Recollections of the last four popes and of Rome in their times

I

T.ON'WON" :

Pia.NTKD BY SPGTTISWOODE AND C'O.
NEW-STKKET SQl'AKE.

PREFACE.

THIS 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
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

IV 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

PKEFACE 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 been impossible. 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. He can 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.

LONDON: March, 1858.

CONTENTS.

PIUS THE SEVENTH.

CHAPTEE I. rugo

Tlie Author's first arrival in Rome

. I

CHAPTER II.

The first Audience ... 14

CHAPTER III.

Character of Pius the Seventh .

CHAPTER IV.

Continuation

. 48

CHAPTER V.

Condition and Feelings of Rome . 31

CHAPTER VI.

Cardinal Consalvi . . . .100

Vlll CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VII. Page

Policy of Pius the Seventh's Government . . 127

CHAPTER VIII.

Relations with England . . . .139

CHAPTER IX.

Literature, Science, Art . . . .144

CHAPTER X.

Brigandage . . . . ; .177

CHAPTER XL

Close of Pius the Seventh's Pontificate . 197

LEO THE TWELFTH

CHAPTER I.
His Election ...... 209

CHAPTER II.

Character and Policy of Leo the Twelfth . . 227

CHAPTER III.
Continuation ...... 245

CHAPTER IV.

The Jubilee . . 269

CONTENTS. IX

CHAPTER V. Pago

The Pope and the English College . . . 290

CHAPTER VI.
Continuation ...... 309

CHAPTER VII.
The English Cardinalate .... 323

CHAPTER VIII.

Close of Leo's Pontificate . 342

fart % ffljirir,
PIUS THE EIGHTH.

CHAPTER I.

His Election and previous History

CHAPTER II.
Personal Character ..... 369

CHAPTER III.

French and English Cardinals .... 377

CHAPTER IV.

The principal Events of the Pontificate . . 391

RECOLLECTIONS

THE LAST FOUR POPES.

PIUS THE SEVENTH.

CHAPTER I.

THE AUTHOR'S FIRST ARRIVAL IN ROME.

IT 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 FOUK 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 rnan 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. A few miles only of weary
hills — every one of which, from its summit, gave
a more swelling and majestic outline to what so
far constituted "Roma," that is, the great cupola,
not of the church, but of the city, its only discern
ible part, cutting, like a huge peak, into the clear
winter sky — and the long journey is ended, and
ended by the full realisation of well-cherished hopes.
To some, at least, of the first six who that day
entered it, while the remainder followed more
leisurely, Rome had been no new thought. Be
fore any idea had been entertained of restoring
the English College there, its history, its topo
graphy, its antiquities, had formed the bond of
a little college society devoted to this queen of
cities, while the dream of its longings had been
the hope of one day seeing what could then only
be known through hearsay tourists and fabulous
plans. How faint must the hope have been of
its fulfilment, when it involved a voyage thrice
the length of one to America at present, and,
with its additional land-journey, about as long as
a circular sail, in a clipper, to New Zealand !

6 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

It has been written above, " maris et viarum;"
for the land- ways were about as tedious and as
perilous as the broad ocean path. For "there
be land- sharks," or at least there were then, as
dangerous as sea-sharks. At the little wretched
hotel at Pontedero, the vetturino warned us, un
foundedly we really believe, to lock our doors ;
and as we communicated by pantomime more
than by words as yet, he drew his hand across his
thyroid gland with a most amiable expression of
countenance. However, at Florence we were of
course assured that the roads were most unsafe ;
and two evidences of this met our eyes, though
they carried with them some antidote of comfort.
At that moment the dense woods which skirted
the road near Bolsena were being cut down to a
considerable distance on either side, by order of
the government, so as to destroy the cover of
human wolves, and give the traveller a chance of
preparing for his defence, should they come so
far beyond their favourite retreat ; for the ban
dit is naturally a prowler. But further, from
time to time we passed tall posts on the wayside,
riot bearing along either the festooned garlands
of the vine, or the strained harp-wires of the
electric telegraph, both symbols of peace and
harmony, but supporting ghastly trophies of jus
tice avenged on the spot where crime had been

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 7

committed, the limbs, still fresh, of executed
outlaws.

Long-standing desires, then, were about to be
satisfied at last ; and some degree of recent ap
prehension was going to be allayed, and welcome
rest after long travel was promised ; when, at the
end of the road which looks straight onwards
from the Milvian Bridge, we could see the open
gate of Rome.

That noble entrance was by no means then
what it is now. On the outside, the gates of the
Borghese villa did not stand near ; but the visitor
had to walk a long way under the wall of the city,
overhanging his path, till a narrow gate led him
into a long close alley, the first of the villa. But
within the Flaminian Gate, the obelisk indeed
was there, as were the two twin churches beyond,
closing, by their porticoes and domes, the wedges
of houses between the three great divergent
streets ; but that was all. The sculptured ter
races of Monte Pincio had as yet no existence ;
this was a green hill, scored by unshaded roads
and chance-tracked paths to its more shapely
summit. On the opposite side a long low bar
rack-building for cavalry formed a slovenly
boundary to the ample square, in which as yet
had not risen the lofty and massive edifices,
hotels though they be, which now close its

B 4

THE LAST FOUR POPES.

further end. Still it was one of the grandest
approaches to any modern city, and one that
did not altogether deceive you. The slow pace
of a vettura along the Corso gave an opportunity
of admiring the magnificent palaces that flank
it on both sides, till a turn to the right brings
you into the square, of which the column of
Antoninus forms the centre, and then a twist
to the left places you before a row of pillars
which likewise bears his imperial name, but in
addition a more modern one, unpleasant to tra
vellers' ears — that of Custom House. Even
this most distasteful department of civilised
government contrives in Eome to get lodged in
a classical monument of ancient taste.

From this point, after its disagreeable cere
monial had been completed, all reckoning was lost.
A long narrow street, and the Pantheon burst
full into view ; then a labyrinth of tortuous ways,
through which a glimpse of a church, or palace-
front might be caught occasionally askew ; then
the small square opened on the eye, which, were
it ten times larger, would be oppressed by the
majestic, overwhelming mass of the Farnese
palace, as completely Michelangelesque in brick
as the Moses is in marble, when another turn
and a few yards of distance placed us at the
door of the « venerable English College." Had

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 9

a dream, after all, bewildered one's mind, or at
least closed the eager journey, and more espe
cially its last hours, during which the tension of
anxious expectation had wrought up the mind
to a thousand fancies ? No description had pre
ceded actual sight. No traveller, since the be
ginning of the century, or even from an earlier
period, had visited it or mentioned it. It had
been sealed up as a tomb for a generation ; and
not one of those who were descending from the
unwieldy vehicle at its door had collected, from
the few lingering patriarchs, once its inmates,
who yet survived at home, any recollections by
which a picture of the place might have been
prepared in the imagination. Having come so
far, somewhat in the spirit of sacrifice, in some
expectation of having to " rough it," as pioneers
for less venturesome followers, it seemed incre
dible that we should have fallen upon such
pleasant places as the seat of future life and
occupation. Wide and lofty vaulted corridors ;
a noble staircase leading to vast and airy halls
succeeding one another; a spacious garden, glow
ing with the lemon and orange, and presenting
to one's first approach a perspective in fresco by
Pozzi, one engraved by him in his celebrated
work on perspective ; a library airy, cheerful,
and large, whose shelves, however, exhibited a

10 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

specimen of what antiquarians call " opus tumul-
tuariurn," in the piled up disorganised volumes,
from folio to duodecimo, that crammed them ; a
refectory wainscoted in polished walnut, and
above that, painted, by the same hand, with
St. George and the Dragon, ready to drop on to
the floor from the groined ceiling ; still better, a
chapel, unfurnished indeed, but illuminated from
floor to roof with the saints of England, and
celestial glories, leading to the altar that had to
become the very hearthstone of new domestic
attachments, and the centre of many yet un-
tasted joys; — such were the first features of
our future abode, as, alone and undirected, we
wandered through the solemn building, and
made it, after years of silence, re-echo to the
sound of English voices, and give back the
bounding tread of those who had returned to
claim their own. Arid such, indeed, it might
well look to them when, after months of being
"cribbed, cabined, and confined" in a small
vessel, and jammed in a still more tightly packed
vettura, they found in the upper corridors, wide
and airy as those below, just the right number of
rooms for their party, clean and speckless, with
every article of furniture, simple and collegiate
though it was, yet spic-and-span new and mani
festly prepared for their expected arrival.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 11

One felt at once at home ; it was nobody else's
house ; it was English ground, a part of father
land, a restored inheritance. And though, in
deed, all was neat and trim, dazzling in its
whiteness, relieved here and there by tinted
architectural members, one could not but feel
that we had been transported to the scene of
better men and greater things than were likely
to arise in the new era that day opened. Just
within the great entrance-door, a small one to
the right led into the old church of the Holy
Trinity, which wanted but its roof to restore it
to use. There it stood, nave and aisles, sepa
rated by pillars connected by arches, all in their
places, with the lofty walls above them. The
altars had been, indeed, removed ; but we could
trace their forms, and the painted walls marked
the frames of the altar-pieces, especially of the
noble painting by Durante Alberti, still preserved
in the house, representing the Patron-Mystery,
and St. Thomas of Canterbury, and St. Edward
the Martyr. This vision of the past lasted but
a few years ; for the walls were pronounced un
safe, and the old church was demolished, and the
unsightly shell of a thoroughly modern church
was substituted for the old basilica, under the
direction of Valadier, a good architect, but one
who knew nothing of the feelings which should

12 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

have guided his mind and pencil in such a
work.

It was something however to see, that first
day, the spot revisited where many an English
pilgrim, gentle or simple, had knelt, leaning on
his trusty staff cut in Needwood or the New
Forest, where many a noble student from
Bologna or Padua had prayed in formd pauperis,
as he was lodged and fed, when, before returning
home, he came to visit the tomb of the Apostles ;
and still more, where many and many a student,
like those now gathered there, had sobbed his
farewell to the happy spring days and the quiet
home of youth, before starting on his weary
journey to the perils of evil days in his native
land. Around lay scattered memorials of the
past. One splendid monument, erected to Sir
Thomas Dereham at the bottom of the church,
was entirely walled up and roofed over, and so
invisible. But shattered and defaced lay the
richly effigied tombs of an Archbishop of York,
and a Prior of Worcester, and of many other
English worthies : while sadder wreckage of the
recent storm was piled on one side, — the skulls
and bones of, perhaps, Cardinal Allen, F.
Persons, and others, whose coffins had been
dragged up from the vaults below, and converted
into munitions of war.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 13

And if there was required a living link between
the present and the past, between the young
generation that stood at the door, and the old one
that had passed into the crypt of the venerable
church, there it was, in the person of the more
than octogenarian porter Vincenzo, who stood,
all salutation from the wagging appendage
to his grey head to the large silver buckles on
his shoes, mumbling toothless welcomes in a
yet almost unknown tongue, but full of humble
joy and almost patriarchal affection, on seeing
the haunts of his own youth repeopled.

14 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER II.

THE FIRST AUDIENCE.

THIS second chapter, it may be imagined, ought
to open with an apology for the first. For, what
interest can the reader be supposed to take in its
personal details ? or what bearing can it have
on the subject of this work ? The first portion
of this question it might be presumptuous to
answer; the second is entitled to a reply. A
writer who is not going to compile from others,
but to give his own impressions, recollections,
or opinions, who is not composing a history from
other people's materials, but seeking to contribute
his own share, however slight, to the stock of
future collectors, is bound to establish some
claim to the credit of his readers. If he cannot
advance any on the grounds of past diligence or
present skill, of careful observation or graphic
power, he must at least endeavour to gain that
right which casual circumstances and fortuitous
position may confer upon him, to belief and
attention.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 15

Now, for any one born within the precincts
of the present century to venture on giving his
personal observations or recollections of nearly
forty years ago, in a distant country, to assert
that he had opportunities, from so remote a period
down to the present time, of not merely hearing,
but of seeing, what can illustrate the character of
successive sovereigns on one throne, — still more,
to begin his notes by stating that, within a few
days of his arrival at its seat, he was familiarly
in the presence of its occupant, — gives reason
enough for a cautious reader to ask, how came
this to pass, and what can justify belief in such
an improbability ?

It is the answer to this inquiry that has been
attempted in the first chapter. Not in the garb
of a courtier, bred in the palace-halls, not by the
privilege of dignity or station, but in the simple
habit of a collegian, and through the claim of
filial rights upon a common father, was an early
approach secured, to the feet of the good and holy
Pius VII. It certainly makes one feel old when
one counts one's life by five pontificates; but
this is surely compensated, to a catholic mind, by
the reflection, that each venerated possessor of
that exalted dignity has shed his blessing upon
one portion or other of its existence, from the
buoyant and hopeful time of early youth, to

16 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

heavier and sadder hours. This unbroken con
tinuance of a kindness, which amounts to a grace,
requires a peculiarity of position that has no
claim to merit, and therefore may be freely men
tioned. The pages which follow will require this
freedom, already commenced in the foregoing
chapter ; if so, let this one apology suffice for the
volume. Nor will it appear unnatural, that a
relation so established, between condescending
goodness on one side and reverent affection on
the other, — a relation which the reader may call
chance, and the writer Providence, — should be
found and felt by the favoured party to have
exercised an influence on his pursuits, his
thoughts, and the whole direction of his life.

The event to which the first chapter relates
— the re-establishment of the suppressed English
College, in Kome — was the work, almost sponta
neous, of Pius, and his great minister Cardinal
Consalvi. It may be not uninteresting to return
to this subject hereafter. For the present thus
much may suffice. Although a rector, and one
fully qualified for his office, had been in possession
of the house for a year, the arrival of a colony of
students was the real opening of the establish
ment. On the day alluded to, the excellent
superior, the Rev. Robert Gradwell, on returning
home, found the first instalment of this important

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 17

body really installed in his house, to the extent
of having converted to present use the prepara
tions for his own frugal and solitary meal.

The event was of sufficient magnitude to be
communicated to the secretary of state ; and the
answer was, that as many of the party as could
be provided with the old and hallowed costume
of the English College, should be presented to the
Holy Father within a few days. Among the more
fortunate ones, owing to a favourable accident,
was the present writer.

The feelings of any one permitted to approach
that most venerable man had necessarily a colour
and vividness beyond those inspired by his
dignity and office. His history had been mixed
up with that of the world, and its very anecdotes
were fresh in memory. To the young especially,
who remembered him only in a position so dif
ferent from his natural one, as a captive and a
persecuted Pontiff, who had almost learnt to dis
join the idea of the supreme rule of the Church
from all the pomp and even power of worldly
state, and to associate it with prisons and bonds,
as in the early ages, there was the halo of the
Confessor round the tiara of Pius, that eclipsed
all gold and jewels. His portrait had been fa
miliar to us, but it was that not of a High Priest,
clad in " the vesture of holiness," but of an aged

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18 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

man bending over the crucifix in search of its
consolations, and speaking those words which had
been made sacred by his constant utterance -
" May the holy and adorable will of God be ever
done ! " Then had come the news of his wonder
ful triumphs, his humble victory, scarcely less
astonishing than that of arms. He had been
rescued from his durance not by the power of
man, not by the armies that had almost hemmed
in his prison, but by that higher will, that keeps
in its own hands the hearts of kings, and turns
them at pleasure. The same stern command
which had torn him from his palace and borne
him away, had set him free, or rather ordered
his restoration. To this, indeed, had succeeded
another danger and temporary retreat ; so that
the final settlement of the Holy Pontiff in his
dominions, and their restoration in their in
tegrity1, had only occurred three years before,
and bore the character of recent events. As yet
indeed one might almost have said, that the
triumphal arches and garlands of his joyful entry
into Rome had scarcely faded, and that the echoes
of the welcome cries that greeted him, still
lingered among the seven hills. For the people
all spoke of them as things of yesterday.

1 By the Treaty of Vienna, June 9th, 1815.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 19

It was not therefore to be " presented to the
Pope," as the current phrase runs, that awaited
us, at least in its ordinary sense. To every
catholic, and to -a young ecclesiastic of course in
particular, this must be an event in life : and the
ceremony combines a double feeling, elsewhere
impossible, composed of the reverence paid to a
sovereign and the homage due to the supreme
Head of our religion. From the monarch we
accept with gratification a condescending word,
from the Pope, that word we receive as a blessing.
When to the natural emotions thus inspired by
the union in one person of the double rank of
sovereignty and supremacy, we add the more in
dividual sentiment which the personal character
of Pope Pius VII. excited in our minds, it will
be easily conceived, that our hearts beat with
more than usual speed, and not without some
little flurry, as we ascended the great staircase
of the Quirinal palace on Christmas-eve, the day
appointed for audience. This is a different
entrance from the one now generally used. After
passing through the magnificent Sala Regia, you
proceed through a series of galleries adorned
with fine old tapestry, and other works of art,
though furnished with the greatest simplicity.
The last of these was the antechamber to the
room occupied by the Pope. After a short

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2Q THE LAST FOUR POPES.

delay, we were summoned to enter this ; a room
so small that it scarcely allowed space for the
usual genuflexions at the door, and in the middle
of the apartment. But instead of receiving us,
as was customary, seated, the mild and amiable
Pontiff had risen to welcome us, and meet us,
as we approached. He did not allow it to be a
mere presentation, or a visit of ceremony. It
was a fatherly reception, and in the truest sense
our inauguration into the duties that awaited us.
It will be best, however, to give the particulars of
this first interview with the occupant of St.
Peter's Chair in the words of a memorandum
entered, probably that day, in the Rector's
journal.

"Dec. 24. Took six of the students to the
Pope. The other four could not be clothed.
The Holy Father received them standing, shook
hands with each, and welcomed them to Rome.
He praised the English clergy for their good and
peaceful conduct, and their fidelity to the Holy
See. He exhorted the youths to learning and
piety, and said ; ' I hope you will do honour
both to Rome and to your own country.' "

Such is the writer's first personal recollection
of a Pope, and that Pope the illustrious Pius
VII. Whatever we had read of the gentleness,
condescension, and sweetness of his speech, his

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 21

manner, and his expression, was fully justified,
realised, and made personal. It was not from
what we had heard, but from what we had seen
and experienced, that we must needs now revere
and love him. The friendly and almost national
grasp of the hand, after due homage had been
willingly paid, between the Head of the Catholic
Church, venerable by his very age, and a youth
who had nothing even to promise ; the first ex
hortation on entering a course of ecclesiastical
study — its very inaugural discourse, from him
whom he believed to be the fountain of spiritual
wisdom on earth ; — these surely formed a double
tie, not to be broken, but rather strengthened by
every subsequent experience.

I know not how a dignitary of any other re
ligion, though holding no royal power and ma
jesty, would receive a body of youths about to
devote themselves to the service of his creed ;
nor whether he would think it worth while to
admit them at all to an interview. But to
Rome there flock, from every region of earth,
aspirants to the ecclesiastical state, — in boyhood,
and well-nigh in childhood, speaking as many
languages as are attributed to the Apostles on
the day of Pentecost ; and yet perhaps hardly
one fails to come into personal contact with him,
towards whom from infancy he has looked up as

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22 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

the most exalted person in the world. Soon after
his first arrival he receives an early blessing on
his future career, accompanied often with a few
kind words, unfailingly with a benign look. That
brief moment is an epoch in life, perhaps a
starting-point for success. For the general at
tachment that united him with millions to the
Head of his Church, there is established a per
sonal bond, an individual connection. It is no
longer awe and distant reverence, but an affec
tion as distinct in character as that to one inti
mately related. And this relation is strength
ened in the youthful mind at every succeeding
year of his course. He knows that every pro
fessor whose lectures he hears has been directly
and immediately appointed, after careful selec
tion, by the Pope himself; that every class-book
which he reads has received the same supreme
sanction ; he feels himself almost under the direct
tuition of the Holy See : however pure and
sparkling the rills at which others may drink, he
puts his lips to the very rock, which a divine
wand has struck, and he sucks in its waters as
they gush forth living.

But does he, in his turn, preach in the papal
chapel, in accordance with the privilege which
may be exercised by each college, on some
important feast ? He is separately presented

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 23

to the Holy Father, and receives a paternal and
gracious compliment. Does he give a public
demonstration of his ability or application, by
holding, as it is called, a thesis, that is, a joust
against all comers to test his prowess, at the
close of his philosophical or theological studies ?
Still more is he entitled, as the very guerdon of
his success, to lay, at the feet of him whose doc
trines he has openly maintained and defended,
the printed articles on which he has stood trial,
and hear kind and encouraging words, which
compensate for his months of toilsome prepara
tion, and his day of anxious struggle. Finally,
when his career is finished, and he is about to
pass from the period of probation and peaceful
preparation, to the labour of the field, its burthen
and its heat, he never fails to obtain a parting
audience, at which he solicits, and obtains, a
benediction on his future work. And seldom
does it happen that he leaves the Eternal City
without having obtained, at one or the other of
those more special interviews, some token, direct
from the hand which he kisses, — a medal, or
rosary, or cross, which is treasured through life,
and renews almost daily into freshness the asso
ciations of youth.

Nor does it seldom happen, too, that one finds
one's self remembered from a previous interview,

c 4

24 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

and has a question asked which shows the kind
tenacity of a memory through which things of
higher interest must have passed in the in
terval. Is it wonderful that what is unmean
ingly called " ultramontanism " should increase
on every side ? For what in reality is it ? Not,
certainly, a variation of doctrine, but a more
vivid and individual perception, an experience, of
its operation. The "supremacy" is believed by
the untra veiled as much as by the travelled
catholic. But facilities of access, and many
other reasons, have increased the number of
those who have come into contact with succes
sive Pontiffs ; and this has seldom failed to ripen
an abstract belief into an affectionate sentiment.
But with those who have continued for years
under the same influence, unvarying in its win
ning and impressive forms, it becomes a fixed
element, constant and persevering where all else
may differ, and gives a warmth and strength
to their religious and ecclesiastical convictions.
The German student will carry away his Koman
impressions, theorised perhaps in a more abstruse
and transcendental form; the Frenchman will
bear them in a more imaginative and poetical
shape; to the English mind they will present
themselves more practically, and as guides to
action ; while perhaps the American will relish

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 25

them the more keenly because they contrast so
strongly with whatever he admires most in se
cular and temporal policy, arid bear the seal of a
distinct order of existence. But all, whitherso
ever they go, will belong to the school in which
they have been educated, and naturally commu
nicate their own feelings to many.

This chapter may seem to require an apology
for irrelevancies, as much as the first. If so, let
it be this. It shows how much more close, than
may at first appear, is the bond which may unite
a very insignificant person with the most exalted
one in the world of faith, how many may be the
opportunities of observation, and how vivid the
impressions, which may give the one a right to
portray the other.

26 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER III.

CHARACTER OF PIUS THE SEVENTH.

IT would be difficult to imagine a countenance
that more faithfully brings to the surface the
inward character, or a character that more
fully and undisguisedly displays itself in the
features, than those of this venerable Pontiff.
And it is not too much to say, that rarely has
a more successful portrait come from the pencil
of an artist than his by Sir Thomas Lawrence.
This eminent painter arrived in Rome in May,
1819, with a commission to take the likenesses of
the Pope and of Cardinal Consalvi ; — the one as
represented, the other as his representative, at
the Congress of Vienna. It was not, therefore,
altogether a personal compliment ; for the two
portraits formed portions of a series containing
all the sovereigns, and their ambassadors, who
took part in that momentous assembly. Most
readers will have admired it yet existing in
Windsor Castle.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 27

But the writer had the advantage of seeing
these two admirable pictures when exhibited, by
the artist himself, under the same roof as covered
their originals— the Quirinal Palace, and of thus
judging of their accuracy. Among the multitudes
who flocked to view them, there was but one opi
nion, that they were perfect likenesses, not merely
such as copy the features, but such as transmit
to posterity the expression, character, and feeling
of the person represented. Of the Pope, of course,
many portraits had been taken during the pre
vious nineteen years of his chequered pontificate,
but none that had approached to this, or gave
him living to the world. Of the Cardinal this
was the first representation from life. A friend
of the author's called on him at the very moment
that Sir Thomas was with him, on the 13th of
May, presenting his credentials, and the Cardinal
introduced them to one another. His Eminence
said that he had always been averse to having
his portrait taken, but added, showing him Lord
Castlereagh's letter, " However, what can I do
in this case ? It is impossible to refuse."

Although the eyes of Italian critics were open
to the characteristic defects of Sir Thomas's
manner, and naturally blamed his apparent neg
ligence in secondary parts, and neglect even of
accuracy in accessories, the heads were acknow-

28 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

ledged to be faultless, and brilliantly successful.1
The pose of the body, sunk unelastic into the
chair, and seeking support from its arms, the
wearied stoop and absence of energy in the limbs
and head, tell us of seventy-seven years, among
which had been some of calamity and grief.
And yet the hair, scarcely bearing a trace of
time, or of that more violent hand which often
has been known to do in one night the work of
years, but black and flowing, the forehead still
smooth and unfurrowed by wrinkles, the mouth
not dragged down, but cleanly impressed with
a habitual smile, show the serene and enduring
mind with which the vicissitudes of a Ion a- life
had been passed, a life of rare passages and
changes,— from a noble home to a cloister; from
the cowl to the mitre; from the bishopric to the
See of Peter; then from the palace to the dun
geon ; and now, at last, again from Savona to
Rome. That there should be lassitude, and
even feebleness, marked in that frame and on
that countenance, can excite no wonder; but
that there should be not one symptom of soured
temper, or bitter recollection, or unkind thought,
nay, not even of remembered humiliation and
anguish, is proof not only of a sweet disposition,

1 It is from this portrait that the head is copied in this volume.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 29

but of a well-tutored and well-governed mind,
and of strong principles capable of such guiding
power.

The life of a sovereign generally dates from
his accession to the throne. It is by reigns that
the world's history is written. The man is no
thing to mankind, the king everything to the
nation. What he was before the commencement
of his royal career is scarcely recorded or faintly
remembered ; for it is not taught to children. To
have a place for anterior honours in his coun
try's annals he must die before reaching that
throne which will eclipse them all. A Black
Prince, or a Princess Charlotte, had the best
friend to their early fame in death. A royal
crown will cover over and hide an immense
quantity of laurels.

" Scire piget, post tale decus, quid fecerit ante "

is as true of a coronation as of Scsevola's exploit.
Hence, in general, there is very little curiosity
about the antecedents of the successor to the
pontifical throne, although they may be very
important for estimating subsequent character.
This is certainly the case with Pius VII. That he
was a man so meek and gentle, so incapable of
rancour or resentment, that Cardinal Pacca
scruples not to apply to him the inspired words

30 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

descriptive of Moses, " that he was the mildest
of men," no one has ever questioned. This par
ticular quality may be called the very grace of
his nature, so distinctly was it stamped on his
outward appearance, so penetratingly diffused
through the actions of his life.

No one, moreover, will refuse to him that
strength which is the companion often of the
gentlest disposition, a power of unrepining en
durance, the patient fortitude which suffers
without complaint and without sullenness.

But qualities of a much higher order belong
to him, and yet have been often overlooked.
Nor has the course of his earlier life been suffi
ciently brought forward, to explain or illustrate
the peculiar character which he afterwards dis
played.

The basis of this must be considered as deeply
laid in the very first inspirations of childhood.
If nature gave to Barnabas Chiaramonti a mild
and sweet disposition, a higher influence be
stowed upon him a better gift. Eeligion in
vested him with the beauty of an unsullied
life,- with a character of irreproachable virtue
throughout his length of days. Few families in
Europe are more illustrious than his ; but,
while from his father he derived high nobility,
from his mother, daughter of Marchese Ghini,

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 31

he received a more valuable portion, that of a
rare piety and virtue. She was, indeed, a lady
of singular excellence, renowned in the world
for every religious quality. After having com
pleted the education of her children, when the
future Pontiff had reached the age of twenty-
one, in 1763, she entered a convent of Carmelites
at Fano, where her memory is still cherished,
and where she died in 1771, at the age of sixty.
It was in this retreat, that, as Pius himself used
to relate, she distinctly foretold him his elevation
one day to the papacy, and the protracted course
of sufferings which it would entail.1

These earliest impressions of domestic exam
ples and maternal teaching formed, as has been
said, the very groundwork of Pius's character.
At the age of sixteen, after a preliminary educa-

1 The archdeacon Hyacinth Ignatius Chiaramonti, brother of
Pius, published, in 1786, and dedicated to him, then cardinal, a
Latin poem, " De majorum suoruni laudibus," in which he thus
addresses their mother : —

" 0 semper memoranda parens ! O carmine nostro
Non unquam laudata satis ! me despice clemens,
Exutumque tibi mortali corpore junge :
Sit, precor, hsec merces, nostrorurn haec meta laborum."

I remember it used to be said at Rome, and I have read the same
assurance since, that only the resolute opposition of the son, when
elevated to the supreme pontificate, prevented the more solemn
recognition, by beatification, of the extraordinary sanctity of the
mother.

32 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

tion in the college for nobles at Ravenna, he
retired, upon mature deliberation, to the Bene
dictine Abbey of Santa Maria del Monte, near
Cesena, his native city. There could be no
worldly motive for this step. He had nothing
to fly from in his home. His birth and patri
mony secured him earthly comfort. If he
inclined merely to the ecclesiastical life, all its
advantages were open to him as a secular priest,
without separation from his family, in which he
was well beloved. And certainly, if honourable
promotion had been, even slightly, an object of
his ambition, he was cutting off every chance
which his connections, or his efforts, might have
secured him in the secular state.

A twofold discipline, preparatory to his future
life, such as Providence had designed it, awaited
him in the cloister.

The first was the discipline of the monastic
noviciate, the sinking of all rank and title, the
renouncing of all fortune, luxury, money; the
voluntary descent to a level of rude equality
with the peasant's or artisan's son ; the sur
render of comforts in every change, — passing
from the paintings and tapestries of the ances
tral palace to the bare corridors of the monastery,
from the chatty society of the table to the silent
feeding of the body in the refectory, from the

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 33

neat chamber, with its elastic bed and damask
curtains, to the whitewashed cell with its straw
pallet and plank shutters ; the menial occupations
of a household, being one's own servant, and
doing everything for one's-self ; and finally the
utter subjection of time, actions, will, to the
guidance of rule and of obedience, with ready
cheerfulness. For if one sees the youthful
aspirants to the religious institutes here or
abroad, in recreation or at study, he may easily
decide who will persevere, by a very simple rule.
The joyous faces, and the sparkling eyes, denote
the future monks far more surely than the demure
looks and stolen glances.

In the days of Pius's distress, all his previous
discipline came admirably to his aid. He had com
menced it at sixteen, had dropped his high-sound
ing names of Barnabas Chiaramonti for simple
Don Gregory (first, indeed, only Brother) ; made
but one of a party, clothed alike, and without
distinction, beyond that of the assumed monastic
name. He walked the streets, and was jostled in
crowds, and probably could not have paid for a
cool refreshment. It was in this way that he
hastened to the square of St. Peter's to witness
the coronation of Clement XIV. This imposing
ceremony is performed in the loggia, whence the
Pope gives his benediction, looking into the

D

34 THE LAST -FOUR POPES.

superb esplanade densely thronged. Eager to get
a look at the spectacle, and clear himself of the
throng that elbowed him, he leapt up behind an
empty carriage. The coachman turned round, but
instead of resenting this intrusion on his domi
nions, said, good-naturedly, to him, " My dear
little monk, why are you so anxious to see a
function which one day will fall to your lot ? " 1

The sincerity of this vocation was fully tried.
Pope Pius VI., his immediate predecessor, was a
great friend of the family. "Wishing to promote to
high dignity some one belonging to it, he selected
another brother, Gregory, whom he called to
Rome, and placed in the " Ecclesiastical Aca
demy," an establishment for the education of
youths preparing for public life. This prefer
ence, due to the choice made by Barnabas of the
monastic state, cut off all hopes of his preferment,
had they ever existed in his mind. The title of
abbot was all that the Pope himself could
procure for him, with some difficulty, in the way
of honour and distinction.

It will be easy to trace the influence of this
severe and early schooling upon the conduct of
Pius in his days of hardship and sorrow. He

1 The authority for this anecdote is the Pope's learned secretary,
Monsignor Testa, who told the author he had heard it from the
Pope.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 35

was as a man already acquainted with these
things. A condition which might have embar
rassed him, or worn him down, or added to the
weight of public griefs the petty annoyances
that tease and fret more than those oppress,
presented to him analogies with what he had
used himself to, and was treated with compara
tive lightness of heart.

When he was suddenly and rudely forced
from his palace in the night of June 6, 1809,
thrust into a carriage, and whirled away through
the dust and heat of an Italian summer-day,
without an attendant, " without linen — without
his spectacles ; " fevered and wearied, he never
for a moment lost his serenity. " Nos deux
voyageurs" (Pius VII. and Cardinal Pacca),
" impendent a mes precedes pour eux, et rient
quelquefois avec nous ; " writes General Kadet,
in a letter brutal and vulgar in its tone, ad
dressed to General Miollis, the morning after the
first day's distressing travel.1 Nay, Cardinal
Pacca amusingly tells us, that, when they had
just started on this most dismal of journeys, the
Pope asked him if he had any money. The secre-

1 Published in Chevalier Artaud's Life of Pius VIII. p. 295. It
had only come to light about 1844. This letter is alluded to in
the same General's apologetic epistle to Pius VII., dated Sep
tember 12th, 1814, published at the end of Cardinal Pacca's
Memoirs.

36 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

tary of state replied, that he had had no oppor
tunity of providing himself. " We then drew
forth our purses," continues the cardinal, " and
notwithstanding the state of affliction we were
in at being thus torn away from Home, and all
that was dear to us, we could hardly compose
our countenances, on finding the contents of each
purse to consist — of the Pope's, of a papetto
(10c?.), and of mine, of three grossi (l\d.^). We
had precisely thirty-five bajocchi between us. The
Pope, extending his hand, showed his papetto to
General Radet, saying, at the same time, " Look
here — this is all I possess." l Truly, " ils rient
quelquefois avec nous." A good joke i' faith: a
monarch smiling at finding himself penniless,
and the man to whom he smiles sees no beauty
or sublimity in the smile, nor in the simple words
which explain it — no ! it is only a proper item for
an official report, as showing how completely he
has done his work.

1 Cardinal Pacca's Memoirs, Sir G. Head's translation. Many
inaccuracies occur in the translation, both of Italian and of Latin.
Tor example, TO!, ii. p. 302 : " Illustrious is that name in the
festivals of the Church." No doubt (I have not the original at
hand) the word in Italian is fasti (annals), not feste (festivals).
Page 333 : " the words of the Dr. Massimo S. Girolamo " should
be "of the greatest of doctors St. Jerom." Page 157, Tertullian's
words : " Novi pastores in pace leones, in prselio cervos," are ren
dered by " New pastors," for " I have known," to govern cervos.
Thus Mew and new are both represented in Latin by novi.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 37

So much for money and any care about it.
The august traveller was without even a
change of clothes, or of linen. And later still,
when no longer in the hands of men like Radet,
he was in possession of only one dress, a stuff
cassock, given to him by the King of Spain,
totally unsuited to the season in which he was
obliged to wear it. This he mentioned to a friend,

o >

an Englishman, at Rome, in 1820, from whom I
derive the statement. Indeed, those who have
desired to lower him before the world, have dwelt
particularly on the want of dignity which they
discovered in his performing for himself common
menial services, and even mending his own
garments. They have set him down for this, as a
craven and poor-spirited creature, endowed with
no sense of honour, pride, or self-respect.

There can be no doubt that in all this, there
is nothing dramatic, nor in the vulgar sense
heroic. Such a prisoner, such a captive, creates
no scenes, gives no impassioned pictures for the
pencil or the pen. You cannot invest him with
the pathos of St. James's or the Temple1, nor
get soft or tender speeches, or dialogues, out
of him ; nor — with the dignity of two hundred
and fifty-three Pontiff predecessors on his head,

1 Charles I. and Louis XVI.
D 3

38 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

with the privileges of the first fisherman, whose
ring he wore, inseparable from his very title,
and with the firm conviction, or rather con
sciousness, that he held the very thunder of
spiritual might undivided in his hands, from
Him whose vicar his captors owned him to be,—
can one outburst of noble scorn, as the world
would call it, one blighting defiance, one solemn
appeal to the faith, however drugged to sleep,
of those around him, be detailed, or really be
discovered, among the records of his captivity.
Romance or poetry could not presume to seize
on it, as they have done on Duguesclin's, or
Surrey's, or King Richard's. For there is no
thing that the imagination can feed on, or
enlarge, or elevate. It is the entire simplicity,
naturalness, and unaffected submission to the
will of God, without an effort to excite sym
pathy, diminish severity, or strike out an effect,
that makes the singular beauty of this touching
episode.

In the history of the first Charles, it is re
corded that when brought to Windsor, on his
way to trial and execution, he was for the first
time deprived of the kingly state, with which
he had been served, even during his previous
captivity. " This absence of ceremony," says
Lingard, "made on the unfortunate monarch

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 39

a deeper impression than could have been ex
pected. It was, he said, the denial of that to
him, which by ancient custom was due to many
of his subjects, and rather than submit to the
humiliation, he chose to diminish the number of
the dishes, and to take his meals in private." 1

I remember reading, many years ago, the
narrative written by an Infanta of Spain2, of
her expulsion or flight from Madrid : and re
collect being struck by the pathetic terms in
which she records the day whereon, for the
first time in her life, she took her meal off
earthenware, feeling it an immense hardship
for one who had never before, since her birth,
eaten from anything less costly than gold plate.

It is in strong contrast with such examples
of pitiful murmuring, that the uncomplaining
and cheerful traveller from Eome to Savona
stands. For, indeed, he had been trained for
privation and suffering. " Behold they who are
clothed in soft raiment are in the houses of
kings." Such was the royal Stuart, such was
the gentle Bourbon. But Pius had been edu
cated in the rough habit, and with the plain diet
of the monk, in fastings often, and in watchings,
and in many trials of subjection and obedience.

1 Lingard's E. H., Charles I., ch. iii. 5th ed.

2 Afterwards Queen of Etruria.

D 4

40 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

It is not difficult to live over again our earlier
life : the officer easily plays the soldier in battle, a
painter never forgets how to sketch. And so the
monk, in his simplicity and habits of endurance,
had lived in Pius through episcopacy, cardinalate,
and papacy. During the first two he had not
even changed the colour of his robes, symbolical
of a mourning and penitential life. Nor had
the tiara obliterated the religious crown, shaven
on the day of his clothing as a child of St.
Benedict, in symbol of that thorny crown which
sovereign and monk are equally called to wear.
Old as he now was, the days easily came back,
when he was girded by another, arid led whither
this one willed ; when his wardrobe was scanty and
scarcely his own, and when he had no servant
at his beck ; but knew well how to serve himself,
and, if needful, others. " Redire in naturam
puerorum," to become as little children, is more
difficult for a grown man, than it was for a
sovereign like Pius to return to his noviciate,
whether he was cooped up in a tight well-closed
carriage on the road to Eadicofani, or in a prison
on the Mediterranean. It is surely a proof of
great stolidity in the general to write, speaking
of this journey : " Je les tiens comme en cage,"
forgetting that a carriage, though locked up, does
not make, any more than " iron bars, a cage ; "

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 41

and not to put another reading on the occasional
smile of his prisoners than he did, and write in
stead ; " ils se rient parfois de nous."

In fact, this previous life of absolute abandon
ment to the care of Providence, of total ignorance
whence the very necessities of life were provided,
but of certainty that something would be found,
the day-by-day attention to spiritual or intellec
tual things, without domestic solicitudes or secu
lar cares, that had filled up the monastic period
of the Pope's life, was only the practical illustra
tion of a principle which his early piety taught
him at his mother's knee, of reliance on God, and
simple surrender to His will. Thus ripened and
strengthened, the principle must have become
one of boundless trustfulness and unshakins;

o

faith. It was a confidence, without anxiety, in
Him who feeds the fowls of the air and clothes
the grass of the field. But under what circum
stances ? It was a trust in Him who bountifully
caters for the sparrow, indeed ; but felt and ex
pressed when the poor bird was actually in the
kite's claws. It was a hope in Him who arrays
His lilies more splendidly than Solomon in all
his glory ; but sure and full, when the scythe
was already levelled by the mower, bending to
the stroke.

Hence the captivity of Pius VII. is no drama,

42 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

nor is he a hero. For each is more. The one
is a holy history, a sacred episode in the annals
of the Church, ay, and in those of human virtue.
It is changing the light of a picture, taking it out
of the glaring and garish brightness of midday
into a darker and cooler evening atmosphere.
All around is subdued and still, and the colour
ing becomes mellower, and small details almost
disappear, and even the expression looks more
placid and yet graver. But every feature is
there, and the character is unchanged : the same
the smile, the same the tender eye, the same the
speaking lip. No grand peculiarities are de
veloped : the beauty is the absence of change.
And he who is said to be no hero is much more.
There is something almost awful in the unruffled
calm which pervades the narrative of nearly con
tinuous imprisonments in the latter portion of the
Acts. St. Paul is confined at Philippi and
Jerusalem, Ca3sarea and Rome, warily guarded,
as an important person, now by sea and now by
land. Bat it is all given as a matter of course.
No particulars of the gaol, no description of the
dungeon, scarcely an incident of years spent by
him, girt with a chain, or in free custody.
Above all, no account of how he bore it ; none
of his looks, his words, his sufferings ; none of
his patience, his cheerfulness, his prayer, his

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 43

union with Christ. We are supposed to under
stand all this, and not to require telling that St.
Paul in the stocks of the inner dungeon of
Philippi, singing God's praises, was the same as
St. Paul speaking with noble courage before
Festus ; that it was the privilege of the apostolic
character to be as serene in a dungeon as gracious
on the episcopal chair. And so, in course of
time, when the lesser details and spare anecdotes
of Pius's captivity shall have been first diluted,
then melted away in the growing mass of histo
rical material, the writer of his abridged life will
find it sufficient to say that he bore his captivity,
its perhaps unintentional rigour, its accidental
aggravations, and its occasional insults, as became
his high dignity and noblest inheritance, and in
the character and spirit of an apostle.

If the monastic training prepared the Pontiff
for one most important portion of his pontifical
duties, as particularly destined for him by Divine
Providence, it did not fail in another, and no less
momentous, point.

It has been a generally received opinion, at
least one has heard it again and again expressed,
that the qualities of the heart prevailed in
Pius VII. to the almost exclusion of intellectual
gifts. Kindness and benevolence, forgivingness
and meekness, have been the characteristics by

44 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

which he has been generally known, and for
which he has been universally esteemed. But,
however remarkable this gentleness of nature,
it was by no means an usurper of his entire cha
racter. Though not possessed of genius, nor of
over-average abilities perhaps, what he had were
fully cultivated and vigorously employed. It is
far from being the object of this work to re
produce matter already published, or load its
pages by long quotations. It will be, therefore,
sufficient to refer to Cardinal Pacca's excellent
memoirs for a fuller explanation on this subject.
He traces, indeed, to this mistaken apprehension
of the Pope's character, the afflicting collision
which ensued between the two greatest spheres
of spiritual and of temporal power, — the see
of Kome and the empire of France. But one
sentence says so much to our present purpose,
and will spare so much less authoritative treat
ment of the subject, that it will be well to quote
it. After remarking that, having been associated
with the Pontiff under such varieties of situation,
it would have been impossible for his character
to have remained disguised from him, the cardinal
thus proceeds: — "Having, therefore, attentively
studied his character, and well knowing his dis
position, I can affirm that Pius VII. was a man by
no means deficient in talent, nor of weak, pusilla-

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 45

nimous nature. On the contrary, he was a man
of ready wit, lively, more than commonly versed
in the sacred sciences, and especially possessed of
that peculiar description of good sound sense
that in matters of business intuitively perceives
the difficulties to be overcome, and sees every
thing in its proper light."1

With these words before me, it would scarcely
have been too much to attribute to Pope Pius a
higher class of abilities than has been just as
signed him. But it is more to the purpose to
state how they were cultivated. D. Gregory Chia-
ramonti began young, and therefore was able to
pass with deliberate leisure through the long and
full monastic course of philosophical and theolo
gical studies. That he did this with at least fair
success is evident, from the fact of his having
publicly sustained a thesis in theology — an ex
periment not usually accorded to persons of
inferior skill. The propositions or programme
of his public contest were engraved, as the cus
tom used to be, at the foot of a large allegorical
print ; and the thesis was dedicated to Cardinal
Ganganelli. Thus two future popes met together,
the one as patron and the other as client, on the
noble field of science. A copy of this challenge

1 Vol. ii. p. 43.

46 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

was, I know, in the English College library ; it
was curious, and made itself remembered by the
circumstance that one of the subjects proposed in
it was the confutation of an absurd fanatic, who
had maintained that no place is found in heaven
for the daughters of Eve. And this was only
one of many occasions in which he made public
display of his learning and ready prowess.

After this he was public professor in the col
leges of his order, first at Parma, then at Rome.
At the age of thirty he was promoted, in general
chapter, lector or doctor of theology ; and for
six years more held the chair of canon law. It
would have been impossible, in such a body as
the Benedictines of that period in Italy, for any
one to have been thus promoted, and intrusted
with the highest teaching, unless he had proved
himself fully competent. Not only must he have
given evidence of his proficiency in the sciences
which he was appointed to teach, but he must
by this exercise, continued for so many years,
have acquired greater maturity of judgment,
stronger power of reasoning, and acuter penetra
tion into character, and shrewder knowledge of
men. For the scholastic system, as it is called,
of instruction brings out the character of the
individual pupil, as it keeps constantly well
whetted, by discussion, the professor's genius.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 47

Hence, a person living for years in constant
intercourse with many who often saw the Pope,
and knew him familiarly, used to say that while
he was reverenced and loved by all that ap
proached him, Pius VII. was respected no less
for his assiduity and ability in public affairs. In
deed, during the latter years of his pontificate,
to which these recollections belong, many ques
tions relating to Great Britain and her colonies
had to be discussed. Step by step the Holy
Father himself was referred to, and took a per
sonal interest in them, and indeed entered fully
into them ; so that the respectable English eccle
siastic alluded to, who frequently himself saw the
Pope on such subjects, has left many records
behind him of the judicious and definite views
which he took of them, though necessarily new,
and even strange, to Rome.

48 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER IV.

CONTINUATION.

THE simplicity of habits which proved so valu
able in sustaining the amiable Pontiff, through
the more painful vicissitudes of his reign, never
left him upon the throne. Early hours, a frugal
table, a solitary life, monotony almost of pur
suits, by the regular round of official audiences,
fixed for each day, and almost each hour, unre
lieved by court festivities, or public recreation,
— such is the life, more or less, of every succes
sive Pope. He is not exempt from any of the
obligations of his priesthood. He celebrates
mass each morning, and assists at a second cele
bration. He recites the Breviary, like any of
his poorest curates ; his beads too, most certainly,
like any simple catholic at home or abroad ; be
sides, 'probably, other special devotions. He
listens to sermons, not merely formal ones in his
chapel, but to real honest preachings, strong and
bold, by a Capuchin friar during Advent and

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 49

Lent. All this is every-day work ; to which
must be added the more public functions in
which he takes a prominent, and often a la
borious, part. To say that Pius VII. lived this
life, would be simply the same as to say that he
was Pope. Nor would it be an addition, after
all that has been stated, to mention that he was
kind, considerate, and affable to all around him.
But there is one trait in his character, which
must not be omitted, because it shows the
strength of principles acting in opposition to
what might have been considered his nature.
He set the noble example of " not condescending
to flesh and blood." However affectionate his
heart might be, it did not lead him to bestow
dignity or favour upon his own family. His
predecessor, and relation, had unfortunately
left a contrary example, — a weakness in a life
of strong-minded virtue, a blemish in a ponti
ficate of sorrowful glory. But the seventh
Pius, who had renounced family ties, with family
comforts, when he entered his noviceship, re
turned no more to the bonds which he had
cast aside. He was, in this, irreproachable ; and
his conduct has been an example and law to his
successors.

This, of course, helped to make the isolation
of the Pope more complete. Pius VII., how-

E

50 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

ever, was in the habit of admitting occasionally
into his society, in the evening, a few persons
whose conversation he relished. Among these
was Canova, the renovator of sculpture, its
greatest modern master, and at the same time a
noble and virtuous man. Another, who has
been mentioned, was his secretary of Latin
letters, Monsignor Testa. This excellent man
united in himself many rare qualities. He was
an elegant classical scholar, and composed his
Latin letters as few else could do; he was ac
quainted with modern languages, which he made
use of chiefly for the study of geology, and
other natural sciences, in which he took great
delight. This led to a particular friendship
between him and the English College. He was
to be found every afternoon taking his walk on
Monte Pincio, generally in company with two or
three friends, of whom the illustrious Mai was
one. There one could join him, and learn the
political and ecclesiastical chit-chat of the day.
Sometimes a long-bearded Armenian or Syrian,
or an American or Chinese missionary, would
be in the group, and contribute interesting intel
ligence from the extremities of the earth. The
venerable prelate, who formed the unfailing cen
tre of the society, bore a winning smile ever on
his aged countenance, with just the smallest

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 51

twinkling of drollery1, and that sense of the
ludicrous which is inseparable from genius, and
served to make him suggest questions calculated
to bring out any little eccentricity or outlandish-
ness in a narrator. Yet, simple as a child and
as warm in his affections, never did an unkind
word escape him ; nor would he ever take advan
tage of the canonical exemption which his situa
tion gave him from choral attendance twice a
day at Santa Maria Maggiore, of which he was
a prebendary.

An anecdote of his early life, related by him
self, is interesting, because it refers also to a
much more celebrated character. In his youth
Testa was attached to the nunciature at Paris,
and gained the esteem of many scientific men.
Among them was Buffon, who one day asked

1 He was one of those priests who refused to take the clergy
oath exacted by the French government, and who were transported
to Corsica, and there severely imprisoned. The good people of the
neighbourhood used to approach the wall of the fortress where
least guarded, and at a favourable moment a basket used to be
let down from a barred window, and filled with such comforts as
had been provided. Then Monsignor Testa would give the signal
from his loop-hole, by the ambiguous phrase, well known to all the
captives, of " Sursum corda," and the cord was quickly drawn up.
When such learned theologians and canonists as Bolgeni and
Devoti went astray on the subject of this oath, it required some
firmness to refuse it with the alternative, most trying to a Roman
of all persons, of being deported far from home. One poor old
priest, when told, on refusing the oath, that he should be sent to
the island of Corsica, said he had only one request to make — that
he might go by land, as the sea would disagree with him.
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52 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

him to dinner. On entering the drawingroom,
he found himself unexpectedly in a company
composed of the most eminent naturalists and
mathematicians of Paris. He was somewhat
overawed, though flattered by this attention,
when a thought struck him which paralysed his
joy and his appetite. It was Friday, a day of
abstinence, not much observed by gentlemen of
that class, though his attention or neglect would
be narrowly observed. What should he do ?
How should he manage to play and dabble with
forbidden meats, so as to arrive at the end of
the meal, hungry but unobserved, and, what was
more, unsullied ? The doors of the dining-room
were at length thrown open, but so unhappy
was he at his own perplexing situation, that he
did not notice the table, till startled by his host's
address to his guests : "Messieurs, aujourd'hui
est Vendredi, et il faut 1'observer." He then
saw that, evidently in compliment to him, the
gentlemen naturalists had to confine their obser
vations that day exclusively to aquatic animals,
from whatever other animal reign the cook
might have taken his condiments.1

1 A more unpleasant experience of the same embarrassment befell
the senator Rezzonico, nephew of Pope Clement XIII. He was on
a visit of compliment to Frederick of Prussia, and was invited to
dinner on a fast-day, and nothing was provided that he could eat.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 53

In addition to the recreation thus obtained,
the Pope invariably took his walk out of the
Porta Pia, which was frequented by many who
desired thus to obtain his blessing. This was
given with the same bland smile to poor as to
rich, to the peasant who happened to be driving
his donkey loaded with sticks, as to the noble
man who descended from his carriage to kneel

o

on the kerb-stone. Many a time have the writer
and his companions chosen that direction for a
walk, and been accosted by a passing salutation
full of kindness.

Those, however, who wished really to see this
Pontiff in his happiest aspect, would follow him to
the churches which he might chance to visit ; or
attend his ecclesiastical functions. His great age,
and an accident which he had met with a short
time before, prevented him, at the period to
which these reminiscences refer, from performing
himself any of the greater offices of the Church.
His attendance was all that he could give, and
that mostly in the palace chapel. Besides, at
that time he lived exclusively at the Quirinal

The king watched, and pressed him with dish after dish, till the
senator, seeing his royal host apparently distressed, informed him
of the cause of his refusal. The king ordered anything at hand to
be got ready, when presently a royal repast of meagre fare was
brought in. His fidelity to conscience had been purposely put to
the test.

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54 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

palace, or Monte Cavallo ; so that the solemn
and almost sublime Sixtine chapel, with its
royal hall and subsidiary Pauline chapel, were
little seen, except as other places are, by lovers
of art. The Vatican palace was, indeed, rather
a collection of museums than a papal residence,
till the next pontificate. In the over-light and
freshly decorated chapel of Monte Cavallo, there
fore, were most of the great offices of the Church,
excepting those of Easter-tide and SS. Peter
and Paul's feast, performed, shorn indeed of
their great splendour, as now witnessed by every
tourist. For even on these greater occasions, and
when in the Vatican basilica, the Pope simply
attended. But that presence gave to all its
colour and solemnity. That spirit of piety
which his saintly mother had engrafted on a
sweet and gentle nature, was impressed upon
his countenance and on his figure. Bent down
by age and suffering, his attitude seemed that of
continued prayer; sitting or standing, as much
as kneeling, he struck your eye as the very
picture of earnest and unaffected devotion, ab
stracted from the ceremonial, the state, or the
multitude that surrounded him. It was in one
great function, particularly, that this effect was
most striking.

On the feast of Corpus Christi the great pro-

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 55

cession of the day is made round the whole
square of St. Peter's ; the colonnade of which is
continued round along the furthest houses, by
means of a temporary portico. The beginning
of the procession is entering the church of St.
Peter, as its last portion is leaving the Sixtine
chapel. It is a spectacle growing at every step
in interest. Between the seven- deep lines of
spectators, no longer northerns, but country
people mostly, many of whom appear in the
almost oriental costumes of their villages, rich
in velvet, embroidery, and bullion, pass in suc
cession the religious corporations, as they are
called, of the city ; next, the chapters of the many
collegiate churches, and those of the basilicas,
preceded by their peculiar canopy-shaped banners,
and their most ancient and precious crosses, dating
even from Constantine. Then comes that noblest
hierarchy that surrounds the first See in the world,
partaking, necessarily, of the double function and
character of its possessor, — prelates of various
degrees, holding the great offices of state and of
the household, judges, administrators, and coun
cillors. These are followed by bishops of every
portion of the Church, arrayed in the episcopal
robes of their various countries, Latins, Greeks,
Melchites, Maronites, Armenians, and Copts. To
them again succeeds the Sacred College, divided,

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56 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

like a chapter, into deacons and priests, but with
the addition of the still higher order of bishops.
And at the time of which we write there were
men distinguished by the important parts which
they had occupied in public affairs, and their
share in suffering, and their example of virtuous
constancy. Few of those whose names occur in
Cardinal Pacca's memoirs, and in other records
of the time, were, as yet, wanting to surround
the good Pope with the associations of his pre
vious history. Many of them, including the
eminent historian himself, were, in appearance,
most venerable, bearing a heavy weight of years
on their spare erect forms, their heads mingling
their thin white locks with their unblemished
ermine, in rivalry of its whiteness, walking with
the gait of princes, and speaking with the grace
of virtuous wisdom ; and when seated in order,
during a sacred function, looking so calmly dig
nified, so placid and noble, that many must have
entertained the same thought on beholding them
which crossed the writer's fancy. It was, that if
an artist wished to represent the Eornan senators
silently seated in their house, when the soldiers
of Brennus entered, paused, knelt, and wor
shipped, he would with difficulty have found
anywhere else the fittest models for his picture.
But here he would have possessed all : heads.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 57

attitude, expression, feeling, in the very national
type of the same people; and, moreover, the
same order, position, and unimpassioned repose,
with such flowing robes and richness of colour,
as could guide the imagination to the older
scene.

Such were the venerable princes whose names
the stranger asked in a whisper as they passed
in that procession before him, and who immedi
ately preceded the finishing group of its moving
picture. Its base was formed by almost a mul
titude of attendants, such as, had they been the
object at which one could look, would have
carried one back three centuries at least. The
bright steel armour of the Swiss guards, upon
party-coloured doublet and hose, the officers'
suits being richly damascened in gold, gleamed
amid the red damask tunics of bearers, walk
ing symmetrically and unflinchingly under a
heavy burden ; while the many two-handed
swords of the Swiss flamed upwards, parallel
with the lofty poles of a rich silver-tissue and
embroidered canopy that towered above all, and
was carried by persons who deemed it a high
honour, and who wore also the quaint costume
of days gone by.

