up twist of paper, according to the wont of courts of justice. He opened, read it, and nodded grateful thanks. A change came over his countenance: the well-known O’Connell smile, half frolic, half sarcasm, played about his lips; he was quite at his ease, and blandly waited the conclusion of his antagonist’s speech. He rose to reply, with hardly a listener; by degrees the jury was motion- less, the lack-lustre eye of the court regained its brightness ; the 368 THE LAST FOUR POPES. The new Pope chose for his secretary of state, the Cardinal Albani, a man vigorous in mind, though advanced in years, whose views no doubt he knew to coincide with his own, and whose politics were of the school of his old colleague, Consalvi. The house of Albani, too, was one of the most illustrious and noble in Italy, boasting even of imperial alliances. In the Cardinal were centred its honours, its wealth, and what he greatly valued, the magnificent museum of which mention has before been made. He died in 1834, at the advanced age of eighty-four. opposing counsel stared in amazement and incredulity, and O’Con- nell’s clients rubbed their hands in delight. What had he done? Merely repeated to the gentlemen of the jury the words of the little twist of paper. ‘ Are you aware that in Danish dachs means salmon?” ‘The reader may imagine with what wit and scorn the question was prepared, with what an air of triumph it was put, and by what a confident demolition of all the adversary’s lax argumentation it was followed. Whether there was then at hand a Danish dictionary (a German one would have sufficed), or the judge reserved the point, I know not; but the confutation proved triumphant: O’Connell carried the day, was made standing counsel to the city of W , and never after wanted a brief. But he sought in vain, after his speech, for his timely succourer: no one knew who had thrown the note; whoever it was he had dis- appeared, and O’Connell could never make out to whom he was indebted. PIUS THE EIGHTH. 369 CHAPTER IL. PERSONAL CHARACTER. THE appearance of Pius VIII. was not, perhaps, so prepossessing at first sight, as that of his two predecessors. This was not from any want either of character or of amiability in his features. When you came to look into his countenance, it was found to be what the reader will think it in his portrait, noble and gentle. The outlines were large and dignified in their proportions; and the mouth and eyes full of sweetness. But an obstinate and chronic herpetic affection in the neck kept his head turned and bowed down, imparted an awkwardness, or want of elegance, to his movements, and prevented his countenance being fully and favourably viewed. This, how- ever, was not the worst; he seemed, and indeed was, in a state of constant pain, which produced an irritation that manifested itself sometimes in his tone and expression. One of his secretaries mentioned to me an instance: when, on his giving a good-natured reply, it immediately BB 370 THE LAST FOUR POPES. drew from the Pope the blandest of smiles, and a most condescending apology, on account of his infirmities. Another effect of this suffering was, that many of the functions of the Church were beyond his strength. For example, the Miserere in Holy Week, one of the most splendid of musical performances, from being exactly suited in its character to its circumstances, was obliged to be curtailed, because the Pope could not kneel so long as it required. This was indeed but a trifle ; for, notwithstanding his constant pain, he was assiduous in his attention to business, and indefatigable in the discharge of every duty. Being himself of a most delicate conscience, he was perhaps severe and stern in his principles, and in enforcing them. He was, for example, most scrupulous about any of his family taking advantage of his elevation to seek honours or high offices. On the very day of his election, he wrote to his nephews a letter in which he com- municated to them the welcome news of his having been raised, by Divine Providence, to the Chair of Peter, and shed bitter tears over the responsibilities with which this dignity over- burthened him. He solicited their prayers, commanded them to refrain from all pomp and pride, and added; “let none of you, or of the PIUS THE EIGHTH. SUL family, move from your posts.” During his pontificate it was proposed to bestow on the great St. Bernard, the title of Doctor of the Universal Church, in the same manner as it is held by St. Augustine or St. Jerome. It was said that some one engaged in the cause, by way of enlisting the Pope’s sympathies in it, remarked that St. Bernard belonged to the same family ; since the Chatillons in France, and the Castiglioni in Italy were only different branches of the same illustrious house. This remark, whether in the pleadings or in conversation, sufficed to check the proceedings; as the Pontiff, jealous of any possible partiality or bias on his part, and fearful of even a suspicion of such a motive having influenced him, ordered them to be suspended. They were afterwards resumed and brought to a happy conclusion under his pontificate. In speaking of this Pope’s literary accomplish- ments, his superior knowledge of Canon law was singled out. But this was by no means his exclusive pursuit. ‘lo mention one of a totally different class, he possessed a very rare acquain- tance with numismatics. His