But high in air, beneath the canopy, and upon
the estrade or small platform borne aloft, is the

58 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

crowning object of the entire procession. Upon
a faldstool richly covered stands the golden Mon
strance, as it was anciently called in England,
that contains the holiest object of Catholic belief
and worship ; and behind it the Pontiff kneels,
with his ample embroidered mantle embracing
the faldstool before him. Thus he is borne
along, so that all may see and join him in his
devotion, wherein he is undisturbed by even the
motion required to walk in a procession. No
one who ever saw Pope Pius VII. in this position
will easily forget the picture. The hands firmly
and immovably clasped at the base of the sacred
vessel ; the head bent down, not in feebleness
but in homage ; the closed eyes that saw none of
the state and magnificence around, but shut out
the world from the calm and silent meditation
within ; the noble features so composed that no
expression of human feeling or an earthly
thought could be traced upon, or gathered from,
them ; the bare head, scarcely ever uncovered
except then \ with locks still dark floating un
heeded in the breeze ; these characteristic forms
and appearances of a human frame, unmoving
and unwavering as a sculptured figure, might
have been taken as the purest and sublimest

1 The white skull-cap worn by the Pope is called the Solideo,
because only taken off in homage to God.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 59

symbol of entranced adoration. The swelling
chorus of the hymns and psalms before him
evidently did not reach his ear ; the smoke of
fragrant incense just under him did not soothe his
nostrils ; the waves of a multitude, swayed to
and fro with the murmur of a sea, traced not its
image on his eyeballs : he was himself abstracted
from all that sense could convey, and was cen
tred in one thought, in one act of mind, soul,
and heart, in one duty of his sublime office, one
privilege of his supreme commission. He felt,
and was, and you knew him to be, what Moses
was on the mountain, face to face, for all the
people, with God ; the vicar, with his Supreme
Pontiff; the chief shepherd, with the Prince of
pastors ; the highest and first of living men,
with the One living God.1

I record impressions, — impressions never to be
effaced. It may be that youth, by its warmth,
softens more the mould in which they are made,
so that they sink deeper, and are produced at

1 On Good Friday, 1818, an English traveller was watching,
with great feeling, the Pope, as, bare-headed and unsandaled, he
advanced up the chapel to kiss the cross. Some one whispered to
him that this was a piece of superstition. " Oh, say not so," he
exclaimed ; " it is affecting and sublime." This was Mr. Mathias,
one of the three whom, as Forsyth remarks, in virtue of allitera
tion, the Italians allow to have written Italian verse like natives :
Milton and Menage being the other two.

60 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

the same time more sharply and definitely :
but certainly those earlier pictures remain in
the memory as the standard types of what has
been many times again seen. When we have
gazed upon many repetitions of a painting by a
great master, we can hardly divest ourselves of
the idea that the first we saw must have been
the original, the others duplicates.

If thus far the reader has followed what he
may consider unalloyed praise, he may have a
right to ask, where are the shadows that must give
relief to the lights in our portrait ? Cardinal
Pacca, his minister, and companion in his most
trying situation, has openly declared what was
the flaw, or imperfection, that struck him,
through all his connection with the Holy Pontiff,
and it is the one most usually allied with gentle
ness and meekness. Irresolution, when left to
himself, strongly contrasted with courage when
he saw his duty clearly, under advice. Some
attributed this failing to the low estimate which
the Holy Father had formed of his own abilities,
to an habitual humility of thought. No doubt,
in his unselfish and simple heart, a failing like
this, that easily leans towards virtue's side, na
turally took this form ; and a poor estimation of
his own gifts would both clothe and strengthen
a true feebleness that existed. But the fault, if

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 61

natural, was not one to be cured by the same
training as matured his other good qualities.
There is not, indeed, a happier life for the weak
in spirit than that of a community. It most
truly relieves the mind of daily and worrying
cares, and leaves it serene for occupations that
soften and soothe it; but it blunts the edge
of self-reliance, so as to be less able to cut a knot
or chop down an obstacle : for it renders counsel
easy and accessible, and, in fact, makes it indis
pensable ; for where many live together in peace
ful community of interests, there is not much
that requires solitary action. This would be
simply obstructive, or disturbing.

The government of the Pope was vigorous and
decided, because he knew better than most princes
how to choose his minister, and, once chosen, how
to give him his confidence. If this work were a
history, it would be easy to give proof of this
truly sovereign instinct. It may be sufficient to
say, that no one could have served him more
wisely, at the critical moment when his misfor
tunes commenced, than their historian, Cardinal
Pacca ; none could have guided the helm of his
shattered vessel more skilfully or more firmly
than the great statesman, Consalvi. It was in
that middle space between these two ministers,
— when no longer, indeed, a monarch, but a cap-

62 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

tive ; when bereft of all advice and sympathy,
but pressed on close by those who, themselves
probably deceived, thoroughly deceived him, —
that he committed the one error of his life and
pontificate, in 1813. For there came to him
men " of the seed of Aaron," who could riot be
expected to mislead him, themselves free and
moving in the busiest of the world, who showed
him, through the loopholes of his prison, that
world from which he was shut out, as though
agitated on its surface, and to its lowest depths,
through his unbendingness ; the Church torn to
schism, and religion weakened to destruction, from
what they termed his obstinacy. He who had but
prayed and bent his neck to suffering, was made
to appear in his own eyes a harsh and cruel
master, who would rather see all perish, than
loose his grasp on unrelenting, but impotent,
jurisdiction.1

He yielded for a moment of conscientious
alarm, he consented, though conditionally,
under false, but virtuous, impressions, to the
terms proposed to him for a new Concordat.
But no sooner had his upright and humble
mind discovered the error, than it nobly and
successfully repaired it. He would have no help

1 The deputation of bishops and others, who visited him at
Savona.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 63

from others in this work, he would let no man
risk peace or comfort by assisting him. He
would be his own secretary ; wrote, corrected,
and transcribed the necessary documents ; re
covered his bright serenity, his sweet smile, and
unruffled peace by his humble candour ; and rose
higher in the esteem and love of all who knew
him, from the depth of the self-abasement into
which he nobly descended.

The history of this transaction has long been
before the public under two very different
aspects ; as related with passionless simplicity by
Cardinal Pacca, or as dramatically and causti
cally narrated by the Abbe de Pradt. The one
bears all the marks of a sincere recorder of
facts; the other the stamp of a bitter, though
witty and clever partisan. But it is difficult
to look back upon the momentous crisis to which
we have alluded in the fortunes of the Pope,
and, according to merely human calculation, in
those of the Church, without a moment's reflec
tion on what forms its highest view.

When historical events, through our progress,
have receded sufficiently from our sight, for
us no longer to discern their lesser details, and
the feelings which they excited, they pass into
the domain of providential records. The actors
in them stand in a more solemn light; their

64 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

relative proportions change, perhaps their places;
their influence on the world can be measured by
results. This is the case even in daily life. The
man who first pressed the lever of the printing-
press wielded a more powerful and noble
•sceptre, than the sovereign who may have
dropped a few coins in his hand as a brave
mechanic. Lunardi, who swelled and puffed
himself out as much as his balloon, and was
admired and honoured by great ones, has passed
out of sight, borne away on the very wings of
unsubstantial uselessness ; while a man who was
silently watching, at home, the vapour from the
cauldron, was distilling from it, in the alembic of
his brain, a subtler spirit still ; for it was to
become the very spirit of a coming world.

But when we look back at public men and
things placed in the very midst of eventful
currents, flowing on, but modified, directed,
controlled irresistibly by them, they are not
accidents in their places, but causes, now seen
and felt to be such, of what moves round them,
themselves subservient to a higher cause. They
may allow the stream to flow quietly on one
side, and force it to writhe and twist itself
on the other; they may be dashed over by a
gathering torrent in what before was but a
freshet, nay they may be toppled over, borne

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 65

down, carried away, and clean dissolved ; but to
the last they will have been the necessary quan
tities by which every ordinary law of motion, of
pressure, of relative existence has to be modified
or estimated. In history the world runs smooth
enough for a time ; but the appearance, suddenly,
in the midst of its stream, of an Alexander, or a
Charlemagne, or a Christopher Columbus, de
stroys the equilibrium of existing forces, by
arms, by wisdom, or by a sublimer gift, and
prepares a new phase of society, the full value,
or importance at least, of which may not be
estimable for many generations to come. With
all their vices, blunders, crimes, follies, grandeur,
and littlenesses, we see in them instruments of
an unusual, stark and strong, providential inter
position, beneficent in the end, though some
times awfully judicial in the beginning.

Into the list of such historical names, short as
it is, and severely exclusive, it is impossible not
to insert that of Napoleon I. Never was symbol
better chosen by a monarch than the eagle was
by him. Eagle in his eye, eagle in his soar, eagle
in his strength of wing when balanced above his
aim, and in swiftness when darting on it, eagle in
his gripe ; yet eagle in all that distinguishes the
king of birds from vulture, hawk, or gentle
falcon. A warrior by nature, and a conqueror

F

66 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

by instinct, with all the roughness of the one,
and all the haughtiness of the other, yet fitting
a throne as if he had been nursed upon it,
surrounding it with the splendour of feudal
monarchies, arid filling it with the grace of
ancient kings, he seemed to have learnt in
tuitively, in the stern occupations of war, the
tastes, the tact, the amenities, and what was still
more, the duties and exigencies, of an imperial
royalty. Art and science, almost shamed and
even scared by cruel examples from society,
raised their heads, and threw their grateful
homage at the feet of their reviver ; an Augus
tan age of literature broke forth from the chaos
of revolutionary barbarism, and its brilliant
authors hung their thanks, in verse and prose,
upon his armour or his ermine ; manufactures
sprung up with a taste and profusion which not
only shed a new lustre round his halls from
Sevres and the Gobelins, but made France more
than ever the arbiter of elegancies, and dictatress
of fashion. To this must be added the wonder
ful and inborn mastership in the craft of govern
ment, which he at once displayed ; — his power
of domestic organisation and internal rule,
whereby he held in his own hands the threads
of command, from every department, prefectship,
and mayoralty, almost as completely, if not as

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 67

instantaneously acting, as the telegraph wires in
the cabinet of his present illustrious successor.
And further, add the mental clearness and prac
tical thinking-power required to enable a man to
be a lawgiver, and to draw up a code of universal
justice, civil and criminal, theoretical and applied,
— classifications of offences, procedure, adjust
ment of punishment, prevention, pursuit, and cor
rection. Such a code, too, as could and did suit
a people whose cumbersome legislation, " ordon-
nances," octrois, decrees of extinct parliaments,
had been swept away by a ruthless revolution ;
a people which had acquired new thoughts, new
feelings, new claims ; though not new traditions
and usages, to lend either a base or buttress to a
legal system. To have given a body of useful
laws had obtained for Solon and Alonzo the
epithet of the Wise, for Charlemagne that of the
Great, for our Edward that of the Good. And
much counsel from practical and from studious
men, no doubt had each one of these singular
rulers ; there was much to be compiled, much
to be compared, much to be adjusted to its
resting-point by the balance of dissenting or
diverging views. But we have seen how little
commissions for codifying can do, where any
amount and extent of professional ability and
experience are collected, without the direction

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68 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

and supervision of a master-mind which brings
higher controlling elements into the combination,
superior to technicalities, " wise saws, and
modern instances." And therefore the simple
title of "Code Napoleon," while it denies no
praise to the learned and industrious men who
arranged and composed it, tells the future as the
present age, who watched over the great work to
maturity, presided personally over the delibera
tions of its compilers, ruled their differences,
threw in the valuable ingredient of a strong
unbiassed sense; and, if he sometimes em
broiled, oftener conciliated, jarring sentiments.
Nor is it slender praise of this undertaking
accomplished amidst innumerable other cares,
that it should have remained established in
countries from which every other vestige of
French dominion has vanished, — preserved as of
great value by dynasties of rival houses, through
the first impulse of sudden restorations to abolish
every novelty, and of the experience of time to
produce something more national.

" Quot libras in duce summo ! " we may well
exclaim ; and ask, was such a man sent on the
public stage without a part allotted to him of
supreme importance and inevitable influence?
But now another evidence of a providential
destiny has come, after many years, before us,

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 69

— one which baffles many a previous calculation.
He dashed over the world like a meteor ; blazed,
dazzled, and dropped completely extinct. He was
a phenomenon, a comet if you please, that struck
its course athwart the quiet planes of regular
orbs, whose mutual attractions and counter-
attractions had been part of their periodical
laws of motion ; and swung them, more rudely
than usual, from their steady course. But
the disturbing brush was over ; the eccentric
body had flown by, never to return. " Write
this man childless," had become truth, plainly
recorded in the world's history. And that
history had scarcely begun to acknowledge
and extol what was really great in him, or
recognise his indispensable place in the world :
for whose interest was it to do so ?

That yet, after all this, almost a generation
later, the ostracised, branded, and proscribed
name should be found in the same place, bearing
after it the same imperial title, — annulled,
abolished by a congress of Europe, — with every
human probability, and many earnest desires,
that both may be continued in a lasting dynasty,

— is surely strange and unexpected enough to
establish a providential dispensation in the
history of the first Emperor. It suggests the
idea, that whatever he did or intended, that

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70 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

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 springs —
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. 71

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 system 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 scoriae 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,

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72 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
an ism 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 Eobespierre ; 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. For
there arose, too, from that very slime of corrup
tion and brutality1, a crop of ferocious genius

1 A few years ago, after the barricades, a number of protitaires,
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 1'autre." Has the reader ever met a crowd coming
away from an execution ? Has 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. 73

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 — bete.1 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.

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. 75

beaten track of nations, this yet uncontrollable
energy, would, indeed, be the man of his age,
and the retriever of 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 aggressive
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, arid sa-
crilegiousness of the mode in which it was done,

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 77

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 1, left
unconnected, 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 Abbe 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, arid 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
tive1, 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
a tone 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 Yeii or Collatium. But the destiny

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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 l ;
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.1

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.

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84 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

and many other, to Kome invaluable, treasures
had been removed. The noble halls of the Ya-
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

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
misereres ?

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.

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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
great features, yet are teeming with artistic trea
sure. Here is a fresco by Kaffaele, 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 aggregation 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 ]amps, is crowded by rising

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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
II pane altrui, e come e duro calle
Lo scendere e il salir per le altrui scale," l

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 Paradise, 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,
" Italy changed her mourning attire." 1 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." — St.
Jerome.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 91

fical altar, so, outside, one would almost suppose
that everything was accessory to the papal bene
diction. At any 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
grot" 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 1 ; 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."

92 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. A veil of domestic texture of
gold relieved by stripes of the richest colours,
formed the crown of a dress truly elegant and
magnificent. Gay colours also form the predo
minant feature of more inland districts, as of
Sonnino and Sezze.

This multitude covers the steps and terraces,
making them look like a living parterre, masses
of bright colour waving to and fro, as in the
breeze. Below on the level ground are ranges
of equipages filled with more aristocratic visi
tors, and further still there is an open military
square, in the middle of which a brilliant staff
glitters in the sun. The embracing arms of the
elliptical colonnade, expanding and reentering,
seem to hold within their margin the vast as
sembly with ease, and the dark shadowy spaces
between the pillars are relieved by the glimpse
of golden state carriages, and the nodding heads
of plumed horses, enjoying the cool retreat.

Such a rich, varied, and yet harmonious scene
could only be produced by one person, by a
single, and almost momentary act. For hours

94 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

the more patient and devout, who want nothing
else, have been basking and melting in the sun ;
and for some time the more eager have been
rushing in every direction to reach the pre-
appointed place of sight. The bell has been
tolling a heavy monotonous boom; its sudden
hush is a signal for that indescribable, tide-like
murmur, and inarticulate heave, which in a
crowd implies silence. Every eye is turned to
one point: in that instant every person and
thing is where it was meant they all should be :
no lens has a focus more true and certain, or
more powerfully concentrating, for rays to
converge to, than the space just large enough
to contain one human countenance that is now
filled up, in what just before was a blank over the
central balcony. By whatever feeling the eye
may be directed, by the simple faith of the
Italian, the love of picturesqueness of the German,
the curiosity of the unbeliever, or the cynicism of
the Exeter Hall declaimer, each eye is inevitably
turned to that one point, however reluctantly;
fifty thousand or more are concentrated upon
one aged man's face ; and in the look of the good
old man there is a holy fascination that keeps
them spell-bound for the few moments that he
is before them ; they can look at nothing else.
And what is all this for ?

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 95

It is a vision of a moment. After long
expectation, a few heads are just seen, but
hardly recognisable, above the balustrade of
the balcony, then the flabella3 or fans of state,
and last lifted high, the mitred pontiff. A few
words are spoken, which are undistinguishable
below. The Pope rises, raises his eyes to
heaven, opens wide and closes his arms, and
pours out from a full heart, and often with a
clear sonorous voice, a blessing on all below.
Amidst the clang of bells, the clatter of drums,
and the crash of military bands, that reaches the
ears only as noise, while the trumpet is yet
speaking to the cannoneer, and he to heaven,
the vision has vanished : the observed of all
observers seems to have melted from before the
eye, which finds itself gazing once more on
vacancy. The father is gone, but has dropped
his blessing on his loving children. Can a more
preeminent and singular position be allotted
to any other human being? Could any sove
reign periodically become, again and again, the
centre of anything so magnificent, morally as
well as materially ? Could he bring together
thousands of strangers and of subjects, ambas
sadors, kings, and even emperors, with multi
tudes of poor, who would make pilgrimage
from distant regions on foot, and collect them

96 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

in a grand square, that they might look up to
him for a few moments, ay, and fall on their
knees during them, as he showed himself at a
window of his palace ? The idea of an attempt
to do such a thing is so monstrously preposterous,
that it excites laughter.

Yet who has ever witnessed the papal bene
diction at St. Peter s, and pronounced or felt
it to contain a single particle of the ridiculous
in it ? Or, rather, who has ever thought it
less than sublime? And on what rests the
difference? On an irresistible belief that no
earthly elevation gives a power to bless ; that
such a power is inherent in the highest degree
in one only man ; and that the possession of that
single power makes it worth while for the
greatest and the least to come any distance to
partake, if they believe ; if not, at least to be
spectators of its marvellous exercise. Certainly
all will agree, that, if it do exist, it could not
possibly be used more gloriously, or in a manner
more worthy of it. An improvement on this is
hardly imaginable; never did a great occasion
so completely create its own circumstances.

If the recollection of a scene so well remem
bered, because so often witnessed, and generally
from the midst of the peasants' position, have
carried the writer away from his real subject.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 97

he returns by remarking, how enhanced must
the exciting and moving ceremonial of the
Pope's blessing have been, in its association
with his restoration. It wanted, no doubt, the
more dignified and colder attendance of foreign
visitors; there were not so many handsome
equipages glancing in the sun ; but their places
were well filled up by the tens of thousands more
of fervent subjects, who had poured in from
greater distances than usual, to welcome their
sovereign and Pontiff. It was at this function,
more than in any other portion of his triumphal
procession, that the gush of spontaneous emo
tion became irresistible, and consequently uni
versal ; so as to leave no eye tearless, and no
heart unmoved.

There can be no reason to doubt the sincerity
of these feelings ; and that the people in the
widest sense of the word rejoiced at the restora
tion of a native, though an ecclesiastical, govern
ment. Indeed this peculiarity was to them a
chief recommendation. It had been to them, in
their youth, a kind, paternal, and peaceful rule,
and they who were too young to remember it,
had received their ideas of it from parents and
masters, then deploring the changes which they
had experienced. It cannot be unfair or un
reasonable to appeal to those who had tried a

98 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

variety, for a rational opinion as to a preference.
A generation has intervened since those days of
bitter recollection, during which, no doubt, much
has been forgotten of family sorrows, and public
decline ; the love of change and passion for
novelty, which are inherent in youth, forming in
deed phases of its characteristic feeling of hope,
are strong enough to counteract the pleadings of
experience, and give a reality in the imagination
to specious promises of an untested future.

In proof of these assertions we may observe,
that when, in 1821, Naples was disturbed by a
revolution that overthrew the throne, inflamma
tory proclamations were spread through the papal
dominions, calling on the people to rise and join
the four revolutionary camps at Pesaro, Macerata,
Spoleto, and Frosinone. Cardinal Consalvi, in
the name of the Pope, issued a proclamation,
in which he merely reminded the people of their
past experience, expressing his assurance that a
word would suffice to secure them against the
evil intentions of traitors. He bade them re
member " how chimerical and deceitful, in past
attempts to overthrow social order, had been the
prospects held out of an imaginary happiness;
how false the promises to protect religion, to
recompense virtue ; how frail and delusive the
assurances of a better administration of justice,

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 99

of greater liberty, of a diminution of imposts, and
increase of salaries." And he expressed all con
fidence, that these reminiscences and experiences
would be a sufficient antidote against all seditious
and rebellious attempts.

Nor was he deceived. The storm passed by
harmless ; no rising took place ; and the people
showed how the appeal to experience came home
to their convictions.

H '2

100 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER VI.

CARDINAL CONSALVI.

IT is impossible to treat of the latter portion of
this Pontificate, especially to make any allusion to
the principles of its government, without bring
ing before the readerrs notice the man whose
figure mingles with every reminiscence of the
period, and who was the very spring and regu
lator of the entire policy which distinguished it.
This was Hercules Consalvi, the prime minister
of Pius from his restoration till his death.

He was born in 1756; consequently had re
ceived his education long before the symptoms
of what afterwards convulsed Europe had fairly
manifested themselves. Early impressions are
usually so deep as not to be effaced by subsequent
ones made over them ; and it is possible that
the partiality which Consalvi always manifested
towards England, in his political career, may be
traceable to the early kindness and favour which

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 101

he received from one who always considered and
called himself an Englishman. The last of the
Stuarts, the amiable and beneficent Cardinal
Henry, or as he loved to be called, the Cardinal
Duke, or the Duke of York, was bishop of
Frascati, and would never exchange his see for
those which officially belong to the Dean and
Subdean of the Sacred College. Of that prettily
situated city, successor of Tusculum, which yet
gives the bishop his title, he is still considered
the great benefactor. Whatever else may have
been wanting for his title, to a royal heart he was
no pretender. His charities were without bounds ;
poverty and distress were unknown in his see.
The episcopal palace was almost, if not entirely,
rebuilt by him, though he generally resided in a
neighbouring villa ; the cathedral was much im
proved, and richly furnished. But the seminary,
or diocesan ecclesiastical College, was the object
of his peculiar care. Most of it was built by him,
and the library, a most elegant apartment, and
rich in many English works, was the fruit of his
munificence. Though he was not himself either
learned or endowed with great abilities, he knew
the value of both, engaged excellent professors
for his seminary, and brought men of genius
round him. Hence his college was frequented
not only by aspirants to the clerical state, but by

H 3

102 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

youths of the best families, destined for secular
professions.1

Among these was the young Eoinan Ercole, or
Hercules Consalvi. There he distinguished him
self, and at some public exhibition caught the eye
of the Cardinal bishop, who honoured it, accord
ing to custom, with his presence. Let not the

1 The diocese of Frascati was full, when the author first knew
it, of recollections of the Cardinal Duke, all demonstrative of his
singular goodness and simplicity of character. He was accessible
to the innocent flattery paid by recognition of his rank : and it is
recorded of the late Duke of Sussex, that he generously addressed
him by the title which he loved, that of " Royal Highness." One
is so used to hear little that is good of the Fourth George, that it
is pleasing to remember, how, in the days of the excellent Car
dinal's old age and distress, by loss of his pensions and benefices
through the French invasion, the Prince offered him a pension,
which was gratefully accepted ; and afterwards gave Canova the
commission for the Stuart monument — not the happiest production
of his chisel — the erection of which in St. Peter's the writer well
remembers. The Cardinal always spoke highly and kindly of the
reigning family. He left endowments for the education of eccle
siastical students for Scotland.

His munificence was extended to other objects. Being arch-
priest of St. Peter's, he presented that basilica with a splendid gold
chalice, encrusted with the jewels of the Sobieski family; and this
being still kept in his house when the treasury of the church
was plundered, escaped the spoliation, and, till three years ago,
was used at the great pontifical celebrations at St. Peter's.

One more anecdote may find place here, related by one who
knew him well. When he first came to Rome, so ignorant was he
of the value of coins, that once, on having been shown some place
or object of curiosity, he was asked what should be given to the
attendant. As he was puzzled, his chamberlain suggested ; " Shall
I give him a zecchino ?" a gold piece, worth about 105. Thinking
that the diminutive termination must indicate small coin, the duke
replied, " I think that is too little. Give him zgrosso ;" a silver 5d.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 103

reader be startled if he hears, that it was rather
by the ornamental than by the useful arts that
the future statesman captivated the good Duke
bishop's affections. It is said to have been his
skill and grace in a musical performance that
first attracted this notice.

Be this as it may, it appears that the young
man himself was favoured early with one of
those presentiments of future destiny which are
the privilege of genius. He possessed, while yet
a boy in college, that latent consciousness of
power, of energy, and of perseverance which
creates success ; one may say, speaking profanely,
that confidence in one's star, more religiously,
that trust in Providence, which encourages to
extraordinary efforts a genius otherwise timid
and distrustful of itself. Many a gifted mind
has pined away, and faded early, from want of
this sustaining confidence in a higher direction.
But of those who have succeeded in doing any
thing good for mankind, there can be few who
have not experienced early a craving for it, a
deep sentiment that they must attempt it, and a
strong assurance that they were only to be in
struments in higher, and stronger, and. better
hands, for their appointed work. By some, in
dolence and pride may be mistaken for this holy
consciousness of future power ; but the difference

H 4

104 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

of objects proposed will generally give an easy
test of the source of either feeling. However,
few have the courage to proclaim sentiments
which may be so easily mis-attributed ; and this
the young Consalvi did not hesitate to do. We
may imagine that his audience, at one of those
annual exhibitions common in all continental
colleges, were astonished to hear him openly
avow his assurance of future distinction, fame,
and wealth. This he did in a poetical compo
sition, which fortunately has been preserved in
the library of the Frascati seminary, and deserves
to be published here, I believe for the first time.1
It is written in the taste of the last century, in
that now intolerable allegory, which clothes vir
tues in the dress of pagan divinities, and person
ifies, as good or evil beings of another order, the
qualities, actions, or sufferings of man. It will
be seen also from the title that the young Mar
quis Consalvi was already a member of the Ar
cadia, the great poetical society of Rome, and
bore in consequence a name bucolic, as well as
his family designation.

1 Some time before his death, perhaps a year or two, the Cardinal
had privately printed a sort of medical autobiography. It was a
minute account of all his maladies, and the treatment of them by
physicians, probably drawn up for consultation. I read it at the
time, and remember some curious particulars, but have not been
able to procure a copy.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 105

DEL SIGR. MARCHESE ERCOLE CONSALYI,

FRA GLI ARCADI FLORIDANTE ERMINIANO,
SUL RITORNO AI SUOI STUDII

POEMETTO.

" ME che riporto alle belle arti, e ai dolci
Industri studj desioso il piede,
E che dal lungo vaneggiar richiamo
Quelle che mille immagini vezzose
E mille idee in un sol punto, e in uno
Momento suol pittrice fantasia
Vaga crear : Pallade arnica, e sola
Dolce conforto, e non minor diletto
Di quei, cui porser pargoletto il latte
Le suore che hanno sede in sul Parnasso,
Con lieto sguardo caramente accogli :
L' egida poni, e la terribil asta
Onde t' armi la destra, e svegli in petto
Cui delicate cor alto spavento.
Tu cortese qual sei, Tritonia Diva,
Figlia del sommo reggitor de' Nurni,
Porgimi aita ; piano e facil dammi
Questo sentiero, e i voti miei seconda.

10 sovra d' esso affretterb ben ratto
I passi miei, e tergerb pur lieto
Dalla pallida fronte i miei sudori.

Se allor che a destra ed a sinistra io volgo

11 guardo, a te mirar, Diva, vedrotti
Oltre T usato tuo lieta guardarmi,
Con dolce riso sulla rosea bocca,
Con bella grazia alle ridenti ciglia,
Un tuo sorriso, od un gentil tuo detto,
Couforterammi il cuor tremante, e a lui
Para lena bastante. Allor, si, allor
Vengane pure, il bieco guardo torva
Con quelle scarne sue livide guancie

E con quelle aggrottate orride ciglia

106 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

L' indefessa mai sempre aspra fatica,
Non mai stanca in operare, e mi minacci
Lunghe, e fiere vigilie, afFanni, e stenti.
lo si, che sotto la tua scorta, a vile
Terro li stenti, ed ogni duro affanno
Ed ogni angoscia, sprezzero ben forte
La Donna iniqua, e di costanza armato
E piu che smalto invigorito il petto,
A giogo la terro ; farolle il torvo
Ciglio abbassar. Si giungero la dove
Mi guida dolce amabile desio,
Che di bella speranza esser si pregia
Parto gentil, che via pur troppo al cuore
Mi fa invito, e lusinga. Aspettan, sollo,
Me onor, gloria, ricchezza, al bell' oprare
Sprone, e conforto desiabil. Certo
E questo il fato mio : questa e la tela
Che tra le man del ciel, per me s' intesse,
Ma che ? forse sogn' io ? e non piuttosto
Si verace m' aspira amico nume ?
Non che non sogno, e lo vedrb fra poco,
Quando, per bella amabile fortuna,
Contento, e lieto di me stesso i giorni
Passar vedrammi ognun che al fuso eterno
L' immite Parca tutto di mi fila
E tutt' altro saro da quel che or sono."

It may not be amiss to add a translation, for
the benefit of those who cannot follow the ori
ginal ; which, it must be owned, is rather verbose,
and yet cramped in expression. It shall be as
literal as possible.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 107

"VERSES BY THE MARQUIS HERCULES CONSALVI,

ON RETURNING TO RESUME HIS STUDIES.

" ME, — who recall my willing steps, to tread
Once more the course of studious toil, relieved
By noble arts ; who lure from dreamy flights
The thoughts and fancies which, with rapid strokes,
Imagination artist-like creates ; —
Me smiling greet, and tenderly embrace,
Pallas ! the friend and only soothing stay,
Or rather certain joy of him, whose lips
The Nine who dwell on the Parnassian hill
"Were first to moisten with their purest milk.

" Put by thine aegis, lay aside the spear
That arms thy hand with terror, and affrights
The timid heart that dwells in gentle breast.
Tritonian Goddess ! — Daughter of great Jove! —
Bestow thine aid ; the path whereon I tread
Make smooth and straight ; my yearnings bear on high.
With thee propitious I will haste along,
And cheerful wipe my moist and pallid brow.
If, when on either side I look for thee,
I see thee, Goddess ! more than is thy wont,
Regard me kindly, with a gracious eye,
And on thy rosy lips a cheerful smile ;
That smile alone, yet more a soothing word,
Will still my panting heart, and give me breath.

" Then come, indeed, with gruff and sidelong gaze,
From the rough caverns, 'neath her beetling brows,
And with her hollow cheeks and sallow skin,
Hard-fisted and hard-minded, cheerless Toil ;
And threaten me with long and weary watch
By night, and straining breathless work by day.
For, by thee guided, I will make but light
Of cramping labour, and of anguish dire.
That Dame unjust, with strength and patience armed
I will defy ; with adamantine breast
Will bend her head, and yoke her to my car.

108 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

" Yes, I will reach the goal, which sweet Desire,
Most noble offspring, as she boasts, of Hope,
Points to, with flattering look that wins rny heart.
There — oh, I know it ! — honour, glory, wealth,
Await me, goad and prize to honest deeds.
Certain is this my lot : this is the web
Woven for me in heaven's unfailing loom.

" But stay — dream I, perchance? or does some God
Benignant whisper to me happy truths ?
No, no, I dream not ; full soon shall I know it,
When all shall see me, by fair Fortune's love,
Pass through the days which Fate unsparing spins
On her eternal distaff for my destiny,
Joyful, contented with myself; for then
Far other shall I be than now I am."

Success waited on this precocious confidence,
and to what extent the patronage which he early
won assisted the youthful poet, cannot be fully
known. Probably, however, York 1 did him
better service than Pallas. Consalvi passed
through the usual preliminary steps, by which
the cardinalate is attained, in curia ; for he never
was a nuncio abroad; nor did he ever take
priest's orders, so as to be more immediately

1 There are several medals of the Cardinal Duke, commemo
rating his title. One is rather a coin struck in his name, sede
vacante, — this being the privilege of the Vice-chancellor at such
periods. It bears the royal arms of England, Scotland, and Ire
land, surmounted by a cardinal's hat over a ducal coronet. On
the reverse is the legend, " Henricus Cardinalis Dux Ebor., S.R.E.
Vice-cancellarius. Sede vacan. 1769." Another is a large medal
with his portrait, and nearly the same inscription, with the addition
of Ep. Tuscul. On the reverse is a figure of Religion, with his
crown and hat at her feet, and the legend round, " Non desideriis
hominum, sed voluntate Dei." On the exergue is the date 1766.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 109

employed in purely ecclesiastical administration.
On the llth of August, 1800, he was named
Cardinal Deacon of the Church of St. Mary ad
Marty res, better known as the Pantheon.

Although he early enjoyed the confidence of
Pius YIL, it was not till a later period that his
extraordinary powers became known and ad
mired throughout Europe. So distinguished,
indeed, was he among the Roman prelatura, that
the Sacred College assembled in the conclave
which elected Pius VII. at Venice, in 1800,
chose him for their secretary, and he was im
mediately named pro-secretary of State by the
new Pontiff.

At the period of Pius's removal from Rome and
Italy, Cardinal Consalvi did not hold the highest
office, which, as we have seen, was occupied
most worthily by Cardinal Pacca. But he shared
his sovereign's exile, and was one of the " black
cardinals " of Paris, that is, one forbidden to wear
the distinctive colour of his order. After this
period began that prosperity of public life, which
shone so brightly in his youthful vision. For one,
who had been educated in the comparative seclu
sion of the Roman government and court, to find
himself suddenly transferred from this, and even
from banishment, into contact with the most bril
liant array of camp and court celebrities which

110 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

Europe had ever seen united, and what was more,
with the council of such statesmen, most cunning
in their craft, as sovereigns could bring together,
to watch over their interests, and to have to play
his part among them, with skill, with tact, and
with success equal to any, was a position and a
task to which only genius of high order could be
equal. And this, certainly, Consalvi was found
to possess. The Emperors of Russia and Austria,
the Kings of Prussia and France, Wellington,
Blucher, Metternich, Castlereagh, and a host of
plenipotentiaries of claimants of states and prin
cipalities, and representatives of every form of
government had to be made acquaintance with, to
be gained, and to be treated with, by the represen
tative of one, whom all no doubt respected, but to
whom all were not so ready to be generous, if just.
In the settlement of claims, and the adjustment of
pretensions which were about to ensue, Consalvi
was deputed by the Pope to regain for him and
his successors the many provinces of which he
had been stripped. This was a difficult and a
delicate task. But before pressing forward to
the conclusion of this matter, we must dwell on
an interesting episode in it.

In the June of 1814, the Emperor of Russia
and the King of Prussia visited London, and
many will remember the fetes, splendid but

PIUS THE SEVENTH. HI

somewhat childish, which greeted them. The
writer retains them among his holiday reminis
cences, for they took place in vacation time : and
they belonged decidedly to the age of pavilions
and pagodas. At the same time Cardinal Con-
salvi crossed the Straits, and appeared in London.
He was bearer of a brief, or letter, to the Prince
Eegent, from the Pope. Let it be remembered,
that the penal laws as yet were in force, and that
the dreadful penalties of prcemunire cut off all
friendly commerce between the ruler of these
realms, and the Head of the Catholic Church.
How this first Cardinal who had landed in Eng
land since the days of Pole was treated and re
ceived, will best be learnt from the account which
Pius VII. gave of the event, in his Allocution to
the Consistory of September the 4th, 1815.

" The Cardinal, having quickly reached Paris,
and having discharged those duties which we had
confided to him towards his most Christian Ma
jesty, and having been received with that interest
and affection for us which it was natural to
expect from his piety and religion, proceeded to
London without delay ; whither the other sove
reigns, with the exception of our beloved Son in
Christ, Francis Emperor of Austria, had gone.
And here we cannot suificiently express to you
what feelings of joy and gratitude filled us, on

112 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

learning what occurred on that occasion, in that
most splendid city, capital of so mighty a king
dom. For the first time since more than 200
years, a Cardinal of tfie holy Eoman Church,
and moreover a Legate of this Apostolic See, ap
peared publicly in that city, by the kind and
generous permission of the government, adorned
with the distinctive badge of his dignity, in the
same way as if he had been in this our own city.

" And further, when he proceeded to an au
dience of His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent
of England, to present our brief, and express the
sentiments of admiration, friendship, and attach
ment which we entertain towards him, as well as
towards that valiant, and in so many ways illus
trious, nation, he was received at the palace with
such marks of benevolence and of kindness for
us whom he represented, as could with difficulty
have been exceeded. On which account, pro
fessing ourselves deeply obliged to that prince,
and to the different orders that compose that
generous nation, towards which we always enter
tained great good- will, we most gladly seize such
an occasion to attest thus publicly our esteem,
and our lively gratitude."

The Pope goes on to say that in this city the
Cardinal set vigorously about his work, laying
before the monarchs here assembled the claims

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 113

of the Holy See to the restoration of its dismem
bered provinces. The success of this first appeal
made the Pope rejoice, as he himself tells us, at
the selection which he had made for his minister.

It was, however, at the Congress of Vienna
that the diplomatic battle had to be fought. The
decree of Napoleon of Feb. 10, 1814, which
released the Pope from captivity, only restored
to him the Departments of Eome and of Thrasy-
mene. The richest and fairest of his provinces
were still to be regained : and they were tempting
additions to more powerful dominions. The
ability, perseverance, and admirable tact of Car-
dinal Consalvi won them back. He seems to
have been quite in his place among the most
acute diplomatists of the assembly. He even
gained their admiration and esteem ; and of none
more than of the representative of England. It
is said that Lord Castlereagh remarked of him that
he was the master of them all in diplomatic skill.

His efforts were crowned with complete success,
as to the great objects of his mission. He had
right, indeed, on his side ; but in great political
congresses, the interests of the weak are often
sacrificed to the wishes of the strong, under the
disguise of general principles, or of simpler ba
lances, which require the rounding of large sums
by the absorption of fractions. He always used

I

114 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

to say that he received generous support from the
representatives of Great Britain and Prussia ;
and on one point, the precedence of nuncios
among ambassadors, the Pope, in the allocution
above quoted, makes particular mention of this
assistance. All obstacles were at length over
come ; about the middle of June, 1815, Mon-
signer Mazio, Secretary to the Cardinal Pleni
potentiary, arrived in Koine from Vienna, with
the welcome tidings, that the three Legations,
the Marches of Ancona, and the Duchies of
Benevento and Ponte Corvo had been recognised
as integral parts of the Papal States. The Car
dinal energetically protested against the retention
of the French possessions, and of a territory
beyond the Po.

If the reader wish to know the character of
the statesman who, in his first essay, rose to the
level of the old experienced ministers and nego
tiators of continental Europe, he shall have it in
the words of an English lady, married into a noble
French family, and remarkable for her shrewdness
and keenness in determining character. She had
the honour of receiving Cardinal Consalvi into
her house at Kouen, during his exile in France :
" Perhaps," she said a few years after, to an inti
mate friend of the Cardinal's, "you will be sur
prised to hear what I am going to tell you, as to

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 115

the opinion which I formed of your tutor at
Yienna, before he had been a fortnight in my
house. True humility in a most extraordinary
and heroic degree is the characteristic of this
Cardinal, and therefore he must have been the
first politician at the Congress of Yienna."

When he returned to Kome, he had to under
take the reorganisation of the entire state after
years of dismemberment, the formation of a new
magistracy, the re-establishment of new muni
cipal, financial, and ecclesiastical systems. On
the manner in which much of this was done this
is not the place to treat. It will be sufficient to
observe, that, through the remainder of the
pontificate, the entire rule might be said to
rest upon his shoulders ; that, while the Pope
gave him his full confidence, and trusted him as
Pharaoh trusted Joseph, he was indefatigable,
single-hearted, devoted, mind and soul, to the
service of his master. He seemed to care for no
other object. He had, of course, his opponents
in policy, perhaps rivals of his influence. A
man placed, not so much in an elevated, as in a
singular position, must disturb many below
him, —

" Urit enim splendore suo qui praegravat artes
Infra se positas."

But he seems to have borne all opposition, and

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116 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

even obloquy, with equanimity and placid for
bearance.

His habits were most simple. There was no
luxury about him in house or person. His dress
was not more than decent. His tastes were
refined. If in early youth he attracted the
notice of an eminent patron by his taste and
skill in music, he became in his turn the friend
arid protector of another, to whom music was a
profession. This was Cimarosa, the well-known
composer of the Matrimonio segreto, and of much
excellent sacred music. Like Mozart, he com
posed a splendid Requiem, which he dedicated
and gave to his friend the Cardinal. He, in his
turn, had it executed for the first time at the
composer's obsequies performed by his orders.
Connected with his diplomatic missions, is an an
ecdote relating to a man of singular acquirements.
While at Yienna, many learned men from ail
parts of Germany were naturally introduced to
him, and he was repeatedly asked how was Ig
natius De Rossi. The Cardinal felt mortified at
not being able to answer, for, to tell the truth,
he did not know whom they meant. One of his
first cares, on returning to Rome, was to search
after him ; and certainly the inquiry, in some
respects, cannot have been satisfactory. He
would find an old man, as I have often seen him,

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 117

bent with age, dressed in an old cassock, and a
coeval cloak, tottering, as he leant on his stick
and muttered to himself, up and down the im
measurable corridors of the Roman College, or
sat in one of the recesses that give them light.
Day after day have I and others seen him,
and respectfully saluted that wreck of a rare
genius, and of a learning scarcely surpassed ;
and a courteous gleam lighted up his lack-lustre
eye, as he unfailingly returned the greeting. He
was indeed past caring for, though he wanted
for no comfort. During these last years of
mental helplessness, through which he would
brook no control, his room, left always un
guarded, had been pilfered of rich treasures of
learning, among them of the manuscript of a
huge Arabic lexicon, which he would never
publish, from his horror of correcting proofs.
He used to say, after the printing of his other
works, that if the tempter had now to deal with
another Job, and wished to make him lose
his patience, he would induce him to try his
hand at publishing an Oriental work. However,
the Cardinal added to his comforts, by imme
diately granting him an additional pension.1

1 This extraordinary man is not so generally known as his
illustrious namesake and contemporary at Parma, the collector or
the greatest number of Hebrew manuscripts ever brought together.
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118 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

The Cardinal's affections were warm and faith
ful. Those who were officially connected with
him were sincerely attached to him ; and those
whom he received to audience, after they had
gained his esteem, would be welcomed with a
cordial embrace. The chief sharer, however, of

Yet in learning, extensive and deep, lie was much his superior.
In 1788, he published at Rome his Commentation.es Laertiana.
Some one has said, " If you wish to appear learned, quote Dio
genes Laertius." But this is really a work of deep reading and
rare acquaintance with ancient philology and philosophy. After
a long interval, in 1807, he published, at the Propaganda press,
his Etymologies JEgyptiance. It was a valuable precursor to Young
and Champollion's discoveries ; for it treats, in alphabetical order,
of all the Egyptian words quoted in ancient writers, sacred and
profane, with an immense spontaneous flow of varied erudition,
Rabbinical, Oriental, classical, and patristic. On the receipt of
this wonderful work, the Academy of Leipsig held an extraor
dinary meeting, and wrote a most complimentary letter to the
author. This was mentioned to Cardinal Consalvi at Vienna.
The Cardinal had been absent from Rome some years.

The memory of this learned and most modest man can only
be compared to that of Magliabecchi, and other such prodigies.
I will give one example of it, related to me by a witness, his fellow-
professor, the late Canon Lattanzi. When once at villeggiatura,
at Tivoli, De Rossi offered, on being given a line in any of the
four great Italian poets, to continue on, reciting a hundred lines,
without a mistake. No one thought it possible ; but, to the
amazement of all, he perfectly succeeded. He was then asked, if
he would do the same with the Latin classics, to which he replied :
" It is twenty years since I read the Italian poets, and then it was
only for amusement : of the Latin classics I have been professor,
so you had better not try me." The late Cardinal Cappaccini,
secretary and friend to Cardinal Consalvi, used to tell how, when
he was one of De Rossi's pupils in Hebrew, if the scholars wished
to shirk the lesson, they would put a question to their professor,
who would start off on a lecture in reply that might have been
taken down and published : a marvellous tessellation of Greek,
Latin, Hebrew, and Italian quotations.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 119

his dearer affections was his brother the Marquis
Andrew Consalvi. He was ten years younger,
but he predeceased the Cardinal by eleven years,
dying in 1813. The latter, however, never
forgot their tender love, and kept a compact
made between them of sharing but one grave.
Accordingly, in the Pantheon, where, as its Dea
con, he ought to have been buried, only a cenotaph,
or rather an urn containing his heart, preserves
his memory ; with an inscription and bust
erected by subscription of his many friends.
But in the church of St. Marcellus is a modest
tomb, on which it is inscribed that there repose
the bodies of the two brothers : —

QUI . CUM . SINGULARI . AMOKE . DUM . VIVEBANT
SE . MUTUO . DILEXISSENT

COEPOEA . ETIAM . SUA
UNA . EADEMQUE . UENA . CONDI . VOLUERE.

In the transaction of business, the Cardinal
Secretary of State was most assiduous. In ad
dition to the burthen of his manifold duties, he
had, according to Italian custom, to devote cer
tain hours of the day to audiences, not bespoken
beforehand, but granted to all ranks, and all
descriptions of persons. His memory and accu
racy in the discharge of this often irksome duty
were wonderful. After he had admitted sepa
rately all those whose position or known busi-

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120 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

ness entitled them to this distinction, he sallied
forth into his ante-room, filled with humbler
suppliants. He passed from one to another,
heard with patience what each had to say, took
his memorial from his hand, and named a day
for his answer. Female petitioners were ad
mitted separately, often while he partook of his
solitary and simple meal, in the middle of the
day; when they were allowed more scope for
prolixity of speech. To those who came for
their replies, he was ever ready to give them,
in writing, or by word of mouth ; and it is
said, that seldom or never1 did he mistake a

1 I remember an exception which was quoted. A little stout
man, with an irresistibly comical countenance, whom I recollect
as a dilettante singer of liuffo songs at private parties, and whose
name was Felci, had applied for a situation. When his name was
announced, the Cardinal mistook it for that of an employe, with a
name very similar, as Delci, who had been guilty of some neglect
of duty, and who had been summoned to receive a scolding. This
fell on the head of the innocent aspirant, and at first overwhelmed
him with its pelting storm of reproaches. He gradually began to
see through the tempest, and to recover his breath. He perceived
the mistake, waited till the hail-cloud had passed, threw himself, or
rather subsided, into his own naturally good-humoured looks, and
replied to the Cardinal, — "Your Eminence is mistaken : —

" Quello e magro, ed io son grasso ;
Quello e alto, ed io son basso ;
Quello e impiegato, ed io sto a spasso."

" That man is lean, and I am stout;
He is a tree, and I'm a sprout ;
He is in place, and I am out."

It need hardly be added, that this improvisation dispelled all
anger, and procured the petitioner what he had come to solicit.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 121

person, or his business, though he had only
learnt them for the first time, some weeks
before.

His eye indeed seemed the outward symbol of
his intelligence. Deeply seated under shaggy
and overhanging brows, it had a sharp penetrat
ing point of light, which looked you through,
without suggesting a thought of keenness or of
cunning. It was the brilliancy of a gem, not of
a fire-spark. His countenance had a mildness
in it, which modified any sharpness of expres
sion apparent in his eagle eye. His voice also
was soft, though perhaps rather husky and un
musical.

The poem which we have quoted, as the
youthful vaticination of his future greatness,
mentioned "wealth" as one of those blessings
towards which his eager mind seemed to bound
forward. That he accumulated, through the
income of his offices and benefices, a consider
able fortune, there is no doubt. But he lived
without luxury, and in the papal palace free of
many charges, and with the utmost simplicity ;
he certainly spent but little on himself, and he
was no lover of money. Whatever he had saved,
he left chiefly for religious and charitable pur
poses. By his will he bequeathed his diplo
matic presents, three very rich snuff-boxes, to

122 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

complete the unfinished fronts of three churches,
Araceli, the Consolazione, and San Rocco. He
left trifling legacies to friends, among others
to the Duchess of Devonshire, and some of
Lord Castlereagh's family, and to the Duchess
of Albany, a graceful acknowledgment of his
obligations to the Stuarts, of whom she was
the last representative. The bulk of his pro
perty he willed to Propaganda for the support
of foreign missions, subject to annuities to his
dependents, one or two of which remain un-
expired.

The Pope and his minister seemed providen
tially made for each other. The comprehensive
and energetic mind of Consalvi, his noble views
and his industrious love of details, filled up that
void which might otherwise have succeeded the
restoration, and have created disappointment,
after the admiration and love that years of
exile had won for the Pontiff. The wise and
gentle and unshaken confidence of the prince,
gave ample room for expansion to the abili
ties and growing experience of the minister.
Without the one the other would have been
useless ; and whichever failed first, seemed
sure to lead to the extinction of the other.
Indeed they fitted so truly together, that even
physically they may be said to have proved

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 123

equal. The amount of vigour, health, and
power meted out to the secretary was in just
proportion to his need of them. He retained
them as long as they were required by him, for
whose comfort and glory they had been in
trusted to him.

The Pope died August 20th, 1823, and his
successor, Leo XII., was elected on the 28th of
September following. Of course there were
different sentiments prevalent in Rome con
cerning Consalvi's principles of administration.
Every prime minister falls, more than most
men, under the Horatian principle,

. . . . " Laudatur ab his, culpatur ab illis."

The new Pope belonged perhaps to another
school of politics, or he may have entertained
less friendly feelings towards the person of Con-
salvi. At any rate, Cardinal della Somaglia, a
man of high merit and character, was named
Secretary of State. But it is doubtful whether
the broken health of Consalvi would have al
lowed him to continue in office. Probably he
had outlaboured his strength, and had concealed
the failure of his health under exhausting
efforts, so long as his good patron required his
assistance. In the journal kept by a warm
admirer of the Cardinal, I find the following

124 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

entry as early as Nov. 4: — " Saw Card. Consalvi.
He is unwell. He rejoices at the success of the
students at the Concorso (competitive examina
tions). Inquired how the news of the Pope's
death had been received in England," whence
the writer had just returned. " I told him he
was universally praised and lamented, even in
the London papers." By December, he had
been obliged to seek rest and a mild climate at
the modest little sea-town of Porto d'Anzo,
but derived no benefit from the change. The
journal above quoted says : " Tuesday, 13
Jan. 1824. Saw Card. Consalvi, who was in
bed, fallen away and pale, very little better for
his residence at Anzo." Yet now, indeed, his
lamp rallied for a short time ; sufficient to give
proof of its brilliant light, just before expiring.
The Pope, himself confined to his bed, and so
ill that on Christmas eve he was not expected to
live till the morrow, had sent for the Cardinal,
who went from his bed to see him. From that
moment, all difference was at an end. Two
generous minds, hitherto estranged, met, and
recognised each other's worth. There was in
stantaneous forgetfulness of the past : and a
silent understanding for the future. To the
astonishment of many, the Pope named Consalvi
Prefect of Propaganda, a most honourable and

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 125

influential post. This was on the 14th of Janu
ary. The next day he was for hours closeted
with his sovereign, and in the frankest and
clearest manner laid before him his whole scheme
of politics, home and foreign. " Live," he said
to him among other things, " and catholic eman
cipation will take place in England, under your
pontificate. I have worked hard for it, having
begun when in London."

Leo XII. expressed his admiration of the man
and of his measures, seemed filled with new
hopes, and inspired with fresh courage. He
consulted him frequently ; and it was confidently
expected that he would soon restore him to his
former post. But the faithful minister had run
his course, had fulfilled his mission at the death
of Pius. On the 22nd, confined to his bed,
he signed letters dernissory for several students
of the English college : on the 24th important
papers were sent him from the Pope. He de
sired the messenger to tell the Holy Father, who
had asked if he could do anything for him,
that the only thing he could do was, to send
him the last apostolic benediction, received by
cardinals on their death-bed. It was brought
by Cardinal Castiglioni, his greatest friend ; and
at half-past one he calmly went to rejoin, in a
better world, the master whom he had faithfully

126 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

served, and the friend whom he had affection
ately loved.

. . . . " Quos ignea virtus
Innocuos vitse, patientes aetheris imi
Fecit, et seternos animam collegit in orbes." l

1 " Two days after the Cardinal's death, the Pope said to Mon-
signor Testa, who has been before spoken of, ' Che cose mi ha
detto quell' uomo, 1' ultima volta che 1' ho veduto ! ' Then hanging
down his head, he added : ' Ma sembra che Dio vuol castigarmi
in tutte le maniere.'" — MS. Journal. The Cardinal's body, when
embalmed, disclosed the causes of his death. The lungs were
found indurated with many adhesions, and the heart was enlarged
to preternatural dimensions.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 127

CHAPTER VII.

POLICY OF PIUS THE SEVENTH'S GOVEKNMENT.

WITHOUT entering into any general considera
tions on the subject of government, or discussing
its best forms, or even expressing any opinion
about them, but, on the other hand, judging
things in their own times and places, and by the
only principles then and there applicable to them,
one may say unhesitatingly that the government
of Pius VII., through his minister Consalvi,
was just, liberal, and enlightened. No doubt,
had that sovereign re-enacted the laws under
which his subjects had groaned as an oppression,
and re-established the republic which they still
detested as a usurpation ; had he acted in the
teeth of all Europe, in spite of every principle
which guided its sovereigns and statesmen in his
restoration ; had he even thereby risked for him
self another catastrophe, and for Italy another
war, there might now-a-days be many who would
extol him as a hero, and almost deify him as a
man beyond and above his age. Had he acted

128 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

so, however, at that time, he would have been
ridiculed, deserted, and abused by all parties,
whig or tory, conservative or radical, as a fanatic,
an unseasonable phenomenon, a man behind the
age, which had outgrown revolutionary fancies,
in fine, a dotard who had better have been
translated from the cell of a prison to that of an
asylum, than restored from exile to a throne.
We doubt if even the sorry compliment of a
newspaper paragraph would have been paid him
for his pains.

He was restored, as Pope, to the temporal
government of the portion of Italy held by his
predecessors, without share in the warlike achieve
ments of other princes, without a claim to the
prizes of their victories. He was restored con
currently by Protestant and Catholic Powers,
with the applause of the civilised world ; and
amidst the acclamations of joy, or rather in ac
cordance with the longings, of his own subjects.
He was restored on the principle which formed
the basis of all restorations at the time, that
Europe, so long convulsed, and so long unsettled,
should return to the normal state from which
she had been wrenched. Empires were restored
as empires, kingdoms resettled as kingdoms,
grand-duchies as grand-duchies, republics as
republics. And so the Pope was given back to

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 129

Kome, to rule as Popes had done, by a system
exceptional, and in a form the loss of which
experience had proved to be hurtful. The in
dependence of the Pope, that is, the combination
in one of spiritual rule over the whole Catholic
Church with a temporal limited sovereignty, had
been sensibly demonstrated to be an important
element in the readjustment of Europe. The
evils resulting from the subjection of the com
mon Father of all the faithful to one of his more
powerful children, had been universally felt ;
and the continuation of such an irregular con
dition by a peaceful subjugation of the ecclesias
tical to any lay power, would have been only
providing for the habitual derangement of
religious action.

During the invasion of Northern Italy by the
French in 1797, the Pope, then Cardinal Bishop
of Imola, had been placed in a situation of great
difficulty, which required both tact and courage ;
and he had displayed both. While he retained
the firmest fidelity to his sovereign, he exhorted
his people to submit to the overwhelming power
of the enemy, and not tempt them, by an irri
tating and useless resistance, to put in execution
their barbarous threats of universal massacre
and destruction by fire of cities and villages.
A fierce and disorderly insurrection at Lugo,

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130 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

proved how real and earnest was the menace.
General Augereau, on the 8th of July, completely
defeated the foolish patriots, and delivered their
city to a sack, which in three hours stripped it
of an incredible amount of plunder. It lasted
no longer, because Chiaramonti, who had in vain
addressed the inhabitants, humbled himself so
far, as to cast himself on his knees before the
French general, and refused to rise till the boon
of mercy which he craved was granted.

His position, however, was too embarrassing ;
and his friend Pope Pius VI. called him to
Koine. He entreated to be allowed to return to
his people, to shield them from danger, when a
new peril surprised him. The Austrians, sub
sidised by England, were for a short time
masters of the province of ^Emilia, and were
approaching Imola, when the bishop considered
it his duty to exhort his people to submit to
them, as their liberators from the yoke imposed
upon them. No sooner had the Austrians re
tired than he was accused of sedition. Instead
of flying from the danger, he proceeded at once
to the French head-quarters at Lugo, and there
pleaded his own cause before the general, whom
he knew to be most hostile to him, with such
gentleness and firmness, as won from that soldier
expressions of esteem and marks of honour.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 131

His enemies, however, were not so satisfied ;
and the republican magistrates of Imola de
nounced him to the supreme authorities of
Bologna, as having favoured the Austrians.
Letters to him, from Cardinals Gioannetti and
Mattei, containing circulars addressed by them
to their flocks in favour of Austria, were inter
cepted, and formed the groundwork of the
charge ; fabrications and exaggerations composed
its superstructure. The French general, in
censed, started at once with a large detachment
of troops, proclaiming that the Cardinal should
be severely punished, and his see rifled. The
bishop left his city by night, not to flee, but to
face the danger. He was too good a shepherd to
leave his sheep to the wolf, and escape at their
sacrifice. Boldly he directed his steps towards
the approaching spoilers. The general was
Macdonald. Chiaramonti met him face to face :
with apostolic liberty, he reproved him strongly
for his intended barbarity, and vindicated frankly
his own conduct. He prevailed ; and saved the
city from destruction or devastation. It is not
wonderful that his biographers should have
compared this intrepid and generous conduct to
that of St. Leo the Great meeting Attila.1

1 This was his third or fourth escape. At an earlier period,
when the Cisalpine republic was established, he denounced it to

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132 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

When, only three years after these occurrences,
Chiaramonti found himself the occupant of the
throne, the outworks of which he had so reso
lutely defended against republican and anti-
Christian invasion, when he felt placed at the
head of a warfare, the outposts of which he had
known so well how to guard, we cannot be
surprised to see him only more determined in
upholding the same principles of firm but
prudent resistance, and consistent preservation
of what he had received. The same courage in
meeting an enemy face to face, and the same
bold adhesion to duty, will be found blended
with the same condescension, and readiness to
avoid useless resistance and fruitless collision.
Some things which at first sight might be con
sidered as the result of weakness, may be trace
able to this quality.

The first public acts of the new Pontiff showed
that, nevertheless, he was above prejudices, and
well understood sound principles of political
economy. Besides excellent provisions for re
forms in every department of public administra
tion, in that of justice among others, two series
of measures characterised the commencement of

his flock, and was accused to the Paris Directory, by the police of
Milan. He vindicated himself so powerfully as not to be removed
from his diocese. Again, he refused to take the " civic oath," as
it was called, and was deprived of the maintenance (the mensa) of
his see.

. PIUS THE SEVENTH. 133

Iris reign. The first regarded free trade in
provisions, and a considerable approach to it in
other departments of commerce. There was a
great and alarming scarcity of grain in Central
Italy, the year of the Pope's accession, 1800.
There was literally a panic in the public mind
in consequence ; and the exportation of cereals
from the States was forbidden. But, by a decree
issued in September of that year, free trade in
corn was permitted; and the corporation of
bakers was abolished with its exclusive privi
leges, so as to make it free to all to bake and sell
bread. All duty was also taken off oil, and its
free importation was permitted. These new
measures took the public by surprise ; but they
were soon much extended. For, early in the
following year, all provisions were brought under
the same regulations ; and five more sources of
revenue were thrown open to public competition.
The edict on this subject, the result of a special
commission, was long, and entitled, "Decree
motu proprio on provisions and free trade ; "
and bears the date of March 11, 1801. The
annual medal struck for the Feast of SS. Peter
and Paul that year bears the figure of Abun
dance, with a ship at its side, and the inscrip
tion . —

COMMERCIORVM . PRIVILEGIA . ABOLITA.

134 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

In the mean time the treasury was empty ; the
treaty of Tolentino had drained every available
resource ; even the four tiaras, of immense price
and beautiful workmanship L, had been stripped
of their jewels to pay the ruinous contribution of
six millions of dollars imposed by it in 1796.
A new system of general taxation was necessary
to supply the urgent and current wants of the
government. This was published about the
same period, prefaced by a candid, but mournful
acknowledgment of the exhausted condition of
the public purse. The system involved a very
complicated, but most important, operation,
which was not fully carried out till 1803, that
of embodying in the debts of the state those of
provincial, or at least municipal governments,
the state at the same time undertaking the ad
ministration of their real property, as security
to itself.

As far as one can judge at this distance of
time, it would appear that the internal policy,
directed by Cardinal Consalvi from the very
outset, was enlightened, perhaps, beyond that of
many greater states. That policy is the one
pursued by the present Pontiff, who has been
yearly reducing the duties, and other pressures

1 One was of the golden period of Julius II.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 135

upon import-commerce ; and has been getting
rid of monopolies, or rather, the farming of
internal resources, with the most gratifying
success.

Another evil of the past calamitous period had
been the total depreciation of the coinage. A
quantity of base metal, as well as a copper cur
rency, had been put into circulation, with arti
ficial values, after 1793 ; and the usual ill-judged
attempts had been resorted to, of raising them,
when fallen in the market, by public authority.
The last of these useless efforts, by the Commis
sioner Naselli, in 1800, before the Pope's arrival,
had only produced embarrassment and diminished
commercial confidence. The Pope, however, and
his minister took a better view of this monetary
difficulty. Several schemes were proposed, by
which loss would have fallen heavily on the
holders of the debased circulation, in clearing
the country of it, and were unhesitatingly re
jected. Instead of this, a fair and current value
was assigned to it, and it was received at that
rate by all government offices, and at the mint,
and no more was reissued. This was in Decem
ber, 1801, and January 1 3, 1802. In October the
plan was completed. On the 5th of that month
all the base coin was called in, and Government
bore the entire loss. A million and a half of dol-

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136 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

lars were paid out in silver, all over the States,
and not a coin of inferior metal left in circula
tion. And from that day till the late republic, no
country in Europe had a better or more abundant
silver circulation than the Papal States.

The measure was, however, completed by the
readjustment of all public contracts made under
the previous condition of the money market, and
tables were published giving the proportions be
tween the values of the old and new coinages, so
as to assist all classes to remodel existing en
gagements on an equitable basis.

Never was any measure more blessed, by the
poor especially, than this. Hence, as the great
event of the year, the medal for 1802 artistically
perpetuates it with the legend :

MONETA . RESTITVTA.

After the restoration, the cares of Government
were even more heavy, but equally guided by a
wise and generous spirit. Let it be remembered
how late, and how astounding, was the great
commercial revolution of free trade amongst us.
The old corn-laws, the sliding scale, the mighty
League, the extorted repeal of those laws,
through the joint agency of the elements and of
popular agitation, are so recent, that the refluent
wave of the great movement is not yet still, but

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 137

murmurs dully in quiet corners, where Conser
vative members feel themselves at home, amidst
grumbling farmers, and occasionally breaks into
a whisper in some eccentric parliamentary speech.
But, even last year, great and enlightened states
prohibited the exportation of corn and other
sorts of food. In 1815, the Pope, while forbid
ding their exportation, not only permitted their
free entry, but gave a premium on their intro
duction into the States, and a distinct one for
their transmission into the provinces.

There were, however, more serious matters
than these to occupy the thoughts of the sove
reign and his ministry ; and they were fully
considered. Many religious houses and other
establishments had been sold by the French
government, and had even passed through several
hands. On the 14th of August, 1816, all such
properties as had not been materially altered,
and which could thus again be restored to their
original purposes, were demanded back ; but the
actual holders were all to be indemnified for their
losses, and a commission ad referendum was ap
pointed to examine individual claims, that they
might be fully satisfied.

In order to distribute fairly the burthens of
taxation, a new and complete survey and valua
tion of the entire property of cities and of

138 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

the country were most accurately made, cor
responding to the French Cadastre ; perhaps in
no country is it so exact as in Rome. A special
commission soon accomplished this useful under
taking, while another prepared a new demarca
tion of provinces, or delegations, and govern
ments, with their respective forms of administra
tion and judicial arrangements. The result of
the system so framed was that, notwithstanding
the immense expenditure thrown on the state
by the restoration, and the reparation of previous
wrongs, a diminution of taxation to the extent
of 200,000 dollars on the land tax was made in
1816. When we consider that the Government
took on itself the obligations of the state before
the occupation, and immense compensation for
damages and losses, that in addition it laid out
great sums in public works, and in promoting
science and art, we may surely conclude that
there must have been a wise administration to
effect all this, without recurring to loans, or
creating a foreign debt.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 139

CHAPTER VIII.

RELATIONS WITH ENGLAND.

THEEE is one remarkable feature in the external
policy of Pius VII. and Cardinal Consalvi, which
deserves to be further noticed ; the more so as
to it the writer owes all his means of possessing
recollections of late pontiffs. It has been already
alluded to, and need not, therefore, detain us long.
Certainly, for three hundred years, with the
exception of one very brief period, there never
have existed such friendly relations between the
Holy See and the Crown of Great Britain, as
under the seventh Pius. An admiration for this
empire, and an affection even for it, seemed in
stinctive both in the Pope and in his minister.
It is indeed well known, and scarcely needs re
petition, that one of the avowed, and, perhaps,
principal causes of the rupture between Pius and
Napoleon was the refusal of the Pope to join
actively in what was called the Continental sys
tem, that is, the exclusion of British goods, and
all British commerce, from Continental ports and

140 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

countries. This is matter of history. But the
personal calamities of the Holy Pontiff, his ad
mirable patience and exemplary virtues, had, no
doubt, their share in enhancing the sympathy
due on account of the cause for which he suffered.
More than once was England ready to receive
him on board her ships of war, and give him an
asylum.

The journey of Consalvi to London has been
mentioned, and with it the fact of his having
conveyed letters from the Prince Regent to his
Holiness. This mark of friendship was re
peated when the' Cavalier Canova, raised on the
occasion to the title of Marquess of Ischia,
returned to Rome, with the works of art re
stored from the Louvre. It is agreeable to
relate, that the heavy expense of their removal
from Paris to Rome was defrayed entirely by
our Government ; and this act of graceful gene
rosity was enhanced by the letter from the Prince,
of which Canova was bearer, as he was of letters
from Lord Castlereagh to the Pope, and to the
Secretary of State.

When Lord Exmouth had succeeded in his
gallant attack on Algiers, he too wrote letters to
both. That to the Holy Father was couched in
terms as respectful as a Catholic could have used.
It is dated Algiers, August 31, 1816, from on

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 141

board the " Queen Charlotte." It informs the
Pope of his success; declares that Christians'
slavery is at an end for ever, and that he sends
him 173 captives, subjects of his States. These,
he hopes, will be a present acceptable to His
Holiness, and will give him a title to the efficacy
of his prayers.

It was this kind and grateful feeling towards
England, which led to the restoration of the
national college, that had existed so long in
Rome. Cardinal Consalvi warmly took up its
cause, and assumed to himself the duties, though
he would not accept the title, of " Cardinal Pro
tector " to the establishment. He assisted per
sonally at the meetings of its superiors, attended
to all its details. A volume lies before me, a
thick quarto manuscript, in almost every page of
which is a record of some kindness towards the
Catholics of England. One instance only need
be entered here.

The present church at Moorfields, which now
serves as the pro-cathedral to the diocese of
Westminster, was finished in 1820. It was
considered then a spacious and handsome build
ing. A perspective drawing of its interior was
sent to Rome, and presented by the Rev. Dr.
Gradwell to the Pope. The good Pius imme
diately said that he would send a token of his affec-

142 THE LAST FOUE POPES.

tionate interest in the work. The papal treasury
and sacristy were very empty ; but he ordered the
most valuable object in church plate which he pos
sessed to be prepared for a present. His attend
ants remarked that it was the most costly thing
he had ; and his reply was, " There is nothing
too good for me to give the English Catholics."
On his restoration, the Chapter of Mexico had
sent him a massive gold chalice, richly set with
emeralds, pearls, and diamonds. It was accom
panied by cruets, bell, and dish, all of the finest
gold. This was his intended gift, and he com
missioned Dr. Gradwell to have an inscription
prepared to be engraved upon it. On the 29th
of April, he waited on His Holiness with two
inscriptions. The Pope read them, and said that
either would do, but that neither mentioned the
consecration of the chalice by himself. He was
answered that such an additional mark of kind
ness had not been presumed upon. The pontiff
said it was his intention to give this further
value to his gift ; and it is recorded in the in
scription on the chalice, which is used at Moor-
fields on the greater solemnities.1

1 The inscription is as follows : — " Pius VII. Pont. Max.
Templo Londini, in Moorfields, recens a Catholicis exstructo, a se
consecratum libens donum misit, A.D.N. MDCCCXX. Pont. S.

XXI."

In the MS. journal before me, in the same page, is the following

. PIUS THE SEVENTH. 143

This chapter will be not unsuitably closed by
the inscription which records, in the English
College, the kindness of Pius and his minister
in restoring that national establishment.

MEMORL2E

PH . VII . PONT . MAX .
QVOD . COLLEGIVM . ANGLORVM

A GREGOR1O . XIII .P.M.
IN . ANTIQYO . EIVS . NATIONIS . ADVENARVM . HOSPITIO

PRIMITVS CONSTTTVTVM

VRBE . AVTEM . A . GALLIS . OCCVPATA
ANTE . AN . XX . DISSOLVTVM

ANNO . MDCCCXVIII . RESTITVERIT
EIDEMQVE . AD . VOTVM . NATIONIS . EIVSDEM
RECTOREM . DE . CLERO . IPSIVS . PRAEFECERIT

HERCVLE . CONSALVIO . S . E . R . CARD . COLLEGII . PATRONO

ANGUAE . EPISCOPI . ET . CLERVS

GRATI . ANIMI . CAVSA

entry : — " May 1. — The King of England has written in Latin to
the Pope, with his sign manual. The first instance of such a cor
respondence since our Revolution (1688). The Pope is pleased,
and is answering it."

144 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER IX.

LITERATURE, SCIENCE, ART.

NEITHER of the foreign occupations, the re
publican or the imperial, lasted sufficiently long
to interrupt that succession of men devoted to
study which Italy, and especially Rome, has
always kept up. Indeed, after the restoration,
there yet survived veterans who had gathered
their first laurels on the fields of a peaceful
country, unconscious for generations of hostile
invasion.

Such, for instance, was the antiquarian Fea,
one of those men of the old school, like the
Scaligers, the Vossii, or rather Grasvius and
Gronovius, who could bring to the illustration of
any subject a heap of erudition from every
imaginable source, from classics or Fathers, from
medals, vases, bas-reliefs, or unheeded fragments
of antique objects, hidden amidst the rubbish of
museum magazines. He is perhaps best known
in the literary world by his magnificent edi
tion of Wirikelmann, the notes to which are

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 145

not inferior in value to the text. Indeed, one
might say that the two authors divide the
qualities of the book : the unfortunate German,
who was assassinated by his servant, bringing to
it the taste and sagacity of the artistic anti
quarian, and his Italian annotator the abundant,
or even redundant, learning of the erudite but
dry archaeologist.

Day after day might one see him, sitting for
hours in the same place, in the library of the
Minerva, at the librarian's desk, poring to the
end of life over old books still. And is it
not always so ? In youth we love new books,
our own contemporaries, those that have our
measure and that of the age, those who " catch
the manners living as they rise." But as we
grow old, we live backwards towards the past.
We go willingly among those who in popularity
are aged, or aging, like ourselves. They suited
their era exactly, and were then liked by the
young and thrown aside, with a shake of the
head, by the mature. But now that the super
ficial gloss is worn away, that which dazzled,
and that which offended, how racy and how
charming are they not to us ? Such are the
memoirs, the letters, the journals, and the essays
of former ages, their chronicles even, in their
primeval quaintness. They may have repre-

146 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

sented, and no doubt did represent fierce parties,
gross enmities, sharp reproof, the envious eye,
the venomed tooth, the wicked smile, the curled
lip, or the lolling tongue. To us all the leer
and jibe, and even playful malice, have softened
down into harmless wit and gentle sprightli-
ness.

Well, no matter, the old love to converse with
the dead ; and therefore it is not surprising that
one should remember Tea with a parchment-
bound book, folio or octavo, or perhaps a heap
of many such before him. He was indeed an
antiquarian of the old school, as has been re
marked ; and perhaps, had he been asked which
method he preferred, the digging in the earth
round ancient monuments, to discover their
history and name, or the excavating them
from old authors, and determining them by
skilful combinations of otherwise unintelligible
passages, he might have preferred the second
method. His theories, based upon actual ex
plorations, were certainly not happy, and his
conjectures, though supported with ingenuity
and erudition, were not verified by local
searches. In this respect, Professor Nibby,
partly his rival, though much his junior, was
more successful.

The Abbate Fea was verily not a comely,

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 147

nor an elegant man, at least in his old age ; he
had rather the appearance of a piece of antiquity,
not the less valuable because yet coated with the
dust of years, or a medal, still rich in its own
oxidization. He was sharp and rough, and
decisive in tone, as well as dogmatic in judg
ment. If one went up to him, rather timidly,
at his usual post, to request him to decipher a
medal at which one had been poking for
hours, he would scarcely deign to look at it,
but would tell you at once whose it was ;
adding, perhaps for your consolation, that it
was of no value.

A contrast to him in externals, was another
priest, whose learning was as. various, though of
a totally different class ; the Abbate Francesco
Cancellieri. I remember him coming to pay his
annual Christmas visit to the rector of the
College, an octogenarian at least, tall, thin, but
erect, and still elastic ; clean and neat to fault-
lessness, with a courteous manner, and the
smiling countenance that can only be seen in one
who looks back serenely on many years well
spent. He used to say, that he began to write
at eighteen, and had continued till eighty ; and
certainly there never was a more miscellaneous
author. The peculiar subjects of which he treats,
and even the strange combinations in their very

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148 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

titles, are nothing, compared with the unlocked
for matters that are jumbled and jostled together
inside. Few would have thought of writing a
volume on " the head physicians of the Popes ; "
or on " the practice of kissing the Pope's foot
antecedently to the embroidery of the cross on
his shoe ; " or on " the three papal functions in
the Vatican Church ; " or on " men of great me
mory, or who have lost their memories ; " or
finally, " on the country houses of the Popes,
and the bite of the tarantula spider." But the
fact is, that under these titles are to be found
stray waifs and trouvailles of erudition, which
no one would think of looking for there. Hence
his works must be read through, to ascertain
what they really contain. No clue is given by
the title, or any other usual guide, to the mate
rials of his books.

I remember a most promising young German
scholar, cut off before he had time to fulfil the
expectations of his friends. This was Dr. Pap-
pencordt, whose "History of the Vandals" had
early gained a literary prize in his own country.
His acquaintance with medieval history was
amazing ; he remembered the dates of the most
insignificant events ; and would make excursions
into the desolate border tracts in the mountains,
between Rome and Naples, to visit the theatre of

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 149

the most puny action between pugnacious barons
in Central Italy. I dwell with pleasure on his
memory ; for many an interesting bit of informa
tion, which has not been without its use, did I
collect from him, on topics of Italian history,
whereon one did not find clever men in the
country take much heed. He was still, as I have
intimated, very young : and had all the amiable
and candid worth which belongs to the youthful
enthusiast. But before that period, as he in
formed me, he had gone through the whole of
Baronius's Annals, extracting from them a list
of every historical document referred to in that
immense, and almost unrivalled compilation ; but
had experienced the misfortune to which every
accumulator of inky sheets is liable, the seeing
just the last of them taken at the end of winter
to light the stove, by that deadliest enemy of
literary litter, a tidy housemaid. Well, this
industrious young scholar told me, that he had
for years been searching for a document which
he knew must exist somewhere, but which he
had not been able to find anywhere. It was this.
The Council of Trent was transferred after the
seventh session to Bologna, where the eighth
and ninth sessions (merely formal ones) were
celebrated. The ground alleged was the ex
istence of contagious or epidemical disease in

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150 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

Trent, which made it dangerous to the life of
the prelates to meet there. This is distinctly
stated in the decree of the eighth session, March
11, 1547. Of course, the adversaries of the
Council gave another reason, and denied the
reality of the one alleged. The German his
torian was desirous of finding the medical cer
tificate or declaration alluded to in the Decree,
and mentioned, but never given, by historians.
At length, while plunging through a tangled
jungle, the produce of Cancellieri's unchecked
fertility, his work on the Papal villeggiaturas and
the tarantula, he lit most opportunely on the
very document, like a solitary flower in the
wilderness. It was there given textually from
the original.

It was thus, that he may be said to have
verified the character which Niebuhr, one of the
learned foreigners in Rome at the time of these
recollections, gave to Cancellieri's writings ; that
" they contained some things that were impor
tant, many things that were useful, and every
thing that is superfluous." One of the most
useful features of his writings is, that on what
ever subject he treats, he gives you the fullest
list of authors upon it compiled till his time.
Thus, his work on memory, contains a catalogue
of writers on artificial memory, and of inventors

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 151

of various systems of it, which would probably
surprise most readers.1

Miserable as were the times that had just
preceded our epoch, for all who had made the
Church or her studies their choice, many were
then engaged in the cultivation of sacred
literature who have since distinguished them
selves in it. But the men of the period belonged
to the training of a former age. It could not
interest the ordinary readers of these pages, to
enumerate them, especially as few at that time
had spirits, or occasion, to become authors in a
science which was but little encouraged. Com
plete silence, however, might be interpreted
as an admission that Rome wras defective in
what has always formed its special pursuit ;
and therefore we will be content with saying,
that there were many men whose cultivation
of sacred studies prepared the way for the solid

1 Sueh an author may well be supposed to have got together, in
the course of his long life, a most miscellaneous and extensive col
lection of tracts, pamphlets, and papers. This came into the hands of
the Marchese Marini, editor of " Vitruvius" and " De Marchi,"
both on a magnificent scale. He also became possessor of the col
lection of Miscellanea formed by the celebrated antiquarian Enea
Quirino Visconti, who preferred Paris to his native Rome. The
two, with many additions, form a series of 300 volumes, or car
tons, containing many things not easily to be found. They were
included in the purchase of the magnificent Marini library, bought
by the late Bishop Walsh, and given by him in perpetuity to
the college of St. Mary's Oscott.

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152 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

ecclesiastical learning, which now flourishes in
Rome.

One man, celebrated throughout Europe, whose
researches embraced every branch of learning
sacred and profane, may be expected to find a
brief notice here, did not the object of this work
naturally assign him another place. Although
Angelo Mai made his first appearance in Rome
in 1819, and although the author well remembers
the paragraph in the Roman paper which an
nounced his arrival from Milan, and the subse
quent one which proudly proclaimed his immortal
discovery of Cicero " De Republica" yet it was
not till a later period that he could acquire what
he cherishes among his most valuable recollec
tions, the kind and familiar intercourse enjoyed
with this good and gifted man, not only in the
shady alleys of the Pincian hill, but under other
circumstances which brought them more closely
together, and which were evidence of his kind
and condescending disposition.

Before, however, leaving this portion of our
desultory talk about literature, it may be per
mitted to say a few words upon a subject con
nected with it, and especially with its more sacred
department. The pulpit is one of the best
indexes of national taste in foreign literature.
Indeed we can hardly except that of our own

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 153

country. Terse and nervous language, convey
ing original thought and solid learning, is a
proof of a sterling literature having a hold on
the national mind. When its poetry in England,
or its inscriptions, as well, in Italy, were a tissue of
quaintnesses, forced conceits, sports with words,
extravagant hyperboles, and turgid language, the
most admired orators of the day carried every
such violation of good taste into the sanctuary ;
and no doubt they moved their sympathetic
hearers to tears, as completely as they now do
their occasional readers to laughter. Schiller has
scarcely caricatured F. Abraham a S. Clara in
his " Piccolomini " for Germany ; Fray Gerundio
professes to give only real examples for Spain ;
and I think Dr. Beattie gives a few gems,
from Dr. Pitcairn and other grave divines north
of the Tweed, of absurd conceits. The classical
Tiraboschi will supply examples of this debase
ment of the current literature of Italy, during
the reign of what is there known under the
chronological term of " seicentisrno." A Latin
inscription of the reign of Urban VIII. could be
dated, by reading three lines, as easily as by
recognising the bees upon his shield. It is the
same with the sonnets of the age. Language and
thoughts fell together ; the second pulled the
first down to their own level ; and they both

154 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

dragged themselves along their dull and weedy
path. Three Jesuit writers alone escaped this
general corruption, Bartoli, Pallavicini, and
Segneri. Traces may be discovered in them,
especially in the latter, of the concetti so universal
in the age ; but still they form a trine exception
to a characteristic mark of the time, as honour
able to the body to which they belonged on this
account, as for the learning, piety, and ability
which have made them standard authors in their
various classes of ecclesiastical literature.

It would be easy to trace these analogies
in bad taste still further into the arts. The
" Barocco " in architecture, the "Berninesque "
in sculpture, and " Mannerism " in painting,
have clear relations, not only of time, but of
character, with the literature to which we allude.
It is quite possible that an improvement in either,
or simultaneously in both, may take the form of
a reaction, rather violent and intolerant at first.
To a certain extent this has been the case in
Italy. A foreigner perhaps has no right to
judge ; but there is no presumption in bearing wit
ness to what only constitutes a fact, analogous to
what has been observed in every other language.
The only way to purge any tongue of a bad taste
which has eaten into it, or of a swarm of unidio-
inatic or foreign words that have made it almost

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 155

a mongrel speech, is to return to a period ante
cedent to that of corruption, and to adopt a
stern principle of excluding nearly every modern
accession. The Germans have been happy in
their efforts to create a multitude of new words
which have superseded the modern bastard
Gallo-German and other interpolations of their
noble tongue. They have used boldly the
Horatian expedient of a " callida junctura " to
create a fresh, but perfectly national, vocabulary.
This required the co-operation of writers, popular
as well as learned, who enjoyed the confidence,
and the acknowledged leadership, of the whole
German race. For such a literary combination
we have neither power nor will. But our own
best writers, we feel, are those who have most
naturally returned to tastes that preceded the
vapid fluencies and morbid elegances of the ante-
Georgian period, rich though it be ; and have
sought to win back some of the nerve and sinew
of the time, when choice could only lie between
the greater or the lesser preponderance of the
classical or of the Saxon element.

In French it is essentially the same. One
cannot read the modern poets, or even essayists,
of the language, without observing the strong
and successful effort to introduce what used to be
denied to it, a distinct poetical language, employ-

156 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

ing words unused in the conversation or the
writing of the drawingroora.

The Italian had a classical period to which he
could return, a definite unalloyed standard of
purity to which he might lead back his language.
Not merely did one writer reign supreme there,
but several others were near him, sufficiently
varied in subjects and style to give breadth to the
basis on which a regeneration could be grounded.
Some indeed carried veneration, and consequent
imitation, of Dante to extremes. But not only
such writers as Petrarch and Boccaccio, poets or
romancers, or the host of inferior novelists, im
pure in matter as pure in style, entered into the
list of models for the revival of good taste ; but
most religious and ascetic writings even, like the
sweet "Fioretti" of St. Francis, the life and
letters of St. Catherine, and the "Mirror of
Penance " of Passavanti.

Any return to the standard of literary excel
lence of that period was, therefore, perfectly com
patible with a corresponding improvement in the
most religious and spiritual class of writings. A
danger of extravagance, or even of mistake, might
indeed alarm ; and examples are familiarly
quoted of both, on the part of Father Cesari, the
originator, in great measure, of the movement
towards purism, as it was called. Objections of

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 157

this sort are childish ; no great change is effected
without enthusiasm, and no enthusiasm can exist
without exaggeration, and that of itself is mistake.
The work has gone steadily on : and no one can
compare the Italian literature of the present day
with that of the beginning of the century, and
not perceive the immeasurable gain. One Italian
periodical alone, the " Civilta cattolica " of Rome,
contrasted with any published formerly, will
prove the difference.

The influence of this change on the sacred
eloquence of Italy, has been just what might
have been expected. In some instances more
essential requisites have been sacrificed to style ;
" the weightier things of the law " disappear
beneath the savoury seasoning of " aniseed and
cummin ; " men's ears are tickled by a tissue of
elegant paragraphs, and applause obtained by
exquisite phraseology, combined in harmonious
periods. It would be unjust to say that this was
all that lately attracted crowds to the preaching
of the Avvocato Barberi, who in mature age
exchanged the forensic gown for the cassock,
and transferred his eloquence from the bar to
the pulpit. No doubt there were ideas as well
as phrases in his discourses ; and ideas that pro
ceeded from a vigorous and a cultivated mind.
But men went to hear him as they went to hear

158 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

an elegant musician, who charmed, but changed
not, the listener ; as one whose sermons of " judg
ment " ruffled not the sinner, and put no sting
into the wicked heart, Graceful elegance was
the substitute for stirring eloquence.

It is a common opinion, that in Italy preaching
is rather of a character approaching to ranting,
than akin to that sober and guarded commu
nication between clergyman and parishioners
which takes place once a week in a country
church. We shall not be far wrong if we
place it, at various points, between the two.
It has generally neither the ignorant violence of
the one, nor the tame common-place of the
other. Those who have been in Italy, and have
frequented, with full comprehension of the
language, the sermons delivered every Sunday
in the principal churches of great cities, will
acknowledge, whatever their religion at home,
that nowhere have they listened to discourses
containing more solid and useful matter, couched
in more finished and yet simple language, or
delivered in a more forcible, yet unexaggerated
manner.

To say that similar addresses would not be
heard in the poorer quarters of towns, or in
country villages, would be only to assert, that
Italian priests have too much good sense, riot

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 159

to accommodate matter and manner to the
characters and capacities of their audiences.
Nevertheless it will be seen, that day after day
crowds of poor will go to hear a preacher of
eminence; for he would soon lose his high
character, if he soared into regions whither
the simple faithful could not follow him.

Foreigners, unfortunately, seldom trouble
themselves about what does not come into the
circle of fashionable ordinary occupation. With
out, therefore, speaking of what would take
an Englishman out of reasonable distance from
the region honoured by his residence, let any
one attend the Sunday afternoon lecture on
Scripture at the Gesii ; and we believe that he
will hear as much plain, practical instruction
on Holy Writ, simply delivered, as he is likely
to gather from sermons by popular preachers
of ultra-biblical exclusiveness. Such certainly
were the discourses continued for years by the
late holy and learned F. Zecchinelli, a man
deeply versed in the sacred writings; and de
livered with that eloquence which manifests
itself in look and speech, backed by life and
conduct. No one could ever have reproached
him with preaching up a scriptural rule of
virtuous life, and not following it.

But besides the solid matter which one may

160 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

often, indeed generally, hear in an Italian
sermon, there is a music accompanying it which
gives it a winning charm, unknown to countries
beyond the Alps. The grace of delivery seems
to be one of the fine arts ; for it lingers in their
company, where they love to reside. The first
Sunday after arriving in Rome, our party was
taken to the church of Araceli on the Capitol to
hear a celebrated preacher deliver a sermon of
his Advent course. Hours before the time, the
entire area was in possession of a compact crowd,
that reached from the altar-rails to the door,
and filled every aisle and all available standing
room. The preacher ascended the pulpit, simply
dressed in his Franciscan habit, which left the
throat bare, and by the ample folds of its sleeves
added dignity to the majestic action of his
arms. His figure was full, but his movements
were easy and graceful. His countenance was
calm, mild, unfurrowed as yet by age, but still
not youthful : he seemed in the very prime of
life, though he survived very few years. To
one who could not, except very imperfectly,
understand the language, and who had never
heard a sermon in it, the observation of outward
qualities and tokens was natural, and likely to
make an indelible impression. Indeed, I re
member no sermon as I do this, so far as the

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 161

" faithful eyes " go. And yet the ears had their
treat too. The first, and merely unintelligible
accents of that voice were music of themselves.
It was a ringing tenor, of metallic brilliancy,
so distinct and penetrating that every word
could be caught by every listener in any nook
of the vast church, yet flexible and varying,
ranging from the keenest tone of reproach to
the tenderest wail of pathos. But the move
ment and gesture that accompanied its accents
were as accordant with them as the graceful
action of the minstrel, calling forth a varied and
thrilling music from the harp. Every look,
every motion of head or body, every wave of the
hand, and every poise of the arm was a com
mentary to the word that it accompanied. And
all was flowing, graceful, and dignified. There
was not a touch of acting about it, not an
appearance of attempt to be striking.

Then, for the first time, I felt overawed by
the stillness which only the pent-up breath of
a multitude can produce, while some passage
of unusual beauty and overpowering force makes
the hearer suspend, as far as he can, the usual
functions of life, that their energies may be con
centrated on a single organ. And scarcely less
grand is the relief which breaks forth, in a
universal murmur, a single open breath from

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162 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

each one swelling into a note, that conveys more
applause, or at least approbation, than the
clapping of twice as many hands.

Later, it was easier to feel, what the first day
one could only wonder at. I remember the same
preacher in the choir of St. Peter's, uttering one
of those sublime passages, and lying prostrate in
spirit, as the vision passed over it, scarcely daring
to move, or even turn the eyes aside. He was
reproving negligence in attending at the cele
bration of the divine mysteries ; and imagined
the priest, rapt into heaven, and ordered to offer
the heavenly sacrifice on the altar of the Lamb
there. He painted with glowing words the at
titudes, the countenances, and the feelings of
adoring spirits, while for only once assisting at
what is, in the Church militant, a daily privilege.

Now if any one will turn to the printed ser
mons of Father Pacifico Deani, he may find the
very sermons alluded to, and wonder that they can
have been thus described. While far from pre
tending to make comparison between the peerless
master-piece of ancient eloquence and the humble
Franciscan's devout discourses, one may be al
lowed to answer the objection, in the same words
by which ^Eschines enhanced his great and suc
cessful rival's merit : " What if you had heard
him speak them ? " This, no doubt, was great

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 163

part of the charm, greater to one who, till then,
had been accustomed to bear only the stately
monotony in which the simplest lessons are often
conveyed, and the unimpassioned tameness with
which the most touching scenes are described,
or rather narrated, at home.1

At the period on which we are engaged, science
was efficiently represented in Rome. Professors
Conti and Calandrelli are well known in the
annals of astronomy for the regularity and accu
racy of their observations in the Roman obser
vatory, annually published, and by other valuable
contributions to mathematical science in its high
est branches. They were inseparable companions,
and most faithful friends. The first was still the
professor whose lectures we attended ; the second,
a good old man, had retired from public duties.
Pius VII. encouraged first, then chartered and
endowed, an academy or society, yet existing, for
practical science, established by Professor Scar-
pellini, and having its seat in the Capitol. Dr.
Morichini, besides being a most able physician,

1 F. Pacifico, a peasant child, was heard by a religious, preach
ing to a group of poor children of his own age. It was found
that, after hearing a sermon once, he was able to repeat it
almost word for word. He was educated, and became one of the
most eloquent preachers of his time. He used to dictate a sermon
to a secretary, and then preach it without reading it over. This
he only required if, after a lapse of years, he wished to repeat the
discourse.

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164 THE LAST FOUK POPES,

was the friend and often the co-labourer of Sir
Humphry Davy, who made many experiments
at the Sapienza in Rome, to which he was warmly
attached. Dr. Morichini was the first who dis
covered, and applied, the magnetising power of
the violet ray in the prism.

It would be easy to add a list of names of
persons well versed in science who then lived
and wrote, as Settele, Richebach, Vagnuzzi, and
the numerous professors at the University ; but
names like those of the late F. Yico, and the
living F. Sacchi, are still better known to scien
tific Europe, in proof that Rome is not behind
other great cities in its scientific attainments.

The reign of Pius VII. was, in spite of its
vicissitudes, most propitious for art. What has
been said about language, may in some measure
be extended to this. The condition to which it
had sunk could only be remedied by the complete
transfer of affection and principle, from it to a
better, indeed a faultless, period. And what
could that be but classical art, alone supreme
in sculpture ? There was in fact no other school.
The early Christian, that of the Pisans, was itself
a noble effort to revive the beauties of the heathen
school, chastened by the feelings of a better
religion ; the strong development by Michel
angelo was the burst of individual genius, not

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 165

to be imitated with impunity by any less than
himself. The intermediate period presented
neither models sufficient, nor principles distinct
enough, to become the basis of a new system in
glyptic art. To Canova undoubtedly belongs
the praise of having revived, or raised from a
low state of affectation, exaggeration, and mean
ness of conception, this simplest of artistic re
sources for exciting grand ideas of God's noblest
earthly creation, in the mind of the being on
whom He conferred that dignity. Canova's
monument of Clement XIV. took the world of art
by surprise; and his return to the simple beauty,
the calm attitudes, the quiet folds, the breadth
and majesty of ancient works, soon put him at
the head of a European school. And if he has
been surpassed in some things by his followers,
for example, by the great Dane, Thorwaldsen, it
must never be forgotten that no step in excel
lence, not even the last to perfection, is equal
to the stride from grovelling degradation to
healthy action and truthful principle ; especially
when this at once places him who makes it in
a preeminence that becomes a standard for rival
excellence. And such certainly was Canova's
position.

But the same principles will not hold good in
painting. Besides our having very little left to

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166 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

show us how the ancients practised this branch
of art, we have another period of our own, which
imparts to us all the practical instruction we
can possibly require. Instead of this a cold
classical school sprung up in Europe, of which
David was the type in France, and the Cam-
in uccinis in Italy ; which sought its subjects in an
unclean mythology or a pagan heroism, and its
forms in the movernentless and rigidly accurate
marbles of antique production. A raw unmellow
colouring, over-bright and unblending, devoid of
delicacy and tenderness, clothed the faultless de
sign of the figures ; so that the cartoon was often
more agreeable than the finished painting. There,
however, you saw riders guiding their foaming
steeds without a bridle, and soldiers dealing heavy
blows at one another with invisible swords, of
which they grasped tightly the bladeless pommel.
And this was, because the ancients so sculptured
cavaliers and combatants, from the difficulty of
providing them with a floating rein, or a bran
dished sabre in so frail a material as marble.
Why should not the eye have been as well left
without an iris ? There is, indeed, in the Hospital
of Santo Spirito, in Rome, a ward painted in
fresco, with countless figures, all somehow made
eyeless ; but this was from the caprice, or malice,
not from the classicalism of the artist.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 167

This last yet reigns too much in Italy, where
has sprung, in the mean time, that beautiful
German school, which at Munich, Cologne, Dus-
seldorf, arid Berlin, has produced such lovely
works, and which, still faithful to the land that
gave it birth, is there not only blooming with
sweet grace, but is gradually shedding its seed on
the fertile ground around it, repaying in Christian
beauty, the classical accuracy which fed its own
root.

It must be acknowledged that such works in
painting as were executed during the pontificate
of Pius VII. in the library or museum, to com
memorate its great events, are little worthy of
their subject, or of Italian art.

The mention of these seats of learning and art
suggests a few words. It is almost a matter of
course, that every Pope adds to the treasures of
the Vatican, both literary and artistic. In the
earlier portion of his pontificate, Pius had already
walked in his illustrious predecessors' footsteps.
The Museo Pio-Clementino, the addition of his
two immediate predecessors, seemed to leave him
little hopes of surpassing it. The magnificence
of its halls, the variety of its collections, and the
beauty of many among its sculptures, combined
the splendour of a palace with the richness of a
gallery. The earlier contributions of our Pope

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168 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

were simple but most valuable. The long cor
ridors leading to the Vatican library were filled
by him with secondary monuments, urns, cippi,
sarcophagi, altars, busts, and statues, some of
great price ; and the walls were lined with in
scriptions, Christian on one side, and heathen on
the other.

Nothing can be more becoming than this mo
dest approach, at every step growing in interest
and value, towards the clustered temples of that
acropolis or capitol of art. You walk along an
avenue, one side adorned by the stately and ma
ture, or even decaying memorials of heathen
dominion, the other by the young and growing,
and vigorous monuments of early Christian cul
ture. There they stand face to face, as if in
hostile array, about to begin a battle long since
fought and won. On the right may be read
laudatory epitaphs of men whose families were
conspicuous in republican Eome, long inscriptions
descriptive of the victories, and commemorative
of the titles, of Nerva or Trajan ; then dedications
to deities, announcements of their feasts, or fairs
in their honour ; and an endless variety of edicts,
descriptions of property, sacred and domestic,
and sepulchral monuments. The great business of
a mighty empire still in glory, military, adminis
trative, religious, and social, stands catalogued on

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 169

that wall. What can ever take its place ? And
the outward form itself exhibits stability and
high civilisation. These various records are in
scribed with all the elegance of an accomplished
stone-mason's chisel, in straight lines and in bold
uncial letters ; with occasional ornaments or re
liefs, that bespeak the sculptor; on blocks or
slabs of valuable marbles, with an elegance of
phrase that forms the scholar's envy.

Opposite to these imperial monuments are ar
ranged a multitude of irregular, broken frag
ments of marble, picked up apparently here and
there, on which are scratched, or crookedly
carved, in a rude latinity and inaccurate ortho
graphy, short and simple notes, not of living
achievements, but of deaths and burials. There
are no sounding titles, no boastful pretensions.
This is to a " sweet " wife, that to " a most inno
cent " child, a third to " a well-deserving" friend.
If the other side records victories, this only
speaks of losses ; if that roars out war, this mur
murs only soft peace ; if that adorns with military
trophies, this illuminates with scourges and pin
cers : the one may perhaps surmount with the
soaring eagle, the other crowns with the olive-
bearing dove.

Here are the two antagonist races, speaking
in their monuments, like the front lines of two

170 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

embattled armies, about to close in earnest and
decisive battle : the strong one, that lived upon
and over the earth, and thrust its rival beneath
it, then slept secure like Jupiter above the buried
Titans ; and the weak and contemptible, that
burrowed below, and dug its long and deep
mines, and enrolled its deaths in them, almost
under the palaces whence issued decrees for its
extermination, and the amphitheatres to which
it was dragged up from its caverns to fight with
wild beasts. At length the mines were sprung,
and heathenism tottered, fell, and crashed, like
Dagon, on its own pavements. And, through the
rents and fissures, basilicas started up from their
concealment below, cast in moulds of sand, un
seen, in those depths ; altar and chancel, roof
and pavement, baptistery and pontifical chair, up
they rose in brick or marble, wood or bronze,
what they had been in friable sandstone below.
A new empire, new laws ; a new civilisation, a
new art ; a new learning, a new morality, covered
the space occupied by the monuments to which
the inscriptions opposite belonged.

It was a mercy to Christianity, that Providence
kept the destruction of the previous state out of
its deliberation, and in Its own hands. To have
kept up its monuments would have been impos
sible. What could Christians have done with

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 171

therms, amphitheatres, and their lewd representa
tions ? Yet to have destroyed them would have
been called barbarous. So God "lifted up a sign
to the nations afar off, and whistled to them from
the ends of the earth, and they came with speed
swiftly."1 "There came up water out of the
north ; they were as an overflowing torrent ;
and they covered the land, and all that was
therein; the city, and the inhabitants thereof."2
The successive locust-swarms that rushed over
Italy had no instinct to guide them but the bar
barism that plunders what it covets, and destroys
what it contemns. And even after this, when the
monuments of paganism had been destroyed, He
" hissed for the fly that was in the uttermost
parts of the rivers of Egypt, and for the bee
that was in the land of Assyria ; and they came,
and they rested in the torrents of the valleys,
and in the holes of the rock."3 For the Saracen
predatory incursions in the eighth century devas
tated the outlying Christian monuments, and
caused the final spoliation of the catacombs.

The Church has kindly taken into her keeping
the gathered fragments and ruins of both in
vasions, from north and from east ; arid here
they are placed separate, but united, and in

1 Isa. v. 26. 3 Jer. xlvii. 2. 3 Isa. vii. 18.

172 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

peace. Thus you are prepared for that still
higher evidence, that the Church is neither Goth
nor Vandal, which shines bright before you, in
those precious halls and graceful cabinets, in
which the successive Popes, whose names they
bear, have worthily, or daintily, preserved the
treasures and gems of ancient art.

After his restoration, Pius VII. continued his
interrupted work. It is recorded of Fray Luis de
Leon, the eminent Spanish professor, that, having
been suspended from his chair for five years
through hostile intrigue, and having been trium
phantly restored, his lecture-room was crowded
to hear, as it was hoped, his indignant vindication
of himself. If they were disappointed, they were
doubtless edified, when the audience heard him
quietly commence by: " Heri dicebamus" "in,
yesterday's lesson we were saying : " and con
tinue the subject of his last lecture. It was with
just such serenity that the good Pontiff calmly
resumed the works of his glorious reign, " Ibi
manum apposuit ubi opus desierat" The gallery
which more especially bears his name, and which
crosses the great Belvedere court of the Vatican,
is one of the most beautiful portions of the
Museum. It seems indeed wonderful, how such
a building could have been erected, richly deco
rated, and filled with master-pieces of art, in so

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 173

short a time. When first I remember it, it was
still in the mason's hands, brick walls amidst a
forest of scaffold poles ; yet the Pope lived to see
it finished in all its beauty. The architect, if I
remember right, was not so fortunate. He was
young and promising, with the northern name of
Stern. I can recollect going to see him, at
Monte Compatri, in the Tusculan hills, when he
was disfigured by a huge tumour on his shoulder,
the consequence of a fall, which shortly carried
him to an early grave.

To the library Pius made considerable addi
tions, not only of manuscripts, but of many
thousands of printed volumes. Among these
was a magnificent collection of bibles, and biblical
works. The Pantheon had long been to Rome,
what Santa Croce was to Florence, and Westmin
ster Abbey used once to be to us ; the mauso
leum of great men. The busts of distinguished
Italians were arranged round its walls, and gave
a profane appearance to the church. By order
of the Sovereign Pontiff a new gallery was pre
pared in the Capitol, under the name of Pro-
tomotheca ; and in one night of 1820, the
whole of the busts were removed from the Pan
theon, and carried thither.

It is, however, one even greater glory of Pius's
reign, that he commenced that series of excava-

174 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

tions round ancient monuments which have been
continued till the present day, and have done
more for solid antiquarian learning than any
previous study. Former excavations had been
carried on mainly to obtain works of art,
and were filled up again as fast as made. But, in
1807, the Arch of Septimus Severus, which, as
may be seen in Piranesi's prints (not here " the
lying Piranesi," as Forsyth calls him), had been
more than half buried in the ground, was cleared
of all rubbish, and an open space left quite round
it. An immense spur, too, was added to the
Colosseum, to prevent a large portion of its out
ward wall falling. The excavations and restora
tions of ancient monuments were continued by
the French authorities under the Empire, and
often with a bolder hand, for churches were
destroyed or desecrated to discover or restore
heathen edifices.1 But after the restoration the

1 I remember reading in Dr. Heber's " Journal," that an Arme
nian priest had called upon him, strong and powerful, and with a
stentorian voice, to ask a contribution towards the repairing of
the church belonging to his nation and order in Rome, Santa
Maria Egiziaca, anciently the temple of Fortuna Virilis. The
Anglican prelate refused him, because he said he had never heard
that the French damaged ancient monuments, so he did not believe
his story. The fact was, the Armenian and the Englishman looked
at the thing from opposite points. The former considered the de
struction of modern additions, and restitution of his church to
heathen forms, a spoliation and injury : the latter considered it a
benefit, probably. He was right in supposing that the French

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 175

work was resumed with greater vigour. Archae
ologists were wonderfully disappointed, when on
excavating round a column in the Centre of the
Forum, which had been the very pivot of systems,
it displayed on its pedestal an inscription of
Phocas, a monarch totally out of the pale of
classical society. Besides, however, other in-
teresting restorations, that of the arch of Titus
reflects greatest credit on the commission ap
pointed by Pius, for the preservation of ancient
edifices. This, not only beautiful, but pre
cious monument had been made the nucleus of
a hideous castellated fort, by the Frangipani
family. Its masonry, however, embraced and held
together, as well as crushed, the marble arch ; so
that on freeing it from its rude buttresses, there
was fear of its collapsing, and it had first to be
well bound together by props and bracing beams,
a process in which Kornan architects are unri
valled. It was in this condition that I first
remember the arch of Titus. The seven-branch
candlestick, the table, trumpets, and other spoils

would not destroy a pagan temple ; but not, in believing that they
would spare a church. As a singular coincidence I may add that,
just after reading this passage when first published, I heard a very
loud voice in my ante-room, as Dr. Heber said he had heard one
in his. It struck me it might be the very Armenian, and so it was.
He was astonished and amused at finding himself examined about
his interview at Calcutta. He confirmed the facts ; but thought
the Bishop had treated him very shabbily.

176 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

of the temple, which Keland has so well illus
trated in a learned little treatise, as collateral
and monumental evidences of Scripture truth,
were invisible in great measure behind the
wooden framework, which also completely hid
from view the beautiful relief of the apotheosis
in the key-stone. The simple expedient was
adopted by the architect Stern of completing the
arch in stone ; for its sides had been removed.
Thus encased in a solid structure, which con
tinued all the architectural lines, and renewed
its proportions to the mutilated centre, the arch
was both completely secured, and almost restored
to its pristine elegance.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 177

CHAPTER X.

BRIGANDAGE.

I MIGHT be reproached with overlooking one
of the most vivid, though painful, recollections of
youth, if nothing appeared in these pages on a
subject which, at the period that occupies us,
made impressions not easily effaced from memory.
Indeed, by some who remember those times, it
may be considered a blot upon them, and a proof
of weakness in the ruler and his minister. At
no time, indeed, were the rovers from the desert
more daring, or their atrocities more dread
ful, than after the restoration of the pontifical
government. And yet, it would be most unjust
to throw the blame on it.

Let us begin by remarking that no one has
ever charged the French government, which
preceded that event, with feebleness or mistaken
mercy. On the contrary, the code of repression
was perfectly Draconian, and it was ruthlessly
carried out. The slightest connivance at or

o

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178 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

abetting of brigandism was death, summarily in
flicted. To be found with a small provision of
food, was capitally punished in a shepherd who
guarded a flock in the solitudes of the mountains.
Hence, boys have been executed, with men that
dragged them within the snares of the law, who,
those that accompanied them to the scaffold
have assured the writer, were innocent as infants
of the crime of highway robbery. And hence,
too, the poor shepherds were often in a fearful
dilemma : if they saw the banditti, and did not
denounce them, they suffered as abettors and
accomplices ; if they set the patrol on their
track, they ran the risk of assassination. Some
times a more cruel expedient was adopted.
Many of that time will remember a poor peasant
boy, who used to beg alms in Eome, whose
tongue had been barbarously cut out by the
roots, that he might not be able to betray to the
police the passage of a robber band.

If the intense severity of the French laws, and
if the unceasing pursuit of well disciplined troops,
could not put down the peculiar form of robbery
known in Italian by the terms of " crassazione "
and " assassinio" and yet the government that
employed these means unsuccessfully has never
been taxed with feebleness, why should the one
which immediately succeeded it be accused of

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 179

that defect? Surely the causes which made
brigandage indomitable before, could not have
ceased or diminished after the restoration of the
pontifical government. The pressure of a mili
tary rule, which did not even affect to have
anything paternal about it, was removed ; and
the effective army which had garrisoned all the
country was withdrawn. It was only to be
expected that the lawless spirit of the forest and
the crag would acquire hardihood and power.
It was not, in fact, till both police and soldiery
had been thoroughly reorganised, that the evil
was, through them, completely put down. This
was only in the following pontificate.

The struggle, under such varied circum
stances, between society and lawlessness, and the
return of the latter to open war, after it has
been repeatedly and effectually suppressed, are
evidences of causes peculiar to the country, the
absence of which forms security elsewhere.
These will be both physical and moral. A
mountainous country, for instance, will en
courage a character of crime different from what
will flourish in one like ours. A ridge of high
mountains, almost inaccessible in parts, traversed
only through deep and narrow ravines, com
manded by overhanging cliffs, with one state at
its feet on one side and another on the other,

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180 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

forms a sort of " no man's land," the chosen abode
of the outlaw. If a small knot is once formed
there by a daring chief, who may possibly be
a volunteer, having a dash of false romance
in his character, and loving a mischievous
vagabond life in preference to one of honest
toil, it soon swells into a band, by the succes
sive adhesions of escaped or liberated convicts,
runaways from pursuing justice, or of mere idle
scapegraces, who gradually inure themselves to
deeds of blood, and become elated to something
of military feeling by the terror which they in
spire. Then they contrive, like Dick Turpin
and others of our celebrated highwaymen, to
mingle with their acts of daring some instances
of generous gallantry, or polite forbearance, or
even charitable kindness, which gain them sym
pathy among neighbours, and a character of
knight-errantry among tourists. All this is bad
enough, for it gives to their combats with the
representatives of order a colour of chivalrous
warfare, instead of the darker hue of a felon's
struggle with the ministers of justice.

But worse still are the obstacles to success
against them, from their favoured position.
With timely warnings from secret sharers in
their booty, or depraved allies, they hear, or
used to hear, in time, of the approach of any

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 181

armed force against them; their own scouts, from
" coigns of vantage " on the cornice of a rocky
battlement, or from tree-tops, gave notice of
immediate approach of danger. Surprise was
thus almost impossible ; and a scrambling attack
through ravines, up rugged crags, and amidst
tangled brushwood, had, to regular troops from
the plain, all the disadvantages and perils
of a guerilla combat, without its dignity. It
cannot be denied that the conduct of the soldiery
was intrepid and worthy of a better battle-field ;
but often when they had forced the position of
the robber band, this sprung over the boundary
line of another state, and there defied its baffled
pursuers. This was something like the security
in London, not very long ago, of delinquents and
gamins, if they could get through Temple Bar,
and thence take a serene view of the white-
badged pursuivant, who stood foiled on the other
side. In both cases, it was not till the conven
tion was made between Rome and Westminster
of the one side, and Naples and the City of the
other side, that the police of the one might pass
the boundaries of the other in pursuit of lawful
game, that the robbers began to have the worst
of it. The agreement between the two Italian
powers took place in 1818 ; but proved insuf
ficient. What was necessary and was resorted to

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182 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

later was contemporary cooperation from both
sides, a sort of tiger-hunt, in which the whole
jungle is netted round and the quarry hemmed
in, so that no pursuit is necessary because no
flight is possible.

If the reader wishes to refresh his memory on
the exploits of the banditti of that period, and
recall their practices and mode of life, he has
only to turn to Washington Irving's " Tales of
a Traveller," where, in the third part, he gives
u The Painter's Adventure " among his robber
stories. In his preface he says that " the Ad
venture of the Young Painter among the
banditti is taken almost entirely from an au
thentic narrative in manuscript." True : and
astonished and disappointed was the poor French
artist, when he found that the manuscript which
he used to lend freely to his friends had been
translated and published without his permission
or knowledge by M. Wassinton, as he called
his literary pirate. The writer had read it as a
work of fiction by the amusing American tourist,
for who believes the account in prefaces, of manu
scripts, whether found in a Curds leather trunk,
or " Old Mortality's wallet," or " Master Hum
phrey's clock," or nowhere in particular ? There
was a contradiction, indeed, in calling that the
adventure of a young painter, in which the

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 183

author attributed his coolness and serenity among
the robbers, to his having been "schooled to
hardship during the late revolutions," that is, at
the end of the last century. This might indeed
easily be passed over ; but it was too true for
M. Chatillon, the artist, that he had passed into
the stage of "the lean and slippered pantaloon,"
when he was taken, as he describes, from the
Villa Euffinella, in 1818, by brigands, in mistake
for its owner, Prince Lucien Bonaparte. The
band had seized the chaplain, as he strolled in
the neighbouring woods before dinner, and de
tained him till dusk, when they compelled him
to be their guide to the house.

M. Chatillon lent his manuscript, among
other neighbours, to us of the English College,
and I believe we were the first to discover
and inform him, that it was already published
in English, with such alterations as made the
account apocryphal ; but with such a charm as
would deprive the original, if printed, of all chance
of success. A few years ago, after his adventure,
M. Chatillon became an inmate of Lord Shrews
bury's family, where he painted many portraits
of friends, likenesses, but not pictures : and the
reader of that melancholy book of the day,
" the Catalogue of Alton Towers," will find the
name of " the young painter," M. Chatillon,

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appended as the label to some very moderate
works of art.

Washington Irving alludes to the carrying
off of what he calls " the school of Terracina."
It was in fact the episcopal seminary, situated
outside the city, that was invaded one night,
and all its inmates were carried away, — supe
riors, prefects, scholars and servants. On the
road they were intrepidly attacked by a single
dragoon, named I think Ercoli, or Ercolani, who
lost his life in the unequal contest. But it
enabled some to escape and give the alarm.
Others got away ; the feeble were dismissed ;
till at last a few boys of the best families in
the neighbourhood were alone retained in the
mountain fastnesses. Letters were sent to their
families, demanding sums of money for their
ransom ; the demand was complied with. The
scouts of the robbers saw the bearers of it
winding up the rocky path, mistook them
for soldiers, and gave the alarm to the troop,
saying they were betrayed. When the relations
of the captives reached the summit, they found
two or three innocent children strapped to
trees, with their throats cut, and dead. The
survivors were brought to Eome, to tell their
sad tale to the good and tender-hearted Pius,
and well the writer remembers seeing the poor

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 185

boys still under the influence of their terror.
They were retained at Rome.