French biographer bears witness to his having held long conferences with him on this subject, which formed one of his own favourite pursuits, while Castiglioni was yet a cardinal. He says that, when closeted with BB 2 372 THE LAST FOUR POPES. him for a long time, people in waiting imagined they were engaged in solemn diplomatic discus- sions, while, in truth, they were merely debating the genuineness or value of some Vespasian or Athenee. Biblical literature, however, was his favourite pursuit, and the writer can bear witness: to his having made himself fully acquainted with its modern theories, and especially with German rationalistic systems. Very soon after his acces- sion, he obtained an audience, in company with the late most promising Professor Alle- mand, who occupied the Chair of Holy Scripture in the Roman Seminary, and had collected a most valuable library of modern biblical works, in many languages. The Pope then gave formal audiences on his throne, and not in his private cabinet, so that a long conversation was more difficult. Still he detained us long, discoursing most warmly on the importance of those studies, in which he encouraged his willing listeners to persevere, and gave evidence of his own exten- sive and minute acquaintance with their many branches. He had, however, supplied better proof of this knowledge than could be given in a mere conversation. It is well known to every scholar, how thoroughly, for more than a generation, the PIUS THE EIGHTH. ovo Bible in Germany had been the sport of every fancy, and the theme for erudite infidelity. The word “rationalism ” gives the key to the system of stripping the sacred volume of the super- natural; explaining away whatever transcends the ordinary powers of nature or of man, whether in action or in knowledge, and reducing the book to the measure of a very interesting ancient Veda or Saga, and its personages to that of mythic characters, Hindoo or Scandinavian. Till Hengstenberg appeared, most Protestant scrip- tural literature ran in the same channel, with more or less of subtlety or of grossness, now refined and now coarse, according to the tastes or characters of authors. More diluted in Michaelis or Ro- senmiiller the younger; more elegantly clothed in Gesenius ; more ingenious in Eichhorn, and more daring in Paulus, the same spirit tainted the whole of this branch of sacred literature from Semler to Strauss, who gave the finishing stroke to the system, by the combination of all the characteristics of his predecessors, mingled with a matchless art, that seems simplicity. Perhaps from this concentration of the poison of years arose the counteraction in the system or consti- tution of religious Germany, manifested by a return to a more positive theology. This growing evil had manifested itself, up to a BE? 374 THE LAST FOUR POPES. certain point, only in Protestant divinity; and the universities of Heidelberg and Halle, Jena and Leipsig, were among the principal seats of this new infidelity. It was the more dangerous, because it had discarded all the buffoonery and mockery of the grinning philosophe, and worked out its infidelity like a problem, with all the calm and gravity of a philosopher. But at length there appeared a man whose works, professedly Catholic, were tainted with the neology of his countrymen, and threatened to infect his readers and his hearers with its creeping venom. This was Jahn, professor of Scripture in the Uni- versity of Vienna; a hard scholar, who used to say, that no one need hope to push forward his art or science a step without studying eighteen hours a day; a really learned man, and of sound judgment, except on the one point on which he went so lamentably astray. He published two principal works, an Intro- duction to the Old Testament, and a Biblical Archeeology : both most valuable for their erudi- tion, but both dangerously tinged with the prin- ciples of infidelity, especially in the very first principles of biblical science. These were both large works; so he published compendiums of them in Latin, each in one volume, for the use of students. But even into these the poison was PIUS THE EIGHTH. 375 transfused. Perhaps Jahn was soured and irritated by the treatment which he received from his theological opponents, one in particular, immensely his inferior in learning, though sound in principle; and he certainly replied with acri- mony and biting sarcasm. However, his works were justly prohibited, and in the end withdrawn from the schools. | It was a pity that they should be lost; and accordingly a remedy was proposed. This con- sisted of the republication of the two Introduc- tions, cleansed of all their perilous stuff, and appearing under the name of a new author. This idea was either suggested, or immediately and warmly encouraged, by Cardinal Castiglioni. The undertaking was committed to the learned Dr. F. Ackermann, professor also at Vienna, and a friend of Dr. Jahn’s. The sheets of the volumes were forwarded to Rome, and revised by the hand of the Cardinal. I cannot remember whether it was he who mentioned it himself at the audience alluded to, or whether I learned it from Dr. Ackermann, with whom I then had the advan- tage of maintaining a profitable correspondence. His Commentary on the Minor Prophets proves the learning and ability of this excellent man to have been equal to much more than mere