But the recollections of that period furnish
another event, which, earlier than this, brought
nearer home the anxieties of country life, even
when passed in community. It must have oc
curred in 1820. The English College possesses
a country-house, deliciously situated in the
village of Monte Porzio. Like most villages
in the Tusculan territory, this crowns a knoll,
which in this instance looks as if it had been
kneaded up from the valleys beneath it, so
round, so shapely, so richly bosoming does it
swell upwards ; and so luxuriously clothed is
it with the three gifts whereby " men are mul
tiplied," : that the village and its church seem
not to sit on a rocky summit, but to be half
sunk into the lap of the olive, the vine, and the
waving corn, that reach the very houses. While
the entrance and front of this villa are upon
the regular streets of the little town, the garden
side stands upon the very verge of the hill-top ;
and the view, after plunging at once to the
depths of the valley, along which runs a shady
road, rises up a gentle acclivity, vine and olive
clad, above which is clasped a belt of stately

1 Ps. iv. 8.

186 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

chestnuts, the bread-tree of the Italian peasant,
and thence springs a round craggy mound, look
ing stern and defiant like what it was — the
citadel of Tusculum. Upon its rocky front
the English students have planted a huge
cross.

Such is the view which presents itself im
mediately opposite to the spectator, if leaning
over the low parapet of the English garden.
The beauties to right and to left belong not

o o

to our present matter. Well, just where the
vineyards touch the woods, as if to adorn both,
there lies nestling what you would take to be a
very neat and regular village. A row of houses,
equidistant and symmetrical, united by a con
tinuous dwarf wall, and a church with its towers
in the midst, all of dazzling whiteness, offer
no other suggestion. The sight certainly would
deceive one ; but not so the ears. There is a
bell that knows no sleeping. The peasant
hears it as he rises at day-break to proceed to
his early toil, the vine-dresser may direct every
pause for refreshment by its unfailing regu
larity through the day ; the horseman returning
home at evening uncovers himself as it rings
forth the " Ave; " and the muleteer singing on
the first of his string of mules, carrying wine
to Rome, at midnight is glad to catch its solemn

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 187

peal as it mingles with the tinkle of his own
drowsy bells. Such an unceasing call to prayer
and praise can only be answered, not by monks
nor by friars, but by anchorites.

And to such does this sweet abode belong.
A nearer approach does not belie the distant
aspect. It is as neat, as regular, as clean, and
as tranquil as it looks. It is truly a village
divided by streets, in each of which are rows
of houses exactly symmetrical. A small sitting-
room, a sleeping cell, a chapel completely fitted
up, in case of illness, and a wood and lumber-
room compose the cottage. This is approached
by a garden, which the occupant tills, but only
for flowers, assisted by his own fountain abun
dantly supplied. While singing JSTone in choir,
the day's only meal is deposited in a little
locker within the door of the cell, for each one's
solitary refection. On a few great festivals
they dine together ; but not even the Pope, at
his frequent visits, has meat placed before him.
Everything, as has been said, is scrupulously
clean. The houses inside and out, the well-fur
nished library, the strangers' apartments (for
hospitality is freely given), and still more the
church, are faultless in this respect. And so are
the venerable men who stand in choir, and whose
noble voices sustain the church's magnificent

188 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

psalmody, with unwavering slowness of intona
tion. They are clad in white from head to foot;
their thick woollen drapery falling in large
folds ; and the shaven head, but flowing beard,
the calm features, the cast down eyes, and
often venerable aspect, make every one a
picture, as solemn as Zurbaran ever painted, but
without the sternness which he sometimes imparts
to his recluses. They pass out of the church,
to return home, all silent and unnoticing; but
the guest-master will tell you who they are. I
remember but a few. This is a native of Turin,
who was a general in Napoleon's army, fought
many battles, and has hung up his sword be-
• side the altar, to take down in its place the
sword of the Spirit, and fight the good fight
within. The next is an eminent musician, who
has discovered the hollowness of human applause,
and has unstrung his earthly harp, and taken
up " the lyre of the Levite," to join his strains
to those of angels. Another comes " curved
like a bridge's arch," as Dante says, and leaning
on a younger arm, as he totters forward, one
whose years are ninety, of which seventy have
been spent in seclusion, except a few of
dispersion, but in peace: for he refuses any
relaxation from his duties. Then follows a
fourth, belonging to one of the noblest Roman

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 189

families, who yet prefers his cottage and his
lentil to the palace and the banquet.

Such was the Camaldoli, and such were its in
mates, when a robber chief determined to carry
them off into the mountains. The gardens, woods,
and fields of the hermit-village were all enclosed
with a high wall, except where the gardens looked
into the valley which separated it from Monte
Porzio. Over one of these walls, intended for se
clusion not for defence, the wolf clomb into the
peaceful fold. One by one the unsuspecting in
mates were aroused from their slumber to unholy
Matins, and soon found themselves assembled in
front of the church, surrounded by a large band
of ruffians, armed to the teeth, muttering curses
and blasphemies to smother their remorse. It
was the policy of these wretches to leave not
one behind who might betray their deed, and
all were commanded to march out of the gate,
and take the steep path towards Tusculum.

Remonstrance seemed vain ; but there was one
sturdy lad, a farm-servant, not in the habit, who
might have escaped, but would not. He had
been there from boyhood, and loved the good
hermits as his parents. He boldly argued with
the marauders ; he checked and reproved them ;
he insisted on the old, old men, and the infirm
being left behind ; he made such hasty prepara-

190 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

tions of food as time permitted ; he soothed and
encouraged the more timid, and went forth with
them. On the journey, he was a hand to the
weak, and a foot to the weary ; and feared riot to
expostulate with the freebooters.

Next morning, the early bell was silent ; it
was the clock of the neighbourhood, so the silence
was ominous and inconvenient. Hour went by
after hour ; was there no chaunt, no oblation,
no sacred duty at Camaldoli ? One may easily
imagine the horror and consternation spread on
every side, as the news travelled round, of the
sacrilegious abduction of these unoffending, most
respected, and most charitable men ; from whose
gate no poor man was ever known to depart un
relieved. The history was related by the two or
three left, through necessity, behind, and those
who gradually escaped during the several days'
march, or were allowed to return, as obstacles to
the rapid movements soon required.

A large ransom was demanded for the few re
tained as hostages. It was the Government that
was expected to pay it. A strong detachment
of soldiers was sent instead. It overtook the
brigands unprepared ; volleys were fired on both
sides, and in the affray all the religious escaped
except one. A musket ball had broken his
thigh, and he lay helpless on the ground. But

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 19 L

the robbers were worsted, and he was saved.
He belonged to the noble family of Altemps,
whose palace, opposite to the church of Sant'
Apollinare, was designed or decorated by Baldas-
sare Peruzzi, and contains an apartment intact
since it was occupied by St. Charles Borrorneo.
To this family residence he was conveyed, and
there was attended for a long time, till at length
cured. He was offered leave to retire from the
monastic state, and remain as a priest in the
world ; but he declined, and returned, though to
another Camaldoli.

To the sight and to the ears, our Tusculan
hermitage underwent a change. The fold re
quired better guarding. The low walls between
the gardens on our side, were built up to a
formidable height, and slashed with rows of
loopholes, so as to be defensible by the fire-arms
of secular servants. The beautiful prospect of
the valley, and the campagna beyond, was shut
up to the tenants of the border cottages; the
square bit of the heavens over their gardens
was all now left them. While we could see this
change we could hear another. The deep bay
of enormous and fierce ban-dogs echoed through
the night, more unceasing than the bell. They
were kept chained up all day ; at night they
were let loose, and woe to any one who should

192 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

have presumed to approach them without the
Carnaldolese habit. It was the only thing they
respected. The faithful servant put it on ; and
often have I seen him, and spoken to him of
his robber adventure, while he discharged, as
an edifying lay-brother, the duties of porter.

It will be easily imagined how this daring
attack upon aged and poor religious was cal
culated to awaken some uneasiness in a smaller
ecclesiastical body, only separated by a narrow
valley, and occupying a corresponding opposite
situation, and moreover having the fatal repu
tation of being rich, and of belonging to a nation
of fabulous wealth. This occurrence certainly
brought the idea of danger near home ; but there
had been an occurrence which had brought it
nearer self. On the 16th of October, 1819, being,
for the first time, in the enjoyment of the delights
of villeggiatura in our country-house, we made, in
a considerable body, our first visit to the ruins of
Tusculum. Our worthy rector was there, and
of the party was the Professor of Ecclesiastical
History at the Roman College, afterwards the
Cardinal Ostini. We were immersed in the pit
of the little Roman theatre, and entangled in the
brambles and underwood that now cushion its
seats, when suddenly there came upon the stage
a party of most unexpected actors. About

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 193

eighteen or twenty men made their appearance,
as though they had sprung up from some secret
trap, or from a cavern in the wood around us.
Whether purposely, or accidentally, they hemmed
us in, standing above the party. The looks of
terror imprinted on the countenances of one or
two of our party are not easily to be forgotten. In
truth, it was not pleasant. The men had most of
the external attributes by which banditti are to
be recognised on and off the stage ; conical hats
with hawks' feathers stuck in them, jackets, leg
gings or sandals, gay sashes, and carbines carried,
not on the back but in the hand, with a jaunty
ease that showed an amiable readiness to let them
off. Every one tried to get as far away as possible ;
the writer was dragging through the bushes a
spitefully restive cavalcatura, and remained last.
"Are you the English College?" asked the
chief, with a stern countenance. " No," cried
out one of the strangers in our party. Now our
very accent would have betrayed us, if deceit
could have been thought of, even to banditti.
" Yes," was the reply, from a quarter still nearer.
Each rejoinder was true in the mouth of the
speaker. " How many are you ? " " Ten."
This seemed still more ominous. But the next
question left scarcely room for hope. " Have
you seen the armed patrol of Frascati anywhere

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about ? " A gasping " No," was the necessary
answer. A pause of a few moments ensued.
" Speak civilly to them," some one said, much
in the way that Morton advised : " Speak them
fair, sirs ; speak them fair," when treating with
Claverhouse's dragoons. But it was unnecessary.
The pause was broken by the captain, saying
civilly enough " Buon giorno," and leading off
his troop. The step from the sublime of terror
to the ridiculous of courage was instantaneous.
Of course no one had been frightened, and no
body had taken them for robbers. They were
probably the patrol from some neighbouring
village ; for each was obliged to arm its youth,
and scour the neighbouring woods. However,
one had the opportunity of experiencing the
feelings incident on falling among robbers with
real fire-arms and imaginary fierce looks.

If this topic has been made prominent among
the recollections of a memorable period, it is to
show the desire to speak impartially, and not
conceal blots. That immense energy was dis
played by the Government to efface them, and
great sacrifices were made, no one who recollects
the period can fail to remember. Military law
reigned in the infested districts, to this extent,
that the principal banditti were condemned to
death as outlaws, and their sentence published

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 195

with descriptions of their persons : so that no
thing more was required, when they were taken,
than to identify their persons, and proceed to
execution of the sentence. This was frequently
done; and prices set upon their heads secured
them to justice, if they descended from their
haunts. It was proposed even to remove the
inhabitants of districts that appeared incurable.
Impunity was offered to such as delivered them
selves up, on conditions somewhat analogous to
our tickets of leave ; and men used to be pointed
out in Rome who had once been bandits, but
were then leading a peaceful and industrious life.
But there was evidently a moral obstacle to the
eradication of this dreadful system of outlaw life.
It becomes habitual to families and to tracts of
country ; where its horrors, its cruelties, and its
wickedness are almost forgotten in the reckless
and dashing exploits, the sure and enormous
gains, and the very hair-breadth escapes that
attend it. Hot blood easily leads to offence
against the person ; and one such crime drives
its author to seek impunity, by war against the
society that would justly punish him.

Let us, however, be always just. This great
curse of Italy is impossible with us : we have no
chains of Apennines, no rocky fastnesses, no
mountain forests. But surely there have been

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lately here sufficient crimes, dark and cold,
reaching to shedding of blood and to the heedless
ruin of thousands, which may be reduced to
classes, and are traceable to social and local
diseases from which Italy is exempt.

One further remark. Within these few years
a system somewhat similar to that already de
tailed has revived ; but more in the northern
provinces. Again it is the fruit of a disturbance
of public order, by revolution instead of by war.
Again its seat is a border district, where the
mountain boundary line is traced between
Tuscany and the Papal States. And again this
consequence of an abnormal condition is imputed
to the normal ; the legitimate sovereign is held
responsible for the evils resulting from rebellion
against him ; and they who write to stimulate
revolution, use as an argument in its favour, the
necessity of repressing a mischief which revolu
tion has engendered.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 197

CHAPTER XL

CLOSE OF PIUS THE SEVENTH'S PONTIFICATE.

THE venerable Pope had nearly reached the years
of Peter, which none of his successors has yet
attained; though sincere is the hope in the
hearts of many of us, that the charm may be
broken by the ninth Pius. Twenty-four years
is the term thus assigned, as the bourn which
none may hope to pass, and Pius VII. had
happily advanced far into his twenty-third. The
sixth of July was the fourteenth anniversary of
his seizure in the Quirinal palace by General
Radet. On that day, in the year 1823, in the
same place, the aged Pontiff, about six in the
evening, being alone, rose from his chair, and
leaning with one hand on the bureau before it,
sought with the other a cord balustrade which
went round his room. He missed it; his foot
slipped, and he fell. He cried for help; his
attendants rushed in and laid him on his bed.
He complained of acute pain in his left side, and
as soon as surgical aid was procured it was

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discovered that the neck of the femur was
fractured — the very accident which has so lately
befallen the veteran Kadetzky.

For eight days the Pope was kept in ignorance
of the gravity of his condition. When informed
of it, he received the news with the same serenity
and fortitude as had distinguished him in the
vicissitudes of his life. He lingered for six
weeks, the object of affectionate solicitude to all
Kome. A person intimately connected with our
college was in the Pope's household, and brought
us daily information of every variation in his
health. It was while in this state of anxiety,
that all Rome was startled one morning by news
so melancholy, and so naturally connected with
the august patient, that in ancient times it
would have been considered a portent, beyond
statues sweating blood in the Forum, or victims
speaking in the temples. It was rumoured that
the great basilica of St. Paul's beyond the walls
was burned down, and .was already only a heap
of smoking ruins.

It was too true, though it seemed hard to
conceive how it was possible. The walls were of
massive bricks, the pavement a patchwork of
ancient inscribed marbles, the pillars of match
less Phrygian marble in the central, and of
inferior marble in the lateral aisles, for it was a

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 199

five-aisled church. There were no flues or fires
at any time, let alone the dog-days. Like
Achilles, these old churches have their one
vulnerable point, though its situation is reversed.
The open cedar roof, sodden dry, and scorched to
cinder, through ages of exposure, under a scanty
tiling, to a burning sun, forms an unresisting
prey to the destructive wantonness of a single
spark. It was the usual story; plumbers had
been working on that roof, and had left a pan of
coals upon one of the beams. Every sort of
rumour was, however, started and believed. It
was confidently reported to be the work of
incendiaries, and part of an atrocious plan to
destroy the sacred monuments of Rome.

It was not till the afternoon that either the
heat of the season or the occupations of the day
permitted one to go far beyond the gates, though
the sad news had penetrated into every nook of
the city at sunrise. Melancholy indeed was the
scene. The tottering external walls were all
that was permitted to be seen, even from a
respectful distance ; for it was impossible to
know how long they would stand. A clear space
was therefore kept around, in which the skilful
and intrepid fire-brigade — an admirably orga
nised body — were using all their appliances to
prevent the flames breaking out from the smoul-

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dering ruins. There, among others, was the
enthusiastic Avvocato Fea, almost frantic with
grief. He was not merely an antiquarian in sculp
tures and inscriptions, he was deeply versed in
ecclesiastical history, and loved most dearly its
monuments. St. Paul's was one of the most vener
able, and most precious of these. The very aban
donment of the huge pile, standing in solitary
grandeur on the banks of the Tyber, was one
source of its value. While it had been kept in
perfect repair, little or nothing had been done to
modernise it and alter its primitive form and
ornaments, excepting the later addition of some
modern chapels above the transept; it stood
naked and almost rude, but unencumbered with
the lumpish and tasteless plaster encasement of
the old basilica in a modern Berninesque church,
which had disfigured the Lateran cathedral under
the pretence of supporting it. It remained ge
nuine, though bare, as St. Apollinaris in Classe
at Ravenna, the city eminently of unspoiled basi
licas. No chapels, altars, or mural monuments
softened the severity of its outlines ; only the
series of papal portraits, running round the
upper line of the walls redeemed this sternness.
But the unbroken files of columns, along each
side, carried the eye forward to the great central
object, the altar and its " Confession ; " while

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 201

the secondary rows of pillars running behind the
principal ones, gave depth and shadow, mass
and solidity, to back up the noble avenue along
which one glanced. Among the constant and
bewildered cries of Fea was : " Save the trium
phal arch ! " He made light now apparently of
the rest. The term is applied to the great arch,
which, supported on two massive pillars, closes
the nave, or rather separates it from the tran
sept and apse beyond. Above this arch rises a
wall, clothed in mosaic, so happily revived and
perfected in the Theodosian period. The trium
phal arch of St. Paul's still towered nobly among
the ruins, almost unscathed, as did the Gothic
ciborium or marble canopy over the altar. On
the face of the arch remained the majestic figure
of our Lord in glory, and round it a metrical
inscription, in which the Empress Galla Placidia
recounted how, assisted by the great Pontiff
Leo, she had finished the decorations of the
church built by preceding emperors.

This mosaic was, in some sort, the very title-
deed of the modern church, its evidence of
identity with the imperial basilica. To preserve
it just where it had stood for 1400 years would
be almost to annul the effects of the confla
gration : it would make the new edifice a con
tinuation of the old. This was attended to. One

202 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

of the first steps taken was carefully to remove
all that remained of the ancient mosaic, by the
skilful hands of the Vatican workmen in that
exquisite art : and one of the last was to restore
it to its place over the rebuilt arch.

To return, not a word was spoken to the sick
Pontiff on this dreadful calamity. At St. Paul's
he had lived as a quiet monk, engaged in study
and in teaching, and he loved the place with the
force of an early attachment. It would have
added a mental pang to his bodily sufferings, to
learn the total destruction of that venerable
sanctuary, in which he had drawn down, by
prayer, the blessings of heaven on his youthful
labour.

In this happy ignorance the revered patient
lingered on. To reunite the fractured bone, at
his age, was beyond the power of surgery ; his
feebleness increased, and he seemed to be slowly
sinking; when, on the 16th of August, more
active symptoms supervened, especially delirium.
On the following day, the Holy Pontiff expressed
his desire to receive the Viaticum and it was ad
ministered to him by Cardinal Bertazzoli. Thus
strengthened with the Bread of Angels, he
awaited calmly his end. On the nineteenth he
received Extreme Unction, and orders were sent
to all the churches to recite in every Mass, the

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 203

prayer " for the Pontiff at the point of death."
While it was being said all through Rome, on
the following morning, the venerable man closed
his glorious pontificate, and fell asleep in the
Lord.

Providence had given him in the latter years
of his pontificate many soothing and cheering
compensations. In 1819 the Emperor and
Empress of Austria, with their daughter, visited
Rome, attended by a numerous and brilliant
suite. It was not an incognito affair : they came in
their own imperial character, and right imperially
were they received and treated. Without dis
turbing the Pope or his court, a splendid suite
of apartments was prepared for the imperial
party in the Quirinal Palace, and furnished in a
style which strongly contrasted with the severity
of pontifical dwellings. Among the recollections
of the period, there rise, distinct and vivid, the
public fetes given in honour of these illustrious
guests. The King of Prussia visited Rome in
1822 in a more private manner, and afforded us
an opportunity of seeing the Nestor of science,
Humboldt. But in Rome, at that time, one be
came familiar with royal lineaments. The King
of Naples visited it in 1821. King Charles IV.
of Spain and his Queen had chosen Rome for
their abode: in 1819 he went to Naples, to

204 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

recruit his health, and there died, while she re
mained at home, sickened too and died. Neither
ever learnt any news, on this side of the grave, of
the other's illness or death. Charles Emanuel IV.
of Savoy had also retired to Rome, old and
blind. I can well remember seeing him kneeling
before the altar of Santa Maria Maggiore on
Christmas Day, feeble and supported by two at
tendants. This was on my first Christinas in
Rome: he died the following year. Our own
banished Queen sought refuge there for a time1 ;
and it must have been a consolation to the meek
and unresentful Pius to see his capital afford a
shelter to the proscribed family of the Emperor
from whom he had so much suffered. They
were allowed to have their palaces, their estates,
their titles, and their position, not only un
molested, but fully recognised. And no one
surely lived more respected, or died more re
gretted than the Princess Laetitia, the Emperor's
honoured mother. This is truly a noble pre
rogative of Rome, to be the neutral territory on

1 While there, a speech is attributed to her, which even those
who will not consider it irreverent, will think undignified. She
there heard that her name had been struck out of the prayers in
the national liturgy, and remarked : " They have prayed a long
time for me as Princess of Wales, and I am no better for it ; per
haps now that they have given up praying for me, I may improve."
— MS. Journal.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 205

which the representatives of rival and even
hostile royal houses may meet in peace, and with
dignity; a place where enmities are forgotten,
and injuries buried in oblivion.

And, in the same manner, one who resides at
Rome may hope to see many men celebrated for
their genius or their industry, in every depart
ment of literature and science, as well as art.
Several of these have been mentioned, to whom
others might be added, either residents in Rome,
or passing visitors of its treasures.

But far beyond all these extraneous glories,
which shed an ennobling splendour round the
old age and waning pontificate of Pius VII. was
the steady and unvarying love and veneration of
his subjects. Not a murmur jarred upon his
ear, among the benedictions daily wished him,
and returned by him with fatherly tenderness to
all. One may doubt if there be an instance in
history, where the judgment of posterity is less
likely to reverse the verdict of contemporaries.

art %

LEO THE TWELFTH.

London., llurst & Blackett

"» THE TWELFTH,

tetaent, and tiec#*satiiy of ,mucii
| remember being at ••Parfc.'Wlien
* XVIIL died, and Charles X. succeeded to
Chateaubriand published a pamphlet with
the title, '' Le Roi est mort, vive le JRoi." There
is no interregnum in successive monarchy: and
title to a book consists of words uttered by
sonic marshal or herald, at the close of the
royal fur eral, as he first points with his baton
into the 'ault, and then raises it into the air.
But ir elective monarchy, and in the only one
"vivin. r in Europe, there is of course a space
»ro visional arrangements, foreseen and pre-
Time is required for the electors to
* , from distant provinces, or even foreign
• J «nd this is occupied in paying the
p

210 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

last tribute of respect and affection to the de
parted Pontiff. His body is embalmed, clothed
in the robes of his office, of the penitential
colour, and laid on a couch of state within one
of the chapels in St. Peter's, so that the faithful
may not only see it, but kiss its feet. This last
act of reverence the writer well recollects per
forming, to the mortal remains of the immortal
Pius.

These preliminaries occupy three days : during
which rises,* as if by magic, or from the crypts
below, an immense catafalque, a colossal archi
tectural structure, which fills the nave of that
basilica, illustrated by inscriptions, and adorned
by statuary. Before this huge monument, for
nine days, funeral, rites are performed, closed by
a funeral oration. The body of the last Pope
has a uniform resting-place in St. Peter's. A
plain sarcophagus, of marbled stucco, will be
there seen, though hardly noticed, by the
traveller, over a door beside the choir, on which
is simply painted the title of the latest Pontiff.
On the death of his successor it is broken down
at the top, the coffin is removed to the under-
church, and that of the new claimant for repose
is substituted for it. This change takes place
late in the evening, and is considered private. I
cannot recollect whether it was on this or on a

LEO THE TWELFTH. 211

subsequent occasion that I witnessed it, with my
college companions.

In the afternoon of the last day of the noven-
diali, as they are called, the cardinals assemble
in a church near the Quirinal palace, and walk
thence in procession, accompanied by their con-
clavisti, a secretary, a chaplain, and a servant or
two, to the great gate of that royal residence, in
which one will remain as master and supreme
lord. Of course the hill is crowded by persons,
lining the avenue kept open for the procession.
Cardinals never before seen by them, or not for
many years, pass before them ; eager eyes scan
and measure them, and try to conjecture, from
fancied omens in eye, or figure, or expression,
who will be shortly the sovereign of their fair
city ; and, what is much more, the Head of the
Catholic Church, from the rising to the setting
sun. They all enter equal over the threshold of
that gate : they share together the supreme rule,
temporal and spiritual : there is still embosomed
in them all, the voice yet silent, that will soon
sound, from one tongue, over all the world, and
the dormant germ of that authority which will
soon again be concentrated in one man alone.
To-day they are all equal ; perhaps to-morrow
one will sit enthroned, and all the rest will kiss
his feet ; one will be sovereign, the others his

p 2

212 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

subjects ; one the shepherd, and the others his
flock.

This is a singular and a deeply interesting mo
ment, a scene not easily forgotten. There pass
before us men of striking figure, and of regal
aspect. There is the great statesman of whom
we have spoken, somewhat bowed by grief and
infirmity, yet still retaining his brilliant gaze.
There is the courteous, yet intrepid, Pacca ; tall
and erect, with a bland look that covers a
sterling and high-principled heart: there is the
truly venerable and saintly De Gregorio, lately a
prisoner for his fidelity, with snow-white head,
and less firm step than his companion : Galeffi,
less intellectual in features, but with a calm
genial look that makes him a general favourite :
Opizzoni already, and till lately, Archbishop of
Bologna, who had boldly asserted the claims of
papal, over those of imperial, authority to his
counsels, in a manner that had gained him im
prisonment ; beloved and venerated by his flock,
and admired at Rome, dignified and amiable in
look. There were many others whose names
have not remained inscribed so deeply in the
annals of the time, or have retained their hold
on the memory of its survivors. But one was
there, who no doubt entered as he came out ;
without a flutter of anxiety, when he faced the

LEO THE TWELFTH. 213

gate on either side. This was Odescalchi, young
still, most noble in rank and in heart, with
saintliness marked in his countenance, and pro
bably already meditating his retreat from dignity
and office, and the exchange of the purple robe
for the novice's black gown. Many who pre
ferred holiness to every other qualification,
looked on his modest features with hope, per
haps, that they might soon glow beneath the
ponderous tiara. But God has said, " Look not
on his countenance, nor on the height of his
stature. Nor do I judge according to the look
of men ; for man seeth the things that appear,
but the Lord beholdeth the heart." 1

Perhaps not a single person there present
noticed one in that procession, tall and emaciated,
weak in his gait, and pallid in countenance, as if
he had just risen from a bed of sickness, to pass
within to that of death. Yet he was a person hold
ing not only a high rank, but an important office,
and one necessarily active amidst the population
of Rome. For he was its Cardinal Vicar, exer
cising the functions of Ordinary. Nevertheless,
to most he was a stranger : the constant drain of
an exhausting complaint not only made him look
bloodless, but confined him great part of the year

1 1 Reg. xvi. 7.
p 3

214 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

to his chamber and his bed. Only once before had
the writer seen him, on a day and in a place
memorable to him, St. Stephen's feast, in the
Papal chapel, in 1819.

Such was Cardinal Hannibal della Genga,
whom a higher election than that of man's
will, had destined to fill the Pontifical throne.

His previous history may be briefly told. He
was the sixth of ten children of Count Hilary
della Genga, and Mary Louisa Periberti, and wasr
born at the family seat of Delia Genga, August
the 20th, 1760. He received his early education
in a college at Ositno, from which he passed to
one established in Rome, for natives of the pro
vince whose name it bore, the Collegia Piceno.
Thence, having embraced the ecclesiastical state,
he entered the Academia Ecdesiastica, an es
tablishment already mentioned in the third chap
ter of our first book. The celebrated Cardinal
Gerdil ordained him priest, on the 4th of June,
1783.

Pope Pius VI. , visiting the house, and struck
with his appearance, his manner, and the quick
ness of mind perceptible in his conversation,
shortly took him into his household. In 1793,
notwithstanding his youth, and his strong re
monstrances, he was consecrated Archbishop
of Tyre, by Cardinal cle York, in the cathedral

LEO THE TWELFTH. 215

of Frascati ; and sent as nuncio to Lucerne,
whence in the following year he went to succeed
the illustrious Pacca, in the more important nun
ciature of Cologne.

In 1805, he became the subject of a grave
contest, between the Holy See and Napoleon.
For the Pope named him extraordinary envoy to
the German Diet, and the Emperor wished
the Bishop of Orleans to be appointed. The
first prevailed, and ordered the return of Mon-
signor Delia Genga to Germany. He resided at
Munich, and was there universally esteemed.
In 1808, he was in Paris, engaged in diplomatic
affairs, on behalf of his sovereign ; and, having
witnessed, on returning to Home, the treatment
which he was receiving from his enemies, he re
tired to the abbey of Monticelli, which he held
in commendam, and there devoted himself, as he
thought for life, to the instruction of a choir
of children, and the cultivation of music.

He was drawn from his obscurity at the resto
ration, and deputed to present to Louis XVIII.,
at Paris, the Pope's letter of congratulation.
This circumstance led to differences between
him and Cardinal Consalvi, nobly repaired on
both sides, when the one had mounted the
throne. But Delia Genga returned from his
mission of courtesy, with a health so shattered,

p 4

216 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

and an appearance so altered, that people almost
fled from him, and he thought seriously of once
more returning to his abbey, where he had
before prepared his sepulchre, and secured its
personal fit, by lying stretched in its narrow
celL

However, in 1816, he was raised to the purple,
and named Bishop of Sinigaglia. In 1820,
he was appointed Vicar of Kome, and dis
charged the duties of his office with exemplary
exactness, zeal, and prudence, till he occupied
that highest place of which he had been the de
puty.1

While we have been thus sketching hastily,
and imperfectly, one of many who passed almost
unnoticed in the solemn procession to conclave2,
on the 2nd of September, 1823, we may suppose
the doors to have been inexorably closed on
those who composed it. The conclave, which
formerly used to take place in the Vatican, was
on this occasion, and has been on subsequent
ones, held in the Quirinal palace. This noble

1 These details of Leo XIL's earlier life are condensed from
the " Histoire du Pape Leon XII.," by the Chevalier Artaud de
Montor. 2 vols.

2 English writers commit a common error by speaking of " the
conclave," as meaning the assembled body of cardinals, on any
occasion. The word is only applied to them when " locked up
together," for election of the Pope. When assembled by him,
they compose " a Consistory ."

LEO THE TWELFTH. 217

building, known equally by the name of Monte
Cavallo, consists of a large quadrangle, round
which run the papal apartments. From this,
stretches out, the length of a whole street, an
immense wing, divided in its two upper floors
into a great number of small but complete suites
of apartments, occupied permanently, or occa
sionally, by persons attached to the Court.

During conclave these are allotted, literally so,
to the cardinals, each of whom lives apart, with
his attendants. His food is brought daily from
his own house, and is overhauled, and delivered
to him in the shape of " broken victuals," by the
watchful guardians of the turns and lattices,
through which alone anything, even conver
sation, can penetrate into the seclusion of that
sacred retreat. For a few hours, the first even
ing, the doors are left open, and the nobility, the
diplomatic body, and in fact all presentable
persons may roam from cell to cell, paying a
brief compliment to its occupant, perhaps speak
ing the same good wishes to fifty, which they
know can only be accomplished in one. After
that all is closed ; a wicket is left accessible for
any cardinal to enter, who is not yet arrived;
but every aperture is jealously guarded by faith
ful janitors, judges and prelates of various tribu
nals, who relieve one another. Every letter even

218 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

is opened and read, that no communications may
be held with the outer world. The very street
on which the wing of the conclave looks is
barricaded and guarded by a picquet at each
end ; and as, fortunately, opposite there are no
private residences, and all the buildings have
access from the back, no inconvenience is thereby
created.

While conclave lasts, the administrative power
rests in the hands of the Cardinal Chamberlain,
who strikes his own coins during its continuance ;
and he is assisted by three cardinals, called the
" Heads of Orders," because they represent
the three orders in the sacred college of bishops,
priests, and deacons. The ambassadors of the
great powers receive fresh credentials to the
conclave, and proceed in state, to present them
to this delegation, at the grille. An address,
carefully prepared, is delivered by the envoy,
and receives a well-pondered reply from the
presiding cardinal.

In the meantime, within, and unseen from
without, fervet opus. That human feelings, and
even human passions, may find their way into
the most guarded sanctuaries, we all know too
well. But the history of conclaves is far from
justifying the estimate made of them by many
prejudiced writers. There will indeed be, at all

LEO THE TWELFTH. 219

times, diversities of opinion on matters of eccle
siastical and civil polity. As to both, this is
sufficiently obvious. For, in the former, there
will be some who conscientiously desire things
to be ruled with a strong hand, and corrected by
severe measures, while others will be in favour
of a more gentle pressure, and a gradual reform.
Some will be inclined to yield more to the de
mands of the temporal power, and so prevent
violent collisions ; others will think it safer to
resist every smaller encroachment, that may
lead to greater usurpations. It may even hap
pen that a politico-ecclesiastical cause of division
exists. These may consider Austria as the
truest friend of religion, and best defender of the
Church ; while those may look on France as
most earnest and powerful, in attachment to the
faith.

And it must, indeed, be further observed, that
the election is of a prince as well as of a pontiff,
and that serious diversities of opinion may be
held, relative to the civil policy most conducive
to the welfare of subjects, and the peace even of
the world.

Thus, upon the three great divisions of papal
rule, the purely ecclesiastical, the purely civil,
and the mixed, there may be held, by men of
most upright sentiments and desires, opinions

220 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

widely different ; and when a choice has to be
made of one who has to work out his own prin
ciples, it is most natural that each elector will
desire them to be in harmony with his own.
But it is equally in conformity with ordinary
social laws, that, in spite of personal peculiarities
of ideas, men should combine in the unity of
certain general principles, and that some indi
viduals, more energetic or more ardent than
others, should become the representatives and
leaders of all consentient with them, and so come
to be reputed heads of parties, or even their
creators.

Such divisions in opinion will be more deeply
marked, and more inevitably adopted, after vio
lent agitations and great changes, such as had dis
tinguished the pontificate of Pius. The Church
and the State had almost had to be reorganised,
after such devastation as had completely swept
away the ancient landmarks. New kingdoms had
arisen which literally effaced the outlines of old
ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and even what before had
been a Catholic state had come under Protestant
dominion. Conventual life and property had
been annihilated in most of Europe ; canon law
had been abolished, church endowments had been
confiscated ; civil codes had been introduced at
variance with ecclesiastical jurisprudence ; the

LEO THE TWELFTH. 221

authority of bishops had been deprived of all
means of enforcing its decrees ; in fine, a state
of things had been produced totally different
from what the Catholic world had ever before
seen.

Many still alive remembered well the epoch
antecedent to these changes, and formed living
links with what had been, and what was justly
considered, the healthy condition of the Church.
They deplored the alteration ; and they believed
that too much had been conceded to the change
able spirit of the times. This would be enough
to form a serious and most deeply conscientious
party, in the highest and best sense of the word.
Others might just as conscientiously believe that
prudence and charity had guided every portion
of the late policy, and wish it to be continued
under the same guidance. Without exaggera
tion, we may allow such conflicts of principle to
have swayed the minds of many who entered the
conclave of 1823 ; while there were others who
had espoused no decided views, but had simply
at heart the greatest general good, and reserved
their final judgment to the period when they
must authoritatively pronounce it. From such
a condition of things it may happen that a papal
election will appear like a compromise. The
extreme views on either side must be softened:

222 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

the intermediate party will do this. Two thirds of
the votes are required for a valid election. If
this proportion could be commanded by one
section, it would cease to be a party, and, there
fore, where different opinions divide the body,
a moderate view, more or less conciliatory, will
prevail after a time ; and the choice will probably
fall on one who has lost the confidence of none,
but who has not taken a prominent part in public
affairs.

Such was, perhaps, the case in the election of
Leo. That of the reigning Pontiff is an instance
of unanimity and promptness almost without a
parallel.

It is not to the purpose of this volume to de
scribe the manner in which the business of the
conclave is carried on. Suffice it to say, that
twice a day, the cardinals meet in the chapel be
longing to the palace, included in the enclosure,
and there, on tickets so arranged that the voter's
name cannot be seen, write the name of him for
whom they give their suffrage. These papers are
examined in their presence, and if the number
of votes given to any one do not constitute the
majority, they are burnt in such a manner, that
the smoke, issuing through a flue, is visible to
the crowd usually assembled in the square out
side. Some day, instead of this usual signal to

LEO THE TWELFTH. 223

disperse, the sound of pick and hammer is heard,
a small opening is seen in the Avail which had
temporarily blocked up the great window over
the palace gateway. At last the masons of the
conclave have opened a rude door, through
which steps out on the balcony the first Cardinal
Deacon, and proclaims to the many, or to the
few, who may happen to be waiting, that they
again possess a sovereign and a Pontiff. On
the occasion of which we treat, the announce
ment ran as follows : —

" I give you tidings of great joy ; we have as
Pope the most eminent and reverend Lord,
Hannibal Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church
Delia Genga, Priest of the title of St. Mary's
beyond the Tiber, who has assumed the name
of Leo XII." 1

The news flew like electricity through the city,
almost as quickly as the cannon's roar pro
claimed it. This was on the 28th of September,
after a short conclave of twenty-five days.

On the 5th of October the imposing ceremony

1 Although it is a well-known fact that a Pope on his accession
takes a new name, by usage one already in the catalogue of his
predecessors, it is not so generally known that, in the signature
to the originals of Bulls, he retains his original Christian name.
Thus Leo XII. would continue to sign himself as " Hannibal,"
and the present Pope signs " John," at the foot of the most im
portant ecclesiastical documents. The form is, " Placet Joannes."

224 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

of Leo's coronation took place. For the first time
I witnessed pontifical High Mass in St. Peter's.
All was new : the ceremony, the circumstances,
the person. As has been before observed, the
infirmities of Pius VII. had prevented him from
officiating solemnly ; so that many of us who
had already passed several years in Rome had
not witnessed the grandest of pontifical functions.
But strange to say, though some of our body had
shortly before received holy orders from his
hands, in his private oratory, as I had not en
joyed that privilege, the countenance, from which
later I had to receive so many benign looks, was
all but new to me. And the peculiar moment
in which he stands painted, clear as an old
picture, in my memory, was one which can
only be once passed in each pontificate. As
the procession was slowly advancing towards
the high altar of the Vatican basilica, it
suddenly paused, and I was but a few feet
from the chair of state, on which, for the first
time, the Pontiff was borne. No other court
could present so grand and so overpowering a
spectacle. In the very centre of the sublimest
building on earth, there stood around a circle of
officers, nobles, princes, and ambassadors in their
dazzling costumes ; and within them the highest
dignitaries of religion on earth, bishops and

LEO THE TWELFTH. 223

patriarchs of the western and of the eastern
Church, with the sacred college in their em
broidered robes, crowned by heads, which an
artist might have rejoiced to study, and which
claimed reverence from every beholder. But
rising on his throne, above them, was he whom
they had raised there, in spite of tears and re
monstrances. Surely, if a life of severe discipline,
of constant suffering, and of long seclusion had
not sufficed to extinguish ambition in his breast,
his present position was calculated naturally to
arouse it. If ever in his life there could be an
instant of fierce temptation to self-applause, this
might be considered the one.

And wherefore this pause in the triumphant
procession towards the altar over the Apostles'
tomb, and to the throne beyond it ? It is to
check the rising of any such feeling, if it present
itself, and to secure an antidote to any sweet
draught which humanity may offer ; that so the
altar may be approached in humility, and the
throne occupied in meekness. A clerk of the
papal chapel holds up right before him a reed,
surmounted by a handful of flax. This is
lighted : it flashes up for a moment, dies out at
once, and its thin ashes fall at the Pontiff's feet,
as the chaplain, in a bold sonorous voice, chaunts
aloud : u Pater Sancte, sic transit gloria mundi"

Q

226 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

" Holy Father, thus passetli away the world's
glory ! " Three times is this impressive rite per
formed in that procession, as though to counter
act the earthly influences of a triple crown.

The Pope, pale and languid, seemed to bend
his head, not in acquiescence merely, but as
though in testimony to that solemn declaration ;
like one who could already give it the evidence
of experience. His eye was soft and tender,
moist indeed and glowing with spiritual emotion.
He looked upon that passing flash as on a symbol
which he deeply felt, as on the history of a whole
pontificate — of his own — not long to read. But
the calm serenity with which he seemed to
peruse it, the sincere acceptance of the lesson
stamped upon his features, allowed no suspieion
of an inward feeling that required the warning.
It seemed in most perfect harmony with his
inmost thoughts.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 227

CHAPTER II.

CHARACTER AND POLICY OF LEO THE TWELFTH.

YEARS of suffering, by lowering illness, had
robbed the Pope, already in his sixty-fourth year,
of many graces which adorned his earlier life.
He appeared feeble and fatigued, his features,
never strongly marked, wore upon them a sallow
tinge, though the marks of age were not deeply
engraven on them. His eye, however, and his
voice, compensated for all. There was a softness
and yet a penetration in the first, which gained at
sight affection and excited awe : which invited
you to speak familiarly, yet checked any impulse
to become unguarded. And his voice was
courteously bland and winning; he spoke with
out excitement, gently, deliberately, and yet
flowingly. One might hear him make severe
remarks on what had been wrong, but never in
an impetuous way, nor with an irritated tone.

On the occasion alluded to at the close of last
chapter, that look which had been fixed with a
mild earnest gaze upon the " smoking flax "
Q 2

228 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

swept over the crowd, as the procession moved
on ; and I should doubt if one eye which it met
did not droop its lid in reverence, or feel dim
before the brighter fire that beamed on it. This
was at least the impression which actual ex
perience in that moment suggested.

But besides these pleasing characteristics,
there was another, whicli admirably became his
exalted position. This was a peculiar dignity
and gracefulness, natural and simple, in his
movements, especially in ecclesiastical functions.
Being tall in person, the ample folds, and even
somewhat protracted length, of the pontifical
robes gave grandeur to his figure, though his
head might have been considered small; he
stood conspicuous among his attendants ; and
he moved with ease, and yet with stateliness,
from place to place. And then his countenance
glowed with a fervent look of deep devotion, as
though his entire being were immersed in the
solemn rite on which he was intent, and saw,
and heard, and felt nought else.

There were two portions of the sacred func
tion to which I have alluded, that displayed
these two gifts, immeasurably, indeed, removed
as they are from one another in quality, but
most admirably harmonising when combined.
The first of these acts was the communion at

LEO THE TWELFTH. 229

that his first pontifical celebration, and the first
at all witnessed by many. It is not easy to
describe this touching and over-awing cere
monial to one who has never witnessed it. The
person who has once seen it with attention and
intelligence needs no description. He can never
forget it.

In St. Peter's, as in all ancient churches, the
high altar stands in the centre, so as to form
the point from which nave, aisle, and chancel
radiate or branch. Moreover, the altar has its
face to the chancel, and its back to the front
door of the church. Consequently the choir is
before the altar, though, according to modern
arrangements, it would look behind it. The
papal throne is erected opposite the altar, that
is, it forms the furthest point in the sanctuary,
or choir. It is ample and lofty, ascended by
several steps on which are grouped, or seated, the
Pontiff's attendants. On either side, wide apart,
at nearly the breadth of the nave, are benches
on which assist the orders of cardinals, bishops,
and priests, on one side, and deacons on the
other, with bishops and prelates behind them,
and then between them and the altar two lines
of the splendid noble guard, forming a hedge to
multitudes, as varied in class and clan as
were the visitors at Jerusalem, at the first

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230 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

Christian Whitsuntide. Then beyond rises truly
grand the altar, surmounted by its sumptuous
canopy, which at any other time would lead the
eye upwards to the interior of St. Peter's peer
less crown, the dome hanging as if from heaven,
over his tomb. But not now. At the moment
to which we are alluding, it is the altar which
rivets, which concentrates, all attention. On its
highest step, turned towards the people, has just
stood the Pontiff, supported and surrounded by
his ministers, whose widening ranks descended to
the lowest step, forming a pyramid of rich and
varied materials, but moving, living, and acting,
with unstudied ease. Now in a moment it is
deserted. The High Priest, with all his attend
ants, has retired to his throne; and the altar
stands in its noble simplicity, apparently aban
doned by its dignified servants. And yet it is
still the object of all reverence. There is some
thing greater there than all that has just left it.
Towards it all look ; towards it all bend, or
kneel, and worship. There stand upon it, alone,
the consecrated elements, on the paten and in
the chalice. The sovereign Pontiff himself is
nothing in their presence: he is a man, dust and
ashes, there, in the presence of his Lord and
Maker.

The Cardinal Deacon advances to the front of

LEO THE TWELFTH.

the altar, takes thence the paten, elevates it, and
then deposits it on a rich veil, hung round the
neck of the kneeling Sub-deacon, who bears it to
the throne. Then he himself elevates, turning
from side to side, the jewelled chalice ; and with
it raised on high, descends the steps of the altar,
and slowly and solemnly bears it along the space
between altar and throne. A crash is heard of
swords lowered to the ground, and their scab
bards ringing on the marble pavement, as the
guards fall on one knee, and the multitudes bow
down in humble adoration of Him whom they
believe to be passing by.

But at this first celebration, and coronation of
the new Pope, there was a circumstance con
nected with this part of the function, that gave
it, in the eyes of many, a special interest. The
first Cardinal Deacon, to whom of right it be
longed to assist the Pontiff in his function, was
the ex-minister Consalvi. People who were
unable to estimate a strength of character
formed by better than worldly principles, were
keenly alive to this singular coincidence. It
was sufficiently known that the two had not
agreed on important matters ; it was confidently
reported, that Consalvi had opposed the election
of Leo ; it had been said, that before then, at
the Restoration in France, sharp words had
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been addressed by the powerful minister to the
prelate Delia Genga ; and the public, or the
world, or whatever it is called, took it for
granted that angry and even resentful passions
must rankle in the hearts of both, and could
not be concealed, even near the altar which
represented the Calvary of reconciliation. The
one considered by the common mind to have
been trampled under foot, borne on the chair of
triumph ; he who had humbled him walking by
him as his deacon, — what Lawrence was to
Xystus, — surely this was a position trying to
human infirmity in both. No doubt it would
have been easy, had this been the feeling on either
side, to have escaped from such mutual pain.

As it was, we are told by the biographer of Leo,
who moved in a very different sphere from mine
— in the diplomatic circle — that keen eyes and
observant minds were bent upon the Pontiff and
his deacon, to trace some, even casual, look of
exultation, or of humiliation, in their respective
countenances ; but in vain. Even if they
would have " suffered anything human " at
another time, each felt himself now engaged in
the service of a higher Master, and held his
soul in full allegiance to it. Without retaining
the slightest recollection of having for an instant
looked at the sublime action of that moment

LEO THE TWELFTH. 233

with any such profane thoughts, memory faith
fully represents its picture. Calm, dignified,
and devout, abstracted from the cares of public
life, forgetful of the world in which he had
moved, and utterly unconscious of the gazing
thousands of eyes around him, advanced the
aged minister, now the simple deacon, with
steady unfaltering step, and graceful move
ment. The man whom kings and emperors
had honoured with friendship ; from esteem for
whom the haughty and selfish George of Eng
land had broken through all the bonds of pre-
munire and penal statutes, and the vile eti
quettes of 300 years, by writing to him ; who
had glided amidst the crowds of courts un-
flurried and admired ; now shorn of power and
highest office, is just as much at home in his
dalmatic at the altar, and moves along unem
barrassed in his clerical ministry, with counte
nance and gait as becoming his place as though
he had never occupied another. Many a one
who had thought that Consalvi's natural post
was the congress-hall of Vienna, or the banquet-
room of Carlton House, would see in that hour
that the sanctuary of St. Peter's was as com
pletely his home. He looked, he moved, he
lived that day, as those who loved him could
have wished ; just as one would himself desire to

234 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

do on the last day of his public religious ap
pearance.

But the Pope himself, as he first rose, then
knelt at the deacon's approach, must have defied
the sharpest eye, that sought in his a gleam of
human feeling. Deep and all-absorbing devo
tion imparted a glow to his pale features ; and,
however his person might be surrounded by
civil pomp and religious magnificence, it was
clear that his spirit was conscious of only one
single Presence, and stood as much alone as Moses
could be said to be, with One other only besides
himself, on Sinai. From the hand of his humble
minister, he received the cup of holiest love;
their cheeks met in the embrace of peace, the
servant too partook, as is prescribed in the pon
tifical Mass, from the same chalice as the master.
Who can believe that, in that hour, they were not
together in most blessed union ?

After this, the new Pontiff was borne to the
loggia, or balcony, above the door of St. Peter's,
and the triple crown was placed upon his head by
the Cardinal Dean, the venerable Pacca. He then
stood up to give his first solemn benediction to
the multitudes assembled below. As he rose
from his chair to his full height, raised his eyes,
and extended his arms, then, joining his hands,
stretched forth his right hand and blessed, no-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 235

thing could exceed the beauty and nobleness of
every motion and of every act. Earnest and
from the heart, paternal and royal at once, seemed
that action which indeed was far more ; for every
Catholic there — and there were few else — re
ceived it as the first exercise, in his favour,
of vicarial power from Him whose hands alone
essentially contain "benediction and glory, ho
nour and power."

The promises of the new reign were bright
and spring-like. If the Pope had not taken any
part in public affairs, if his health had kept him
even, out of sight, during previous years, he now
displayed an intelligence, and an activity, which
bade fair to make his pontificate one of great
celebrity. But he had scarcely entered on its
duties, when all the ailments of his shattered
constitution assailed him with increased fury, arid
threatened to cut short at once all his hopeful
beginnings. Early in December he was so ill
as to suspend audiences ; before the end he was
considered past recovery. In the course of
January, 1824, he began to rally, against all
hope. On the 26th of that month, I find the
following entry in the journal before me : — "I
had my first audience of Leo XII. He was ill
in bed, as pale as a corpse, and much thinner
than last year, but cheerful and conversable. .

236 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

I said, ' I am a foreigner, who came
here at the call of Pius VII. six years ago ; .
. . . my first patrons, Pius VII., Cardinals
Litta, De Pietro, Fontana, and now Consalvi, are
dead.' (Here the Pope hung down his head,
shut his eyes, and put his hand on his breast
with a sigh.) 'I therefore recommend myself
to your Holiness's protection, and hope you will
be a father to me, at this distance from my coun
try.' He said he would," &c.

All Eome attributed the unexpected recovery
to the prayers of a saintly bishop, who was sent
for, at the Pope's request, from his distant see
of Macerata. This was Monsignor Strambi, of
the Congregation of the Passion. He came im
mediately, saw the Pope, assured him of his
recovery, as he had offered up to Heaven his
own valueless life in exchange for one so pre
cious. It did indeed seem as if he had transfused
his own vitality into the Pope's languid frame.
He himself died the next day, the 31st of Decem
ber, and the Pontiff rose like one from the grave.

As he recovered, his character and his policy
gradually developed themselves. In the first a
great simplicity, in the second an active spirit of
reform, was manifested. Of the first quality, as
exhibited in his personal habits, there will be a
better opportunity to say a few words. But it

LEO THE TWELFTH. 237

showed itself in other ways. His reign, even taking
into account its brief duration, will appear less
distinguished than those of his predecessors, or
successors, by the want of great public works.
This, however, is at least partly due to the
quality just mentioned in his character.

A peculiar feature in monumental Rome is the
chronicle which it bears on itself of its own
history. Sometimes the foreigner is pleased to
smile, or to snarl, as his temper may lead, at
what he considers a pompous inscription on a
trumpery piece of work : a marble slab, in a
ponderous frame, to commemorate a spur or
buttress in brick, reared against an ancient
monument. And yet, in several ways, this has
its uses. It is a traditional custom, which offers
many advantages. How do we trace out the his
tory of an ancient edifice so well as by the inscrip
tions found in, or near, its ruins, which preserve
the names of its restorers, or of those who added
a portico or fresh decorations ? How do we re
cover its form and architecture so accurately, as
from a medal on which it has been represented,
by the Emperor, or family, that built, or repaired,
or embellished it ? How, again, should we trace
out the dark history of mediaeval monuments,
their destruction by time or by fire, without
the rude verses, and cramped tablets that run

238 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

along them, or hang upon them ? And indeed
little should we have known of catacomb life and
story, had the early Christians been less talkative
in marble, and disdained to scratch the names of
the dead and the feelings of the living on plaster
or stone.

It is, therefore, the tradition of Rome to trans
mit " sermons in stones ; " and as we are now
thankful for the annals thus handed down to us
from ancient times, let us be glad likewise that
recent epochs have prepared similar advantages
for remote posterity. The style, too, of such
inscriptions follows the variations of taste, as
decidedly as do the monuments on which they
are carved. They are, in fact, themselves
artistic monuments. It saves, moreover, much
trouble to the visitor of a great city to see at
once, written in large capitals upon the front of
each lofty building, its name, age, founder, and
use. He cannot mistake an hospital for the war
office, nor an exchange for a court of justice.
He learns to what saints a church is dedicated ;
and if it possess an historical name, he at once
seizes it.

Were London ever again to become a ruin, a
few fragments of plaster might disclose the
whereabouts of a dissenting chapel, and a queer
old tablet might tell of some humble alms-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 239

houses, founded by an eminent merchant. The
remaining inscriptions would be the debris of
shop fronts and facias (whatever that means),
with a few brass plates bearing the names of a
dentist or a drawing-master, or, what Lord
Macaulay's sketchy New-Zealander might con
sider a leave for admission to some congenial
fancy sports of cudgel or fist, " Knock and King."

But, whether the practice be good or bad, Leo
XII. certainly did not adopt it. It was generally
understood that he would not allow his name to be
placed on any of his works. It was even said that,
having visited some hydraulic machinery on the
roof of St. Peter's, for raising water thither, and
being shown by the Cardinal archpriest of the
church, Galeffi, an inscription recording that it
was done in his pontificate, he desired it to be
removed.

Some great works, indeed, were undertaken in
his reign, but not finished ; so that the glory
which mankind usually awards to success is
associated with other names. Yet should he be
denied the merit of having commenced them?
and after all, the daring required to plan and
begin on a noble scale contains in it, or rather is,
the germ of the untiring patience required to
accomplish. One of these vast enterprises was
the rebuilding of the great Ostian basilica, con-

240 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

sumed by fire in the last days of his predecessor.
It was soon discovered that no single portion of
the edifice was secure, that not a fragment of
wall could be allowed to stand, Many were for
merely covering the centre altar and tomb with
a moderately sized church, and leaving the ample
nave to be a Palmyra in the wilderness. But
the Holy Father took a more generous view. In
spite of an exhausted treasury, and of evil times,
he resolved to begin the work of reconstruction
on the original scale of the immense edifice
which bore the name, in golden mosaic, of his holy
patron, St. Leo the Great. He appealed, indeed, to
the charity of the faithful throughout the world,
and he was generously answered. But the sums
thus collected scarcely sufficed for preliminary
expenses 1 : those who, like myself, can remember
the endless shoring up and supporting of every
part of the fire-eaten walls, and the magnificent
scaffolding that for strength would have borne
an army, and for ease and security of access
would not have imperilled a child, can easily
imagine what treasures were spent before a
stone was laid upon the ground. But, in the mean
time, the crow-bar and the mine were dislodging
huge masses from Alpine quarries, the blocks of

1 Fr. 1,600,000.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 241

granite which had to form the monolith shafts of
the giant columns for the nave and aisles, in all
four rows, besides the two, still more colossal,
which the Emperor of Austria gave to support
the triumphal arch leading to the sanctuary.
Each, when shaped on the mountain side, had to
be carried down to the sea, embarked in a vessel
of special construction, brought round Sicily into
the Tiber, and landed in front of the church.
But what the subscriptions, however generous,
did not reach, the munificence of succeeding
pontiffs has amply supplied. The work is now
finished, or nearly so ; and the collections made
form but a very secondary item in the budget of
its execution.

Another great and useful work, not fully com
pleted till the reign of his second successor, was
the repression of the ravages committed by the
Anio at Tivoli. That beautiful river, which
every traveller eagerly visits to admire it, not in.
tranquil course, but as broken and dashed to
pieces in successive waterfalls, used to gain its
celebrity at the expense of the comfort and
prosperity of the town through which it rushed.
The "prcecepa Anio " often forgot its propriety,
and refused to do as Thames was bid, " always
keep between its banks." As it pushed headlong
toward the spot where the traveller expected it,

242 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

in the Sibyl's cave, boiling and torturing itself
with deafening roar, it would at times swell and
burst its bounds, sweeping away the houses that
bordered it, with road, wall, and bridge, not only
hurling them below, but bearing them into a
huge chasm, in which it buried itself under
ground. In the mean time, above the deep cold
dell into which you dive to see these mysteries of
Anio's urn, raised high on a pedestal of sharply
cut rock, and seated as on a throne of velvet
verdure, towers, like a pinnacle projected on the
deep blue sky, the graceful temple of the Sibyl,
that most exquisite specimen of art crowning
nature, in perfect harmony of beauties. One of
those traitorous outbreaks of this classical stream
occurred in November, 1826. It was more than
usually destructive ; and the ravages committed,
and the damage inflicted, on the neighbouring
inhabitants were beyond the reach of local
resources. The Pope gave immediate orders for
effectual repairs, on such a scale as would give
security against future repetition of the calamity.
A great deal was done ; and, in the October of
the following year, he went, according to his
practice, without giving notice, to inspect the
progress of his works. It may well be imagined
what delight this unexpected visit caused to the
inhabitants of that poor, though industrious and

• LEO THE TWELFTH. 243

beautiful, city. They crowded around him, and
accompanied him to the cathedral, where, after
the usual function of benediction, he received in
the sacristy the clergy and people of the place.

Later, it was found necessary to take a bolder
and more effectual measure, that of cutting a
double and lofty tunnel through the hard tra
vertine rock ; and diverting the main stream
before it reaches the town. These cunicoli, as
they are called, form one of the grandest works
of Gregory the Sixteenth's pontificate. They are
worthy of Imperial Eome, bold, lofty, airy, and
perfectly finished. Instead of having diminished
the natural beauties of Tivoli, they have enriched
it with an additional waterfall of great elevation,
for they pour their stream in one sheet into the
valley beyond ; and when time shall have clothed
its border with shrubs, and its stones with moss,
it will not be easy to discern in the work the
hand of man, unless a well-timed and well-turned
inscription records its author. One of the an
nual medals of Gregory's pontificate not only
records, but represents it.

Here are instances of important undertakings
on which the name of Leo might have been
inscribed, had he so wished it. Nor was he
behind his predecessors in attending to the usual
and characteristic progress of whatever relates

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244 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

to art. The library, the museum, excavations,
public monuments, were as studiously attended
to, and as steadily improved or carried on, as at
any other time. So that his pontificate was by
no means a stagnant one ; though records of its
works may be sought in vain. Proofs will not
be wanting as we proceed.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 245

CHAPTER III.

CONTINUATION,

THE policy of the Pope manifested an active
spirit of reform. This pervaded every part of
his public government, from general administra
tion to minute details. He placed the finances
of the state under rigid administration, and
brought them into such a condition, that he was
able early to diminish taxation to no incon
siderable degree. Immediately after his corona
tion, he abolished several imposts ; in March
1824, and January 1825, still further reduc
tions were made in taxes which pressed unequally
on particular classes. If I remember right, some
of these abolitions affected considerably the
private revenues of the Pontiff. What rendered
the reductions more striking was, that they
were made in the face of considerable expenses
immediately expected, on occasion of the Jubilee.
But so far from these having disturbed* the
equilibrium of the financial system, the Pope
found himself able, at its close, that is, on

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January 1, 1826, to reduce the property-tax.
25 per cent throughout his dominions.

As it was the heaviest and principal of all the
taxes affecting land and whatever exists upon
it, this measure was the removal of an universal
burthen, and a relief to every species of industry
and of capital.

It was generally understood that the Pope
had another most highly beneficial measure in
contemplation ; and that, by the rigid economy
of which his treasurer Cristaldi was the soul, he
had nearly put by the whole sum requisite for its
completion. This was the repurchase of the
immense landed property in the Papal States,
settled, with equity of redemption, by the Con
gress of Vienna, upon the family of Beauharnais.
All the land which had belonged to religious
corporations, including many large and noble
monastic edifices, in several fertile provinces of
the north, had been given as a dotation to Prince
Eugene, with remainder to his family. The
inconveniences and evils resulting from this most
arbitrary arrangement were numerous and mani
fest. Not only was a gigantic system of ab
senteeism established perpetually in the heart of
the country, and a very large income carried
abroad, which otherwise would have been laid
out on the spot ; but an undue influence was

LEO THE TWELFTH. 247

thereby created over a very susceptible popula
tion, through the widely- scattered patronage held
by the administrators of the property. In every
greater town some spacious building contained
the offices of the Appannaggio, as it was called,
with a staff of collectors, clerks, overseers, land-
surveyors, and higher officers ; and in almost
every village was a branch of this little empire,
for managing the farms, and even smaller hold
ings, of former communities. Many of the
employed were, moreover, foreigners, whose
religion was in declared antipathy to that of the
natives ; and whose morals neither edified nor
improved the population.

To get rid of such an unnatural, and ano
malous state of things could not but be desirable
for all parties. To the Papal government, and
to the inhabitants of those provinces, it was a
constant eye-sore, or rather a thorn in the side.
An immense bulk of property, unalienable ex
cept in mass, mixed up with the possessions of
natives, checked the free course of speculation
in land, by exchange or purchase ; and kept up
the competition of overwhelming resources,
though far from well applied, in cultivation and
management. To the holder of the property,
its tenure must have been very unsatisfactory.
Situated so far from his residence and his other

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estates, it had to be managed by a cumbrous and
complicated administration, scattered over a
broad territory ; which, no doubt, swallowed up
a considerable share of profits.

It was, therefore, one object of Leo's financial
economy to redeem this valuable portion of his
dominions from the hand of the stranger. Had
his reign been prolonged a few years, he would
probably have succeeded ; but his successor
occupied the throne for a period too brief to
accomplish much ; and the revolution, which
broke out at the very moment of Gregory's
accession, soon absorbed the contents of the
treasury, and threw into confusion the finance
of the country for many years.

Still, at a later period (1845), he was able to
accomplish this work. Under the papal sanction
a company was formed at Rome, in which the
highest nobility took shares and direction, to
repurchase the entire Apanage. Sufficient means
were soon raised ; the predetermined sum was
paid ; the country was cleared of the stranger
power; and the property was easily sold to
neighbouring or other proprietors, on equitable
conditions. Gradual liquidation for the land
and the stock on it was permitted, and thus
many families have greatly increased their
former possessions.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 249

Besides improving so materially the financial
state of his dominions, the Pope turned his
attention to many other points of government.
Soon after his accession he published a new
code, or digest of law. This was effected by
the Motu proprio of October 5, 1824, the first
anniversary of his coronation. It is entitled
Reformatio Tribunalium, and begins by mention
ing that Pius VII. had appointed a commission,
composed of able advocates, to reform the mode
of procedure in 1816; and that, on his own ac
cession, he had ordered a thorough revision to
be made of their labours. After great pains
taken to correct and perfect it, it had been sub
mitted to a congregation of Cardinals, and ap
proved by them. But the Pope adds, that he
had been particularly anxious for the reduction
of legal fees and expenses, and that he was
ready to make any sacrifice of the public re
venues, necessary to secure " cheap justice " to
his subjects.

Education, in its highest branches, was another
object of his solicitude. The Papal States con
tained several universities, besides other places
of education which partook of the nature and
possessed the privileges of such institutions. By
the Bull " Quod Divina Sapientia" published
August 28, 1824, Leo reorganised the entire

250 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

university system. The universities of Rome
and Bologna composed the first class. Ferrara,
Perugia, Camerino, Macerata, and Fermo had
universities of an inferior grade. Those of the
first class had each thirty-eight, those of the
second seventeen, chairs.

To take Rome as the example of the first
class ; it was composed of theological, medical,
legal, and philosophical faculties, or colleges, as
they are called in Italy, to which was added
another with the title of the philological ; and
these were completely reconstructed. The
philosophical college comprehended not only
every branch of mathematics, but chemistry
and engineering. A youth could offer himself
for examination and receive degrees in this
faculty. And so in the philological department,
degrees could be taken in all the languages of
which chairs exist there, that is, in Greek,
Hebrew, Syro-Chaldaic, and Arabic. The mem
bers of the faculties were not merely professors
of the university, but men eminent in the pur
suits which they represented, in other institutions
of the city, or even in private life.

A special congregation was created for the
supervision of studies throughout the Papal
States, under the title of " The Congregation
of Studies ; " to which belongs the duty of

LEO THE TWELFTH. 251

approving, correcting, or rejecting, changes
suggested by the different faculties ; of filling
up vacancies in chairs ; and watching over the
discipline, morals, and principles, of all the
universities and other schools.

It is certain that a new impulse was given
to study by this vigorous organisation. Scholars
from every part of Italy, and from other
countries, not content with obtaining the annual
prizes, studied for the attainment of degrees,
which, besides being reputed honourable, formed
a valuable qualification for obtaining chairs, or
other preferment, at a distance. Among his
former auditors, within the compass of two years,
the wrriter can now reckon a Patriarch of Jerusa
lem, a Bishop, a Vicar-General of a distinguished
See, four professors in Universities, and one at
least in a great public institution. These he
has come across or heard of since ; others, from
their sterling qualities, he has no doubt have
advanced to high positions also.

But a more important improvement was made
by this constitution. With the exception of a
few theological professorships possessed, from a
long period, by religious orders, all the chairs
were thrown open to public competition.1 On a

1 " Professores in posterum deligantur per concursum." Tit. v,
No. 53.

252 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

vacancy by death or superannuation, notice was
to be given, and a day appointed for examination
in writing of such competitors as had sent in
satisfactory testimonials of character. The only
ground of exception and preference, was the
having published such a work on the matter of
the class, as might well stand in the place of
a mere examination paper, and as was allowed
to prove the author's competency for the profes
sorship to which he aspired.1 And, in addition
to this, the Pope made the emoluments of the
chairs better objects of ambition, by consider
ably increasing them. Indeed, he was most
generous in providing means for the higher
education of his subjects, lay and clerical.
While he restored to the Society of Jesus
the schools of the great Roman College, which
had been carried on by the secular clergy
since the time of Clement XIV., he founded
and endowe'd classes under the superintendence
of the latter at the old German College, where
education begins almost with its very rudiments
and reaches the highest point of ecclesiastical
erudition.

It will not be uninteresting to add, that
Leo XII. ordered the works of Galileo, and
others of a similar character, to be removed

1 Tit. v. No. 70.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 253

from the Index, in the edition published during
his pontificate.

Speaking of church matters, it would be
unjust to the memory of this Pope, not to
mention other improvements, which were the
fruits of his reforming spirit. He made a new
readjustment of the parishes of Rome. There,
as elsewhere, great inequalities existed in the
labour, and in the remuneration, of parish
priests. The richer quarters of the city, of
course, were comparatively more lucrative than
where all was misery; and yet the calls of
charity were most urgent in the last. Leo
made a new division of parishes ; of seventy-one
existing parish churches he suppressed thirty-
seven, some very small, or too near one another,
and retained thirty-four. To these he added
nine, making the total number forty-three.1 He
moreover equalised their revenues ; so that
wherever the income of the parish priest did
not reach a definite sum considered necessary for
a decent maintenance, this was made up from
other sources guaranteed by the Government.
Every one must approve of this just reform.
But it is only fair to add, that nothing approach
ing to riches was thus provided. Ecclesiastical
wealth is unknown in Rome, and the main-

1 Bull " Super Universum," Nov. 1, 1824.

254 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

tenance secured to a rector of a Koman parish
would be treated as a sorry provision for a
London curate.

There was an anecdote current at Eome,
when this new circumscription was going on.
The Pope, in his plans, intended the Chiesa
Nuova to be a parish church. This belongs to
the Fathers of the Oratory, founded, as all the
world now knows, by St. Philip Neri. It was
said that the superior of the house took, and
showed, to the Holy Father, an autograph
memorial of the Saint to the Pope of his day,
petitioning that his church should never be
a parish. And below it was written that
Pope's promise, also in his own hand, that it
never should. This Pope was St. Pius V.
Leo bowed to such authorities, said that he
could not contend against two saints, and altered
his plans.

Another ecclesiastical change introduced by
him affected religious corporations. Besides the
greater houses of different orders, there were
several small communities of branches from
them which seemed dying out, and in which it was
difficult to maintain full monastic observance.
These he took measures gradually to suppress,
by allowing the actual members to incorporate
themselves with similar or cognate establish-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 255

ments, or, by receiving no more novices, gra
dually to be dissolved. Such a measure had
of course its disapprovers ; but certainly it was
undertaken in a sincere spirit of enforcing, to
the utmost, religious observance.

It may interest many readers but little, to
learn the full extent which the reforming spirit
of this Pontiff contemplated. Yet even those
who affect indifference to whatever concerns
Kome and its sovereign bishops, will not refuse
evidence which proves in one of them the sincere
and efficacious desire to amend abuses, even in
matters apparently trifling.

Some of these reforms, certainly, were not
inspired by any desire of popularity. They were
decidedly unpopular, both with strangers arid
with natives.

For instance, he suppressed, for ever, one of
the most singular and beautiful scenes connected
with the functions of Holy Week. On the
evenings of Thursday and Friday, the church of
St. Peter's used to be lighted up by one marvel
lous cross of light, suspended from the dome.
This artificial meteor flung a radiance on the
altar, where all other lights were extinguished,
and even round the tornb of the Apostles, where,
on one evening, certain rites are performed ; it
illuminated brightly the balcony under the cupola,

256 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

from which venerable relics are exhibited, and it
sent a flood of light along every open space, tip
ping every salient point and coigne with radiance,
and leaving sharp-cut shadows beyond. It was
such an effect of chiaro-oscuro, — the most bril
liant cliiaro and the densest oscuro, — as every
artist loved to contemplate. But it was over-
beautiful : it attracted multitudes who only went
to see its grand effects. While pilgrims from
the south were on their knees crowded into the
centre of the church, travellers from the north
were promenading in the wondrous light, study
ing its unrivalled effects, peeping into the dark
some nooks, then plunging into them to emerge
again into a sunshine that had no transition of
dawn. And, doing all this, they talked, and
laughed, and formed chatting groups, then broke
into lounging sauntering parties, that treated
lightly of all intended to be most solemn. It
made one sore and irritable to witness such
conduct, nay ashamed of one's home manners,
on seeing well-dressed people unable to defer to
the sacred feelings of others, bringing what used
to be the behaviour in old " Paule's " into great
St. Peter's.

Unhappily for generations to come, it was con
sidered impossible to check this disorder, except
by removing its cause. The illuminated cross,

LEO THE TWELFTH. 257

which was made of highly burnished copper
plates studded with lamps, disappeared, at the
beginning of Leo's reign, by his orders ; and,
except when once renewed as a profane spec
tacle by the Republican leaders, it has been
allowed to lie at rest in the lumber-rooms of the
Vatican.

In the two papal chapels raised seats had been
long introduced, for the special accommodation
of foreign ladies, who could thence follow the
ceremonies performed at the altar. The privilege
thus granted had been shamefully abused. Not
only levity and disrespectful behaviour, not only
giggling and loud talking, but eating and drink
ing, had been indulged in within the holy place.
Remonstrance had been vain, and so had other
precautions of tickets and surveillance. One
fine day, the ladies, on arriving found the raised
platform no more; the seats were low on the
ground, sufficient for those who came to pray,
and join in the services, quite useless for those
who came only to stare in wilful ignorance, or
scoff in perverse malice.

This respect for God's house, the Pope extended
to all other churches. In each he had a Swiss
placed, to keep it in order, prevent artistic or
curious perambulations, at improper times, and
assist in repressing any unbecoming conduct.

s

258 THE LAST FOUE POPES.

Modesty of dress was also inculcated, and en
forced in church.

These were not popular measures, and made
Pope Leo XII. no favourite with travellers, who
claimed " a right to do what they liked, with "
what was not " their own." But far beyond the
suppression of what was generally popular, like
the luminous cross, went another measure, in ex
citing angry feelings among the people. Though,
compared with other nations, the Italians cannot
be considered as unsober, and the lightness of
their ordinary wines does not so easily produce
lightness of head as heavier potations, they are
fond of the osteria and the bettola, in which they
sit and sip for hours, encouraged by the very
sobriety of their drink. There time is lost, and
evil conversation exchanged ; there stupid dis
cussions are raised, whence spring noisy brawls,
the jar of which kindles fierce passions, and
sometimes deadly hate. Occasionally even worse
ensues : from the tongue, sharpened as a sword,
the inward fury flies to the sharper steel lurking
in the vest or the legging ; and the body, pierced
by a fatal wound, stretched on the threshold of
the hostelry, proves the deadly violence to which
may lead a quarrel over cups.

To prevent this mischief, and cure the social
and domestic evils to which the drink-shop, what-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 259

ever it may sell, everywhere leads, the Pope
devised the plan of confining them to what this
word more literally means. Wine was allowed
to be sold at the osteria, but not allowed " to be
drunk on the premises." Immediately within
the door was a latticed partition, through which
wine could be handed out, and money taken in ;
but there was no convenience allowed for sitting,
and but little for standing. This, it was hoped,
would have induced men to take their refresh
ment home, and share it with their families. And
so no doubt many did ; while an end was put to
drinking bouts, and the incentive of conversation
to continue them, as well as to much strife and
passion. It threw a portion of the crowd outside,
instead of their being sheltered within, and created
gatherings round the shop-door; but a sultry sun,
or a sharp shower, or a cold winter's night,
easily thinned them, and time would soon have
soothed the first resentment which there gave
itself vent. Nothing, however, could exceed the
unpopularity of this measure, of establishing the
cancelletti, as they were called ; so that they were
abolished immediately after the Pope's death.

These examples will show how little he valued
the pleasant breeze of popular favour, in doing
his duty. Some other actions of his will show
how this sternness, in remedying or preventing

g 2

260 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

the vices of the poor, was accompanied by kind
ness and charity. Soon after his accession, he
had one evening finished his audiences, when he
asked one of his domestic prelates, who lived out
of the palace, and is now a cardinal, if his
carriage was below. On his replying in the
affirmative, the Pope said he would go out in it :
put a cloak about him, descended by a private
staircase, and accompanied by his noble attend
ant, drove to the School of the Deaf and Dumb,
where an examination was being held. Such an
event had never been before knoAvn, and we may
imagine the delight and gratitude of pupils and
teachers at this most unexpected surprise. He
attended to the examinations, and then, with his
own hands, distributed the prizes which he had
brought with him.

This first instance was often repeated ; but it
was carried further, even to the lowest depths of
misery. He visited the prisons, not only to
overlook great improvements which he intro
duced into them, but to converse with their
unfortunate inmates, and relieve their sufferings.
In this manner he suddenly appeared at the
debtors' prison in the Capitol, inquired personally
into cases of hardship, and discharged several
prisoners, whose debts he took upon himself.
The hospitals also were unexpectedly visited, and

LEO THE TWELFTH. 261

their inmates consoled by the benign presence
and soothing words of their holy Pontiff.

Anxious, however, to provide for the just and
efficient administration of charitable funds, many
of which were misspent on worthless objects, or
wasted in the driblets of separate distributions,
he appointed a Commission of high ecclesiastics
and irreproachable laymen, to consolidate all the
alms-funds of Kome, and see to their equitable
distribution. This noble institution, known as
the " Congregazione dei Sussidj," was organised
by a Decree dated February 17, 1826. It is
followed by a beautiful instruction to parochial
committees, acting under this board, headed by
a gentleman and a " lady of charity," from
among the parishioners. Nothing can be more
sensible or more full of tender charity to the
poor, than this truly episcopal and paternal
address.

There was a community of Franciscan nuns,
exceedingly edifying by their strict observance,
miserably lodged in a steep narrow street behind
the Quirinal, unable to keep enclosure from
having no external church. The clergy of the
English and Scotch colleges often ministered to
their spiritual wants, and it has been the writer's
privilege to do so. One day, in the very heat of
a summer's afternoon, when every one, nuns

s 3

262 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

included, was taking the short repose of the
time of day, the rough pavement of the lane
quaked and rattled under the unusual dash and
crash of horses and carriages. An impatient
ring of the bell informed the community, who
could not see into the street, that all this hubbub
was on their account. " What is the matter ?
Who wants anything at this hour ? " the aroused
portress asked. " The Holy Father is come to
see you," was the answer. No doubt the Pope
quietly enjoyed the fright, and joy, all in one,
the amazement and confusion of the poor sisters,
at this most unexpected proof of paternal care.
He examined the house himself, and saw its
inadequacy ; and after familiarly and kindly
conversing with them departed, leaving them
full of consolation.

There was an excellent and ample convent
then unoccupied, near the beautiful fountain
familiar to travellers by the name of the Tar-
tarughe, that is, Tortoises. It had every re
quisite for an enclosed community, and was
attached to an elegant church, dedicated to St.
Ambrose, and supposed to occupy the site of
his abode. This Leo had put into thorough
repair and order; and when all was prepared,
and the day was fixed for taking possession, the
good nuns were waited upon by a number of

LEO THE TWELFTH. 263

ladies of the Eoman nobility, always ready for
such good actions, and taken in their carriages
to the Vatican, where a sumptuous collation, as
it appeared to them, was laid out for them, and
they received the Pope's benediction, and enjoyed
his amiable conversation for a considerable time.
They were then driven to their new home, whither
their furniture had been removed. It was
amusing to hear the nuns describe that day ; —
their bewilderment in going through the streets
after years of seclusion ; their bedazzlement and
awe in the Vatican, and its church, which they
visited ; their delight at finding themselves in so
spacious and convenient a house ; their relief after
a, to them, harassing and toilsome day, when
their kind visitors had all left, and they closed
their doors for ever to the outer world ; then,
lastly, their dismay at finding themselves without
a morsel of food, sick and faint as they were,
and unable, as they had been, through their
confusion and reverence, to partake of the papal
refreshments. This alone had been overlooked ;
and only one nun, who surely deserved to take
her place among the five wise Virgins of the
parable, had brought a small basket of homely
provisions, which, however, she willingly shared
with her famishing companions.

In this way did Pope Leo love to do good.

s 4

264 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

He liked to take people by surprise, and see for
himself; sometimes, it used to be said, with a
very different result from that in the instance
quoted.1

Before closing this chapter, it may be well to
throw together a few more actions, which are
connected with its subject, at least remotely,
and which could not, perhaps, be so well intro
duced elsewhere.

Having mentioned his attention to the progress
of art, as in harmony with the conduct of all his
great predecessors, it may not be amiss to specify
one or two instances. The Vatican library is
indebted to him for very valuable additions.
The principal one, perhaps, is the Cicognara col
lection of works relative to art. The nobleman
whose property it was is well known for a
magnificent history of sculpture ; a work which
unites his name with those of Winkelmann and
Agincourt, For the compilation of this book,
he had naturally collected most valuable and

1 A story used to be current, the truth of which cannot here be
vouched for, of his driving, at the same unreasonable hour, to the
church of a religious community of men, supposed to be not well
kept. He was in it before the members of the house were roused,
and knelt at the plain bench or genuflessorio, before the altar. He
then entered the house, and conversed affably as usual. As he
left, a delicate request was made for some memorial of his visit.
He replied that he had left one where he had knelt. On going
thither they found LEO XII. written on the dust which covered
the prie-dieu.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 265

expensive works on every department of art.
At his death, this collection was for sale. It
was purchased by the Pope, and given to the
Vatican library. Besides this, he added many
thousands of volumes to its rich stores, so that
new rooms had to be incorporated in its immense
range. The classical department was particu
larly increased.

It was during this pontificate also that the
germ of the now splendid Etruscan museum was
formed. For, the excavations and study of the
cities of tombs, which still remain on the borders
of Tuscany, belonging to the old Etruscan towns,
were peculiarly carried on under this Pope.

He showed himself, indeed, quite as great a
patron of art as any other of his predecessors ;
but he was most anxious that morality should
not be compromised by it. A group of statues
in the new gallery erected by his predecessor
disappeared after his first visit, as did gradually
other pieces of ancient sculpture offensive to
Christian modesty. When a magnificent collec
tion of engravings representing Canova's works
had been prepared, he purchased the plates at
an immense cost, I believe at Florence ; that he
might suppress and destroy such as were not
consistent with delicacy of morals.

Among his works must not be forgotten one

266 THE LAST FOUE POPES.

which is commemorated on one of his annual
medals, the beautiful baptistery which he added
to the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, adorned
with the richest marbles, and constructed with
exquisite taste.

But in conclusion, as illustrative of his good
nature and kindness, I will mention a singular
visit which he one day unexpectedly received.
It is well known that ladies are not admitted
into the portion of the palace occupied by the
Pope. He leaves his apartment for the museum
or library, when he receives them. During
hours of general audience the ante-rooms present
an appearance of considerable state. Each of
them has its body of guards, more for becoming
appearance than for any effectual services ; and
chamberlains, clerical and lay, are in attendance
in the inner chambers, as other classes of officers
are in the outer. But soon after twelve all this
formal court disappears; silence and solitude
reign through the papal apartments. Still the
person of the sovereign is not quite so badly or
weakly guarded as that of Isboseth, the son of
Saul, whose only portress used to nod over the
tray of corn which she was cleaning. Below,
indeed, there is a guard of Swiss, which might
allow any one to pass : but at the foot of the
staircase of the palace is a sentinel, and in the

LEO THE TWELFTH. 267

great royal hall is a small guard in attendance.
This would be the difficult pass ; for the next
room is at once the first of the pontifical apart
ments, occupied by a few servants, who, in the
warm hours of day, might easily be dozing.

Be all this as it may ; certain it is, that one
afternoon it was announced to the Pope, that a
lady had made her way past the guard, and had
penetrated far, before she was discovered, into
the penetralia of the palace. She had been of
course stopped in her progress, or she might have
found herself suddenly in the presence chamber,
or rather in the study usually occupied by the
Pontiff at that hour. What was to be done with
her ? was asked in dismay. Such an act of pre
sumption had never before been known ; there
was a mystery about her getting in : and this
was all the more difficult of solution, because the
intruder could not speak Italian, and it could
only be collected that she desired to see the
Pope. Let it be remembered that secret socie
ties were then becoming alarmingly rife, and
that domestic assassination of persons in high
places had been attempted, occasionally with
success. The Pope apprehended no such danger,
and desired the adventurous lady to be admitted
at once. He gave her a long audience, treating
her with his usual kindness. She was an Ame-

268 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

rican woman, who had been seized with a strong
charitable desire to convert the Pope from what
she considered his errors, and had thus boldly and
successfully attempted to obtain a conference with
him. That she did not change the Pope is certain ;
but that her opinion of him was changed there can
be no doubt. For she must have been charmed
with the gentleness and sweetness, as well as
nobleness and dignity, of his mien and speech.1

1 It was from Cardinal Pacca at the Villa Clementina, that we
heard this anecdote ; and he mentioned that the Pope asked her if
she had not believed him to have a cloven (or ox's) foot ; but she,
halting between her courtesy and her truthfulness, hesitated to
answer, especially as she had given furtive glances towards the hem
of the papal cassock. On which the Pope good-naturedly convinced
her that he was clearly shod on human and Christian principles.
The Cardinal added that, in his travels, some Protestant in con
versation with him did not deny his belief in that pious and orthodox
tradition ; upon which Pacca wittily observed, " If you believe
the Pope to be graced with a goat's foot, you must naturally ex
pect us cardinals to be garnished with a kid's. This, you see, is
not my case."

Leo had in his apartments a faithful companion, in the shape of
a most intelligent little dog. After his death, it was obtained by
Lady Shrewsbury, with whom many will remember it.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 269

CHAPTER IV.

THE JUBILEE.

THE great event of this pontificate undoubtedly
was the Jubilee of 1825. The first historical
celebration of this festival was in 1300 ; though
it was then said that a vague tradition recorded
a similar observance of the first year in the pre
ceding century. It seems as if a spontaneous
rush of pilgrims to Koine took place at the be
ginning of 1300 ; for the Bull by which it was
regulated was not issued till the 21st of February.
Boniface VIII. decreed that this should be a cen
tenary feast ; Clement VI., in 1342, reduced the
interval to fifty years ; then it was further
brought down to twenty-five. On this plan it
was regularly continued for three centuries, till
1775, when Pius VI. celebrated the Jubilee, pro
claimed by his predecessor the year before.

The regularity of period naturally produced
a systematic mode of proceeding, and regular
provisions for its good order. Accordingly, the
practice has been, that on Ascension Day of the

270 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

preceding year, the Pope promulgates the Holy
Year, or Jubilee. On Christmas Eve, he proceeds
in state to the great portico of the Vatican basi
lica; which, though only a vestibule, must needs
be of great dimensions, to afford a place for such
ceremonials, and the thousands who flock to wit
ness them.

The visitor of Rome may easily have noticed,
that, of the five great doors opening from the
porch into the church, the one nearest to the
palace is walled up, and has a gilt metal cross
upon it, much worn by the lips of pilgrims. On
inquiry, he will be told that it is the Porta santa,
or "Holy Gate," like the "King's Gate" at
Jerusalem, never to be opened except for most
special entrance. Only during the year of Ju
bilee is this gate unclosed ; and it is for the pur
pose of opening it, as symbolical of the com
mencement of the Jubilee, that the Pope has
descended to the vestibule. The immense church
is empty, for the doors have been kept closed all
day ; an innumerable multitude, beginning with
royal princes and descending to the poorest pil
grims from Southern Italy, eagerly wait in the
portico and on the steps without. After pre
liminary prayers from scripture singularly apt,
the Pope goes down from his throne, and, armed
with a silver hammer, strikes the wall in the

LEO THE TWELFTH. 271

door- way, which, having been cut round from its
jambs and lintel, falls at once inwards, and is
cleared away in a moment by the active San-
pietrini.1

The Pope, then, bare-headed and torch in
hand, first enters the door, and is followed by
the cardinals and his other attendants to the
high altar, where the first vespers of Christmas
Day are chaunted as usual. The other doors of
the church are then flung open, and the great
queen of churches is filled. Well does the cere
monial of that day remain impressed on my me
mory ; and one little incident is coupled with it.
Among the earliest to pass, with every sign of
reverence and devotion, through the holy gate,
I remember seeing, with emotion, the first cler
gyman wTho in our times had abandoned dignity
and ease, as the price of his conversion. He was
surrounded, or followed, by his family in this pil
grim's act, as he had been followed by them in
his " pilgrimage of grace." Such a person was
rare in those days, and indeed singular : we little
thought how our eyes might become accustomed,
one day, to the sight of many like him.

1 These are a body of workmen of " every arm," retained in
regular pay by St. Peter's, and wearing a particular dress. They
keep the church in its perfect repair and beautiful condition almost
without external help. Their activity and intelligence is quite
remarkable.

272 THE LAST FOUE POPES.

Some reader may perhaps ask in what, after
all, consists the Jubilee, what are its duties, and
what its occupations ? A Catholic easily under
stands it. It is a year in which the Holy See
does all it can to make Rome spiritually attrac
tive, and spiritually only. The theatres are
closed, public amusements suspended ; even pri
vate recreation pressed within the bounds of
Lenten regulations. But all that can help the
sinner to amendment, or assist the devout to
feed his faith and nourish his piety, is freely and
lavishly ministered. The pulpit is occupied by
the most eloquent preachers, awakening the con
science or instructing ignorance ; the confes
sionals are held in constant possession by priests
who speak every language ; pious associations
or confraternities receive, entertain, and conduct
from sanctuary to sanctuary the successive trains
of pilgrims; the altars are crowded by fervent
communicants ; while, above all, the spiritual
remission of temporal punishment for sin, known
familiarly to Catholics under the name of an
Indulgence, is more copiously imparted, on con
ditions by no means over easy. Eome, during
that year, becomes the attracting centre of Ca
tholic devotion, the magnet which draws it from
every side. But it does not exhaust it, or absorb
it ; for multitudes go back full of gratitude to

LEO THE TWELFTH. 273

heaven and to the Holy See for the blessings
which they feel they have received, and the edi
fying scenes in which they have been allowed to
partake.

However, before endeavouring to recall to
memory a few of these, it may be well to de
scribe some of the preparations for them. To
the Pope's own resolute and foreseeing mind,
perhaps, alone was due the Jubilee of 1825.
There should naturally have been one held the
first year of the century. But the calamities of
the times, and the death of Pius VI. had effec
tually prevented its observance. Leo intimated
his intention to proclaim it in due course, for its
proper year ; and met only opposition on every
side.

At home, his Secretary of State feared the
introduction into the provinces and into Eome
of political conspirators and members of secret
societies ; who, under the cloak of the pilgrim's
scalloped cape, might meet in safety to plot de
struction. The Treasurer was terrified at the
inroad which extra expenses would make into his
budget, and protested against financial embarrass
ments that he foresaw would ensue. Yes, reader !
marvel not ; you who have possibly been taught
that a Jubilee is one of the happiest devices of
Roman astuteness for filling an exhausted ex-

274 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

chequer ; a sort of wholesale dealing in spiritual
goods, purchased by temporal ones, usually only
doled out in retail ! If such has been the doc
trine taught you, and believed by you, if nothing
else will undeceive you, may you live till next
Jubilee, and may you have heart to visit it, and
satisfy yourself with your own eyes, whether
Rome is the giver or the receiver ; on which side
turns the balance of the accounts between the
prodigality of her charity and the indigence of
her clients. But we shall see.

From abroad, innumerable difficulties were
raised. Naples was naturally the power most
interested in the coming festival, both from
proximity of place, from traditional feelings, and
from the easy propensity of its population to
abandon home, either in quest of labour or for
pilgrim purposes. Its minister was instructed
to raise every difficulty, and even to engage the
representatives of foreign powers in active oppo
sition. Austria, still under the influence of
Josephine ideas, was at the best cold : and the
German Protestant powers declared open hos
tility. Yet in the face of all these obstacles,
Leo's only answer was, " Nevertheless the Jubilee
shall be ! " And it was.

On Ascension Day he issued the Bull of pre
paration, clear, bold, and cheering, as a silver

LEO THE TWELFTH. 275

clarion's note. Seldom has a document pro
ceeded even from the Holy See more noble and
stately, more tender and paternal. Its language,
pure, elegant, and finely rounded, flows with all
the greatness of Roman eloquence ; yet in tone,
in illustration, and in pathos, it is thoroughly
Christian, and eminently ecclesiastical. It speaks
as only a Pope could speak, with a consciousness
of power that cannot fail, and of authority that
cannot stray. Its teaching is that of a master,
its instruction that of a sage, its piety that of
a saint. The Pope first addresses every class
of men who recognise his spiritual sovereignty,
entreating kings to put no hindrance in the
way of faithful pilgrims, but to protect and
favour them, and the people readily to accept
his fatherly invitation, and hasten in crowds to
the banquet of grace spread for them. When,
after having warmly exhorted those who, in ad
dition, recognise his temporal dominion, he turns
to those who are not of his fold, those even who
had persecuted and offended the Holy See, and
in words of burning charity and affectionate
forgiveness he invites them to approach him and
accept him as their father too, his words bring
back the noble gesture with which he threw open
his arms, when he gave his first public bene
diction, and seemed to make a way to his heart

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276 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

for all mankind, and then press them to it in a
tender embrace.

From the moment this decisive document was
issued, some preparations were begun, and others
were more actively pursued.

The first class of these preliminaries were of a
religious character. Mission^ or courses of
stirring sermons, calling on sinners to turn from
their evil courses, were preached, not merely in
churches but in public squares — for the churches
did not suffice — so to cleanse the city from sin,
arid make it a holy place for those who should
come to seek edification there. In the immense
and beautiful square known to every traveller as
Piazza Navona, a concourse of 15,000 persons was
said to be present, when the Pope, on the 15th of
August, went to close these services by his bene
diction. It required stentorian lungs to address
such a crowd, arid be audible ; fortunately these
were to be found, in contact with a heart full of
goodness and piety, in the breast of the Canonico
Muccioli. When this zealous man died, still
young, a few years later, hundreds of youths
belonging to the middle classes, dressed in decent
mourning, followed in ranks their friend to his
sepulchre. The same tribute of popular affection
was exhibited later still, in 1851, to the amiable
and edifying Professor Graziosi.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 277

But to return, the Pope took many by sur
prise, when they saw him, opposite, listening to
the Canon's closing sermon from the apartments
of the Russian embassy, in the Pamphili palace.
Thence he descended, accompanied by his hetero
dox host and admirer, the Chev. Italinski, to a
throne erected for him in the open air.

In addition to this spiritual preparation, ma
terial improvements were not forgotten. A
visitation of churches, oratories, and all religious
institutions had been begun, in virtue of which
all irregularities in their arrangements were
corrected, dilapidations were repaired, ornaments
restored, and old or decayed objects renewed.
Considerable expense was thus incurred by some
of the greater, and older, basilicas.

But more serious still were the preparations
necessary to lodge and feed the crowds of pil
grims who were expected. To prevent any
alarm on this head, on the part of foreign
princes, the Pope sent word to the embassies that
he did not wish them to make any provision for
their poor countrymen, as he took upon himself
this duty of hospitality. He observed that he
would rather pawn the church plate of Rome,
than be wanting in its Discharge.

There is in Rome a large house, attached to a
Church of the Holy Trinity, expressly established

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278 THE LAST POUE POPES.

for the charitable entertainment of pilgrims.
Hence it is called La Trinitd dei pellegrini. It
is divided into two sides, one for men and the
other for women. The ground floor is laid out
in immense refectories, above which are dormi
tories equally vast. During Holy Week there
is a certain amount of activity in the house ;
as a considerable number of pilgrims then
arrive, perhaps half a refectory, and as much
dormitory, may be occupied. During the rest
of the year, the establishment sends a huge car
riage, now rather modernised, to the hospitals,
to bring away all discharged patients ; to whom,
under the title of convalescents, it gives three
days' hospitality, and leisure often to look out
for some occupation.

The revenues of the house, the fruit of charity,
are tolerably abundant ; so that it used to be
said, that, in the interval between two jubilees,
they were employed, the first half of the time in
paying off the liabilities incurred, and the second
in accumulating for the coming celebration. But,
in addition to the accommodation permanently
secured at home, the charity provided immense
lodging room along the wide and airy corridors
of religious houses. In the month of November,
our confraternity of the Holy Trinity, to which
many English belong, lodged and fed for three

LEO THE TWELFTH. 279

days, 23,090 men and 15,754 women, in all
38,844 persons ; besides 350 members of branch
confraternities. From this some idea may be
formed of the scale on which hospitality was
exercised during the entire year.

The order observed was the following. The
pilgrim, on his arrival at the house, had his papers
of pilgrimage examined, and received his ticket
of hospitality. In the evening the new comers
were brought into a hall surrounded by raised
seats, and supplied with an abundant flow of hot
and- cold water. Then, after a short prayer, the
brothers of the confraternity, or the sisters in
their part of the house, washed their feet way
worn and sore by days or weeks of travel ; and
the ointments of the apothecary, or the skill of
the surgeon was at hand, to dress wounds and
bandage sores. This was no mere ceremony, no
symbolical rite ; but one saw and felt how in
olden times " to wash the feet of the saints,"
when they asked for a night's harbour, was a
real act of charity worthy of the Christian
widow. It was evidently an exquisite relief to
the jaded wayfarer.

Thus refreshed, the pilgrims joined the long
procession to supper. A bench along the wall,
and a table before it, railed off to prevent the
pressure of curious multitudes, were simple ar-

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280 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

rangements enough, but the endless length of
these, occupied by men of every hue, and many
languages, formed a striking spectacle. Before
each guest was his plate, knife, fork, and spoon,
bread, wine, and dessert. A door in each refec
tory communicated with a r^pmy hall, in which
huge cauldrons smoked with a supply of savoury
soup sufficient for an army. This was the post
of honour; a cardinal or nobleman, in the red
coarse gown and badge of the brotherhood, with
a white apron over it, armed with a ladle, dis
pensed the steaming fluid into plates held ready ;
and a string of brothers, at arm's length from
one another all round the refectory, handed for
ward the plates with the alacrity of bricklayers'
labourers, and soon furnished each hungry ex
pectant with his reeking portion. Two addi
tional rations were served out in the same
manner. The guests fell to with hearty good
will, and generally showed themselves right good
trencher-men. Opposite each stood a serving
man, who poured out his wine, cut his bread,
changed his portions, and chatted and talked with
him. Now these servitors were riot hired, but all
brethren of the confraternity ; sometimes a royal
prince, generally some cardinals, always bishops,
prelates, noblemen, priests, gentry, and artificers.
Then, occasionally, a sudden commotion, a wavy

LEO THE TWELFTH. 281

movement through the crowd would reach from
the outer door, along the passage to the lavatory,
just as prayers were beginning. All understood
what it meant. The Holy Father was corning
without notice. Indeed none was required ; he
came simply to do what every one else was going
to do, only he had the first place. He knelt
before the first in the line of pilgrims, taking his
chance of who it might be. If any priest were
in the number, he was naturally placed first ;
and he would probably feel more sensitively than
a dull uneducated peasant, the honour, not un
mixed with humiliation, of having so lowly an
office discharged, in his person, by the highest of
men on earth. And then, he would find himself
waited on at table, by that master who coining
suddenly in the night upon his servants, and
finding them watching, knows how to gird him
self, and passing along, ministers to them.

It was said that among the poor pilgrims came
in disguise persons of high rank, who, after
they had passed their triduum of charity among
the poorest, faring as they, and receiving the cup
of water as disciples in Christ's name, resumed
their place in society, and remained in Koine as
visitors, without any indelicate recognition. It
was whispered that one couple, a German and his
wife, were of even higher blood. Indeed, I re-

282 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

member one used often to remark, that the ele
gant language, the polished manners, and the
half-easy, half-embarrassed air of some pilgrims,
bespoke a different class from that of the general
ran. But one thing is very noticeable on all
such occasions — the. naturalness, and absence of
embarrassment (so well expressed by the Italian
word disinvoltura), with which these poor people
received the attentions of persons whom they
knew to be of such superior station, civil or
ecclesiastical. While they allowed all menial
service to be performed by them, without awk
ward bashfulness, or any attempts to prevent it,
they accepted them with an humble thankfulness
and a natural grace that showed how clearly
they appreciated the motive which prompted
their being rendered. They manifestly under
stood, that not merely to them, but to Him also
whom the poor represent, were they offered.

Supper ended, and its baskets of fragments
for the morrow's breakfast put by, the long file
proceeded up-stairs to bed, singing one of the
short religious strains in which all Italians can
join, a sort of simultaneous, yet successive,
chorus winding along, stunning to your ears at
the spot where you chanced to stand, alternately
swelling and fading away, as it came from one
or other side of the stairs, then dying away in

LEO THE TWELFTH. 283

the deep recesses of the dormitory above, yet
seeming to be born again and grow at the be
ginning of the line, still unemerged from the
supper-hall.

During the day, the pilgrims were conducted
in bands from sanctuary to sanctuary ; were
instructed at stated times ; were directed to the
performance of their higher religious duties, by
frequenting the Sacraments ; and at the close
of the three days were dismissed in peace, and
returned home, or remained in the city at their
own charge.

The Holy Father was the soul of all this work.
To see him, and carry back his blessing, was of
course one of the most highly coveted privileges
of a pilgrimage to Rome. Hence he had repeat
edly to show himself to the crowds, and bless
them. They were instructed to hold up what
ever they wished to have blessed ; and certainly
scarcely ever did Rome present a more motley
crowd, arrayed in every variety of costume, from
the sober, and almost clerical, dress of German
peasant, to the rainbow hues of the Abruzzi or
Campania. But the Pope manifested his hearty
sympathy in his Jubilee by a more remarkable
proof than these. He daily served in his own
palace twelve pilgrims at table, and his bio
grapher tells us that he continued this practice

284 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

throughout his reign.1 To his accompanying
them I well remember being an eye-witness. For
one of such delicate health and feeble frame it
was no slight undertaking to walk from the
Vatican to the Chiesa Nuova ; but to perform
this pilgrimage barefoot, with only sandals on
his feet, was more than any one was prepared
for. He was preceded by the poor, surrounded
and followed by them. Tears flowed on every
side, and blessings were uttered deep and warm.
His look was calm and devout, and abstracted
from all around. It reminded every one forcibly
of St. Charles at Milan, humbling himself by
a similar act of public devotion, to appease the
Divine wrath manifested in the plague.

It must not be thought that the celebration of
the Jubilee completely monopolised the attention
of the Pope. No year of his reign was more
actively occupied than this, with important
affairs, especially abroad. But one great and
beneficial improvement within may be traced to
this "holy year." The Pope was determined
that the roads should be safe for his poor pil
grims, and took such active measures, in concert
with neighbouring states, that the system of
brigandage was completely extinguished. The
last act, however, of its destruction deserves

1 Chevalier Artaud, vol. ii. p. 48.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 285

recording. A good old priest, the Abbate Pel
legrini, Archpriest of Sezze, ventured alone to
the mountains which formed the head-quarters
and stronghold of the banditti, unauthorised
and uninvited. Without pass-word besides the
expression of his charity; without a pledge to give
that his assurances would be confirmed ; without
any claim, from position, to the fulfilment of his
promises, he walked boldly into the midst of the
band, arid preached to them repentance and
change of life. They listened: perhaps they
knew that active measures were being planned
for their extermination ; more probably the very
simplicity and daring of the feeble unarmed
peace-maker touched their rude natures, and
they wavered. But they were among the most
dreaded of their race, nay, the most unpardon
able, for some of them had been the assassins of
the Terracina students. One of them was their
chief Gasbarone, who owned to the commission
of many murders. What hope could they enter
tain of pardon ? The old man took upon himself
to give his priestly word that their lives would
be spared : they believed that word, and sur
rendered to him at discretion. The city of
Sezze was astonished at beholding this herd of
wolves led in by a larnb. All admired the
heroic action, the self-devoting charity of this

286 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

worthy ecclesiastic, who sought no reward, and
who might have received a bullet or a stab for
his first welcome from those desperadoes, but
had done in a few hours what troops and states
men, in combined action, had not been able to
effect in years. His word was respected, his
promise fulfilled ; and these brutal men are
dying out their lives of expiation in the fortress
of Civita Vecchia.

Before closing this chapter it may riot be out
of place to add a few words on a subject con
nected with the jubilee. The college, so long
the writer's home, where he gathered the recol
lections embodied in this volume, owed its exist
ence to this religious institution. It is true
that the Saxon King Ina had opened a home to
his countrymen visiting the shrine of the apos
tles ; and this was continued in after ages. Still
nothing like an hospice for English pilgrims
existed till the first great Jubilee, when John
Shepherd and his wife Alice, seeing this want,
settled in Rome, and devoted their substance to
the support of poor palmers from their own
country.1 This small beginning grew into suf-

1 In this Jubilee several English pilgrims are supposed to have
perished by an accident on the bridge of St. Angelo. A mule,
kicking in the crowd, caused a pressure against the wooden
parapets, which gave way, and a great number of persons were
precipitated into the river and drowned.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 237

ficient importance for it to become a royal
charity ; the King of England became its patron,
and named its rector, often a person of high
consideration. Among the fragments of old
monuments scattered about the house by the
revolution, and now collected and arranged in a
corridor of the college, is a shield surmounted
by a crown, and carved with the ancient arms
of England, lions or lionceaux, and fleur-de-lis,
quarterly. This used formerly to be outside
the house, and under it was the following quaint
inscription, the original of which is lost. A
copy, however, of it has been obtained from old
transcripts, and is painted under the arms, in
the original character —

"£>aec conjuncta buo,
©ucceffu§ bebtta legt,
3(nglta bant, regt,
grancia (Tgna, fito*"

y/8aurcntiu§ Glance me fecit

Which may be rudely translated —

" These arms, whose award
From succession springs,
France with England brings
To their common Lord."

" Laurence Chance executed me
1412."

288 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

In the archives of the college are preserved the
lists of the pilgrims who, from year to year,
visited Rome ; and as the country or diocese
from which they came is recorded, it is a
valuable document, often consulted for local or
family history. Many of the pilgrims were
youths of good connections, students at Bologna,
who, in their holidays or at the close of their
course, chose to visit Rome as pilgrims in formd
pauperum, and received hospitality in the
" English hospital of St. Thomas." This was
extended to a longer period than is granted to
Italian pilgrims. Many other nations had also
their " hostelries " to receive their countrymen,
especially at those periodical seasons

" Whan longan folks to gon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken strange strondes."

The rupture of Henry VIII. with the Holy See
put an end to the influx of pilgrims from
England to Rome; and arrivals pretty nearly
ceased under Elizabeth. In the meantime
three different English establishments had been
united, — those of the Holy Trinity, of St.
Thomas, and of St. Edward, — on the spot where
the present college stands; and a church had
been built, the great altarpiece of which, yet
preserved, commemorated the formation of this

LEO THE TWELFTH. 289

coalition. A bishop, and several other refugees
for the faith, lived there till Gregory XIII. , in
1579, converted the hospital into a college, as
then more needed, with the condition that should
the religious position of England ever change,
the institution should return to its original pur
pose. May the happy ornen be accomplished,
but without any necessity for its proposed con
sequence !

The mention of this place naturally awakens
recollections, in which it is associated with the
principal subject of this work. The English
College and Leo XII. blend together in pleasing
harmony among the remembrances on which the
writer can look back most gratefully.

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290 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER Y.

THE POPE AND THE ENGLISH COLLEGE,

THE recollections of this volume commenced in
1818; the great event of the Jubilee brings us
down to 1825. This is a long interval in the
season of youth. Its obscure and noiseless
duties must, during it, work a change in mind,
in feeling, in habits, perhaps in state. So it
was here. The aim of years, the goal of long
preparation, the longed for crown of unwavering
desires, the only prize thought worthy of being
aspired to, was attained in the bright Jubilee
spring of Rome. It marks a blessed epoch in a
life, to have had the grace of the priesthood
superadded to the exuberant benedictions of
that year. And it was not in usual course ; it
came of lingering and lagging behind others.
Every school-fellow had passed on, and was
hard at his noble work at home, was gaining a
crown in heaven, to which many have passed ;
and the loiterer was enjoying, simply enjoying,
the fullness of that luxury, spiritual and intel-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 291

lectual, which he and they, so far, had only
sipped.

The life of the student in Rome should be one
of unblended enjoyment. If he loves his work,
or, what is the same, if he throws himself con*
scientiously into it, it is sweetened to him as it
can be nowhere else. His very relaxations,
become at once subsidiary to it, yet most de^
lightfully recreative. His daily walks may be
through the field of art ; his resting-place in
some seat of the Muses ; his wanderings along
the stream of time, bordered by precious monu*
ments. He can never be alone-; a thousand memo
ries, a thousand associations accompany him, rise
up at every step, bear him along. There is no
real loneliness in Rome now any more than of
old, when a thoughtful man could say that " he
was never less alone than when alone." Where
would one seek solitude more naturally than in
the very cemetery of a cemetery, where the
tombs themselves are buried, where the sepul
chres are themselves things decayed and moul
dering in rottenness ? Now in Rome such places
exist, yet are peopled still, thronged as streets
elsewhere are. That heap of mould contains as
yet a whole family, many generations of it ; the
Nasones, for instance, to which Ovid belonged,
or an entire tribe, like the Freedmen, the Libertj.

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292 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

of Augustus, slaves gathered from all climates
and moulded into one household, provided not
only with board and lodging in life, but also
with cinerary accommodation after death, — with
amphorae in the one, and with urns in the other,
— or, one might say, with ollce in both. Or
there, in that labyrinth under ground, still in a
small space lie crowded the great band of noble
Scipios, the founders of Rome's transmarine
empire, and preparers of her higher civilisation,
who thought it a glory to crown the sepulchral
inscriptions recording the highest titles of con
quest abroad by the bust of Ennius, the gentle
father of poetry at home. As Cicero was in
vited to hear them speak the wisest of heathen
morality, the kindliest whisperings of an un-
hoping consolation, so will they not allow us
to be lonely whom a higher law teaches to pity,
yet not disdain to learn from them. How
easily, indeed, does the mind rise here to a
higher thought. If these monuments show that
the greatest men considered it the greatest glory
to have inscribed on their sepulchral slabs, not
the name of their own country to distinguish
them, but titles derived from distant regions
which they conquered ; if Scipio cared more to
be called the Spanish, or the African, than
the Roman ; and if, after him, generals and

LEO THE TWELFTH. 293

emperors coveted the surnames of the Parthic,
the Germanic, or the British ; what must be the
higher glory of him who not only absorbed all
these titles in himself, but crowned them all by
that of the Empire itself, which, deemed by
those conquerors invincible, he subdued ? Such
was the Galilean fisherman, who gained the title
of " the Roman," the true " Pontifex Maximus,"
which he has so transmitted to his successors,
that " Roman Pontiff" and " Successor of Peter "
have become synonymous.

But to return : the student at Rome so
peoples his thoughts with persons, fills his
memory with things seen and heard, that his
studies are, or ought to be, turgid with the
germs of life, rich as the tree in early spring in
the assurances of future bloom and fruit. On
the darkest page of abstruse theology there will
shine a bright ray from an object perhaps just
discovered ; but on the lighter one of history and
practical doctrine there literally sparkle beams
of every hue, like flowers reflected in a running
stream, from every monument and every record
of the past there present, so as to make it
truly an illuminated page. The very portrait
of every heathen arid every Christian emperor is
distinct before the mind from numerous effigies ;
the Rome of his time is traced in ruins, some-

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294 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

times in standing edifices ; his actions often
are written on arch or pillar, and many spots
are signalised as having been the scenes of
some special occurrences connected with his
life. Then the whole of Christian life and
history legible still, even to the traditional por
traiture of apostles, martyrs, and their Head,
traced from catacomb to basilica and cloister,
makes tire history of the Church, her dogmas,
pm-cticeS", arid vicissitudes as vivid to the eye as
any modern illustrated book can make a record
of the past. Indeed, the monumental Church
history, by the learned Bianehini, in tables of each
successive reign or age, is a volume well known
to the learned, as compiled upon this principle.

If such be the student's enjoyment of Rome,
exclusive of what art and other resources can
supply, and indeed confined to the sphere of his
own pursuits, what must be the golden oppor
tunities of one who, freed from the yoke of a
repressive discipline, and left to follow the bent
•of his own inclinations, may plunge into the
depths over which he was only allowed to skim
the surface, may drink long deep draughts from
the fountains which he could only taste? The
recollection of them will come back, after many
years, in images of long delicious strolls, in
musing loneliness, through the deserted ways of

LEO THE TWELFTH. 295

the ancient city; of climbings among its hills,
over ruins, to reach some vantage ground for
mapping the subjacent territory, and looking
beyond on the glorious chains of greater and
lesser mountains, clad in their imperial hues of
gold and purple ; and then perhaps of solemn
entrance into the cool solitude of an open
basilica, where your thought now rests, as your
body then did, after the silent evening prayer,
and brings forward from many well-remembered
nooks, every local inscription, every lovely monu
ment of art, the characteristic feature of each, or
the great names with which it is associated.
The Liberian speaks to you of Bethlehem and
its treasured mysteries ; the Sessorian of Calvary
and its touching relics. Baronius gives you his
injunctions on Christian architecture inscribed,
as a legacy, in his title of Fasciola ; St. Dominic
lives, in the fresh paintings of a faithful dis
ciple1, on the walls of the opposite church of
St. Xystus ; there stands the chair, and there
hangs the hat of St. Charles, as if he had just
left his own church, from which he calls him
self, in his signature to letters, " The Cardinal
of St. Praxedes ; " near it, in a sister church,
is fresh the memory of St. Justin Martyr,

1 Pere Besson.
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296 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

addressing his Apologies for Christianity to
heathen emperor and senates, and of Pudens
and his British spouse; and, far beyond the
city gates, the cheerful Philip is seen kneel
ing in St. Sebastian's, waiting for the door
to the Platonia to be opened for him, that he
may watch the night through, in the martyrs'
dormitory.

Thus does Rome sink deep and deeper into
the soul, like the dew, of which every separate
drop is soft and weightless, but which still finds
its way to the root of everything beneath the
soil, imparting there, to every future plant, its
own warm tint, its own balmy fragrance, and
its own ever rejuvenescent vigour. But this is
only in its outward life. It would be difficult
to describe what may be learned by one who
will search its inward being, its innumerable
repositories of art, its countless institutions of
charity, its private, as well as public, resources
for mental culture, in libraries, in museums, in
academies, in associations for every object, from
the discussion, bi-weekly, of theological themes,
to the hebdomadal dissection of a line of Dante.*
Who has remained in Rome, for his intellectual
cultivation, and does not remember quiet hours

1 There used to be, perhaps there still is, a select literary
society, meeting weekly to read papers exclusively on Dante.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 297

in one of the great public libraries, where noise
less monks brought him, and piled around him,
the folios which he required ; and he sat as still
amidst a hundred readers as though he had been
alone ?