adapta- tions of the works of others. BB 4 376 THE LAST FOUR POPES. But, at the same time, the part taken by Pius in this useful undertaking is evidence of his zeal, and of his accomplishments in the most essential branch of theological learning. Further evidence will not be wanting. PIUS THE EIGHTH. STE CHAPTER III. FRENCH AND ENGLISH CARDINALS. Tue short duration of Pius’s reign did not give opportunity for making any great addition to the Sacred College ; nor indeed would this subject be considered of sufficient interest for general readers, were there not some peculiar circum- stances here connected with it. There is certainly no dignity in Europe more thoroughly European than the cardinalate ; and there is no reason why it should not have, one day, its representatives in America or Asia, or even Australia. It is indeed an ecclesiastical distinction, though admitted to possess civil rank throughout the Continent; but every other dignity is similarly confined to a_ particular class. A civilian cannot hope to be a general, or an admiral, or a lord-chancellor; nor can an ecclesiastic be in the House of Commons, nor can a lawyer obtain the Victoria Cross. Every honour has its narrow approach; every eleva- tion its steep and solitary path. But each is 378 THE LAST FOUR POPES. limited to its own country. A Wellington may have a galaxy of stars twinkling in diamonds from the azure velvet of his pall; and a few crosses may be exchanged between allied nations. But there is no military power that flecks the uniform of the valiant—whether scarlet, blue, or white— with a badge of honour ; no “ Republic of letters ” which places laurel crowns on the brows of the learned and the scientific, in whatever language they have recorded their lore; no bountiful Caliph, or Lord of Provence, to whom the gentle minstrel of every nation is a sacred being, en- titled to good entertainment and respect. In fine, no secular power affects either to look abroad among foreign nations for persons whom to honour, as of right, or to expect other sove- reigns and states to solicit for their subjects its peculiar badge of generally recognised dignity. But the Church, being universal in its des- tinies, makes no national distinction, and the honours which she bestows are not confined to any country: but, on the contrary, they receive an acknowledgment, which in some may, indeed, be merely courteous, but in most is legally assured. The Code Napoleon, wherever it pre- vails, has this provision. As a matter of course, where there is good understanding between any government and the Holy See, the distribution PIUS THE EIGHTH. 379 of such a dignity is matter of mutual arrange- ment; and it must be the fault of the government, if such amicable relations do not exist. There is consequently a recognised right in the four great Catholic Powers, to propose a certain number of their ecclesiastical subjects for the cardinalitial dignity. Formerly when a general promotion, as it was called, took place, that is when a number of particular persons holding certain high offices were simultaneously invested with the purple, the privileged Courts had a claim to propose their candidates. This usage may now be considered almost obsolete; and indeed the reigning Pontiff has dealt most liberally in this respect, by naming many more foreigners than ever before held place in that ecclesiastical senate. To illustrate the different principles on which such an addition may be conducted, we may mention two of those whom Pius VIII. invested with this high position, one French, the other English. The first was of the noble family of Rohan- Chabot, which under the first of these designa- tions belongs equally to Germany and to Bohemia, as a princely house; and in France traces descent from St. Louis, and has in- fused its blood by marriage into the royal House 380 THE LAST FOUR POPES. of Valois. Its armorial motto has embodied in a few lines as strong a consciousness of all but regal claims, as such a distilled drop of family haughtiness could well enclose : “ Roi ne peux, Prince ne veux, Rohan suis.” No one could have a higher right by birth to aspire to the Roman purple, than had the Abbé Louis Francis Augustus, of the Dukes of Rohan- Chabot, Prince of Leon, who had embraced the ecclesiastical state. Moreover, he was distin- guished by piety, sufficient learning, and unim- peachable conduct. In 1824, an effort was made to obtain for him the hat from Leo XII. The Pope replied, that France must be content to abide by its usage, of only proposing for this honour its archbishops and bishops. The French ambassador, whose relation the young Duke was, made every exertion for him; but when, in his absence, his chargé d’affaires, in an audience proposed the subject, the Pope, in his sweetest manner, replied by a Latin verse, ‘“‘ Sunt animus, pietas, virtus; sed deficit eetas.” The applicant was rather surprised at this ready and complete reply, which did fulljustice to both PIUS THE EIGHTH. 381 sides of the question. However, he was com- pelled, by fresh instances, to make a new appeal to the kindness of the Pope. He hinted at the matter in an audience, and saw, as he informs us, by Leo’s quietly mischievous look, that he was not to be taken by surprise. Varying his former _hexameter, but coming to the same conclusion, he replied, *¢ Sunt mores, doctrina, genus ; sed deficit