But there is an inner apartment in this great
house, and he who may have penetrated into it,
the very penetrate, will look back upon the time
with a pleasurable regret. Imagine him seated
alone in the second hall of the Vatican library,
round which are ranged now empty desks, for
it is vacation time, while above is a row of
portraits of eminent librarians, many distin
guished for their learning more than for the
purple. A door opposite gives a view of the
grand double hall beyond, divided by piers.
The cases round them and along the walls are
the very treasure-shrines of learning, containing
only gems of manuscript lore. Above, all is
glowing with gold arid ultramarine, as airy and
brilliant as the Zuccari could lay them. The
half-closed shutters and drawn curtains impart
a drowsy atmosphere to the delicious coolness,
which gives no idea of the broiling sun glaring
on the square without. Imagine, however, no
idler, — for such a one could not obtain access
there at such a season, — but an assiduously
plodding, perhaps dull-looking emaciated student,

298 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

in whose hand crackles the parchment of some
old dingy volume, whose turn has come of the
many around him, to be what is called collated,
a verb that has no connection with its analogous

o

substantive. Perhaps, at the moment of a de
lightful discovery, that the dusky membranaceous
document has, in a certain spot, a preposition or
even a letter different from three companions,
there enters silently a man of middle age, with
lofty brow, and deep set eyes, happy in the ]oose
drapery of home in summer — -for he lives among
books — and sits him down beside the solitary
learner. Kind and encouraging words, useful
practical information, perhaps a discussion on
some interesting point, make a quarter of an
hour's diversion from the " weight of the day
and the heat ; " but coming from or shared with
the discoverer of Cicero and Fronto, of Isocrates
and Dionysius, they may become the beginning
of a long cherished and valued friendship.
Hours like these, often repeated, pass not away
lightly from the memory. Spent under the very
shadow of the great dome, they endear Rome by
the recollection of solid profit thus gained and
garnered for the evil days of busier life. Any
one, surely, whose years of mental cultivation can
thus associate themselves, must retain a happy
and a grateful impression on mind and heart.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 299

Thus far, the chapter has been very rambling,
and possibly it will continue somewhat of the
same character. The difficulty, in fact, of the
present task increases most sensibly at this
point. It is that of personal contact and more
familiar intimacy with those of whom it treats.
It is that which matures into close observation,
actual experience, sensible enjoyment, the ac
quaintance with qualities only viewed from a
distance with reverence till now. The circum
stances under which they were learned and felt
come so thoroughly home to their recorder, that
he must shrink from the undue prominence into
which he is obliged to thrust himself to give
them reality ; and hence there is no other alter
native but that of suppression of what would be
most lifelike, because most confidential. To ex
plain this, it may be briefly stated, that this short
Pontificate formed the decisive sera in the
writer's life, that pivot on which its future, long
or short, was to turn. Every one has such a
date to look back upon ; so there is nothing
wonderful in this. It merely happened in his
case that, having finished his studies at an early
period, he was found to be at hand in 1826,
when some one was wanted for the office of Vice-
Rector, and so was named to it. And in 1828,
when the truly worthy Rector, Dr. Gradwell,

300 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

was appointed Bishop, he was, by almost natural
sequence, named to succeed him.

These official positions necessarily gave rise
to more frequent opportunities, and an occasional
obligation, of approaching the person of the
Sovereign. For in Rome such access is easy,
and almost indispensable for persons holding an
ecclesiastical situation of responsibility. And in
the instance alluded to, there is attached to the
headship of the college an agency of English
ecclesiastical affairs, which, though mainly con
ducted through ministerial channels, involves
from time to time good reason for addressing
the Pope in person. As a general recollection
of these frequent audiences, it may be simply
stated, that they were uniformly condescending,
fatherly, and most amiably conducted in look
and speech. It required some restraint on oneself
not to be too familiar. However insignificant
the occasion or the person, there was always
the same benignant interest shown, as if both
had been invested with a much higher character.

Let us take a trivial example ; one alluded to
in our second chapter. A student has reached
the conclusion of his studies, and is thought by
his superiors, for it can never be a matter of
personal choice, able to claim his degree by
public challenge against all comers, who dare

LEO THE TWELFTH. 301

impugn any of his propositions. To the honour
of the English College be it said, that, from time
to time, one or other of its sons has hung up his
shield, and stood bravely against his adversaries.
Let us take for an example one of these ; and
probably to many readers of this sketchy narra
tive an account of the proceedings may be new.
The youth selected will have ordinary power of
application and memory, will not be too bashful
or timid, must possess a fair amount of tact, and a
readiness, if possible a fluency, in the use of the
Latin language, not merely in its classical con
struction, but also in its scholastic and more
barbaric technologies. He prints in a goodly
quarto his thesis, which must not contain fewer
than a hundred points, but which probably his
professors may carry up to four times that, em
bracing the entire field of Catholic theology.
This little volume is circulated among friends,
and an invitation is sent to every ecclesiastical
establishment in Rome ; day and hour and place
being specified, with the usual clauses, that in
the morning " datur omnibus," all may attack,
while in the afternoon the same liberty is granted
only after three well-selected champions shall
have broken their lances.

When the time comes, the respondent finds
himself, he hardly knows how, seated behind a

302 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

table at the end of an immense hall, which it
requires a sustained voice to fill, supported by
his professors, who may edge in a word at his
ear, in case of possible straits. A huge oval
chain of chairs stretches down the room, on either
side, and soon begins to be occupied by pro
fessors, doctors, and learned men, of whom he
has heard perhaps only in awe ; each of whom
receives a copy of the thesis, and cons it over, as
if to find the weak point between the plates of
mail, into which he will later try to thrust his
spear. I remember well, in the particular in
stance before my eye, that a monk clothed in
white glided in, and sat down in the inner circle,
but though a special messenger was despatched
to him by the professors, he shook his head, and
declined becoming an assailant. He had been
sent to listen and report. It was F. Cappellari,
who in less than six years was Pope Gregory XVI.
Not far from him was seated the Abbe de la
Mennais, whose works he so justly and so wither-
ingly condemned, Probably it was the only
time that they were ever seated together, listening
to an English youth vindicating the faith, of
which one would become the oracle, and the
other the bitter foe.

Well, now some one rises, and in measured
language, eloquently addresses a few encouraging

LEO THE TWELFTH. 303

sentences to his young competitor, whose heart
is beating in anxious uncertainty on what side
he will be assailed ; till a period is rounded off,
by the declaration of the number in his proposi
tions about to be impugned. A crackling sound
of stiff paper turning simultaneously in every
hand, through the hall filled with students, re
ligious, and auditors lay and clerical, announces
universal eagerness to see the selected therne,
and relieves the tension of the pilloried youth,
who, for the first time in his life finds himself
painfully conspicuous, and feels the weight of
past labour and of future responsibility both
pressing on his head.

Of course he has prepared himself thoroughly ;
and his wretchedness must be double, if he have
left a vulnerable spot in his armour, or if it be
not all of proof. Of course he knows that no
assailant can " travel out of the record," or put
such questions to him as Sir T. More did to the
disputant " in omni scibili et de quolibet ente"
whom he stumbled upon somewhere abroad, and
thoroughly nonplussed by a most lucid query
of English law ; to wit, " Utrum averia carucce
in vetito namio capta sint irreplegiabilia"1 Still

1 In vernacular : " Whether beasts of the plough, taken in
withernarn, are capable of being replevied." — Blackstoue, iii. 9.

304 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

there are subjects on which one is better got up
than others, and there are some more interesting,
more full of detail, and more suitable for a lively
illustration. However there is no remedy; drily
or unctuously, logically or eloquently, he must
leave nothing unnoticed ; he may turn the flank
of something new, if it come unexpectedly before
him ; but, on the whole, he must show that he
has overlooked no point worth answering. The
assailants are keen practised gladiators, who, if
they are satisfied of the defendant's prowess, will
give him fair opportunity for its display. To
this the writer must plead guilty ; he has done
his best to try the metal of such young combat
ants striving to win their spurs. But when he
has had such men as the Archbishop of Dublin
or of Thyana1, or the Bishops of Pittsburg or
Clifton to attack, he has had no occasion to repent
having well tempered his weapons, and weighted
his blows.

After some hours of this digladiation comes a
pause for refection and repose, for every one but
the champion of the day ; who is probably
crushed by a leaden sick-headache, in which his
past performance looks a wretched failure, and his
coming one a dark and dismal uncertainty. It

1 Mgr. Barrili, just consecrated, and named Nuncio to Madrid.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 305

arrives however, and he is, this time, perched up
in a tall pulpit, with his professors low in front
of him, hopelessly beyond reach for rescue and
succour. He is in the centre of one side of the
nave of a lofty church, which not only adds
solemnity and even religious awe to his position,
but makes it necessary that his voice should ring
clearly, in an almost declamatory tone, to reach
the opposite side, where, on a dais, in a chair of
state, sits the Cardinal who has accepted the
dedication of the disputation. It had been in
tended, in the case before us, to request the
Sovereign Pontiff to bestow the honour of his
patronage ; but, at the last moment, this idea was
abandoned. However, the inner circle was suffi
ciently formidable ; one patriarch, four arch
bishops, at least half a dozen bishops, about
twenty prelates, not a few of whom have since
reached the highest honours of the Church,
nearly as many professors, abbots and rectors,
and an immense crowd of persons even of equal
rank, out of full dress ; which being required in
the inner circle, gives it the appearance almost of
a synod.

Now, when this is over, what is the great
reward looked forward to by the young athlete,
beyond the title of the theological doctorate ob
tained, but in Kome not borne ? It is to proceed

x

306 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

next day, with a suitably bound copy of the
" Thesis," to the Sovereign Pontiff, and lay it at
his feet. Not only does he receive a loving pa
ternal blessing; but his cheeks glow and his
heart beats as he bends beneath the expressions
of the kindest encouragement, and even words of
praise. He will find the common father, of little
as of great, already informed of the proceedings
of yesterday, of any peculiar incident, some
clever hit, some blundering objicient's courteous
overthrow, whatever had been characteristic in
manner or in method. And then he is exhorted
to persevere in study, and to cultivate the gifts
which God has given him, to His glory. Perhaps
even more is said ; — a particular direction is
pointed out, resulting from the success of the
preliminary specimen ; to study assiduously Holy
Scripture, or the Fathers, or the questions of the
day. All this used to be done by Leo, with a
sweetness and emboldening graciousness, which
would compensate to a youth any amount of
labour undergone, for enrolment in such a
prince's spiritual and theological army. It
raised him above himself and his own pusillani
mous thoughts, made him, for the first time,
hope that he might live to do some good,
. and opened his eyes to the brighter and more
cheerful side of his own insignificant existence.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 307

Such looks, such words, such a scene, are not
easily forgotten ; and who knows for how much
of sterling worth, and enduring work, the Church
may be indebted to a single quarter of an hour
thus bestowed on the tender, warm, and impas-
sionable mind of a youth, accompanied by a be
nediction full of grace, and proceeding from one
whom he reveres and deeply honours, as God's
very representative on earth ? The seal is set
and pressed deep upon the wax, just at the
moment that it is the warmest and the softest ; it
would be wonderful if the impression be not
sharp and lasting. In the tempering of steel,
after much manipulation, it is said that all the
finest blades pass through the hands of one supe
rior workman ; who, by some secret skill and
consummate tact, with a few strokes imparts a
finish and delicacy that prepare them for the
keenest edge. And so, after years of study and
secret toil, a patient student may, in a few
moments, receive what Milton calls " a touch of
celestial temper," from the master-hand in the
ecclesiastical armoury.

To have witnessed more than once such scenes
has certainly left that strong impression, and
confirmed all that has already been said in this
volume, of the particular kindness with which
Leo XII. always treated those of our college

x 2

308 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

who approached him, especially in connection
with study. There will be further occasion to
exemplify this assertion.

But one demonstration of his interest in that
establishment is but little known. He had con
ceived a plan similar to that lately carried out
by the present large-minded and munificent
Pontiff, of extending the English College, and
making it a place of prolonged education for
students who might wish to attend the higher
courses of the University. Annexed to the
house is a large Palazzo, or residence let out
in apartments, and built mainly by Cardinal
Howard. The Pope commissioned Monsignor
Nicolai, well known among the learned for a
magnificent folio on St. Paul's Basilica, and
a very able practical work on the drainage of the
Pontine marshes which he had superintended,
quietly to inspect these buildings, ascertain
the rent which they yielded, and the necessary
outlay to be incurred by the proposed plan ; also,
the additional funds requisite for endowment, to
carrying it permanently out. For he desired
that no loss should fall upon the college, but
that rather it should reap complete advantage.
However, death came prematurely to prevent the
execution of these generous intentions, which
were afterwards learned from Nicolai himself.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 309

CHAPTER VI.

CONTINUATION.

THE instance of great interest and kindness
alluded to, towards the close of the last chapter,
was one which afforded the writer many oppor
tunities of noting the undeviating goodness
of heart which characterised this Pontiff. It so
happened, that a person connected with the
English College was an aspirant to a chair in
the Roman University. He had been encouraged
to compete for it, on its approaching vacancy, by
his professors. Having no claims of any sort, by
interest or connection, he stood simply on the
provision of the papal bull, which threw open all
professorships to competition. It was but a
secondary and obscure lectureship at best, one
concerning which it was supposed few would
busy themselves, or come forward as candidates-
It was, therefore, announced that this rule would
be overlooked, and a person every way qualified,

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310 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

and of considerable reputation, would be named.
The more youthful aspirant unhesitatingly soli
cited an audience, at which I was present. He
told the Pope frankly of his intentions, and
of his earnest wish to have carried out, in his
favour, the recent enactments of His Holiness.
Nothing could be more affable, more encourag
ing, than Leo's reply. He expressed his delight
at seeing that his regulation was not a dead
letter, and that it had animated his petitioner
to exertion. He assured him that he should
have a fair chance, " a clear stage and no
favour," desiring him to leave the matter in
his hands.

Time wore on ; and as the only alternative
given in the Bull was, proof, by publication of a
work, of proficiency in the art or science that was
to be taught, he quietly got a volume through
the press, probably very heavy ; but sprightliness
or brilliancy was not a condition of the Bull.
When a vacancy arrived, it was made known, to
gether with the announcement that it had been
filled up. All seemed lost, except the honour of
the Pontiff, to which alone lay any appeal.
Another audience was asked, and instantly
granted, its motive being of course stated. I was
again present, and shall not easily forget it. It
was not necessary to restate the case. " I

LEO THE TWELFTH. 311

remember it all," the Pope said most kindly.

" I have been surprised. I have sent for C ,

through whom this has been done ; I have

O '

ordered the appointment to be cancelled, and
I have reproved him so sharply, that I believe it
is the reason why he is laid up to-day with fever.
You have acted fairly and boldly, and you shall
not lose the fruits of your industry. I will keep
my word with you, and the provisions of my
constitution." With the utmost graciousness
he accepted the volume, now treasured by its
author, into whose hands the copy has returned,
acknowledged the right to preference which it
had established, and assured its author of fair
play.

The Pope had, in fact, taken up earnestly the
cause of his youthful appellant ; instead of an
noyance, he showed earnestness and kindness ;
and those who had passed over his pretensions
with contempt were obliged to treat with him,
and compromise with him on terms that satisfied
all his desires. Another audience for thanks
giving was kindly accorded, and I witnessed the
same gentle and fatherly temper, quietly cheerful,
and the same earnest sympathy with the feelings
of him whose cause had been so graciously car
ried through. If this young client gained no
new energies, gathered no strength from such re-

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312 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

peated proofs of interest and condescension, if
these did not both direct and impel, steer and
fill the sails of his little bark, through many
troubled waters, — nay, if they did not tinge
and savour his entire mental life, we may write
that man soulless, and incapable of any noble
emotions.

The kindness, however, of Pope Leo XII. for
our national establishment was not confined to
considerate acts towards individuals; but he gave
us all an unexpected proof of his singular con
descension. I have already described the villa
of the college, where the vintage season is passed,
half urban, half rural, unpretending in its size and
accommodation, still more so in its architecture ;
for it is only a conglomeration of small houses.
In fine, chiefly the view and position, in addition
to the pleasant things there done, render it the
very delight, the centre-point of affections, of every
Roman student. Certes, if one who commands
free choice wished to spend the day in that neigh
bourhood, there are stately villas, and noble
convents, all round the place, to tempt him to
them.

Leo, still afflicted with many infirmities, never
went far into the country. He had fitted up a
small villa, what one might call, if not irreverent,
;' a box," three or four miles from Rome, whither

LEO THE TWELFTH. 313

he used to retire with his attendants, to pass a
few hours in the vineyard that surrounds it.
He had loved innocent sporting when a young
man; and it used to be said that the quiet
enjoyment of his old recreation was sometimes
agreeable to him. Be that as it may, no recent
Pontiff has been so completely a stay-at-home as
he ; and the papal villa at Castel Gendolfo was
never, I believe, occupied by him. It could not,
therefore, have been a mere love of excursion, or
of locomotion, that would have drawn him into
the Tusculan hills.

It was in the autumnal vacation of 1827, that
certain preparations, of ominous import, attracted
the attention of the students : loads of collegiate
attire, furniture, and hangings arrived mysteri
ously, and were put aside ; cleansing and painting
commenced vigorously at a most inconvenient
period ; and then a supply, apparently superflu
ous, of gallinacea3, cackling and gobbling, arrived,
no one knew whence, with a truly fatted calf
from the great Borghese farm of Pantano, which,
it was whispered, had been bespoken some time
before by an officer of the royal buttery. Ru
mours began to be afloat ; yet no one dared
to expect so unusual an honour as they be
spoke for the little village. Only two persons
were in the secret, the Rector and his Vice-

314 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

rector, besides those engaged in the preparations.
But it was strictly enjoined and faithfully kept,
till it was necessary to give orders for repair
ing the roads, cleaning the streets, erecting
triumphal arches, and hanging out tapestries,
in which arts of adornment Italian villages are
singularly expert. In fact, illuminations, fire
works, and a balloon, were added quickly to our
preparations.

The culinary department was transferred from
the simpler dispensations of the college cook to
the more scientific operations of a courtly mani
pulator, and a banquet began to be prepared, the
provider of which could no longer remain con
cealed. Yet, so strict were the precautions taken
to observe secresy, and prevent any concourse of
people, that the highest officers of the household
were kept in complete ignorance of the Pope's
intentions. For, early on the 29th of October,
there drove up to the house the Maggiordomo
and Maestro di Camera (afterwards Cardinals
Marazzani and Barberini), arid asked why they
had been sent thither? They had merely been
told to drive in the morning to the Lateran gate,
where they received a note directing them to
proceed to the English villa at Monte Porzio.
Great was their astonishment at learning that
His Holiness was expected in a few hours. And,

LEO THE TWELFTH. 315

in like manner, we were under strict injunc
tions to admit no one into the house, and in
vite no guest, as the visit was strictly to the
college. Indeed this the Pope again and again
repeated, when deputations wished to approach
him.

The morning was wet, and caused us much un
easiness, till, towards ten, the sun shone brightly,
the clouds rolled away, and every eye was intent
on the road from Frascati, the Roman approach.
Leaning over the garden wall, one saw into the
deep valley along which it ran, now in long straight
avenues, now diving and turning through dells,
almost smothered in the vineyards, till the olive
garden of the lordly but desolate palace of Man-
dragone cut short the view on earth and sky.
Suddenly, at the farthest point of vision, some
one declared that he had seen a gleam of helmet
or of sword, through the elms, and was hardly
believed; till another and another flashed on
many straining eyes. Then the tramp of many
horses, at full speed, was heard ; and at last,
along one of the level reaches of the road, came
into sight the whole cortege, — noble guards arid
dragoons galloping hard to keep up with the
papal carriage and its six smoking sable steeds.
Soon all was lost to eye and ear, as the cavalcade
wound round and up the steep acclivity on which

316 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

we were placed, then it rolled for a moment
through the gateway of the village, and finally,
after rattling through its narrow streets, pulled
up before the house. The Pope alighted, gave
his blessing to all around him, then walked to the
public church, and made his prayer of adoration.
He thence proceeded on foot to a neat house in
the little square, from the balcony of which he
blessed the assembled inhabitants ; and where he
received most affably the more respectable vil
lagers.

After this, we had him all to ourselves: for
dinner-time soon arrived. By strictest etiquette,
the Sovereign Pontiff never has any one to dine
with him in his palace. Not even a sovereign is
ever admitted there to hospitality. During the
genial month of October, there is so far a relax
ation from this rule, that entertainments are
given out of the papal apartments, sometimes in
an elegant pavilion in the Vatican garden. And,
during that season of the year, the Pope visits
monasteries or other institutions out of Rome,
where, on account of distance, a repast is prepared
for him, of which the inmates partake. But, even
so, the rule is observed of his dining alone. A
small table is placed at the head of the guests'
table, raised just perceptibly above its level, by
means of a low step, at which he sits alone,

LEO THE TWELFTH. 317

though scarcely removed from the rest of the
party.1

It was thus that Leo XII. was situated, on
the memorable day of his visit to Monte Porzio.
The table was laid for him with elegance and
simplicity ; there was no display, no plate, no
attempt to be more than things and persons
were. We were in a college refectory, we were
simple English superiors and students. The rest
of the table was covered with the plain requi
sites for the meat and drink which supplied our
ordinary repast. The refectory was a low oblong
room, at the end of which, opposite the Pope,
a large window opened to the ground, and was
filled up, as though it had been a glowing picture,
by a green sloping mountain, with vineyard be
low, chestnut and cypress above, and rich green

1 A short time ago, when the Pope was at Florence, the English
Minister left it, and returned home suddenly. There was sufficient
obvious reason for this in the serious illness of a brother, whose
dying hours he was summoned to attend. This, however, was not
a satisfactory reason for a newspaper correspondent, who assigned,
as the true motive, that our envoy had been insulted by not being
placed at the same table as the Pope. Perhaps the custom men
tioned in the text may explain the fact, which the writer got hold
of, and manufactured into one of those stories supplied by such
persons to throw discredit on the glorious progress of the Pontiff
through Italy. Both he and the Grand-Duke of Tuscany are as
incapable of offering a gratuitous insult to a foreign envoy, as Lord
N. is of considering himself insulted by the observance of esta
blished court rules. At any rate, we have heard no more of this
great diplomatic case.

318 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

pasture joining them to the azurest of skies.
The first observation which the Pope made was
one not a little flattering to his English guests.
" It is seldom," he said, " that a poor Pope can
enjoy the pleasure of sitting down to dinner
with such a fine set of young men." And truly
the party did no dishonour to the bracing air
which they first breathed on earth, either by
complexion, by stature, or by sinewy build. How
are they now scattered, above the earth and be
neath it ! Several worthily fill episcopal chairs,
many are labouring, with meritorious industry,
in the ecclesiastical field ; too large a proportion
have reached their hour of rest. However, on
that day all were blithe and happy, joyful and
jocund, under their Father's smile and kindly
looks. For the Pope ate scarcely anything, and
barely tasted drink. But he would employ his
leisure in carving, and sending down the dishes
from his own table ; while his conversation was
familiar, and addressed to all. He told us how
he spent his day, partly by way of apology for
seeming to partake so sparingly of the fare before
him. He rose very early, perhaps at five ; and
spent the first part of the day as any other Ca
tholic ecclesiastic does, in those religious duties
which have to consecrate its actions, — medita
tion, prayer, and the celebration of the Divine

LEO THE TWELFTH. 319

Mysteries, followed always, in the Pope's diary,
by assisting at a second mass " of thanksgiving "
said by a chaplain. A cup of coffee, or a basin
of broth, with no solid food, was all the suste
nance which he took till his hour of dinner. He
went through the morning work of audiences,
from eight, at latest, till twelve ; then retired for
private occupation, rested, devoted an hour to
prayer (as we learned from others), drove out,
and resumed public business till ten, when he
took his first and only meal. To say that it
was frugal would be little ; nor could we won
der at the accredited report that he would not
allow his personal expenses to exceed a dollar
a day, when we heard from his own lips that
the dry Newfoundland stock-fish, the baccala
of Italy, was his very ordinary and favourite
food.

This abstemiousness enabled Leo to go through

o o

functions which no other Pope in modern times
has attempted, such as singing mass at Santa
Maria Maggiore on Christmas Eve, which in
volved fasting from the previous midnight, at
least three and twenty hours, then going to St.
Anastasia's Church, the u Station " for the mass
at dawn ; after saying which, he sang the third
mass at St. Peter's on the day itself.

To proceed, however ; after our cheerful meal,

320 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

the Pope retired into the Rector's bed-room,
where he reposed for a short time ; then came
into his modest sitting-room, where we again
gathered around him, in familiar conversation,
till the hour of his departure. He would not sit
on the gold and damask chair prepared for him,
but took possession of an ordinary one, with a
rush seat, where he gave audience also to the
good clergy of the village, able though plain,
and certainly most disinterested, men ; who,
living chiefly on their own patrimonies, per
formed well the subsidiary duties which a soli
tary rector could not have adequately fulfilled.
I remember well the questions which he asked,
and some peculiar advice which he gave of quite
a local nature.

The simple events of that day may appear
trifling to many readers, who are accustomed to
look upon the Pope as only an object of a peculiar
class of feelings, veering between the bitter and
the sour. They forget that he is, at any rate, a
sovereign ; and one may presume that, if there
existed an English " educational establishment "
connected with Protestantism in even a small
state, such as Baden or Sardinia, and the ruler
of that state were to go, and give the boys a day
to themselves, dining in their hall, it would be
considered a very gracious act, and perhaps a

LEO THE TWELFTH. 321

national compliment ; at least, a mark of his
respect for the people to which it belonged. The
ecclesiastical Sovereign of Kome, too, is con
sidered, popularly, as living in almost inaccessible
state, and not easily drawn into familiar contact
with others. Surely, then, it is no wonder that
such an act of condescension endeared Leo to
those who experienced it, unasked from him,
foreigners though they were, and of a nation
which had shown little of that sympathy with
him which it had lavished on his predecessor.
But to their eyes such a visit was much more
than one from a lesser sovereign. His ecclesias
tical elevation, his spiritual principality, his reli
gious character, make his worldly position only
secondary in him, and give him a precedence in
the hierarchy of monarchs, which the possessors
of wider territories and of heavier budgets will
not deny. An act of paternal condescension
from one so considered, such as has been de
scribed, could not fail to remain engraven on
the hearts of all who witnessed, or rather expe
rienced it. They wished their successors also to
keep it before their minds; arid therefore had the
memory of this kindness graven upon something
less perishable than those fleshly tablets, upon
two handsome marble slabs, one in the college,
and one in the hall so highly honoured, varying

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only in the designation of place. The following
is a copy of the first : —

HONORI

LEONIS XII. PONT. MAX.
OPTIMI . ET . INDVI,GENTISSIMI . PRINCIPIS

QYOD IV. KAL. NOV. AN. MDCCCXXVIII.

ALVMNOS . COLLEGII . ANGLORVM

PORTIODVNI . RVSTICANTES

LIBENS . INVISERIT

IN . CONVIVIVM . ADHIBVER1T

OMNIQVE . COMITATE . COMPLEXVS . SIT

ROBERTVS . GRADWELL . RECTOR . COLLEGII

ET . IIDEM . ALVMNI

V.E. FLACIDO . ZVRLA . CARD. PATRONO . SVFFRAGANTE

DEVOTI . GRATIQVE . ANIMI . MONVMENTVM

DEDICAVERVNT

LEO THE TWELFTH. 323

CHAPTER VII.

THE ENGLISH CARDINALATE.

ALTHOUGH it was his successor Pius VIII. who
first, in modern times, created an English Car
dinal, the idea of doing so arose in the mind of
Leo XII. under circumstances of a peculiar na
ture. It is a common practice for a cardinal, on
being raised to the pontifical chair, to " restore
the hat," as it is called, by raising to the dignity,
from which he has himself just risen, some mem
ber of the family of the Pope who had elevated
him to that honour. And if that Pontiff had
belonged to a religious body, it would, or might
be, restored to his order.

Now Leo XII. had been created Cardinal by
Pius VII, , who was member of the Benedictine
order ; and he wished to discharge his duty of
gratitude towards that venerable corporation.
In the winter of 1826 there arrived in Eome
the Eight Eev. Dr. Baines, Bishop of Siga, and
Coadjutor of the English Western District. He

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came in a state of almost hopeless illness, with an
interior abscess working on an enfeebled frame
and constitution, apparently unable to expel it
from the system. He came merely as a visitor,
with some private friends who had kindly ac
companied him, in hopes that change of climate
might do more than medicines or their adminis
trators. They were not deceived. The mild
climate, the interesting recreation, and perhaps
more still, the rest from the labour and excite
ment in which he had lived, did their duty ; at
some due period, the interior enemy capitulated,
in that Englishman's stronghold of misery and
pain— the liver; and a visible change for the better
was observable by spring. A delightful summer
spent between Assisi and Porto di Fermo com
pleted the task ; and he used to recount, on his
return, the astonishment of the simple rustics
among whom he had lived, at receiving payments
by a strip of paper, with a few lines upon it, as
illegible to them as a doctor's prescription is to
more educated people, which, upon being pre
sented at a certain palazzo in the neighbouring
city, they found, to their amazement, unhesi
tatingly converted into the exact amount due
to them, in clearly ringing coin.

By degrees the reputation which he had ac
quired in England began to spread in Rome :

LEO THE TWELFTH. 325

several noble families in which he had been
intimate at home were in Rome, and gave many
others the opportunity of becoming acquainted
with him ; and he had a power of fascinating
all who approached him, in spite of a positive
tone and manner which scarcely admitted of dif
ference from him in opinion. He had sometimes
original views upon a certain class of sub
jects ; but on every topic he had a command of
language, and a clear manner of expressing his
sentiments, which commanded attention, and ge
nerally won assent. Hence his acquaintances
were always willing listeners, and soon became
sincere admirers, then warm partisans. Unfor
tunately, this proved to him a fatal gift. When
he undertook great and even magnificent works,
he would stand alone : assent to his plans was
the condition of being near him ; any one that
did not agree, or that ventured to suggest deli
beration, or provoke discussion, was soon at a
distance ; he isolated himself with his own genius,
he had no counsellor but himself ; and he who
had, at one time, surrounded himself with mien
of learning, of prudence, and of devotedness to
him, found himself at last alone, and fretted a
noble heart to a solitary death.

At the period, however, to which this chapter
belongs, these faults could scarcely show them-

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selves to any great disparagement of his higher
and better powers. In the course of the ensuing
winter he was able, though contrary to the
opinion of his friends, to appear in the English
pulpit, which, as we shall see, Leo XII. opened in
Rome. The church, which was nearly empty
when preachers of inferior mark occupied it, was
crowded when Bishop Baines was announced as
the orator. Many people will remember him.
He was happiest in his unwritten discourses.
The flow of his words was easy and copious, his
imagery was often very elegant, and his discourses
were replete with thought and solid matter.
But his great power was in his delivery, in voice,
in tone, in look, and gesture. His whole mariner
was full of pathos, sometimes more even than the
matter justified ; there was a peculiar tremulous-
ness of voice, which gave his words more than
double effect, notwithstanding a broadness of
provincial accent, and an occasional dramatic
pronunciation of certain words. In spite of
such defects, he was considered, by all that heard
him, one of the most eloquent and earnest
preachers they had ever attended.

Such was the person destined, in the mind of
Leo, to be the first English cardinal. The fact
was, that Dr. Baines was a Benedictine, brought
up in the Abbey of Lambspring, and before his

LEO THE TWELFTH. 327

episcopal promotion Prior of Ampleforth in
Yorkshire. We were informed by Monsignor
Nicolai, that the Pope had called him, and said to
him, " that he had been casting his eyes around
him for a member of the Benedictine body, on
whom to bestow the hat of restitution ; many
worthy men in it were too aged and infirm,
others too young, so that he had fixed upon
the English monk, if, on inquiry, his character
should prove equal to the proposed elevation."
Such inquiries were made, in good measure
amongst us, without their object being commu
nicated. The result was, that the bishop was
desired to remove from the private apartments in
the Palazzo Costa, where he had been living with
his English friends, to the Benedictine monastery
of San Callisto, and to wear the episcopal habit
of his order.

The death of the Pope alone prevented the
consummation of this plan ; his successor, who
probably had not heard of it, selected a very
old Benedictine Abbot, Crescini, from Parma, to
receive the hat, which he, as well as Leo, owed
to Pius VII. It was indeed, given, but not
enjoyed, for the good religious, who was quite
worthy otherwise of his honours, died either on
his journey, or immediately on his arrival at
home.

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It is evident, however, that Dr. Baines would
have been made a Cardinal, not on national
grounds, but as a Benedictine. Still the thought
of travelling so far, to find a fitting member
of that body for the dignity, was generous and
broad in Leo. And, besides, there can be no
doubt, that this intention was made the basis of
the nomination of an English Cardinal, in the
ensuing Pontificate.

Gladly would this subject be ended here ; it is
not a matter of choice, but almost of necessity to
pursue it further. "While it is matter of absolute
certainty, that Leo had made up his mind to
name Bishop Baines a member of the cardi-
nalitial college, had he ever turned his thoughts
towards another of our countrymen, so far as
outward manifestations can warrant us in saying
so ? Such an act would have exhibited nothing
unreasonable in itself; though certainly the
sudden creation of two English cardinals might
have been unexpected. Leo XII. was not the
man to mind that ; and if Dr. Baines had been
created as the representative of the Benedictine
body, Dr. Lingard might well have been so, on
his own high merits, and as a reward for his
splendid history. Indeed, no one will venture
to say, that in the whole range of modern litera
ture, or in the annals of the British clergy, there

LEO THE TWELFTH. 329

is a name that could have been more worthily
inscribed, or would have shone more brightly, on
the roll of Roman dignitaries, than that of Lin-
gard. An acquaintance begun with him under
the disadvantage of ill-proportioned ages, when
the one was a man and the other a child, had led
me to love and respect him, early enough to
leave many years after in which to test the first
impressions of simpler emotions, and find them
correctly directed, and most soundly based. Mr.
Lingard was vice-president of the college which
I entered at eight years of age, and I have re
tained upon my memory the vivid recollection
of specific acts of thoughtful and delicate kind
ness, which showed a tender heart mindful of its
duties, amidst the many harassing occupations
just devolved on him, through the death of the
president, and his own literary engagements ; for
he was reconducting his first great work through
the press. But though he went from college soon
after, and I later left the country, and saw him
not again for fifteen years, yet there grew up an
indirect understanding first, and by degrees a
correspondence, and an intimacy which continued
to the close of his life. Personally, there was
much kind encouragement in pursuits, and in
views of public conduct ; then, what is a more va
luable evidence of regard, the mooting occasional

330 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

points of difference for discussion, and from
time to time " notes and queries " for informa
tion to be obtained, often formed the peculiar
links of epistolary communication between us.
Then, no one could approach him, and not be
charmed by the prevalent temperament of his
mind. A buoyancy, a playfulness, and a simpli
city of manner and conversation ; an exquisite
vein of satirical and critical humour, incapable
of causing pain to any reasonable mind ; a
bending and pliant genius, which could adapt
itself to every society, so as to become its idol,
made him as much at home with the bar of the
Northern Circuit, in the days of Brougham and
Scarlett1, as with the young collegian who called
to consult him at Hornby on some passage
of Scripture or a classic. But a soundness of
judgment and a high tone of feeling, united to
solid and varied learning, strong faith, and
sincere piety, supplied the deep concrete founda
tion on which rested those more elegant and airy
external graces. Such was Lingard to all who
knew him, sure to be loved, if only known.
Hence, though he never aspired to ecclesiastical
honours at home, and his friends respected him
too highly to thrust them upon him against his

1 The Bar presented him, by subscription, with his own portrait.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 331

desire, it will never be known till his life is
really written, and his correspondence published,
what a great share he had in the direction of our
ecclesiastical affairs in England, and how truly
he was almost the oracle which our bishops
consulted in matters of intricate or delicate
importance. His works alone, however, will
secure him his true place with posterity.

That such a man should have received the
highest honours, should have been placed and
have stood on a level with a Mai or a Gerdil, a
Baronius or a Norris, could not have astonished
the literary or ecclesiastical world. It would
have been " plaudente Orbe " that he would
have received his elevation. And it is most
certainly true, that had mere merit always to
decide relative positions, he ought to have been
what others were or are ; but we must say of
this lesser dignity what the gentle Metastasio
makes one of his heroes, rather impertinently we
must own, proclaim of the imperial state to his
liege lord, not used to brook such sayings :

"Se

Regnasse sol chi e di regnar capace,
Forse Arbace era Serse, e Serse Arbace."

This, however, is not our question. Of Dr.
Lingard's deserts there is no second opinion.

332 THE LAST FOUK POPES.

Nor is it at all necessary to throw doubts upon
what is stated in the only meagre biography yet
published of him, that Leo XII. proposed to him
to settle in Rome, nor on the inductions drawn
from the conversation.1 Of the first it is quite
evidence enough, if Dr. Lingard wrote it himself
to a friend. But the question, strange as it may
sound, is really — " Was Dr. Lingard actually a
cardinal ? "

In the biography alluded to is the following
passage : " At a creation of cardinals in the fol
lowing year, (Leo) informed the Consistory
that among those whom he had reserved in petto
for the same dignity was one, ' a man of great
talents, an accomplished scholar, whose writings,
drawn ex authenticis foritibus, had not only ren
dered great service to religion, but had delighted
and astonished Europe.' In Rome this was
generally understood to refer to the historian of
England."

When the Pope made this speech it must have
been in this form : " Moreover, we create a car-

1 A conversation, related as having taking place between the
Pope and the historian, in Surtees's " History of Durham," may
be fairly put down as legendary at the best. Again, the Pope
gives gold medals to many besides cardinals. The present Pope
sent a gold medal to Mrs. Chisholm, to mark his sense of her great
services to emigrants. On this subject also I can speak from
experience ; this mark of honour to Dr. Lingard has no specific
meaning.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 333

dinal of the Holy Roman Church, c a man of
great talents, etc.,' whom, however, we reserve in
pectore." He cannot reserve the creation of a
person, but only his promulgation ; and this is
so truly the case, that if, ten years later, the
Pontiff publishes a person as cardinal, declaring
him to be the person so reserved, his cardinalate
dates from the first epoch, and he takes at once
precedence of all created in the interval. If,
therefore, Dr. Lingard was the person meant by
the Pope on the occasion referred to in the fore
going extract, the English historian was truly
and really created a cardinal.

If so, what prevented his proclamation ? The
biography goes on to say that Dr. Lingard took
steps to prevent it. Is this possible ? Is it con
sistent with his delicate modesty and sensitive
abhorrence of praise from a child, to imagine
that he at once took to himself this description
of the reserved cardinal ? But the fact is, that
such reservation is a matter of the strictest
secresy, truly confined to the papal breast ; not
even the person who " draws up the allocution "
has an inkling of it more than others, who can
judge of the person by the qualities or actions
attributed to him. These are often definite.
The idea, however, of " Monsignor Testa,'7 or
any one else about the Pope, presuming to decide

334 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

whom he meant, and trying to " divert him from
his purpose," is a simple impossibility. We may
depend upon it that, if our historian was really
created and reserved, he could not have got off
thus easily. Either, therefore, the Pope changed
his mind, or death prevented his carrying out
his intentions, though he lived more than two
years afterwards ; or, what was the fact, it was
not to Dr. Lingard that the Holy Father alluded.
But ain Rome it was generally understood to
refer to him." Here lies the mistake. I well
remember the day, the allocution, and its appli
cation. It was a notable address when Leo
emphatically intimated that in the creation of
future cardinals he would not be guided by
routine or court usages, but would select men of
great gifts, and who had rendered signal services
to the Church.1 It breathed fully the- spirit of
Leo. At its conclusion came the mysterious
reservation of a cardinal belonging to this highly
qualified class. I well remember the excitement
and delight with which our president, the old
and affectionate friend of Dr. Lingard, on coming

1 It was said, that, on occasion of this declaration, a well-known
cardinal, kind and good-natured, but whose career had been civil
rather than ecclesiastical, and who had no pretensions to great
acquirements in learning, turning to his neighbour, said, " It is
well that I am already a cardinal, or I should now stand no
chance."

LEO THE TWELFTH. 335

home told us of the speech, saying, as from his own
conjecture, that the characteristics assigned could
possibly apply only to him. And so he repeated
to others, friends of both, who, no doubt, as we
did, assented to his interpretation. But beyond
this circle, where Dr. Lingard was known and
appreciated, it certainly was not so ; but a very
different person was then, and ever afterwards,
and is still considered to have been the subject
of the Pope's reservation.1

This was the celebrated Abbe de la Mennais.

As has been said, he had been to Rome in

1 It is not natural to expect a writer, however great, to be much
known out of his own country without translations. Now, indeed,
many people learn foreign languages, and travel far from home ;
but, at the period in question, there were very few Italians who read
English, or could translate it, in Rome. Lingard's reputation was
made abroad by his great " History." His " Anglo-Saxon Church "
and his " Tracts " had never been translated ; and the version of
his "History," made by a Signer Gregorj, was dragging its slow
length along, through the hand-press, and through a heavy lawsuit
on the meaning of hot-pressing, till the translator's mental powers
gave way, and the work was completed by the quicker and more
elegant pen of Signor (afterwards Father) Mazio. Till this was
done the name of Lingard was known only to higher scholars.
Take, for instance, the following extract from the Journal often
before quoted: — "Aug. 3rd, 1821. Had private audience of
the Pope. Presented petitions for Mr. Lingard, Archer, and
Fletcher, to be made Doctors. The Pope granted the petition
with pleasure. / related their several merits. He told me to take
the petitions to Mgr. Cristaldi, rector of Sapienza. ... I desired
it might be done by complimentary briefs. The Pope assented."
Dr. Gradwell was added to the number. He and Dr. Lingard
received the degree of LL.D. in addition to that of D.D.

336 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

1824, and had been received with the most
marked distinction by the Pope. He was then in
all the splendour of his genius, arrayed on the
side not only of faith, but of the highest Koman
principles. The boldness of his declarations on
doctrine, the independence of his tone in politics,
the brilliancy of his style, and the depth of
thought which it clothed, put him at the head of
religious champions in France. He had un
dauntedly assaulted the flying rear of the great
revolution, the indifference which lingered still
behind it, by his splendid " Traite sur 1'Indif-
ference en Matiere de Religion ; " he had next
endeavoured to beat back from reoccupying its
place what he considered had led to that fatal
epoch and its desolating results, a kingly Galli-
canism. This he had done by a treatise less
popular, indeed, but full of historical research
and clearness of reasoning: "La Doctrine de
TEglise sur 1'Institution des Eveques."

It was to this work that Pope Leo was con
sidered to allude. The text of the allocution is
not accessible; but it was thought to refer to
this work with sufficient point. So matter of
fact was the book, so completely the fruit of
reading and study, rather than of genius and
intellectual prowess, that it has been attributed to
a worthy brother, who survives the more bril-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 337

liant meteor now passed away, in a steady and
useful light. He is the founder of an immense
body of religious brethren, who have their
head- quarters at Ploerrnel, but are scattered all
through Northern France, devoted to the educa
tion of the poor.

Be this as it may, the more celebrated brother
has his name on the titlepage, and had well-
nigh won its honours. And then he was gather
ing round him an earnest band, not only of
admirers but of followers, so long as he cleaved
to truth. Never had the head of a religious
school possessed so much of fascinating power to
draw the genius, energy, devotedness, and sin
cerity of ardent youth about him ; never did any
so well indoctrinate them with his own principles
as to make these invincible by even his own
powers. He was in this like Tertullian, who,
when sound of mind, " prescribed " medicines too
potent for the subtle poisons which he dealt out
in his heterodox insanity. Both laid their foun
dations too deep, and made them too strong, to
be blasted even by their own mines.

How he did so mightily prevail on others it is
hard to say. He was truly in look and presence
almost contemptible; small, weakly, without
pride of countenance or mastery of eye, without
any external grace ; his tongue seemed to be the

338 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

organ by which, unaided, he gave marvellous
utterance to thoughts clear, deep, and strong.
Several times have I held long conversations
with him, at various intervals, and he was always
the same. With his head hung down, his hands
clasped before him, or gently moving in one
another, in answer to a question he poured out
a stream of thought, flowing spontaneous arid
unrippled as a stream through a summer meadow.
He at once seized the whole subject, divided it
into its heads, as symmetrically as Flechier
or Massillon ; then took them one by one, enu
cleated each, and drew his conclusions. All
this went on in a monotonous but soft tone, and
was so unbroken, so unhesitating, and yet so
polished and elegant, that, if you had closed your
eyes, you might have easily fancied that you
were listening to the reading of a finished and
elaborately corrected volume.

Then, everything was illustrated by such
happy imagery, so apt, so graphic, and so com
plete. I remember his once describing, in glow
ing colours, the future prospects of the Church.
He had referred to prophecies of Scripture, and
fulfilments in history, and had concluded that,
not even at the period of Constantine, had per
fect accomplishment of predictions and types
been made ; and that, therefore, a more glorious

LEO THE TWELFTH. 339

phase yet awaited the Church than any she had
yet experienced. And this, he thought, could
not be far off.

" And how/' I asked, " do you think, or see,
that this great and wonderful change in her
condition will be brought about ?"

" I cannot see," he replied. " I feel myself
like a man placed at one end of a long gallery,
at the other extremity of which are brilliant
lights, shedding their rays on objects there. I
see paintings and sculpture, furniture and per
sons, clear and distinct ; but of what is between
me and them I see nothing, the whole interval
is dark, and I cannot describe what occupies the
space. I can read the consequence, but not the
working of the problem."

On another occasion his answer was more
explicit. He had been discoursing eloquently
on England, and what had to be done there
in our religious struggles. He had described
the ways in which prejudices had to be over
come, and public opinion won over. He was
asked —

"But what, or where, are the instruments
with which such difficult and great things have
to be wrought ? "

" They do not exist as yet," he answered.
"You must begin there by making the imple-

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340 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

ments with which your work has to be performed.
It is what we are doing in France."

And glorious, indeed, were the weapons that
came from that armoury, of finest temper and
brightest polish ; true as steel, well-balanced and
without flaw, were the instruments that issued
from that forge ; Montalembert, Rio, Coeur, La-
cordaire, Cornballot, and many others, who have
not failed in the work for which a higher power
than that of an earthly teacher had destined
them.

But in him there was long a canker deeply
sunk. There was a maggot in the very core of
that beautiful fruit. When, in 1837, he finished
his ecclesiastical career by his " Affaires de
Rome," the worm had only fully writhed itself
out, and wound itself, like the serpent of Eden,
round the rind. But it had been there all along.
During his last journey to Rome, to which that
book referred, he is said to have exclaimed to a
companion, setting his teeth, and pressing his
clasped hands to his heart : " I feel in here an
evil spirit, who will drag me one day to perdi
tion." That day soon came. It was the demon
of pride and disappointed ambition. Often has
one heard good men say in Rome, what a happy
escape the Roman Church had experienced from
one who had turned out so worthless ! And

LEO THE TWELFTH. 341

others have thought, that, if Leo's intentions had
been carried out, the evil spirit would have been
thereby exorcised, and, the dross being thus re
moved, the gold alone would have remained.
But when ever was a passion cured by being
humoured, or satisfied ?

It is easy to account for Leo's abandonment of
his intentions in favour of this wretched man.
But how nobly does the character of our Lingard
contrast with his, whom the necessity of our task
and topic has compelled us to consider by his
side ! How sterling and manly, unselfish and
consistent, does he appear throughout ! For there
can be no doubt that under the assurance of its
being made to him, he earnestly recoiled from
the offer of that high dignity, which no one
surely would accept without shrinking ; though
his mind might balance between the examples
of a Philip playfully rejecting, and a Baronius
obediently receiving.

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CHAPTER VIII.

CLOSE OF LEO'S PONTIFICATE.

THERE is an act of this papal reign which de
serves record as characteristic of the Pontiff
himself, and as illustrating the practical working
of the supremacy under complications otherwise
insoluble. South America had thrown off the
Spanish rule, and enjoyed an independence of
some years' duration. On the 21st of May,
1827, the Pope addressed the cardinals in Con
sistory assembled, on the ecclesiastical position of
that continent. Spain had refused to recognise
the independence of its many states, although it
had ceased effectually even to disturb them. It
claimed still all its old rights over them ; and,
among them, that of episcopal presentation. The
exercise of such a power, if it existed, would
have been contradictory to its object, and there
fore self-defeating. Bishops are intended to feed
a flock ; and of what use would bishops have
been, who would never have been allowed even
to look upon their sees or be heard by their

LEO THE TWELFTH. 343

people ? For it would have been quite unreason
able to expect that the free republics would ac
knowledge the jurisdiction of the country which
declared itself at war with them.

On the other hand, there had been no formal
ecclesiastical treaty or concordat between these
commonwealths and the Holy See, by which pre
vious claims had been abrogated, and new rights
invested in their present rulers. It was just a
case for the exercise of the highest prerogative
which both parties acknowledged to be inherent
in the supremacy, however galling its application
might be to one of them. In the allocution
alluded to, the Pope announced, that, not feeling
justified in longer permitting those sees to remain
vacant, and those immense populations wandering
like sheep without a shepherd, he had provided
them with worthy pastors, without the interven
tion of either side, but in virtue of his supreme
apostolic authority. The Court of Madrid was
angry, and refused to admit the Papal Nuncio,
Tiberi ; and a little episode in the life of the
present Pontiff arose from this passing coolness.1

1 Pius VII., at the request of Cienfuegos, envoy from Chili, sent
as envoy to that republic Mgr. Muzi, and as his assistant the
Ab. Mastai, now Pius IX. The Pope dying before the expedition
had sailed from Genoa, it was confirmed by Leo XII., who, in his
brief, declares that the Count Mastai had been originally appointed
by his desire, describing him as "Nobis apprime charus." The

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The last recollection which shall be recorded
of this good and amiable man may be considered
too personal ; but it relates to a public expres
sion of his interest in our countrymen. On
some occasion or other, it happened that the
author accompanied the Kector to an audience
of the Pope. This was in 1827. After transact
ing other business, His Holiness remarked, that
there being no English Church in Rome, Catholics
who came there had no opportunity of hearing
the word of God, and even others who might
desire to hear a sermon in their own language,
had no means of gratifying their wish. It was
therefore, he said, his intention to have, during
the winter, in some church well situated, a
course of English sermons, to be delivered every
Sunday. It was to be attended by all colleges and
religious communities that spoke our language.
One difficulty remained ; where was the preacher
to be found ? The Rector, justly approving of
the design, most unjustly pointed to his corn-

commissioners sailed Oct. llth, 1823, but were driven by stress of
weather into Palma, the capital of Majorca. Upon ascertaining
from their papers who were the ecclesiastics on board, and what
their mission, the governor had them arrested, kept them four
days in a common prison, subjected them to an ignominious
examination in court, and was on the point of sending them to
banishment in an African presidio, when common sense prevailed,
and they were restored to liberty. See a full account in the
" Dublin Review," vol. xxxiv. p. 469.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 345

panion, and suggested him ; though, with the
exception of such juvenile essays as students
blushingly deliver before their own companions,
he had never addressed an audience.

However, the burthen was laid there and then,
with peremptory kindness, by an authority that
might not be gain say ed. And crushingly it
pressed upon the shoulders : it would be im
possible to describe the anxiety, pain, and trouble
which this command cost for many years after.
Nor would this be alluded to, were it not to
illustrate what has been kept in view through
this volume, — how the most insignificant life,
temper, and mind may be moulded by the action
of a great, and almost unconscious, power. Leo
could not see what has been the influence of his
commission, in merely dragging from the com
merce with the dead to that of the living, one
who would gladly have confined his time to the
former, — from books to men, from reading to
speaking. Nothing but this would have done it.
Yet supposing that the providence of one's life
was to be active, and in contact with the world,
and one's future duties were to be in a country
and in times where the most bashful may be
driven to plead for his religion or his flock,
surely a command, over-riding all inclination,
and forcing the will to undertake the best

346 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

and only preparation for those tasks, may well
be contemplated as a sacred impulse, and a
timely direction to a mind that wanted both.
Had it not come then, it never more could have
come ; other bents would have soon become stif
fened and unpliant ; and no second opportunity
could have been opened, after others had satis
fied the first demand. One may therefore feel
grateful for the gracious severity of that day,
and the more in proportion to what it cost ; for
what was then done was spared one later. The
weary task to preacher and audience was light
ened by the occasional appearance in the pulpit,
before alluded to, of the eloquent Dr. Baines,
whose copia fandi and finished address prevented
perhaps the total blight, in infancy, of the Pope's
benevolent plan.

He made it, in fact, his own. He selected a
church of most just proportions for the work,
and of exquisite beauty, that of Gesii e Maria in
the Corso ; he had it furnished at his expense
each Sunday ; he ordered all charges for adver
tisements and other costs to be defrayed by the
palace, or civil list ; and, what was more useful
and considerate than all, a detachment of his
own choir attended, to introduce the service
by its own peculiar music. Its able director,
Canonico Baini, the closest approximator, in

LEO THE TWELFTH. 347

modern times, to Palestrina and Bai, composed a
little mottet with English words, for our special
use. After this Pontificate the papal choir
ceased to afford us help, and a falling off, no
doubt, took place in this portion of our offices ;
except at times, as when we had the cooperation
of a nobleman, then minister at Florence, whose
music, under his own direction, was there heard
by many with admiration.

An affectionate blessing, and a case containing
a gold and a silver medal, were a sufficient
reward to the first preachers, at the close of
Lent ; but the Pope on Easter Eve sent to the
college the materials of a sumptuous feast, of
which, immediately on release from penitential
discipline, a large and noble party of our country
men partook.

Fatigued, and almost broken down by new
anxious labours and insomnium, I started next
day for Naples and Sicily ; travelled round that
island when it had yet only twelve miles of
carriage road in it ; ascended not only Vesuvius,
but to the crater of Etna ; encountered only
trifling but characteristic adventures sufficient
to amuse friends ; and returned with new vigour
home, to find our dear and venerable Eector ap
pointed Bishop, and about to leave Rome for
ever.

348 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

On the 6th of December, 1828, I received the
last mark of kindness and confidence from our
Holy Pontiff, in the nomination to the vacated
office, and had subsequently my last audience of
thanks, fatherly and encouraging as usual. On
the table stood, as I had often noticed it, a paper
weight of marble with a silver lion upon it ;
which caught attention from the trifling circum
stance that the back of the noble animal was
saddled with several pairs of spectacles, no doubt
of different powers. It became interestingly
connected with what shortly ensued.

The Pope went through his Christmas duties,
and even officiated on the 2nd of February,
1829, the Feast of the Purification, when a Te
Deum is sung in thanksgiving for escape from a
dreadful earthquake in 1703. But between the
two festivals he had given intimations of a con
sciousness of his approaching end. He took
leave of Monsignor Testa, his Secretary of Latin
Briefs to Princes, at the last weekly audience he
had, most affectionately, saying : " A few days
more, and we shall not meet again." He gave
up the ring usually worn by the Pope to the
custody of the Maggiordomo, or High Steward of
the Household, telling him, as he hesitated to
receive it, that he was its proper guardian, and
that it might easily be lost in the confusion of

LEO THE TWELFTH. 349

an event which was shortly to ensue. But the
most striking proof of presentiment was the
following. Monsignor Gasperini, his Secretary
of Latin Letters, went to his usual audience one
evening. After despatching his business, Leo
said to him, in his ordinary calm and affable
manner : "I have a favour to ask of you, which
I shall much value."

" Your Holiness has only to command me,"
was the natural reply.

"It is this," the Pope continued, placing
before him a paper. "I have drawn up my
epitaph, and I should be obliged to you to
correct it, and put it into proper style."

" I would rather have received any commis
sion but that," said the sorrowful secretary,
who was deeply attached to his master. " Your
Holiness, however, is I trust in no hurry."

" Yes, my dear Gasperini, you must bring it
with you next time."

It must be observed that in Italy, and parti
cularly in Rome, much importance is, attached to
the peculiar purity of style in monumental in
scriptions. The "lapidary"1 style, as it is
called, is a peculiar branch of classical com-

1 From the Italian word lapicle, which means an inscribed or
monumental tablet.

350 THE LAST FOUE POPES.

position, confined to a few choice scholars. It
differs from ordinary writing, not merely in the
use of certain symbols, abbreviations, and set
phrases, but much more in the selection of words,
in their collocation, and in the absence of all
rounded period and expletives, for which clear
ness, terseness, simplicity of construction, and the
absence of a superfluous phrase or word must
compensate. Some inscriptions lately proposed
for public buildings in this country offend against
every rule of the lapidary style ; will sound ridi
culous to foreign scholars, as they are almost
unintelligible to natives ; are long, intricate, and
almost Teutonic, rather than Latin, in construc
tion,

" One half will not be understood,
The other not be read."

Among those who were considered in Rome the
most practically acquainted with the lapidary
style was Monsignor Gasperini, first Professor of
Belles-lettres, then Hector of the Roman Semi
nary, and finally Secretary of Latin Letters to
the Pope. To this obliging, amiable, and learned
man many had recourse when they wanted an
inscription composed or polished. He was the
author of most put up in our college. At his next

LEO THE TWELFTH. 351

week's audience, lie laid the corrected inscription
before Leo, who read it, approved highly of it,
thanked him most cordially, folded, and placed
it under the lion-mounted slab, where it remained,
till sought and found, a few days later, after his
death. He transacted his business with his usual
serenity ; and, in dismissing him, thanked his
secretary with an earnestness that struck him as
peculiar. They never saw one another again
upon earth.

On the 6th of February, after having descended
to the apartments of the Secretary of State, Car
dinal Bernetti, by a private staircase, and held
a long conference with him, he returned to his
own closet, and resumed his work. He was there
seized with his last illness ; and it was generally
believed that an operation unskilfully performed
had aggravated instead of relieving its symptoms.
He bore the torturing pain of his disease with
perfect patience, asked for the last rites of the
Church, and expired, in calm and freedom from
suffering, on the tenth.

He was buried temporarily in the sarcophagus
which had enshrined for a time the remains of
his predecessors, and then in a vault constructed
in front of St. Leo the Great's altar ; where, in
the centre of the pavement corresponding by its

352 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

lines with the small dome above, was inlaid in
brass the following inscription, alluded to as com
posed by himself. No one can read it and fail
to be touched by its elegant simplicity.

LEONI . MAGNO

PATRONO . COELESTI

ME . SVPPLEX . COMMENDANS

HIC . APVD . SACEOS . EIVS . CINEEES

LOCVM . SEPVLTVEAE . ELEGI

LEO XII.

HVMILIS . CLIENS
HAEREDVM . TANTI . NOMINIS

MINIMVS

art %

PIUS THE EIGHTH.

A A

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 !

A A 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 its clergy. 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 a small 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

A A 4

360 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

family, in the small city of Cingoli, he had come
early to Eome 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 arid 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 Eome, 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 Con sal vi 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, Pius THE EIGHTH. 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." 1

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 2, 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 coif1 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 VII. ,
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." 1 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 IV. 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

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 lax 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 lax weir could not be a
dose 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 FOUE 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 lacks 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 II.

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

B B

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. 371

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. To 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

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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 Yespasian or
Athena?.

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 Koman 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. 373

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 Eo-
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
Sernler 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

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
Archeology : 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.

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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. 377

CHAPTER HI.

FRENCH AND ENGLISH CARDINALS.

THE 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 Till, 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 Yalois. 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 :

" Hoi ne peux,
Prince ne veux,
Rohan suis."

No one could have a higher right by birth to
aspire to the Koman purple, than had the Abbe
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 charge $ affaires, in an
audience proposed the subject, the Pope, in his
sweetest manner, replied by a Latin verse,

" Sunt animus, pietas, virtus ; sed deficit setas."

The applicant was rather surprised at this ready
and complete reply, which did full justice 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 setas."

He added, that he had an ample record in his
mind of the merits, virtues, qualities, and claims
of the Abbe de Rohan, arranged there in good
verses, but that every one of them ended by the
same dactyl and spondee.

It was well known, however, that he would
willingly have introduced into the Sacred College
the venerable Bishop of Hermopolis, Monseigneur
Frayssinous, did not his modesty absolutely
resist every effort of the Pope l to obtain his
acceptance.

It was not till 1830, that De Rohan, being
now Archbishop of Besangon, was promoted by
Pius Till. In the revolution which shortly
followed in France, he was intercepted by a
mob, and treated with great indignity ; a cir-

1 Chevalier D'Artaud, Vie de Pie VIII.

382 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

cumstance which probably shortened his life.
For he died in February, 1833, in his 42nd year.
Very different is the cardinalate bestowed on
our countryman Thomas Weld. It has been
seen that the hat which Leo XII. wished to
bestow on Bishop Baines, in gratitude to the
Benedictine Order, was given by Pius VIII. to
F. Crescini, at the very beginning of his Pontifi
cate, to be enjoyed for only a very brief space.
Cardinal Weld was named partly in consideration
of his own personal claims, partly also to second
a desire of seeing an Englishman among the
highest dignitaries of the Church. Why, it was
asked — and the Pope could not fail to see the
justice of the question, — should almost every other
nation be represented in that body, to which is
entrusted the management of religious affairs
throughout the world, except the one whose
language is spoken by a great proportion of its
Christian inhabitants ? Not only the British
Islands, but the United States, the East and
West Indies, Canada, the Cape, Australia, and
the Islands of the Pacific, were in daily commu
nication with the Holy See, and with the Congre
gation of Propaganda, which attended to their
wants. Was it not reasonable, that near the
ruling Chair, and in the number of its coun
sellors, there should be at least one, who might

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 383

represent that immense race, endowed with its
intelligence, familiar with its wants and its forms
of expressing them, as well as with the peculiar
position in which many portions thereof were
placed ? It would seem hardly fair to deny this,
or to murmur at its being acted on.

The person first selected for this honourable
post, was one who certainly could never have
looked forward to it as his future lot. He was
born in London, January 22, 1773, and was the
eldest son of Thomas Weld of Lulworth Castle,
and Mary Stanley, who belonged to the elder and
Catholic branch of the Stanley family, now
extinct. He was educated entirely at home ; and
early gave proof of his great piety and munifi
cent charity. This was particularly displayed in
favour of the many religious communities, which
the French revolution threw like shipwrecked
families on our coast. He actually treated them
as kind inhabitants of the shore would, received
them into his very house, and provided for all
their wants. This he first did concurrently with
his excellent father; but he continued all his
good works after his parent's death, or rather
increased them. The Trappist nuns were re
ceived at Lulworth, and, with rare generosity,
Mr. Weld bought from them, when they quitted
his estate, the buildings, to him worthless, which

384 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

they had been allowed, and even assisted, to
raise. The poor Clares from Gravelines, and the
nuns of the Visitation, who took refuge, the first
at Plymouth, and the second at Shepton-Mallet,
were special objects of his bounty.

In the mean time he had married, and had
been blessed with a daughter, the worthy repre
sentative of the hereditary virtues of his house.
He had taken, and worthily filled his place in
society ; he had done the honours of his house
with liberality and dignity, had pursued the
duties of the English gentleman in his noblest
character, acted as a country magistrate, en
joyed country sports, and reciprocated hospita
lity with his neighbours. It is well known that
George III. in his sojourns at Wey mouth used
to visit Lulworth, and always expressed the
greatest regard for the Cardinal's family. What
life could have been less considered the way to
ecclesiastical honours than this of a Dorsetshire
country squire, in the field, or at his board ?

Yet they who knew him intimately, and had
watched through his life the virtue that distin
guished and the piety which sanctified it, were
not surprised to find him, after the death of his
excellent consort in 1815, and the marriage of
his daughter in 1818 to the eldest son of that
sterling nobleman Lord Clifford, abandoning the

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 385

world, resigning his estates to his next brother,
their present worthy occupier, of yachting cele
brity, and removing on an annual pension to
Paris to embrace the ecclesiastical state. He
was ordained priest in April, 1821, by the Arch
bishop of that city.

He returned to England, and entered on the
usual duties of the priesthood at Chelsea, and
continued his liberal exercise of charity till
the Bishop Vicar-Apostolic of Upper Canada,
obtained his appointment as his coadjutor. He
received, accordingly, the episcopal consecration
on the 6th of August, 1826. He remained in
England, partly for the transaction of business,
partly from reasons of health. During the
space of three years, that he atacitis regnabat
Amyclis " — for he was bishop in partibus of that
classical city 1 — he lived at Hammersmith, di
recting there a community of Benedictine nuns.

He was then invited to Rome for higher pur
poses, at the same time that his daughter's health
required change of climate, and it was natural
for him to accompany her. On the 25th of May,
1830, he was named Cardinal by Pius VIII.

Such a new and unexpected occurrence might
have been variously interpreted, according to

1 Not the Italian one, however, to which the verse and epithet
refer.

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386 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

party views ; and it would have been naturally
expected, that expression would be given to
those conflicting feelings. This, at any rate,
was not the case in Home. Unanimous and un
equivocal was the expression of opinion among
British residents and travellers there. All flocked
to the reception given by the new Cardinal, and
manifested their satisfaction at such a manifes
tation of good will towards his country. And
similar were the expressions of feeling that
reached him from home. In the funeral oration1
delivered at his sumptuous obsequies performed
by order of his son-in-law, Lord Clifford, on the
22nd of April, 1837, is the following sentence :
" He received assurances from persons of high
influence and dignity, that his nomination had
excited no jealousy, as of old, but, on the con
trary, had afforded satisfaction to those whom
every Englishman esteems and reveres : indivi
duals, who at home are known to indulge in
expressions of decided hostility to Rome, and to
our holy religion, recognised in him a represen
tative of both, whom they venerated and gladly
approached ; and when his hospitable mansion
was thrown open to his countrymen, I believe
that never was the sternest professor of a different

1 Printed in English and Italian at Rome in that year.

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 387

creed known to decline the honour, which the
invitation of the English Cardinal was acknow
ledged to confer."

The first part of this sentence only can require
any explanation. It shows that the circumstance
alluded to was sufficiently public to have passed
the bounds of delicate reserve. Indeed, it is too
honourable to all parties to need being shrouded
under any secrecy. Soon after his elevation,
Cardinal Weld received a letter from the natural
guardian of the heiress to the Throne, intro
ducing a distinguished member of her household,
in which he was assured not only that his pro
motion had given satisfaction to the exalted circle
to which she belonged, but that should he ever
visit England, he would be received by that
family with the respect which was his due.
Such is the impressed recollection of this inter
esting and generously minded document, read at
the time. Of course, a few years later, its prac
tical ratification would have had to depend upon
the possible humour of a minister, rather than
on any nobler impulses of a royal mind. But
there can be no doubt that on this occasion
there was no jealousy or anger felt anywhere :
perhaps the known virtues and retired life of the
new Cardinal gained him this universal benevo
lence ; perhaps the press saw nothing to gain by

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388 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

agitating the nation on the subject. Certain it
is, however, that the promotion was made by
the free choice of the Pontiff, without any pre
sentation from England, or any consultation with
its government. In this respect, it stands in
marked contrast with that of even a De Rohan.
It could not be expected that, at the mature
age which Cardinal Weld had reached, he would
master a new language, or perfectly learn the
ways of transacting high ecclesiastical business ;
nor had the occupations of his life, nor even his
brief studies, been calculated to make him equal
those who from youth had been devoted to legal
and theological pursuits. The Cardinal most
wisely provided for these necessary deficiencies.
For his theological adviser he selected Professor
Fornari, one of the most eminent divines in
Rome, who was soon after sent as Nuncio first to
Belgium and then to Paris, and elevated himself
in due time to the dignity on which his counsels
then shed such a lustre. For secretaries, at
different times, he had the present Bishop of
Plymouth, Dr. Vaughan, and the Abbate De
Luca, afterwards made Bishop of Aversa, and
actually Nuncio at Vienna, a man of more than
ordinary learning and ability, well versed, even
before, in English literature, as well as in that
of his own and other countries.

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 389

As his share, the Cardinal brought into his
council sterling good sense and business-like
habits, thorough uprightness and sincere humi
lity ; and soon acquired considerable influence in
the congregations or departments of ecclesiastical
affairs to which he was attached. At the same
time he was genuinely courteous, hospitable, and
obliging. His apartments in the Odescalchi
Palace were splendidly furnished, and periodi
cally filled with the aristocracy of Rome, native
and foreign, and with multitudes of his country
men, every one of whom found him always ready
to render him any service. Indeed, if he had a
fault, it was the excessiveness of his kindness,
too often undiscriminating in its objects, and
liable to be imposed upon by the designing or
the unworthy. But surely, if one must look
back, at life's close, upon some past frailty, it
would not be this defect that would beget most
remorse.

That end soon came. The life of close appli
cation and seclusion, in a southern climate, taken
up at an age when the constitution is no longer
pliant, could not be engrafted easily on a youth
of vigorous activity spent among the breezy
moors of the Dorsetshire hills. Great sensibility
to cold and atmospheric changes gradually be
came perceptible, and at length assumed the

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390 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

form of a pulmonary disease. Surrounded by
his family, and strengthened by every religious
succour, the Cardinal sank calmly into the repose
of the just, on the 10th of April, 1837. Sel
dom has a stranger been more deeply and feel
ingly regretted by the inhabitants of a city, than
was this holy man by the poor of Kome.

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 391

CHAPTER IV.

THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS OP THE PONTIFICATE.

IF the short duration of Pius the Eighth's reign
has been pleaded in excuse for paucity of events
and of recollections, it cannot be adduced as a
reason for the want of great and even startling
occurrences. For in the course of a few months
may be concentrated many such, full of porten
tous consequences ; and in them were probably
deposited the " semina rerum" which a future
generation will not suffice to unfold into perfect
growth. Such a period was the narrow space com
prised in this Pontificate. Three or four signal
occurrences will suffice to verify this assertion.

And first — to begin with the very outset of
Pius's Pontificate — he was elected March 31,
1829 ; and, scarcely a month later, it was my
pleasing duty to communicate to him the glad
some tidings of Catholic Emancipation. This
great and just measure received the royal assent
on the 23rd of April following. It need hardly
be remarked, that such a message was one of

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392 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

unbounded joy, and might well have been com
municated to the Head of the Catholic Church
in the words by which the arrival of paschal
time is announced to him every year : " Pater
sancte, annuntio vobis gaudium magnum." To
him, who was not only most intelligent, but
alive to all that passed throughout Christendom,
the full meaning of this measure was of course
apparent. But generally it was not so. In
foreign countries, the condition of Catholics in
Great Britain was but little understood. The
religion, not the political state, of their fel
low-believers, mainly interested other nations.
Through all the Continent, catholicity in this
empire was supposed to be confined to Ireland ;
and, again and again, an English Catholic tra
veller has heard himself corrected, when he has
so described himself, by such an expression as
this : " Of course you mean Irish ? " In fact,
even as late as the period we are dwelling on,
when languages were as yet not much studied,
and there was a more feeble circulation of foreign

o

periodical literature, less travelling too, and slen
derer international relations, the mutual igno
rance of countries was very great. Nor, either
then or now, could one venture to say that there
was or is more true acquaintance with other
nations among the general population of England,

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 393

than there is accurate knowledge of our island in
Continental states.

The constitution of this country, especially,
complicated as it is to ourselves, was a puzzle to
races accustomed to simple monarchy for ages,
and scarcely possessing experience of anything
between that and bare republicanism. To tell
them that Catholics in Great Britain were ex
cluded from seats in Parliament, bore perhaps
with many no more sense of a hardship than to
hear that they were not allowed a place in the
Turkish Divan. They could not appreciate the
influence and importance of the position, nor the
insufferable insult of a perpetual and hereditary
incapacity for it. Hence our public rejoicing"
for the acquisition of this coveted boon was un
intelligible to the multitude. After audience of
the Pope, the Vicar Hector of the College (now
Archbishop of Trebizond) and myself visited the
Secretary of State, and received from him warm
expressions of congratulation. We then pro
ceeded to make preparations for our festival, on
the usual Roman plan. The front of our house
was covered with an elegant architectural design
in variegated lamps, and an orchestra was erected
opposite for festive music. In the morning of
the appointed day, a Te Deum, attended by the
various British colleges, was performed ; in the

394 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

afternoon a banquet on a munificent scale was
given at his villa near St. Paul's, by Morisignor
Mcolai, the learned illustrator of that Basilica ;
and in the evening we returned home to see the
upturned faces of multitudes reflecting the bril
liant " lamps of architecture " that tapestried
our venerable walls. But the words " Emanci-
pazione Cattolica," which were emblazoned in
lamps along the front, were read by the people
with difficulty, and interpreted by conjecture ;
so that many came and admired, but went away,
unenlightened by the blaze that had dazzled
them, into the darkness visible of surrounding
streets.

In fact the first of the two words, long and
formidable to untutored lips was no household
word in Italy, nor was there any imaginable
connection in ordinary persons' minds between
it and its adjective, nor between the two and
England. But to us and our guests there was
surely a magic in the words, that spoke to our
hearts, and awakened there sweet music, more
cheering than that of our orchestra, and kindled
up a brighter illumination in our minds than that
upon our walls. We had left our country young,
and hardly conscious of the wrongs which galled
our elders, we should return to it in possession
of our rights ; and thus have hardly experienced

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 395

more sense of injury than they who have been
born since that happy era. So some of us could
feel, and had not this its uses ? Whatever may
be considered the disadvantages of a foreign
education, it possessed, especially at that period,
this very great advantage, that it reared the
mind, and nursed the affections, out of the reach
of religious contests and their irritation. No
" winged words " of anger or scorn, however
powerfully fledged for flight, could well surmount
the Alps ; and, if they did, the venom must
have dropped from their tip, as this must have
lost its pungency, in so long a course. Scarcely
any amount of roaring on platforms could have
sent even a softened whisper of itself across the
sea ; and the continuous attacks of a hostile press
could only reach one in the broken fragments
that occasionally tessellated a foreign paper.
Thus, one hardly knew of the bitter things said
against what was dearest to us ; and certainly
I will bear willing testimony to the absence of
all harsh words and uncharitable insinuations
against others in public lectures, or private
teaching, or even in conversation, at Rome.
One grows up there in a kinder spirit, and
learns to speak of errors in a gentler tone, than
elsewhere, though in the very centre of highest
orthodox feeling. Still, if wrongs had not been

396 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

keenly felt, the act of justice so honourable to one's
country, and the sense of relief from degrading
trammels, made every British Catholic heart rejoice
in Rome, when the news reached us, that the
struggle of years had been crowned with triumph,
and that the laurels of a peaceful Waterloo had
graced the same brows as were crowned by the
wreaths of our last great sanguinary victory.
It Avas, however, the future, and not the present,
that gladdened that hour, the birth-hour of great
and enduring events. This is certainly not the
place to descant upon this subject ; but it was
too mighty a political act to have quietly sub
sided in a moment, among the other enactments
of a session, or to be quoted as only one chapter
of the statutes passed in a given year. The gene
ration still exists which had life and action before
the momentous step. Many survive it who
regret even bitterly the good old days of exclu
sion, which amounted to monopoly for them and
theirs : some too remain whose shackles were
removed, but not the numbness and cramp which
they had produced. By degrees society will
consist more and more, and then entirely, of
those who have grown up side by side from
infancy under the fostering of impartial laws, in
the feeling of essential equality, without con
sciousness or pretension of this having been a

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 397

concession. The remembrance of a condition of
things, when one portion of the same community
was a suppliant to the other for common rights,
will have passed away ; and with it the pride of
having refused or of having granted, and the
humiliation of having long been spurned, and
at last almost compulsorily relieved. Then, and
only then, will that clear stage have been pre
pared, on which peaceful and intellectual con-
tention can be conducted as between champions
in ancient times, devoid of hate and of heat,
and uninfluenced by recollections of mutual re
lations, then unknown to either side. But, cer
tainly, the day that prepared such a prospect
for a country divided in religion, may well be
considered a bright one in the brief annals of
the Pontificate within which it fell.

The second striking occurrence of Pius's Pon
tificate should rather bear another name ; it is a
measure more than an event, proceeding from
the Pope himself, of immense moment at the
time, but not destined to produce its startling
effects till seven years after his death. At a
time when the anxieties, pains, and contention
which this measure caused have been soothed
and almost forgotten, at a moment when all are
rejoicing at the coming alliance between the
power to which it related, and our own royal

398 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

family, it would be ill-timed and ungracious
to enter into any details of the Pope's celebrated
answer to four great German prelates, on the
subject of mixed marriages. They had consulted
his predecessor on the conduct to be observed
respecting them, not on general principles, but in
connection with civil legislation, at variance
with ecclesiastical law ; whereby their consciences
were sorely perplexed. It was for them some
such position as clergymen of the Established
Church declared themselves to hold last year, in
consequence of the new Divorce Act. They
both considered the law of the land to conflict
with that of God : but in the one case each
person had to consult his own conscience alone,
or many might contribute their individual con
victions to a common fund of remonstrance, or a
joint engine of resistance: in the other all had
recourse to a recognised superior in spirituals,
and head in Church government, who could speak
as one having authority, and whom they would
all obey.

Pius, as Cardinal Castiglioni, had gone fully
into the case, and was, therefore, prepared for
action. Before the close of the first year of his
reign, he addressed his notable Brief to the
Archbishop of Cologne, and the Bishops of
Treves, Paderborn, and Munster, which was

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 399

immediately followed by a long practical in
struction, bearing the signature of Cardinal
Albani.

There is no intention of discussing the grounds
or motives of this document, nor of going into
the nature of its provisions, still less of justifying
the Pope's conduct. Our purpose only requires
of us a more pleasing task, that of characterising
the paper itself. Eeading it now, after seven
teen years, one cannot fail to be struck by the
calm and apostolic dignity which pervades it in
every part. It is known that it cost the gentle,
yet firm, mind of Pius a conflict of emotions,
which inflicted on him almost anguish. His
office compelled him to reply : and the answer
could not be any but a censure on the conduct
of a powerful state, with which he was perfectly
at peace, and directions to thwart its measure,
and testify to the utmost " abhorrence " for it.
It was impossible for him to foresee the possible
results of his decided conduct. His directions
might be disobeyed, and the world might deride
his innocuous blow, as though, like the feeble old
Priam's,

" telum imbelle sine ictu."

They might be carried out, not in his spirit, and
confusion and misunderstanding would arise.
Or even they might be admirably obeyed, and

400 THE LAST FOUR POPES. .

yet lead to collisions and conflicts, to sufferings
and violence, of which the blame would probably
be cast upon himself. It was painful, therefore,
in the extreme, to feel obliged to issue such a
document; but, upon its face, no sign can be
traced of the agitation and affliction of his soul.
It is impassive and dignified throughout. There
are blended in it two qualities, not often com
bined. Its enactments are as clear and as
definite as any statute could make them, without
wavering, flinching, or aught extenuating : at
the same time, its entire tone is conciliatory,
respectful, and even friendly. To the bishops,
he speaks as a father and a master : of their
sovereign, he undeviatingly writes as of a fellow-
monarch, an ally, and a friend. His confidence
in the royal justice, fairness, and tolerance, is
entire and unbounded. The character of Pius
is breathed into every paragraph, his inflexibility
of conscience, his strictness of principle, with his
kindness of heart, and gentleness of natural dis
position. Moreover, the consummate canonist
is discoverable to the more learned, and this
too in the line of condescension and conciliation.
His successor, in 1837, commenting on this
Brief, justly remarked that it " pushed its indul
gence so far, that one might truly say it reached
the very boundary line, which could not be

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 401

passed without violation of duty." Every one
knows what a nicety in legal knowledge this
requires. A well-remembered popular leader
used to boast, that he trusted so confidently
in his accurate acquaintance with law, that he
had no fear of ever overstepping its limits, or
being caught in the snares which he knew beset
his path. His foot was, however, at length
entangled in their meshes, his confidence had
betrayed him, and his energy was irreparably
broken.

Not so was it with Pius. What he had
written, he had written in the fulness of a
wisdom which holiness of life had matured, and
an earnest sense of duty now doubly enlightened:
not a word of it had to be recalled, modified, or
compromised ; and, though after a long struggle,
it has remained an oracle and a law. But, as
has been remarked, he only committed a seed to
the furrow, and he lived not to pluck its bearing.
For more than a year this document lay buried
in some ministerial bureau at Berlin : it was
then taken up, negotiated about, and cast for
three more years into oblivion. What followed
belongs to another Pontificate; but will not
even there need fresh attention. Suffice it to
say, that the scars of old wounds are healed ;
the Roman purple glows upon the archiepiscopal
D D

402 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

throne of glorious Cologne, almost rebuilt under
royal patronage ; the young Prince, future heir
to the Prussian crown, who is about to take into
partnership of its brilliancy and its burthen
England's first daughter, has known, and been
known by, Rome with reciprocated esteem ;
while the monarch who will welcome them home
has, on many occasions, given proof of his own
personal feelings in favour of justice and fair-
dealing towards the newer, as well as to the
older, provinces of his kingdom.

Two important public incidents thus marked
the commencement and the middle of this brief
Pontificate : the first was joyful, the second
painful ; a third and still more disastrous one
preceded, perhaps prepared, its close. Like the
others, it only developed its consequences in
another Pontificate.

In July, 1830, took place the first of those
great political earthquakes which have since
become so frequent, shaking down thrones, and
scattering their occupants, without war, and
comparatively without the cruelties of a violent
reaction. Three days formed the mystic term
required for the overthrow of a dynasty : street-
barricading and domiciliary slaughter were the
strategy employed ; then all was over, without

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 403

guillotine or fusillades. Such were the three
days, once called glorious in France, commemo
rated by anniversary festivities. The elder
branch of the Bourbons was its victim ; the
work of many years' war, by confederated
Europe, was overthrown in a trice ; down to its
favourite and tenderest shoot, it was whirled
entire, by the revolutionary blast, across the sea
to a second exile, but not to a second hospitable
welcome. And yet the fight and the turmoil,
the agitation and the waste of strength, were not
even for a change of name. When the dust and
smoke had cleared away, another Bourbon was
on the throne ; a monarch had succeeded to a
monarch ; a younger branch more vigorous in its
offshoots, fuller of younger sap, was planted on
the same spot, or rather sprang from the same
trunk as the one so mercilessly lopped. It ap
peared as if France had not at least quarrelled
with the root-
In August, the terrible lesson, easily learnt,
was faithfully repeated in Brussels, and Bel
gium was for ever separated from Holland. To
those who had witnessed the first great revolution
in France, the reappearance once more, in the
same country, of the quelled spirit of that event
could not but be a spectacle full of terrors.

D D 2

404 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

The recollection of that sanguinary period was
still fresh in the memory of many. Charles X.
who was expelled by the new revolution, was,
after all, the brother of the king who had
perished on the scaffold in the first ; this alone
brought the two events into a close connection.
Pius VIII. had lived and suffered in one; he
could not but be deeply affected by another. It
was easy to foresee that examples so successful
as these must encourage the discontented of
other countries, and that a spark from one con
flagration might suffice to set the drier materials
of older dynasties in a blaze. His own domi
nions were not left in peace. The storm which
was soon to break in all its fury, was gathering
slowly and sullenly around. Soon after his
accession, he renewed the edicts of his prede
cessor against secret societies — the Carbonari.
A lodge of these conspirators was discovered in
Rome, and twenty-six of its members were ar
rested. A special commission was appointed to
try them ; one was condemned to death, some
others sentenced to imprisonment. The first
was grand-master and chief of the conspiracy.
But Pius commuted his sentence, and mercifully
spared his life.

These repeated shocks abroad and at home,

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 405

to which may be added the revolution in Poland
in November, and the death of his friend and
ally the King of Naples, inflicted stroke after
stroke on the Pope's shattered frame. The
malignant humour which had affected him so
long outwardly, was driven inwards upon more
vital organs, and threatened, towards the end of
1830, a speedy dissolution.

In the meantime, Pius had taken a plain
straightforward course. No sooner had the
French revolution proved complete, and Louis-
Philippe been seated firmly on his throne, than
he frankly recognised his government, and con
firmed the credentials of his own Nuncio. The
Archbishop of Paris, Monseigneur De Quelen, a
man whose virtues all must admire, demurred
to even this decision, and sent an envoy to
Rome, to argue the question of the new oath of
fidelity, and of public prayers for the head of
the State. Several other bishops likewise enter
tained similar conscientious scruples, and con
sulted the same supreme authority. On the
29th of September, the Pope addressed a most
luminous and kind Brief to the Archbishop, in
which he replied to his doubts, and assured him
that he might safely accord both the required
pledges of fidelity.

D D 3

406 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

It cannot be necessary to remark, how fear
fully this outbreak of revolutionary spirit, which
made its first appearance in this Pontificate, was
pregnant with immense results throughout the
Continent ; how it was only the first of succes
sive convulsions in France ; visited successively
greater and lesser states, from empires to
grand-duchies ; and has led to more changes of
dynasties, more resignations of sovereigns, more
variations of national constitutions, more pro
visional governments, more periods of anarchy,
more civil strife, more military rule, more states
of siege, more political assassinations, more dis
turbance of international law, and more subver
sion of the moral bases of society, crowded and
condensed into one quarter of a century, than
would run diluted through the annals of any
hundred years in the world's history.

The good Pope was spared the sight of all
this misery. For, as the reader has seen, the
beginning of this revolutionary movement seemed
to cut short his valuable life. He was conscious
of his approaching end, and asked to receive the
Sacraments, which the highest and the lowest in
the Church equally require and desire, or which
rather bind us all together in an equality of
helplessness and of relief. Like the food of the

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 407

body, in this, that the monarch and the beggar
must both partake of it ; unlike it in this, that
only one quality and one measure is there served
out to both. A Pope ordains like an ordinary
bishop, recites his breviary like a common priest,
receives the Viaticum under one species, the
same as any patient in the hospital, and goes
through the humble duty of confession, generally
to a simple priest, like the everyday sinner of
the world. In what is believed to be super
natural, and belongs to the order of grace, he is
on the level with his own children. He can
give more than they, but he must receive the

6

same.

But a trait is recorded of the dying Pius,
which will justify, or illustrate, what has been
said concerning the delicacy of his conscience as
well as the disinterestedness of his conduct.
On his death-bed, he sent for his treasurer
Cristaldi, and requested him, in virtue of the
powers vested in his office, to secure a small
pension for life to one old and faithful domestic,
who had attended him for years. He had laid
by nothing himself, from which he could provide
for him, and he doubted whether he had himself
a right to leave the treasury burthened with
this trifling personal gratuity. He expressed

D D 4

408 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

his thankfulness when his request was efficiently
complied with, and composed himself to rest.1

On the morning of December the first,
Pius VIII. calmly breathed his last,

In the recollections of the preceding Popes,
the reader will have observed one principle kept
in view, which he may think has been lost sight
of in the record of this third Pontificate. It has
been wished to exemplify, even at the risk of
being personal — which recollections must neces
sarily be — how individual is the influence of the
Holy See upon all, however insignificant, who
closely approach it. The shade of a tall and
stately tree, if it be of a baneful character,
blights all that is planted beneath it; while
another seems to draw upwards, and to give
straight, though perhaps slender, growth to
what springs up under its shelter. Such is the
benign and fostering protection and direction
which many will have experienced in the Roman
Pontiff. And, therefore, a recollection of having
been brought beneath this propitious influence,
is equivalent to a consciousness of having felt it.
Already one conversation with Pius VIII. has
been recorded, on those studies which formed the

1 Chevalier D'Artaud.

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 409

writer's favourite pursuits, calculated to encou
rage perseverance in them. Another interview
can more easily be here inserted, because it has
already been published many years, and, there
fore, is as much the reader's property as the
author's own. The following, then, is an extract
from the last of twelve Lectures, delivered in
Rome in 1835, and published in London in the
following year : —

" In my own case, I should be unjust to over
look this opportunity of saying that, on every
occasion, but principally on the subject of these
Lectures1, I have received the most conde
scending encouragement from those whose ap
probation every Catholic will consider his best
reward."

To this acknowledgment was appended the
following explanatory note : —

u I feel a pleasure in relating the following
anecdote. A few years ago, I prefixed to a
thesis held by a member of the English College
(afterwards the Right Rev. Bishop Baggs), a
Latin dissertation of ten or twelve pages, upon
the necessity of uniting general and scientific
knowledge to theological pursuits. I took a

1 Lectures on tbe Connection between Science and Revealed
Religion.

410 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

rapid view of the different branches of learning
discussed in these Lectures. The Essay was
soon translated into Italian, and printed in a
Sicilian journal ; and, I believe, appeared also at
Milan. What was most gratifying, however, to
my own feelings, and may serve as a confirma
tion of the assertions in the text, is, that when,
two days after, I waited upon the late Pope
Pius VIII. , a man truly well versed in sacred
and profane literature, to present him, according
to usage, with a copy of the thesis prepared for
him, I found him with it on his table ; and, in
the kindest terms, he informed me, that, having
heard of my little Essay, he had instantly sent
for it, and added, in terms allusive to the figure
quoted above from the ancient Fathers : ' You
have robbed Egypt of its spoil, and shown that
it belongs to the people of God.' "

This was the watering, soft and genial, of that
little germ, which made it grow up, at least with
the vigour of good intentions, into something
more complete. Those few condescending words
gave new zest to researches commenced, imparted
value to what had been already gathered, and
encouragement towards collecting what still lay
scattered. They shed a cheerful brightness
over one period of life. And that very moment

THIS THE EIGHTH. 411

might not be unjustly considered its very mid
point. We all look back, from our lengthening
desert path, upon some such green and sunlit
oasis from which we started ; but, what was
more, mine was then peopled and alive with kin
dred minds. It is then, that, on reaching back
through memory to that happier time, to me

" Occurrunt animse, quales neque candidiores
Terra tulit, neque queis me sit devinctior alter."

During that brief and long-passed era of life,
congenial pursuits created links of which few
now remain, between the survivor and many
well more worthy to have lived. Not to speak
of Italy, and many great and good men who
flourished there, especially in Rome, it is pleasant
to remember having conversed, and sometimes
corresponded, with such scholars in France as
the patriarch of Oriental literature, Sylvestre de
Sacy ; the rival of Grotefend and precursor of
Rawlinson, Saint-Martin; the inaugurator almost
of Tartar and Mongolian learning, Abel-Remusat ;
not to mention Balbi, Ozanam, Halma, and
many others : and in Germany to have been in
similar relations with Mohler, Klee, — both too
early taken from us, — Scholz, Schlegel, Win-
dischmann the elder, and the two noble-minded

412 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

Gorreses, the philosopher of the noblest faculties,
and the poet of the sweetest affections.

Many others, indeed, as yet survive, to share
the recollections of that period, which we hold
together as a mutual bond of friendly intercourse
and undeviating sympathies : but we all of us
must now and then cast a "longing, lingering
look behind," and turn away with a sigh, to see
our old oasis still indeed green and sunny, but
principally with that sheen which faith reflects
upon the graves of the holy and the wise.

art % Jfmtrtlj.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH.

>RY T

1 shall jnot- have much time in ftiture to corttfejt
them." Such were the first word* 'which I
beard from the month of Gregory XYI. Ttn^y
were preceded by a kind exclamation of K-cog1-
riition, and followed by a heart v bk'S*in<r, -is T
knelt before him in tlie narrow passage leading
from- the private jwuv-l af>artt?i^Tjt^ Jt n-a^ /^ly
a few days after br* »> ^knu Tin- iH»^f )'*>{»<?
alluded to an w - ^/iil«^ - ,-.r> "hiv

part. He had dtv . to f-xnayui ai; s-«-;^v

ar^d publish it as a little work in Italian t on' s
subject in which, a.s Prefect of Propaganda, he
took an interest. It was passing through the
press of that Institution, and he kad undertaken
to correct its sheets. Throughout the duration
'>*' the conclave, down to the very eve of
-; vt>Ti'. n, he had persevered In this proof of

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 417

when Cardinal Albani, on belialf of Austria, to
which Severoli had been formerly Xuncio, inhi
bited his election, by a note considered far from,
courteous. And, in like manner in this conclave,
on the 7th of January, Cardinal Giustiniani
received twenty-one votes, the number sufficient
for election being twenty-nine, when Cardinal
Marco, Spanish envoy, delicately intimated, first
to Giustiniani's nephew, Odescalchi, then to the
Dean Pacca, that Spain objected to that nomina
tion. Every one was amazed. Giustiniani had
been Nuncio in Spain ; and the ground of his
exclusion was supposed to be, his participation
in Leo XII.'s appointment of bishops in South
America. If so, the object in view was signally
defeated. For the power possessed by the crown
of any country expires by its exercise ; the
sting remains behind in the wound. Cardinal
Cappellari had been instrumental, far more than
Giustiniani, in promoting those episcopal nomi
nations, and he united the requisite number of
votes, and was Pope.

Every one in that conclave, however, bore
witness to the admirable conduct of that excel
lent and noble prince on the occasion. I have
heard Cardinal Weld, and his secretary in con
clave, Bishop Riddell, describe how wretched
and pining he looked while the prospect of the
E E

418 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

papacy hung before him, for he was scrupulous
and tender of conscience to excess ; and how he
brightened up and looked like himself again, the
moment the vision had passed away. Indeed,
no sooner had the note of the Spanish lay am
bassador, Labrador, been read in his presence by
the Dean, than Cardinal Giustiniani rose, and
standing in the middle of the chapel, addressed
his colleagues. He was tall, his scanty hair was
white with age, his countenance peculiarly mild.
His mother was an English lady, and his family
are now claiming the Newburgh peerage in
Scotland, from the Crown. With an unfaltering
voice, and a natural tone, unagitated by his
trying position, the Cardinal said : " If I did not
know courts by experience, I should certainly
have cause to be surprised at the 'exclusion'
published by the most eminent Dean ; since, far
from being able to reproach myself with having
given cause of complaint against me to His
Catholic Majesty, during rny nunciature, I dare
congratulate myself with having rendered His
Majesty signal service in the difficult circum
stances wherein he was placed." He then re
ferred to some proofs of acknowledgment of this
fidelity from the Spanish Crown ; and continued :
"I will always cherish the memory of these
kindnesses shown me by His Catholic Majesty,

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 419

and will entertain towards him the most pro-
found respect, and in addition a most lively
interest for all that can regard his welfare, and
that of his august family. I will further add,
that, of all the benefits conferred on me by His
Majesty, I consider the greatest and most accept
able to me (at least in its effects) to be his having
this day closed for me the access to the most
sublime dignity of the Pontificate. Knowing, as
I do, my great weakness, I could not bring my
self to foresee that I should ever have to take on
myself so heavy a burthen, yet these few days
back, on seeing that I was thought of for this
purpose, my mind has been filled with the bit
terest sorrow. To-day I find myself free from
my anxiety, I am restored to tranquillity, and I
retain only the gratification of knowing that
some of my most worthy colleagues have deigned
to cast a look on me, and have honoured me
with their votes, for which I beg to offer them
my eternal and sincerest gratitude."

This address visibly moved the entire as
sembly ; and many Cardinals visited Giustiniani
in his cell, to express to him their admiration of
his conduct and his virtues.1

Gregory XVI. gave him every proof of his

1 Moroni, Dizionario, vol. xxxi. p. 221.
BE 2

420 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

esteem, and after the death of Cardinal Weld,
he was named Cardinal Protector of the English
College, in consideration of his English descent.
This gave me many opportunities of conferring
with him, and learning his genuine and solid
good qualities.

It would seem as if the pontifical dignity, in
modern times, had to alternate between the two
ecclesiastical divisions in the Church, the secular
and regular. Pius VII. belonged to the latter,
the two next Popes to the former class. In
Cardinal Capellari a return was made to the
monastic order. His three immediate predeces
sors had passed through certain preparatory
steps ; had been graced with the episcopal dig
nity before they reached the pontifical, had been
bishops or public characters in stirring times : he
had never left the cloister till he was clothed
with the purple — though in his case this was
but a symbolical phrase1, and after this, he only
filled one, and that an ecclesiastical office. His
previous life, therefore, may be easily sketched.

Bartholomew Albert Cappellari was born at
Belluno, in Lombardy, September 18, 1765, of

1 On becoming a Cardinal, a religious preserves the colour of
his habit. That of the Camaldolese being white, Gregory XVI.
never changed the colour of his robes, but wore the same as a
monk, a cardinal, and pope.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 421

parents belonging to the nobles of the place. In
1783 he took the habit of the Camaldolese order,
and with it assumed the name of Maurus, in the
monastery of San Michele in Murano, at Venice.
In 1795 he was deputed to Rome on business,
and there, in 1799, he published a large work of
great merit, which gave proof of his extensive
and varied learning.1 In 1805 he was created
Abbot, and exercised the office at the monastery
of St. Gregory in Rome, and in that of his ori
ginal profession at Venice. The first, however,
became his place of residence.

The church and monastery of St. Gregory are
beautifully situated on the CaBlian Hill, and
occupy the site of a religious house founded by
that great Pope, in his own house. Its original
dedication was to the Apostle St. Andrew, in
whose honour there still exists a chapel in the
garden, adorned with exquisite frescoes. Over
the threshold of this house proceeded St. Augus
tine, and the other missionaries, whom St. Gre
gory sent to England. From the Benedictines
it passed into the hands of the Camaldolese, a
branch indeed of that religious order. The Ca
maldolese take their name from one of the three

1 It is entitled, " II trionfo della Santa Sede, e della Chiesa,
contro gli assalti del Novatori." It passed through three editions
in Venice, and has been translated into several languages.

EE 3

422 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

celebrated " Sanctuaries " of Tuscany, situated
among the fastnesses of the Apennines, and re
markable for the beauties of their positions, and
of the prospects around them. But the Camal-
dolese, founded by St. Eomuald in the thir
teenth century, have two forms of life, one mo
nastic, the other eremetical. The latter has
been in part described, where an account was
given of the abduction, by banditti, of a com
munity on Tusculum. It was to the monastic
branch that D. Mauro Cappellari belonged. In
the splendid monastery of St. Gregory the Great,
he passed upwards of twenty years of quiet
obscurity, enjoying the command of a rich
library to which he greatly added.

But, although scarcely known to the public,
he was one of the many living in Rome, who
silent and unseen carry on the great business of
the Church, as its counsellors, theologians, and
referees in arduous affairs. In this way Father
Cappellari was well known to the Holy See, and
full opportunity was given him to become ac
quainted with ecclesiastical and even civil busi
ness, and to manifest his ability, prudence, arid
uprightness in its transaction. Among other
grave duties, Leo XII. imposed on him those of
visitor of the four lesser Universities. Those
who knew his merits fully expected that he

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 423

would be soon placed in a position to display
them more usefully ; when it appeared as if a
friendly rival had stepped in between him and
his well-earned honours.

Another religious of the same order, and from
the same province, had come to Rome much
later, and was his junior by several years. This
was D. Placido Zurla ; a man of great learning
and pleasing manners, and adorned besides with
high moral qualities. But he had taken no
leading part in ecclesiastical affairs in Rome, nor
had he borne the weight of its evil days. His
celebrity, indeed, as an author had been rather
in a very different line, that of geographical
research. In 1818 he had published, at Venice,
an interesting work on Marco Polo and other
early Venetian travellers, and he had brought to
light, or at least greatly illustrated, a singular
map of the world, preserved in the library of St.
Mark's, which, though long anterior to the age of
Columbus, seemed to give a hint of a western
continent. He was the intimate friend of Father
Cappellari ; and all Rome was astonished when
he was named Cardinal by Pius VII. in May,
1823, not because his own merits were under
rated, but because his elevation seemed to bar
that of his fellow-monk. For it was supposed to
be impossible that two religious should be raised

£ £ 4

424 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

to the purple from one very limited monastic
body. So Zurla felt it : and on receiving notice
of his coming nomination, he is said to have pro
ceeded to the feet of Pius, and deprecated it, as
an injustice to his friend, indeed, as certainly a
mistake. However, it was not so. He became
Vicar of Rome, and was Protector of our College
till his death in Sicily, in 1834. Not the slightest
interruption of affection took place between the
two religious brethren, even after the last had
become first ; and Zurla was vicar to Cappellari.

In fact, Leo XII. overlooked all usages, ordered
a complete equipment for a cardinal to be pre
pared at his own charge ; and the colour and
form of the robes left no doubt who the unknown
nominee was to be. On the 25th of March, 1825,
Leo created him cardinal, but reserved him in
petto, till March 13th of the following year, when
he proclaimed him with such a eulogium as has
seldom been pronounced in consistory. He
spoke of him as a person " very remarkable for
innocence and gravity of manners, and most
learned, especially in ecclesiastical matters, and
for protracted labours endured for the Apostolic
See."

On the Feast of the Purification, February 2nd,
1831, an end was put to the conclave by his
election to the Supreme Pontificate, by the name

GREGOEY THE SIXTEENTH. 425

of Gregory. The ceremony of his coronation,
which took place on the 6th, was enhanced by
his consecration as Bishop, at the High Altar of
St. Peter's. This function served clearly to
exhibit the concurrence in his person of two
different orders of ecclesiastical power. From
the moment of his acceptance of the Papal dignity,
he was Supreme Head of the Church, could de
cree, rule, name or depose bishops, and exercise
every duty of pontifical jurisdiction. But he
could not ordain, nor consecrate, till he had him
self received the imposition of hands from other
bishops, inferior to himself, and holding under
and from him their sees arid jurisdiction.

On a previous occasion, when Clement XIY.
was named Pope, he received episcopal consecra
tion separately from his coronation. Gregory
united the two functions ; but following a still
older precedent, departed from ordinary forms.

In the Eoman Pontifical, the rite prescribed
for episcopal consecration is interwoven with the
Mass, during which the new Bishop occupies a
very subordinate place till the end, when he is
enthroned, and pronounces his first episcopal
benediction. Here the entire rite preceded the
Mass, which was sung in the usual form by the
new Pope. Like every other Bishop, he recited,
kneeling before the altar, and in presence of his

426 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

clergy, the Profession of Faith, the bond here
which united the Head with the Body, instead
of being, as ordinarily, the link which binds a
member to the Head.

The morning was bright and full of joy ; the
evening came gloomy and charged with sinister
prognostics. It was in the very square of the Vati
can, while receiving the first Papal blessing, that
the rumour reached us of insurrection in the
provinces. It was one of those vague reports the
origin and path of which no one can trace. For
it was only on the 4th that Bologna had risen.
A cannonade had been heard in the direction of
Modena, which was taken for a signal of premature
revolution. It was that of the Grand-Duke's
attack on the house of Giro Menotti, who had
been treated with all the kindness of a domestic
friend by that monarch, while he was the very
centre of a general conspiracy. His treachery
was discovered, and his intentions were frustrated
by the vigilance and intrepidity of the Duke, who
took, and himself conveyed him away captive,
where he could be better held. Soon the in
surrection spread ; and, having occupied the le
gations, overflowed its original boundaries, and
sent its forces towards the capital, where a move
ment was attempted with no real success.

I remember perfectly the night of February 12.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 427

It was carnival time, of the good old days, when
later restrictions had not been thought of, and
every one was on pleasure bent, hearty and
harmless, for the hour. On the afternoon of
that day, just as the sports were going to begin,
an edict peremptorily suspended them, troops
patrolled the Corso, and other public places, and
citizens were warned to remain at home, as evil-
disposed persons machinated mischief. Three
clays before a plot had been formed for the sur
prise and seizure of the Fort of St. Angelo ; but
it had been foiled by Government watchfulness.
In the evening of the 12th some sharp reports
of fire-arms reached our ears, and told us of an
attempt, at least, to excite a violent revolution.
It was, in truth, an attack made by an armed
party on the guard of the Post-office, with the
intention of seizing its arms arid ammunition.
But the soldiers were on the alert ; they re
turned the fire, wounded several, and captured
many of their assailants ; and all was quiet.
One ball went through the gate of the Piom-
bino Palace, and, I believe, killed the innocuous
porter within.

As for ourselves, not knowing what might
happen, or in what direction the blind fury of a
successful rebellion might direct itself, ignorant
also of the extent and resources of the aggres-

428 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

sors, we took every precaution against any
nocturnal surprise. Our doors were solid, our
windows well barred, our walls impregnable.
After careful survey of the premises, only one
weak point was discovered, not proof against
the extemporaneous engineering of tumultuary
assailants; and I doubt if Todleben himself could
have suggested a more scientific or more effec
tual way than we employed of securing it, by
works hastily thrown up, against nocturnal ag
gression. Watch and ward were also kept up ;
till morning dawned on our untried defences
and nodding sentinels.

Whatever may have been the feelings of the
provinces, certainly Home gave no proof of sym
pathy with revolution, but rather manifested
enthusiastic devotion to her new sovereign. Upon
the Civic Guard being enlarged, to enable the
regular troops to move northward, multitudes
presented themselves for enrolment; and, among
these, persons of the highest class, eager to take
on themselves the defence of the Pope's sacred
person. Prince Altieri received the command
of this body. The loyalty of the poorer classes
became almost alarming. They surrounded the
royal carriage in such masses, that it was scarcely
possible to move through them ; and they ex
pressed their attachment and readiness to fight,

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 429

with a clamour and warmth that would have
rendered any attempt to remove them a dan
gerous experiment.

The Pope displayed the utmost calm, fortitude,
and prudence. The blow was, no doubt, to him
cruel and disappointing. It served better than
any symbolical ceremony, to remind him, on his
coronation day, how earthly glory passeth quick
away. He was yet untried, determined to devote
himself to his high duties with zeal and with
ability. He had every reason to hope that he
should continue the peaceful career of his pre
decessors. There was no army worth naming
kept up in the States — a burthen less, pressing
on the people. Repression had never been a
contemplated principle of government ; military
occupation had not been considered as the tenure
of an ecclesiastical dynasty. There was one con
solation certainly in what had just occurred. The
insurrection had broken out before his election
was known. It could have no personal motive,
no enmity to himself. It arose against the rule,
not against the ruler ; against the throne, not
against its actual possessor.

Neither could it be said that the revolution
was a last measure, after preliminary efforts, the
resource of men driven to extremity, by being
denied all redress. The outburst was sudden,

430 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

though doubtless premeditated ; it aimed at the
final overthrow of the reigning power, not at mo
difications of government. It pretended to seek,
not reforms, but the substitution of a republic
for the existing and recognised rule. Now let
any one impartially discuss with himself, what
he would have done in similar circumstances,
and it will be difficult for him to arrive at a con
demnation of the course pursued by Gregory.
There was no question of concession, but of ces
sion only. His governors and representatives
had been driven away, and an army was forcing
its way towards his capital, not to make terms, but
to expel him. They were prepared to treat with
him, not as aggrieved subjects, but as the su
preme rulers. They were now the nation, the
government ; sitting in provisional form, in pro
vincial cities, distracted, unorganised. Was it
his duty to recognise at once their claims ; and,
if they proved unable to drive him from Rome,
to divide his States with them, and surrender, at
the bidding of at most a faction, the rich pro
vinces over which he had just been appointed ?
Or was he to yield to this violence, because, in
the confidence of a paternal rule, the papacy
had not kept up a disproportionate standing army
during peace ?

If not, if any one similarly circumstanced

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 431

would have felt that his first duty was to secure
integral possession of his rightful dominions, and
to rescue the country from civil war, there was
no alternative but the one adopted by Gregory,
the calling to aid an allied power, especially one
to whom the well-known lesson applied —

" Nam tua res agitur, paries cum proximus ardet."

That foreign assistance, especially when pro
longed, is an evil, no one can doubt ; and as
such none more deplored it than Gregory XVI.
But there was only a choice of evils ; and surely
this one was less so than anarchy and all its
miseries. In fact, it is a mistake to speak of
choice ; since it was a necessity without an alter
native. For the outbreak itself, independent of
all abstract questions, was a grievous calamity
to the country. Its promoters, of course, appro
priated to themselves the provincial chests, and
cut off supplies from the capital, where public
payments had to be made ; the additional ex
penses entailed by it, and the irregularities that
ensued in the collection of revenues, embarrassed
for a long time the public finances : a loan had
to be contracted for the first time, and an ex
ternal debt created ; public property had to be
ruinously sold, and profitable sources of national
income farmed out for a present advantage and

432 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

eventual loss ; and much property belonging to
ecclesiastical corporations was enfranchised and
its proceeds converted into Government funds.
But in the mean time payments of all sorts ran
into arrears, whether dividends, salaries, pen
sions, or assignments ; and I can speak with
painful recollection of the embarrassment in
which persons charged with administration of
property vested in public securities soon found
themselves involved, through the disturbance
created by this internal derangement. It was
several years before the financial current again
flowed regularly and smoothly.

In the mean time the Pope was not merely
calm and confident, but most active ; and no one,
reading the public acts of his first year of Pontifi
cate, would imagine that it was one of intestine
war, confusion, and distress. Within the month
of his nomination (February 28) he preconised,
as it is called, twenty- two archbishops and
bishops ; in the September following he pub
lished seventeen more, and named twelve car
dinals, several among them men of considerable
merit. In March he ordered the magnificent
tunnels for the Anio at Tivoli to be commenced.
He reduced the duties on salt and flour, and
modified other imports; created chambers of
commerce in various cities, including the metro-

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 433

polls ; issued excellent laws for municipal
government, and reorganised that of several
provinces, raising their rank for their advan
tage ; introduced great improvements in the Code
of Procedure, criminal and civil ; and established
a sinking fund for the gradual extinction of the
newly contracted debt.

But perhaps the most striking act of this
first year of pressure and revolt was the pub
lication of an Apostolical Constitution, which
was dated August 31st, beginning " Solicitudo
Ecclesiarum." It has been mentioned that
Cardinal Cappellari had been the chief instru
ment in granting bishops to the infant republics
of South America. In fact it was he whom
Leo XII. had deputed in 1827 to treat with
Labrador, the envoy sent by Ferdinand VII.,
to Rome expressly to oppose this concession.
Labrador was acknowledged by all parties, and
especially by the diplomatic body in Rome, to
be one of the most accomplished and most able
statesmen in Europe, yet he could not carry his
point.

The sentiments maintained by Cardinal Cap
pellari as a negotiator were authoritatively
proclaimed by him as Pope, in the Bull just
mentioned ; that the Holy See recognises go
vernments established de facto, without thereby

434 THE LAST FOUE POPES.

going into the question of abstract rights. At
the moment when changes were rapidly made in
governments and dynasties, and when sceptres
passed from hand to hand with the rapidity of
magical or illusory exhibitions, it was at once-
bold and prudent to lay down simple principles
by which the judgment of the Holy See might
be easily anticipated ; at the same time that it
kept itself clear of all internal disputes and em
barrassing appeals during actual contests.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 435

CHAPTER II.

PUBLIC WORKS OF GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH.

THE recollections of this volume commenced in
the nineteenth year of one Pontificate ; yet it
was almost necessary to carry back the reader
to eventful occurrences preceding the period of
personal remembrance. They reach their term
four years before the close of this fourth reign ;
and, in a similar manner, I must be allowed to
refer to circumstances that followed my separa
tion from the scenes of youth and manhood*

However warlike the attitude may appear,
which Gregory was compelled to assume, at the
commencement of his reign, the arts which
stamped it with their character, were the arts of
peace. Scarcely any Pontificate has their foot
prints more deeply or more widely impressed on
it than his. He was not content with con
tinuing or extending what his predecessors had
commenced, but he created ; that is, began from
nothing, and accomplished what was wanting
altogether till his time. .Nor did he confine

FF 2

436 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

himself to any one department of art ; but his
attention was comprehensive and generous, not
guided by caprice, but directed by a discerning
taste.

Let us begin with these higher proofs of
genius. The Roman galleries were rich till his
time, in masterpieces of Greek and Roman art.
Indeed one only wonders how so much that
is beautiful remains there after Rome has en
riched the rest of the world. Unfortunately,
in ancient times, many of the sculptures excava
ted, when the soil was for the first time up
turned, were placed in the palaces or villas
belonging to the family of the reigning Pope,
and thereby became appropriated to its own use.
Thus, the Medici Villa received those matchless
statues and groups which make the Tribuna at
Florence a temple of highest art, though adorned
only with spoils secretly conveyed from Rome.
Thus also, whatever in the Museum of Naples
bears the name of Farnesian, as the Hercules
and Dirce, came from the gigantic palace of that
family in Rome. Let us imagine these two col
lections poured back into their original source,
and what would the Vatican be now ? Then
add to the sum of Roman artistic wealth the
innumerable pieces of sculpture collected or
scattered in other places, and even in other parts

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 437

of the city, in the villas and palaces of Rome, in
the Louvre, at Munich, in London, and it well
may be said that the Eternal City has not only
heaped up artistic treasures for herself, but that
she has enriched with them the entire world.

With this inexhaustible mine of wealth, she
had not thought of going beyond her own soil to
increase her store. She watches indeed more
jealously over it, and over every new discovery,
and does not allow the stranger, so easily as
formerly, to be a gainer by her own losses. The
consequence has been most beneficiaL Unable
any longer to look to Italy for the accumulation
of masterpieces, we have turned to the original
fields where she reaped her golden harvests, to
Greece and Asia, to Lycia and Halicarnassus.
It was Gregory XVI. who first enlarged the
boundaries of artistic collection in Rome, and
brought into near connection the monuments of
earlier schools, those from which it had always
been supposed that the more elegant and sublime
productions of Grecian taste and genius had
received their first inspirations.

The discovery of Assyrian monuments has
indeed materially modified these theories. Egypt
can no longer claim to be the cradle of artistic
Greece ; no lawgiver of her future code of taste
ever lurked in the bulrushes of the Nile. And

FF 3

438 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

Etruscan art is no antecedent preparer or modi
fier of Grecian grace, it is a portion, finished
and refined, of it, though corresponding with it
in progressive development, from rigid archaism
to unzoned luxuriancy.

Gregory added to the Vatican, but kept un
blended with its chaster treasures, most valuable
collections of these two new classes of monu
ments. He began nearest home. Mention has
already been made of the Etruscan discoveries
commenced a few years earlier in the Papal terri
tory. Campania had long supplied Europe with
what are still called Etruscan vases, probably
the same objects of commerce as figure in our
customs list under the designation of " Magna
Grsecia ware." The Museum at Naples was rich
in its collection of them ; and most other
countries possessed a few specimens. North of
Rome, most Etrurian cities contained local
museums, in which were deposited curiosities, as
they are called, picked up in the neighbourhood.
Chiusi, Volterra, Cortona, and other successors
of old Etruscan towns, treasured up with care the
remains and evidences of their ancient taste and
splendour. Sometimes an antiquarian academy
or society occupied itself with researches and dis
cussions on the spot, and published learned and
useful transactions. Such are those of the

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 439

Academy of Cortona, which extend to many
volumes, full of interesting matter.

But, a few years before the accession of Gre
gory, a rich vein of excavation had been struck
into, situated outside the confines of modern
Tuscany, but within the territory of ancient
Etruria. The very names of Vulci, Tarquinii,
and Cera3 suggest to classical ears the idea of
places belonging to that ancient confederation;
but the names had themselves been buried, like
the cities to which they belonged, under such de
signations as Arco della Baddia, Ponte d'Asso,
or Cannino. In the last of these places, the
Prince who takes his title from it, Lucien
Bonaparte, made extensive researches, and drew
from them an immense collection, which has
found its way to the British Museum. Etruscan
" diggings " became the rage ; and many adven
turers were amply repaid. It was not the ruins
of cities that were sought, but their cemeteries.
The custom of savage nations, so often prolonged
into high civilisation, of providing the dead with
the implements and furniture which they needed
on earth, to serve them in an ideal world, that
usage which suggested the slaughter of the
soldier's war-steed, or of the sovereign's wife,
and the burying of his armour with the first, or
the putting the luck-penny into the hand of the

FF 4

440 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

rich or poor, to pay his freightage to the churlish
ferryman, was fully appreciated and observed by
the old Italians. The tomb of a respectable
person occupied the space of a cottage ; its walls
were painted with frescoes of banquets, games,
horses, and men, of large dimensions ; and within
was exquisite furniture in imperishable bronze,
seats, beds, lamps, and other household utensils,
of the same metal, or of the more fragile but
more richly laboured clay. Nor were vases their
most precious contents ; but gold and jewelled
ornaments, entombed there in profusion, attest
the wealth, the luxury, and taste of ancient races,
as well as their reverence for their dead. Breast
plates elaborately wrought of purest gold, neck
laces, ear-rings, bullas for children's necks, chains
of elaborate patterns, all exquisitely wrought,
and enriched with pearls and gems, were found
even in abundance, and may serve yet as models
for the goldsmith's craft.1

A glut in the market became an almost un
avoidable result of this superabundance of dis-

1 The East is full of fables concerning vast treasures, yet con
cealed in the sepulchres of monarchs, guarded by griffins or spirits.
The account of David's tomb, in connection with Herod, has be
come almost matter of history. See Josephus, torn. i. p. 412, and
p. 802, ed. Havercamp. In the second passage we are told that
Herod found, not money, as Hyrcanus had, but " many gold orna
ments and precious things" («O<T/*OI/ xpveov /ecu

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 411

covery. The Government of Rome, being on
the spot, had the advantage of choice ; and
Gregory XVI. with unbounded liberality, pur
chased all that could be required to compose, at
once, a complete collection. There was already,
in the Vatican library, a most choice selection of
vases ; a celebrated real chariot was in the
Museum, other beautiful statues in bronze, one
with an inscription on the arm, were scattered
about, These were brought together in a suite
of ample halls, which formerly were the Cardi
nal Librarian's apartments, but had not been
occupied for many years. It belongs to the
" Hand-books " and " Guides " to give a de
scription of this splendid collection, and its ad
mirable arrangements. Suffice it to say, that
nothing seems to have been overlooked. There
is one model of a tomb, with its furniture as it
was found, and there are traced copies of the
frescoes, many of which fell to dust soon after
contact with the air. The wonder is, how they
had remained so many ages beyond its reach.
That families should not have assumed that
they had made rather a loan than a gift of their
treasures to the dead, and, after a decent inter
val of mourning, have resumed possession ; that
domestics should not have niched them, or a
fraternity of jewel, if not body, snatchers should

442 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

not have existed for sepulchral burglaries ; that
in the feuds between tribes, when cities were
given to sack and ruin, rings snatched from the
ears of matrons, and embroidered baldricks
stripped from the bodies of slaughtered warriors,
the ashes of the dead should have afforded pro
tection to gold and pearls more efficaciously
than horses arid chariots ; and finally, that during
the ages of Roman dominion, when the traditions
of older sepulchral rites were still preserved, or
in the mediaeval period, when no fable of guardian
dragons terrified marauders from the plunder of
Pagan graves, these mounds, visible to every eye,
should have sealed up their treasures and kept
them faithfully, till a better motive and a more
intelligent spirit kindly transferred them to a
surer custody and to admiring observation, may
be truly considered one of those secondary dis
pensations of Providence, which make the works
of man's hands, thus buried for ages, able to fruc
tify in the social world, like the seed-corn found in
Egyptian sepulchres, which has, after thousands
of years, germinated and given harvests.

It was on the anniversary of his election
February 2nd, 1837, that Gregory opened his
Etruscan museum ; two anniversaries later he in
augurated its fellow- collection, the Egyptian. It
occupies the floor immediately below the first.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 443

In one way, Home may be said to have anti
cipated all other countries in gathering Egyptian
monuments, and in making them known to Eu
rope before the collections of Drovetti or Belzoni
had enriched it, and in exhibiting such a class of
them as no other city can hope to rival. For cen
turies the obelisks of Rome, prostrate or standing,
had been almost the only specimens of Egyptian
art known to scholars and to artists. They are
now seven or eight in number, one having been
erected by Pius VI. on the Quirinal, and one in
my time on the Pincian, by his successor. But
the great ones before the Vatican and the
Lateran, the first plain, and the second richly
storied, had long been objects of admiration to
every traveller. Their gigantic dimensions and
elegant forms, their unmanageable material and
finished workmanship, whether in polish or in
carving, then their preserved integrity as mono
liths for so many thousands of years, and the
calculation of mechanical strength and skill which
it has required to extract them from their granite
bed, transport them and raise them on to pro
portioned pedestals — a piling of Pelion on Ossa,
had, perhaps more practically than anything else,
given the West a notion of the precocious civi
lisation and huge works which so early distin
guished the banks of the Nile. And, except

444 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

by the one importation of a second-class obelisk
to Paris under Louis-Philippe, there has been
no attempt to invade this monopoly of the
Eternal City.

Besides this singular order of monuments,
which cannot be brought into a collection there
were other primitive Egyptian pieces of sculpture,
scattered through Rome, the full value of which
was not ascertained till the discovery of the
Egyptian alphabet by Young and Champollion.
Such, for instance, were two out of four basalt
lions, which, couched at the feet of Moses, de
livered well regulated jets of water from their
indrawn lips into the fountain bearing that
patriarch's name. They were covered with hiero
glyphics, which, read by the learned F. Ungarelli,
showed them to belong to a very early dynasty,
and to be perhaps coeval with the Jewish law
giver himself.

These and any other such remains were re
placed by less noble substitutes in their servile
occupations, and were given place in the halls of
the Vatican amidst other kingly monuments.
But there was a third class of Egyptian, or
rather pseudo-Egyptian, works, which likewise
belonged exclusively to Rome. The Emperor
Adrian collected in his villa at Tivoli imitations
of celebrated buildings in every part of the

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 445

world. Among the rest was a " Canopus,"
adorned by Egyptian works, or rather by Grasco-
Koman sculptures reduced to Egyptian forms.
The museums abounded with such monuments
drawn from the ruins of the villa ; and these
also were withdrawn from their usurped positions,
and united to their more legitimate brethren,
thus producing a contrast between the white
marble progeny of Western, and the dusky gra
nite or basalt productions of Eastern, art. This
union gives a local singularity to the Roman-
Egyptian gallery.

Pius VII. had purchased a small but valuable
collection brought from Egypt by Signer Guidi,
and had placed it round a hemicycle in the
Vatican, that crossed the end of the great Belvi-
dere court, uniting its two flanks. It could only
be considered as placed there temporarily, and
migrated to the new quarters prepared for Ises
and Annbises, Cynocephali and Scarabsei. Such
was the groundwork of this new aggregation to
the vast Vatican group of artistic wonders ; it
need not be added, that every opportunity has
been embraced of increasing and perfecting the
work so happily commenced. Nor can it be
necessary to observe that the decoration of this,
as of every other department of art-collection, is
strictly in keeping with its particular object, is

446 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

here purely Egyptian, as elsewhere Etruscan or
Grecian.

The Gallery of Paintings in the Vatican can
hardly be designated by that name, which sug
gests the idea of walls covered with pictures
from ceiling to wainscot, whether stretched into
great lengths as in Paris or Florence, or sur
rounding halls as in London or Dresden. In
all other collections quantity gives value, to a
certain extent ; and a sufficient exemplification
of every celebrated school is kept in view. They
are all galleries for study. At the Vatican,
however, this is not the case. A few paintings,
chiefly large, are hung "without crowding one
another, or unfairly contrasting, on ample spaces
of wall, in lofty spacious apartments, three or
four being indulged in the room which would
elsewhere suffice for fifty or a hundred tightly
fitting frames. It was not easy to place them
well; and accordingly I can remember at least
four situations in the immense Vatican where
they have been uncomfortably situated. Gregory,
in 1836, bestowed on them their present posi
tion, in which they will probably be visited for
generations to come. One of the first places
which they occupied was the " Appartamento
Borgia," a series of ten noble halls at the palace
end of the Belvidere court, painted most beauti-

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 447

fully in their ceilings by some pre-Raffaelite
artists. Gregory XVI. added this magnificent
range to the already vast library, and filled it
with additional books. Another department of
that literary treasury he particularly cherished,
its Christian museum. To this he made splendid
additions at his own expense ; among other ways,
by bestowing on it a most rare and valuable
series of early Byzantine paintings, in beautiful
preservation. He likewise purchased for him
self, and left in the palace, the whole collection
of pictures by Peters, an eminent German animal-
painter1, and a man of genuine worth and simplest
mind, who died at an advanced age in Rome.

It would be unfair to consider the detached
paintings hung against walls as composing ex
clusively the Vatican gallery. One must com
prehend under this title the Sixtine Chapel as
the grandest specimen of Michael Angelo's
masterly genius ; the " Stanze " and " Loggie "
as the noblest display of Raffaele's sweeter
powers; St. Laurence's Chapel as a gern with
out a flaw, of Beato Angelico's work, set in the
very centre of Raffaele's golden band ; not to

' The writer possesses the only picture representing a human
being which he ever painted, except Adam and Eve, of small size,
in a large picture of Paradise, in which the animals were obviously
the objects of his principal attention. (

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speak of twenty other great artists, before and
since, who have left noble works upon the vaults
and walls of that grandest of palaces. It was
Gregory XVI. who thought of arresting the
progress of decay in some valuable portions of
these sublime works, So little consciousness
was there of their inimitable powers in the
greatest artists, that they did not think of shel
tering their works from the most inevitable
causes of destruction ; they painted in the open
portico, where rain and sun would play alter
nately, as if they took it for granted that
whatever they did must of course perish, to be
replaced by other men, as gifted as themselves.
It has always been the same. What Greek sculp
tor expected his marbles — brittle to the touch
of any boy's pebble, defaceable under long ex
posure to the elements — to be placed within
the shelter, and not as soon erected on the roof,
of a temple ? So, when too late, the frescoes of
Kaifaele, and the arabesques and stuccoes of his
pupils, were found to have been almost lost, —
indeed, preserved only by early copies and en
gravings. Gregory, however, continued the work
of preservation, before and since carried on, of
enclosing the whole of the Loggie with glass,
after having had the frescoes of the upper corridor
admirably restored by Professor Agricola.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 419

It was natural to expect that, however vast
the Vatican might be, it could not suffice for the
unceasing inpouring of new museums, as well as
of individual objects of artistic merit. It had
overflowed already, and Gregory had made its
very gardens precious by the multitudes of
statues, vases, and altars with which he had
embellished them ; for he may be said to have
entirely renewed them, or even to have laid them
out afresh. It was found necessary to devote
some other large building to the purpose of con
taining works which the Vatican and Capitol
either could not contain, or could not suitably
harbour ; for new discoveries or acquisitions had
been made of statues and other works that
deserved conspicuous places, and would not
brook collocation among inferior productions.
Such was the beautiful Antinous, purchased
from the Braschi Palace, rescued from Russian
possession by the right of pre-emption reserved
to the Government : such the sublime Sophocles,
the rival or equal of the Naples Aristides, dis
covered and given to the Pope, in 1839, by the
family of the present Cardinal Anton elli. But
what, perhaps, primarily demanded extensive
accommodation was an immense mosaic pave
ment representing worthies of the cestus, emi
nent boxers and wrestlers in their day, natives

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of Tuscan cities, which were proud, one may
suppose, of their sons' thews and sinews. These
heroes of the ring have thus been suddenly re
stored to fame, and are likely to obtain a second
immortality, if one may use the phrase, more
enduring than the first. Their proportions are
colossal, and as they stand full-lengths in se
parate compartments, it required no restricted
space to stretch them forth in their original
position.

The Lateran Palace, a noble pile, had long
stood untenanted, except, for a time, as a re
ceptacle for paupers. The treasurer, Monsignor
Tosti, had thoroughly repaired it, and restored it
to its primeval beauty ; yet it was insufficient and
ill-situated for a Papal residence. The "^Edes
LateranaB," — confiscated under Nero, celebrated
by poets and historians as most sumptuous, given
by Maxentius to Constantine as his daughter's
dowry, and by Constantine, with its adjoining
basilica, to be the episcopal palace and cathedral
of Christian Rome, — were admirably adapted for
the purpose of a new, not merely supplementary,
museum. The first evidence of fitness was, that
the huge Palcestran mosaic carpeted one of its
halls, as if it had been bespoken for the purpose
of some ancient tessellator. And so were se
parate shrines found there for masterpieces, and

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 451

galleries or chambers for lesser works, one of
which is a copy in mosaic of a celebrated floor-
painting described by Pliny as existing at Per-
gamus, and representing an "unswept pavement"
after supper. Gregory XVI. was the founder
of this new museum, which under the present
Pope has received not only a greater develop
ment, but in some respects a distinct destination,
as a depository of Christian sculptures.

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CHAPTER III.
ETENTS or GREGORY'S PONTIFICATE.

EVERY state or government presents two distinct
aspects and conditions, one internal, another
external. In this it is like any other association,
any family, any individual. We know little or
nothing of what is going on within the circle of
persons next door to us, of the struggles, or jars,
or privations, or illnesses, or afflictions, or of the
domestic joys, affections, and pleasures inside
any house but our own. There is a hidden life
too in every separate being that composes each
homely circle, impenetrable to the rest of its
members. No one can read the thoughts, un
ravel the motives, map the mind, block out the
desires, trace the intentions of others with whom
he has lived for years in contact. Hence we
must needs be content to act with them accord
ing to the form in which they show themselves,
and in the proportion that we require one
another's co-operation.

Is it not so with kingdoms and principalities ?
What do we know of the internal policy, the

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 453

yearly growth, the daily actions of rulers and
people, in states especially that have not attained
an influential prominence. For the readers of
newspapers, volumes are daily prepared of
home-stirring information, to be eagerly de
voured : how much will have an interest beyond
the hawser's length that moors the Dover packet ?
Who will care in France or Germany what illus
trious guests the Sovereign entertained sumptu
ously yesterday at her- table ; or who spoke at
the last Bradford or Wolverhampton Reform
meeting ? Their very names defy spelling or
pronunciation beyond the channel. And so how
little do we inquire what is going on, for
example, in Hesse-Homburg or Reuss ; or who
troubled himself about " the Principalities," or
their interior affairs, till their outward life came
into close contact with those of other govern
ments ? As a matter of course, it is impossible
for those who are absorbed in their own interests,
and fully occupied with their own internal con
cerns, to penetrate into the real feelings, or invest
themselves with the circumstances, that belong
to another nation, perhaps even of different race.
Like any other country, Rome has its twofold
existence. Of its exterior action, of the part
which it openly takes in European politics, of its
treaties, its tariffs, its commerce, of course every

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one may judge, and has probably data on which
to attempt at least to judge. But it is more
than improbable that the real condition of the
country, the character of its laws, the sentiments
of the mass of people, will be no better known
than are those of other states, beyond the
interior sphere which they affect. No one can
for a moment believe that the occasional, and too
evidently partisan, communication to a news
paper constitutes the materials upon which an
accurate judgment can be formed, while no
trouble is taken to ascertain the statistical, finan
cial, moral, or social state of the country, the
administration of the state, or the inward
changes gradually introduced. Yet, while such
indifference is manifested concerning the interior
state of other sovereignties, no such reserve is
permitted about Eome, and it seems to be
imagined that it is within everybody's power
to discover evils there and to prescribe their
remedy. There surely is a very different reason
for this interest than ordinary philanthropy, nor
does it need to be defined.

Let us take Koine for what it is, a State recog
nised by all Europe, as governed, for high and
important reasons, by an ecclesiastical Ruler,
and then further assuming that he is no more
expected than any other Head of a realm to

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 455

commit suicidal acts against himself or his autho
rity, nor to yield to the desires or attempts of
those who plan and desire the overthrow of both,
we may surely consider him a good sovereign
who devotes the whole of his mind and energies
to the happiness of his subjects, endeavours to
effect improvements in every department of state,
and in every part of his dominions. Now, cer
tainly, no monarch ever did more conscientiously
labour, body and soul, for the good of those
committed to him, and for the discharge of his
public duties, than the virtuous Gregory XVI.

It has been mentioned, that in the very year
of his accession he published new laws on the
course of judicial procedure. In the following
year he issued another decree on crimes and
punishments. In 1833 he reorganised the Secre
tary of State's office, dividing it into two depart
ments, of Home and Foreign Affairs ; and further
gave a new system to the department of Public
Works.

In 1834 a national bank was established for
the first time in Kome ; and a complete code was
published of laws and regulations for all public
administration. The year following, a new
coinage was issued more perfectly reduced to
the decimal system than before; as the gold
coins previously bore no proportion to it. The

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entire Roman Forum was thoroughly restored ;
and the monastery of St. Gregory, a conspicuous
public edifice, with the space and roads round it,
was repaired and beautified at the Pope's own
expense. Yery large public works were also
executed at the mouth of the Tiber, and in the
harbour and city of Civita Vecchia. The Anio
was sent this year also through its two new
tunnels ; and finally a cemetery which had been
commenced outside the walls, at the basilica of
St. Lawrence, was finished and opened ; burial in
it being made compulsory, and intramural sepul
ture being suppressed. In 1836 night-schools
were first established.

The year 1837 was a dark one in the annals
of Gregory's pontificate. The cholera had visited
several parts of the States, and had been par
ticularly severe in Ancona. The Pope succoured
liberally from his own funds, as well as from
public sources, every place attacked ; but, at the
same time, he omitted no precautionary mea
sures in his capital. It would be superfluous to
say that every religious act of expiation was
duly performed. There were sermons in many
churches, exhorting the people to repentance,
that so the Divine wrath might be appeased,
and the scourge averted. Then there was a
solemn procession, in which the Holy Father

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 457

walked. But some questioned the prudence of
thus assembling crowds together, and the events
seemed partly to justify them. A sanitary com
mission was formed towards which the Pope
largely subscribed. Supernumerary hospitals
were sought : the English College was unre
servedly offered to the authorities, with the
services of its inmates to attend the sick. The
building was surveyed, and accepted as an hos
pital for convalescents ; but this did not require
any help from the students, who, being obliged to
leave the house, retired to their Tusculan villa.

There we were regularly in a state of siege.
Every town and village exercised to the utmost
municipal rights, and surrounded itself with a
sanitary cordon, which was as jealous of foreign
approach as the dragon guardian of the Hes-
perides. Hence all communication between
neighbouring hamlets was cut off, and it was
only by stealth that the capital itself could be
visited. In our own village we organised a
committee of health, composed of natives and of
English ; every room in every house was visited,
cleaned, and white-washed where needful ; every
nuisance abated ; wholesome provisions furnished
to all in need ; and, as medical attendance is at
the public charge in all Roman communes, we
supplied medicines free-cost. Thus we kept our

458 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

dear village of Monte Porzio healthy and
cheerful, while within doors we provided ample
means of recreation for ourselves and the more
intelligent inhabitants.

The Pope remained at his post in Rome, at
tending to everything, bestowing large alms,
and providing for every want. Thus at length
the scourge passed by, the avenging angel
sheathed his sword, after raising the mortality
of the twelvemonth (between Easter and Easter)
from three to twelve thousand deaths. New
duties then arose. The Holy Father put him
self at the head of the subscriptions for edu
cating the numerous orphans left destitute by
the plague. Charity was here universal. The
English College, like many other institutions,
undertook the support of two children. Houses
were opened, by charitable contributions, for
those who remained ; and among the most active
and conspicuous agents in this merciful work
was our countrywoman the Princess Borghese,
erst Lady Gwendelirie Talbot, daughter of the
Earl of Shrewsbury, a rarely gifted lady, whose
memory yet lives in Rome in the prayers of the
poor, arid the admiration of the great. It may
be added that the statistics of the cholera have
no where been compiled with greater accuracy
and minuteness than in Rome.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 459

In spite of these anxious cares, this year saw
its important improvements. Besides the open
ing of the Etruscan museum, and the enlarge
ment of the Christian collection, both already
mentioned, and the complete restoration of the
Pauline Chapel in the Vatican, there was esta
blished, for the first time in the Roman States,
a general insurance company, embracing in
surance against hail as well as fire.

The year 1838 was remarkable for one of
the most interesting antiquarian discoveries of
modern times. The gate known as the Porta
Maggiore, from its vicinity to the church of
S. Maria Maggiore, passes under a magnificent
point of union of several aqueducts, adorned
with a splendid inscription. But the gate had
been fortified by most barbaric works in the
middle ages. These hideous appendages were
ordered to be removed, and the consequence
was, not only the unveiling of the fine old work
above the gate, but the unburying of a monu
ment singular in its construction and in its
mystery. An excrescent bastion at the outside
of the gate was subjected to excision, and dis
closed in the process that its core was an ancient
tomb, of republican times, built with strange ma
terials. It had been raised by Marcus Yergilius
Eurysaces to his nameless wife ; and, as he was

460 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

a rich baker, for he was a public contractor
(redemptor)y he called the tomb a bakery (pis-
trinum)) and built up its walls of stone kneading-
troughs, surmounted by reliefs which represent
the whole process of making bread.

But another curious appearance no less
astonished Rome, — this was the arrival of two
Ottoman ambassadors: the first, Ahmed Fethi
Pasha, on his way to Paris; the second, one
since more renowned, Redschid Pasha, minister
of Mahmoud II. in London, who came to thank
the Pope for his kindness to his colleague. I
remember a saying of one of these intelligent
Turks, when he was shown the Pantheon, and
told what it formerly was* " Where," he asked,
"are the statues of the heathen gods?" "Of
course they were removed when the temple was
christianised," was the natural answer. " No,"
he replied ; " I would have left them standing,
to show how the true God had triumphed over
them in their own house."

It was in this year also that the Vatican
library received the addition of ten rooms.

Besides many great public works, some
already mentioned, the year 1839 was signalised
by the publication of a remarkable document,
the Bull " In supremo apostolatus fastigio "
(Dec. 3) against the slave-trade. There can

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 461

be no doubt that in several countries this
splendid decree did more to put down the slave-
trade than negotiations or corvettes. It con
tains a most interesting account, by way of
recital, of the untiring activity of former popes
to put an end to the infamous traffic.1 Of
this I was assured by several natives of those
countries.

This year witnessed perhaps the most splendid
function which the Church ever performs, the
canonization of five saints. Many years of severe
investigation and judicial processes are required
to prepare for this final and solemn recognition
of sublime holiness in any of God's chosen ser
vants. Only a few times in a century — twice,
so far, in this — does it fall to the lot of a Pontiff
to perform it. The entire basilica of St. Peter
is superbly decorated and brilliantly illuminated ;
paintings of great events in the lives of the
glorified persons adorn it in every part. All the
bishops of the Papal States, and many from other
parts of Italy, and even from more distant coun
tries, usually attend. These are united in one
magnificent procession : and on this occasion I
remember one venerable grey-headed man who
supported the pendant of St. Alphonsus Liguori's

1 Thus St. Wolstan's preaching prevailed more for the same
purpose with the Bristol merchants than royal prohibitions.

462 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

banner ; he was the saint's nephew, and had been
confirmed by him.

The following year, 1840, closes all personal
recollections of this excellent Pontiff, except
during a short visit of a few weeks two years
later. For in this year it was thought advisable
to increase the number of bishops in England,
by subdividing the four apostolic vicariates esta
blished in the reign of James II., so as to double
their number. In fact this had become a matter
of absolute necessity. For example, the northern
vicariate comprised not only the four counties
usually designated by that epithet, but Lan
cashire and Yorkshire besides. Since this first
distribution of episcopal jurisdiction, cities and
towns, like Manchester, Liverpool, Leeds, and
Newcastle, had arisen from secondary rank to
the dimensions of capitals, without mentioning
innumerable other manufacturing places, or
rather districts, composed of clusters, or chains
formed by busy seats of industry, with a growing
population.

Four new bishops were accordingly named ;
and, in addition to these, the writer was ap
pointed to the subordinate situation of coadjutor
or assistant to one already in possession of a see
with residence at Wolverhampton, the venerable
Bishop Walsh. It was a sorrowful evening, at

GKEGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 463

the beginning of autumn, when, after a residence
in Kome prolonged through twenty-two years,
till affection clung to every old stone there, like
the moss that grew into it, this strong but tender
tie was cut, and much of future happiness had
to be invested in the mournful recollections of
the past.

" Cum subit illius tristissima noctis imago,

Quae mihi supremum tempus in urbe fuit,
Cum repeto noctem qua tot mihi chara reliqui,
Labitur ex oculis nunc quoque gutta rneis."

In the chronological sketch here given only a
few occurrences of each year have been selected,
sufficient to show how intent Gregory XVI. was
upon steady improvement. It would be easy to
multiply examples, even of material progress,
honourable to his pontificate. The first steamers
that struggled against the chafed and eddying
Tiber made their appearance during it; and
though in his old age he would not embark in
the still slowly progressing undertaking of rail
ways, he always said that his successor must
perforce involve himself in their more rapid
extension.

For those in one country, whose improve
ments naturally take their given direction, to
scorn others because they follow another equally
congenial to them, and lead their scoffers on in

464 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

their turn, is surely narrow and ungenerous.
With boundless resources and infinite advan
tages, England has her definite career of pro
gress, and may leave every other country far
behind. On the other hand, it is but lately that
she has awakened to her own deficiencies in
whatever relates to the beautiful arts. Italy
gladly yields the palm to her in all the former ;
admires, studies, and strives, with far more
limited means, sometimes too subserviently, to
copy. But it does not jeer her, in return, for
her backwardness in just becoming conscious of
her artistic imperfection, nor for her somewhat
awkward ways of trying to repair it. Let there
be, not so much forbearance as mutual com
mendation, meted out by the equitable standard
of effort rather than of success. For the first is
the measure of the will, the second of the power ;
the one belongs to man, the other more strictly
to Providence. That may be of instantaneous
formation and of immediate growth, this may
require or may have required centuries to mature.
The former can be equal in many, the latter is of
necessity unequally distributed. On these just
principles, it will be found that much more has
been done by peaceful and gradual advance than
could have been effected by the fitful and violent
shocks of revolutionary propulsions.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 465

CHAPTER IV.

SOME OF THE REMARKABLE MEN OF GREGORY THE
SIXTEENTH'S PONTIFICATE.

DURING so long a reign as that of Gregory it was
naturally to be expected that some persons of
more than usual distinction would adorn his
court and city ; for it has been the time-respected
privilege of both to attract from without, as well
as nurture at home, men of genius, learning, and
singular virtue.

Two remarkable instances may be given of
this attractive power ; the one connected with,
the other independent of, religion ; yet both
exhibited in the same race. While it must be
confessed that the native school of painting has
clung unreasonably as yet to the classical style,
and sought its subjects in heathen mythology as
most exuberantly lending itself to the luxuries of
art, there has lived for a long period in the midst
of it a school of foreign Christian painting, born
and bred in Rome itself. Nay, we may even say
that the entire religious art of modern Germany,
not excluding Diisseldorf itself, owes its happy

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birth to that nursery of every art. Many years
ago, several young German artists — would that
they still were young ! — associated themselves in
Rome to draw and paint, taking for their models
the purer and sweeter types of earlier periods,
when religion walked hand in hand with the
three great sisters, whose badges are the pencil,
the chisel, and the compasses ; or rather when
they followed her as willing handmaids. While
yet comparatively unknown they executed a
joint, yet separate, work, by painting in fresco,
as in old times, vault and walls, with all their
accessories, in three halls in the Massimo Villa,
at the Lateran. Each took one apartment, and
with it one division of Dante's golden art-poem ;
so that the Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso
furnished the exclusive theme of each contri
bution. To this day the works retain their
freshness, and may well rank among the most
beautiful of modern performances, though little
seen and known by travellers.

Of this generous trio, intrepid rather, in
breaking through modern feeling in art, only
one settled, and has reached his maturity, in
Eome, the honoured and venerated Overbeck.
Cornelius was another, who has left indelible
proofs of his genius at Munich and Berlin.
Yeith, I think, was the third, the father too of a

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 467

Christian school at Frankfort. In Rome, Over-
beck's influence has been ever beneficial, espe
cially among his own countrymen. There is a
fraternity of German artists in Rome, who
devote themselves to Christian painting ; and one
is glad to say receive much, if not most, of their
encouragement from English patrons. And in
Germany it will be found that every local school
of similar principles springs from a master who,
directly or indirectly, has been formed at Rome.
The venerable Baron von Schadow, President of
the eminently religious school of Diisseldorf, as
well as his brother, a distinguished sculptor, was
for some years an inhabitant of that city.

Side by side was another purely scientific
association, composed of Germans, and having
its seat on the Tarpeian Rock. It was first
founded during the embassy of Chevalier Bunsen,
and was under the auspices of the Prussian
court and government, which subsidised it libe
rally. It held its meetings, published its bulle
tins, and larger annual collection of essays, with
valuable engravings, on every antiquarian topic.

If foreigners from beyond the Alps thus came
spontaneously to Rome, to seek occupation for
their genius or industry, we cannot be surprised
if religion or ecclesiastical tastes brought many
from other parts of Italy, as well as from abroad,

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to settle there for life. Such, for instance, is the
learned F. Theiner of the Oratory, a Silesian by
birth, now engaged on two gigantic works, each
sufficient for the literary employment of one
man at least ; the continuation of Baronius's
Annals of Ecclesiastical History, and the com
plete collection of all documents relative to the
Council of Trent. Yet he contrives, almost
yearly, to bring out several volumes of inedited
matter from the archives of the Vatican, over
which he presides ; making now that treasury
of hidden documents as prolific as its super
incumbent library has been for years, in the
untiring hands of Cardinal Angelo Mai.

Another foreigner came to Rome in this Pon
tificate, of whom many readers will have heard,
in one of what may be called two such extremes
of life as seldom meet in one person. Those
whose memory does not carry them back beyond
the days of Waterloo may have found, in Moore's
politico-satirical poems, mention of a person en
joying a celebrity similar to that possessed more
lately by a French Count resident in London, as a
leader of fashion, remarkable at the same time for
wit and accomplishments. Such was the Baron
Geramb, in the days " when George the Third
was king." But some may possibly remember a
higher renown gained by him, beyond that of

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 469

having his last bon-mot quoted in the morning
papers. Being an alien, though neither a con
spirator nor an assassin, he was ordered to leave
the country, and refused. He barricaded his
house, and placarded it with the words " Every
Englishman's house is his castle," in huge letters.
He bravely stood a siege of some duration,
against the police of those days, and drew crowds
round the house ; till at length, whether starved
out by a stern blockade, or overreached by Bow-
street strategy, he either yielded at discretion, or
was captured through want of it, and was forth
with transferred to a foreign shore.

So ends the first chapter of the public life of
the gallant and elegant Baron Geramb, the charm
of good society, to which by every title he be
longed. What became of him after this? Did
that society, on losing sight of him, ask any
more ? Probably few of those who had been
entertained by his cleverness, or amused by his
freaks, ever gave him another thought ; and a
commentator on Thomas Moore, encountering
the " whiskers of Geramb " in one of his verses,
might be at a loss to trace the history of their
wearer. Certainly those ornaments of his coun
tenance would have lent but slight assistance in
tracing him in after life.

Many years later, in the reign of Gregory XYL,

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let the reader suppose himself to be standing on
the small plateau shaded with ilex, which fronts
the Franciscan convent above Castel-Gondolfo.
He is looking down on the lovely lake which
takes its name from that village, through an
opening in the oaken screen, enjoying the breeze
of an autumn afternoon. He may see, issuing
from the convent gate, a monk, not of its frater
nity, but clothed in the white Cistercian habit, a
man of portly dimensions, bestriding the hum
blest but most patriarchal of man-bearing ani
mals, selected out of hundreds, his rider used to
say, to be in just proportion to the burthen. If
the stranger examines him, he will easily discern,
through the gravity of his look, not only a noble
ness of countenance, and through the simplicity
of his habit, not merely a gracefulness of de
meanour, which speak the highly-bred gentleman,
but even visible remains of the good-humoured,
kind-hearted, and soldierly courtier. There lurks
still in his eye a sparkling gleam of wit sup
pressed, or disciplined into harmless corusca
tions. Once when I met him at Albano, he had
brought as a gift to the English Cardinal Acton,
a spirited sketch of himself and his "gallant
grey" rolling together in the dust. When I
called on him at his convent, he showed me an
Imperial autograph letter, just received, an-

GKEGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 471

nouncing to him the gallantry and wounds of
his son, fighting in Circassia, and several other
royal epistles, written in the pleasant tone of
friend to friend.

Yet he is thoroughly a monk of the strictest
order known in the Church, living in a cell,
without an object of luxury near him, sleeping
on a straw pallet, occupied in writing, reading,
meditating on holy things, devout in prayer,
edifying in conversation. Among other works
of his overflowing with piety is one peculiarly
tender, " My Saviour's Tomb." The good old
monk had been to Jerusalem, and had manifested
his affections by a novel and exquisite prodiga
lity, borrowed in idea from a certain woman
who had been a sinner in the city. He anointed
the sepulchre of our Lord with the most costly
of perfumes, the attargul or otto of roses as we
call it, so that the whole house was filled with
its fragrance.

Such is the Pere Geramb; such the second
chapter of his known life.

What had been the intermediate hidden stage ?
When expelled, happily for him, from England,
he very soon fell into the enemy's hands, I know
not how. But he happened to be cast into the
same prison, I think Vincennes, where the good
Cardinal De Gregorio was also in bonds. He

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was first struck by the patience and virtues of
his fellow-captive, and gradually entered into
conversation with him. The result was a change
of heart and a change of life. Liberty soon put
the sincerity of both to the severest test. Baron
Geramb remained attached to the land of his
captivity : in it he joined the fervent and austere
life of La Trappe. After some years he was
sent to Rome, as resident procurator of the
order, where I had the pleasure of knowing him.
Several amusing anecdotes mingle with his
memory, to show how even in his sackcloth and
ashes lived his wonted fire.

Among those whom Gregory deservedly called
to the highest honours in Rome, was that amiable
prodigy Cardinal Joseph Mezzofanti. When,
after the revolution, the city of Bologna sent a
deputation to renew its fealty to the Pope, it
wisely named as one to compose it, Professor
Mezzofanti. The Pope, who had not known him
before, and was charmed with him, gave him the
rank of Prelate, and shortly after brought him
to Rome, to reside there permanently. He
named him first Warden of the Vatican Library,
that is in truth librarian, — this title being then
reserved to a Cardinal — and in February, 1838,
raised him to the Cardinalitial dignity.

The name of this eminent man is too well

GREGOET THE SIXTEENTH. 473

known throughout Europe, for it to require any
eulogium here. Moreover, a most accurate and
full life of him has been compiled by one who
has spared no pains or research to make the
biography complete. I allude to the Very Rev.
Dr. Russell, President of St. Patrick's College,
Maynooth, to whom I have transferred my little
stock of anecdotes and information concerning
my good and gifted friend. Having made this
sacrifice to the desire of another, whom I may
describe by the very same terms, I will not anti
cipate here what wi]l be adorned by the graceful
pen of this biographer. I will only say, that I
can attest his perfect utterance and expression in
the few languages with which I happen to be
acquainted, and that I have heard natives of
almost every country in Europe and Asia, not to
mention California, who have borne witness in my
presence to his perfection in accent and phrase,
when speaking their various languages. The
general observation used to be, that they would
have easily taken him for a native each of his
own country.

This magnificent gift of universal speech was
not thrown away in any sense. It was habi
tually employed in good, in instructing and assist
ing spiritually many who, without him, might
have remained ignorant or helpless. Though it

474 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

was natural that he should be fond of conversing
in his many languages, 1 should doubt if ever it
was done from love of display; for he was humble
and shrinking on every occasion. Indeed he
knew his powers to be a gift rather than an ac
quisition. His appearance certainly did not bear
the seal of his high intellectual mark ; for his
learning on all subjects was accurate, extensive,
and solid. The countenance, which was the dial
to the busy and complicated works above it, was
not ample, or noble in its traits. His brow was
a problem to phrenologists : though his eyes
were heavily pressed outwards by what they
may have considered lingua] faculties. One of
this order once told hirn gravely that he had
great facility in learning languages. " But
then," Mezzofanti archly added in telling me
this wise discovery, " he knew that I was already
acquainted with fifty." Most amiable too he was,
simple and childlike, charitable to excess, and
ready to help any one with head or hand.

At the period of the late republic, he remained
in Rome when most of his colleagues retired ;
his constitution, shaken by age and infirmities,
was probably further enfeebled by mental suffer
ings proceeding from the events of the times:
he sunk and died March 12th, 1849. In the
brief record of his life given in what may be

GREGOEY THE SIXTEENTH. 475

called the Roman " Court Guide," though it does
not extend to ten lines, there is a word wanting,
the omission of which does not occur in any other
such summary for thirty years. Wherever a car
dinal may have died, even if it was at a village in
the Terra di Lavoro, he is stated to have been "laid
in state " (esposto) and buried in the church of the
place ; if in Rome, in his own a title." Of Mezzo-
fanti alone this is not said. Yet he died during a
commonwealth which proclaimed that genius and
virtue were to be honoured in all, wherever found.
Did his high dignity, though adorned by every
virtue, without a drawback, deprive him of a
claim to his share of that boasted impartial
homage? Such an exception suffices to throw
doubts, at least, on the sincerity of those pro
fessions.

When Cardinal Weld passed to a better life,
his' successor was in every body's mouth, nor
could it have been otherwise. There was only one
person qualified in every respect for the dignity.
This was Monsignor Charles Acton, the only
Englishman who, in our times, has gone through
that regular course of preparation which leads
most naturally to the purple. For though of an
English family, it was one well known for a long
connection with Naples ; where the future car
dinal was born, March 6th, 1803. His education,

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however, was in great measure English. For
though he learnt his rudiments from M. De
Masnod, now Bishop of Marseilles, he came to
England in 1811, on the death of his father, Sir
John Francis Edward. It was at Richmond, in
Surrey, that he first was admitted to communion
by the Rev. M. Beaumont: and he used to relate
with great delight, how it was on that happy
day, by the banks of the Thames, that he formed
the decided resolution of embracing the ecclesi
astical state. He was then at a Protestant
school in Isle worth. From this he was sent to
Westminster School, which he was obliged soon
to quit on religious grounds. He next resided
with a Protestant clergyman in Kent, the Rev.
Mr. Jones, as a private pupil. After this, in
1819, he went to Cambridge, and became, under
Dr. Neville, an inmate of Magdalen College,
where he finished his secular education in 1823.
The reader will allow that this was a very un
usual preparation for the Roman purple.

He now, in 1823, came to Rome, and entered
the college, several times mentioned, where
ecclesiastics, intending to be candidates for
public offices, receive a special training. Here
Acton distinguished himself by his piety and
assiduity, having, besides the common lectures,
the assistance of a private tutor, in Professor,

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 477

afterwards Cardinal, Fornari. One of his pro
bation al essays attracted such attention from
the Secretary of State, Delia Somaglia, that Pope
Leo XII. made him one of his chamberlains,
and sent him as an attache to the Nunciature
of Paris. Here he had the best possible oppor
tunity of becoming thoroughly acquainted with
diplomacy.

Pius VIII. recalled him to Italy, and named
him Vice-legate, giving him the choice of any out
of the four legations over which Cardinals pre
sided. This was quite a new office, and Mon-
signor Acton selected Bologna, as affording him
the best opportunities for improvement. Here
he became acquainted with the whole system of
provincial administration, and the application of
civil law. He was, however, but a short time
there ; for at the close of that brief Pontificate,
he left the city, before the unexpected revolution
broke out. He was in England again in 1829,
to marry his only sister Elizabeth to Sir Robert
Throckmorton.

By Gregory XVI. he was made an assistant
judge in the civil court of Rome, and secretary
to a most important congregation, or council, for
the maintenance of religious discipline. But in
January, 1837, to his own astonishment and
dismay, he was appointed to the highest dignity

478 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

in Rome, after the cardinalate, that of Auditor
of the Apostolic Chamber. Probably it was the
first time that so responsible a post, generally
conferred on a prelate of great judicial expe
rience and of long standing, had been offered to
a foreigner. Acton refused it, but was obliged
to yield to a sovereign command. This office
is considered as necessarily leading to a place in
the Sacred College; so that when Cardinal Weld
died in the April following Acton's promotion,
it could hardly be matter of conjecture that his
turn was not far distant.

The death of his elder brother, Sir Ferdinand
Acton of Aldenham in Salop, brought him
to England in 1837, for a short time, in order
to settle family affairs, which he did in the most
generous manner. He was proclaimed Cardinal
January 24, 1842, having been created nearly
three years previous. His health, never strong,
soon began to decline ; a prolonged attack of
ague weakened him till he was unable to shake
it off, and he sought refuge, first at Palermo,
then in Naples, his native city. But it was too
late: and he expired there, June 23, 1847.

Many who saw him knew little of his sterling
worth. So gentle, so modest, so humble was
he, so little in his own esteem, that his solid
judgment, extensive acquirements, and even

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 479

more ornamental accomplishments, were not
easily elicited by a mere visitor or casual guest.
It used to be said by those who knew him in
early youth, that his musical powers and genial
wit used to form, combined, an inexhaustible
fund of innocent cheerfulness ; and certainly
his countenance seemed to have retained the
impression of a natural humour that could have
been easily brought into play. But this was
over-ruled by the pressure of more serious occu
pation, and the adoption of a more spiritual life.
The soundness of his judgment and his legal
knowledge were fully recognised by the bar, for it
was familiarly said by advocates of the first rank,
that if they could only know M. Acton's view
of a case, they could make sure of what would
be its ultimate decision. In like manner, when
he was officially consulted on important ecclesi
astical business, and gave his opinion in writing,
this was so explicit, clear, and decisive, that
Pope Gregory used to say, that he had never
occasion to read anything of his twice over.
The greatest proof which the Pope could well
have given him of his confidence was to select
him, as he did, to be his interpreter and only
witness, in the important interview between him
and the late Emperor of Kussia. Of what took
place at it, not a word was ever breathed by the

480 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

Cardinal beyond this, that, when he had inter
preted the Pope's first sentence, the Emperor
turned to him in the most respectful and finished
manner, and said, " It will be agreeable to me
if your Eminence will act as my interpreter
also." Immediately after the conference, to
which allusion will have to be made later,
Cardinal Acton wrote down, at the Pope's re
quest, a minute account of it ; but he never
allowed it to be seen.

The King of Naples came to Rome princi
pally to provide a good bishop for his metro
polis, and pressed acceptance of the see on
Cardinal Acton, who, however, inexorably re
fused it. When a lamentable accident deprived
the then reigning family of France of its first-born,
I well remember that the bereaved mother wrote
to him as a friend, in whom she could confide,
to tell her griefs and hopes, and obtain through
him what could alleviate her sorrows.

As to his charities, they were so unbounded,
that he wrote from Naples, that he had actually
tasted the distress which he had often sought
to lighten in others. He may be said to have
departed hence in all the wealth of a willing
poverty.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 481

CHAPTER V.

CARDINAL ANGELO MAI.

AMONG the worthies of this Pontificate is one
who deserves a separate chapter, though it shall
not be longer than is absolutely necessary for a
very slight sketch. This is Cardinal Mai, the
discoverer of more lost works, and the tran
scriber of more ancient manuscripts, sacred and
profane, than it has fallen to any one else's
share, in modern times, to publish. It may
be premised that his real biography has yet to
be written.

In the province of Bergamo, part of the Lorn-
bar do -Venetian kingdom, is a little mountain
village named Schilpario. Here, on the 7th of
March, 1774, was born the subject of this brief
memoir, who by his will enriched his heirs, " the
community of the poor " of his native village.
A member of the suppressed order of Jesuits
was his first preceptor, and the guide to his
future fame. This was Luigi Mozzi, under
whose direction, in the episcopal seminary at
Bergamo, he made rapid progress in classical
1 1

482 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

and modern letters. Suddenly, with four school
fellows, he left his native country and repaired
to Colorno, in the Duchy of Parma, where Fer
dinand of Bourbon, with the consent of Pius VI.,
had permitted that Society to establish them
selves. He joined the order in 1799, and con
tinued his studies with such success that, in
1804, he was sent to Naples as Professor of
Belles-Lettres.

From Naples he went to Kome for a short
time, and thence to Orvieto, at the special desire
of its bishop, John Baptist Lambruschini. There
he remained some years in retirement, and re
ceived the priesthood. Under the tuition of
Fathers Manero and Monchaca, Spanish ex-
Jesuits, he made great progress, not only in
the ancient languages, Hebrew included, but in
that art, likewise, of paleography, which had
to win him his highest honours. But, as of old
under Augustus Cassar, there went forth an im
perial and imperious edict, that every subject of
the " Italian kingdom " should betake himself to
his native province. In obedience to it Mai,
accompanied by his Mentor, Mozzi, proceeded to
'Milan.1

1 He had quitted the Society, scarcely established any where,
with the full consent and approbation of its superiors ; especially
of the venerable and saintly F. Pignatelli.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 483

It was a providential journey ; and Mai had
reason to thank Napoleon for his stern mandate.
And so, perhaps, has the " republic of letters,"
whatever hostility that title may imply to all
despotic commands. Mozzi, fully acquainted
with the powers and acquirements of his pupil,
had him named a doctor of the Ambrosian
library. The magnificent collection of manu
scripts, which form its chief treasure, is mainly
due to the munificence of Cardinal Frederick
Borromeo, nephew and almost rival of the great
St. Charles. He sent learned men all over the
world to purchase manuscripts, or have them
diligently copied. Among other sources of ad
ditional literary wealth had been the famous
monastery of Bobbio, founded by the Irish St.
Columbanus in the seventh century, the manu
scripts of which had been divided between the
Ambrosian and the Vatican libraries.

The period for the study of manuscripts might
be said to have passed ; at least, in the noblest
sense of the word. The known manuscripts of
some given author, the twenty Homers, or the
five Deinostheneses, or the two hundred Testa
ments, which a great library was known to
possess, might be looked through twice in a
century for a new edition, " coll. Codd.," or
" Cum variantibus Lectionibus ex Codd. MSS."

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But the hunt after new, or rather old, works
of ancient authors, in the manuscript-rooms of
libraries, was quite as much given up as falconry
in the modern chase. To revive it was reserved
to Angelo Mai. He found in the Milanese
library an unexplored mine. No doubt its
manuscripts had been catalogued, perhaps de
scribed, and that accurately. But those who
had preceded him had only cultivated the upper
soil in this literary field. They had not dis
covered the exuberantly precious " royalties "
which lay hidden beneath the surface. Under
the letter of the writing there slumbered a spirit
which had long lain there spell-bound, awaiting
a master-magician to free it : a spirit of poetry
sometimes, sometimes of eloquence ; a Muse of
history, a genius of philosophy, a sprite of
merest unsubstantial elegance.

To drop figures, the peculiarity of Mai's
wonderful discovery consisted in the reading of
manuscripts twice written ; or, as they are more
scientifically called, palimpsests.1 A book, for
instance, may have been very properly cata-
loo'ued as containing the commentaries or ser-

0 o

mons of some abbot of the eleventh or twelfth
century, works of which there may be several

1 From the vellum having been scraped again, to prepare it for
a second writing.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 485

other transcripts in the library. Edited or not,
it is improbable that the volume has been, or
will be, looked into during a generation. But
the lens-like eye of a Don Angelo peers into it,
and it becomes a treasure-trove. The writer
of the middle ages had taken down from the
shelves a work which he considered of small
value — perhaps there were duplicates of it —
some letters, for instance, of a heathen emperor
to his tutor, and had scrubbed, as he thought,
the parchment clean both of its inky and of its
moral denigration, and then had written over it
the recent production of some favourite author.
It is this under writing that Mai scanned with
a sagacious eye ; perhaps it was like the lines of
a repainted canvass, which in course of time came
through the more evanescent tints superadded,
a leg or arm cropping out through the mouth
of an impassioned head by the second artist ;
and he could trace clearly the large forms of
uncial letters of the fourth or fifth century,
sprawling through two lines of a neatly written
brevier. Or the scouring had been more tho
roughly done ; and then a wash of gallic acid
revived the pallid reed-strokes of the earlier
scribe.

Ingenuity, patience, learning, and immense per
severance were requisite for the process. Often

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only unconnected passages were found, half a
sentence in one page, which the next did riot
continue, but the rest of which might perhaps
be found in another manuscript three hundred
numbers off ; sometimes portions of various works
were jumbled together under one later produc
tion, upside down, back to back like shuffled
cards, while perhaps not one page contained
the " Incipit," or the " Explicit feliciter liber I.

de ," so as to give a clue to what these

fragments contained. Learning was then indeed
necessary; for conjecture often gave the first
intimation of what had been discovered, from
the style, or from the sentence having been for
tunately embalmed or petrified, by quotation in
some later author.

In this way did Mai labour on, looking through
the tangled mass of confused materials, catching
up the ends of different threads, and pursuing
them with patient diligence, till he had drawn
each, broken or perfect as it happened to exist.
After one minor publication of a translation, he
began in 1813, and continued till 1819, to pour
out an unintermitting stream of volumes, con
taining works or portions of works, lost as it
was supposed irrecoverably. Various orations of
Cicero ; the lost writings of Julius Fronto ; un
published letters of Marcus Aurelius, Antoninus

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 487

Pius, Lucius Yerus, and Appian ; fragments of
speeches by Aurelius Symmachus ; the History
of Dionysius of Halicarnassus from the 12th to
the 20th book; inedited fragments of Philo;
ancient commentaries on Virgil ; two books of
Eusebius's Chronicles ; the Itineraries of Alex
ander, and of Constantius Augustus, son of the
Emperor Constantine ; three books of Julius
Valerius on the actions of Alexander the Great ;
the 6th and 14th Sibylline books; finally, the
celebrated Gothic version, by Ulphilas, of St. Paul
and other parts of Scripture ; such were the
principal works recovered and published, with
notes, prefaces, and translations, by this indefa
tigable scholar, in the period just mentioned of
six years. It was a work in which he could
have little or no assistance from others ; in fact
it was an art exclusively his own.

Mai's reputation was already European. At
the early age of thirty-seven he had made more
additions to our stock of ancient literature than
a century had done before him. At this moment
a vacancy occurred in the Vatican library, that
of first librarian. Cardinals Consalvi and Litta,
the Secretary of State and Head-Librarian, at
once cast their eyes on the young priest at Milan,
as the fittest person to occupy the post. On his
arrival at Koine he lost no time in exploring

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the wider and richer field offered to his cultiva
tion. He came no longer to learn, but with a
perfected tact, an experienced eye, and a decisive
critical judgment. Hence he soon began his
work of reproduction, and singularly enough in
continuation of his previous successes. For he
discovered in the Vatican, portions of the very
Bobbio manuscripts which he had explored in
the Ambrosian, containing consequently the
wanting parts of authors already partially reco
vered. This was the case with Fronto and his
imperial pupils and friends, one of the most
charming epistolary collections ever published.
By adding what was in Eome to what had been
given at Milan, Mai was able to present a much
more complete edition of it. He also published
valuable fragments of civil law, anterior to the
Justinian code, and of works on orthography by
comparatively obscure authors.

But whatever he had till now performed was
eclipsed by the most fortunate and brilliant of
his discoveries, that of Cicero's long-coveted
treatise " De Republica." Petrarca, Poggio, and
Bessarion, with a host of elegant scholars, had
desired and sought in vain to see this treatise.
It had eluded every research. Under a copy of
St. Augustine's Commentary on the Psalms Mai
discovered it, in large bold characters, with its

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 489

title legible. I can well remember tlie commo
tion which the announcement of this success
excited through the literary world in Kome. Of
course it took some time to prepare the work for
publication. Indeed I have heard from the
learned discoverer himself, that while new types
were being cast, and arrangements made for
publishing it through all Europe, he was busily
engaged in hunting out all the quotations of
Cicero's work dispersed through the ponderous
tomes of subsequent writers, especially Fathers.
The very one whose own lucubrations had
shielded it from destruction, and covered it with
a patina or antiquarian crust such as often saves
a valuable medal, yielded no small number of ex
tracts, which either were found in the discovered
portions and so verified their genuineness, or
were absent from them and so filled up lacunae.

How often have I had that precious volume
in my hand, with the man whose fame it crowned
explaining to friends around him the entire
process of discovery, and the manner in which
he drew out order from the chaotic confusion of
its leaves. Indeed seldom was it my lot to lead
any party to visit the Vatican, library, while
Monsignor Mai was librarian, without his leaving
his own pursuit, to show us its treasures, and
not the least valuable of them, himself.

490 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

It need not be said that further honours and
promotions were lavished upon him. He was
made Canon of St. Peter's, a burthen indeed, but
a distinction also, and a prelate of the highest
order. Gregory XVL, wishing to employ his ex
traordinary abilities in the service of religion,
named him Secretary of the Congregation of
Propaganda. This was in 1833 ; but, though
this office took him away from his dear manu
scripts and gave him occupation enough for any
other man, it did not interrupt his studies. He
was allowed to have the codices at his house,
and went on transcribing and printing as much as
before. At length on the 1 2th of February, 1838,
Pope Gregory named him Cardinal, together
with his illustrious friend, and successor in the
librarian ship, Mezzofanti.

Even now, he was appointed to offices that re
quired great attention and assiduity : still there
was no intermission in his favourite pursuits.
He did not confine his industry to palimpsests ;
but drew from the shelves of the Vatican,
histories, poems, medical and mathematical
treatises, acts of councils, biblical commentaries,
in fine, works of every age and of every class,
classical, patristic, medieval, and even modern,
not only in Greek and Latin, but in Arabic,

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 491

Syro-Chaldaic, and Armenian. He reestablished,
under the auspices of Gregory, the celebrated
Vatican press, which had formerly published the
splendid St. Ephrem ; he had cast for it new
sets of types, for various alphabets, from the best
models in old manuscripts ; and especially em
ployed it in the printing of the great Codex
Vaticanus, which he transcribed,

The fruit of this unceasing industry may be
summarily described as follows : —

1. " Scriptorum veterum nova collectio." A
collection, in ten huge quarto volumes, of writers
sacred and profane, of every age.

2. " Classici scriptores ex codicibus Vaticanis
edit! ; " in ten volumes of smaller dimensions.
These two series closely followed one another.
The first began to be published in 1827, and the
second was closed in 1838.

England was not behind other countries in
honouring the genius and indefatigable applica
tion of this great man. The Eoyal Society of
Literature awarded to him its gold medal in 1824,
with this inscription on the reverse : — ANGELO

MAID PALIMPSESTORUM INVENTOR! ET RESTAURA-

TORI. Literary distinctions showered on him from
every side, and his bust was erected in the halls of
learned societies. His labours, however, did not

492 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

end here. Finding abundant materials yet re
maining at hand, worthy of publication, he
undertook and completed :

3. " Spicilegium Romanum," another series in
ten volumes, which he finished in 1844.

In 1853, on the death of Cardinal Lambrus-
chini, he was named Cardinal-Librarian, though
it can hardly be said that this appointment
changed his habits, or increased his advantages.
Still he continued his work, and commenced the
publication of a new series of twelve volumes.

4. " Nova Patrum Bibliotheca." Only six
volumes had appeared, when death brought his
labours prematurely to a close.

This took place on the 8th of September, 1854,
after a short inflammatory attack, which lasted
thirty-five hours, at Albano, whither he had re
tired for change of air. His end was calm, re
signed, and most devout.

The mere catalogue of the authors, some of
whose works he for the first time published,
would fill several pages; but it may be worth
mentioning, that, besides the many classical
authors whom he thus illustrated, there is not a
single century of the Christian era, from the
second to the seventeenth, from which he has
not produced important, and previously unknown
works. He assured me that he had transcribed

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 493

all with his own hand ; translated, if Greek ; and
added notes and prefaces, (generally full of learn
ing,) entirely by himself. This, however, was at
an earlier period, for in the preface to the second
volume of his last work, he mentions the Abbate
Matranga as his assistant. He had also the aid
of learned Orientals for Eastern manuscripts.

His transcript of the celebrated manuscript of
the entire Greek Scripture was printed many
years before his death. Why it was not pub
lished, nobody but himself seemed to know. A
couple of years before his decease, he asked me
if I thought any publisher would take the whole
impression off his hands, and dispose of it on his
own account. Now, however, it may be judged
to have been for the best that publication was
delayed : for in a copy of such a manuscript the
most rigorous exactness is the first requisite.
Not only a word, but a letter, a sign, a jot or
tittle that deviates from it, impairs its value as
a representative of a referee in doubtful or difficult
passages. Interminable disputes might arise on
a reading as presented by the original, on the
faith of its copy ; and if final appeal is made to
the manuscript, and it is found to have been
unfaithfully transcribed in one place, all trust
is at an end. Now, that in copying so huge
and inconvenient a book some slight errors

494 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

should have been committed, especially when it
is done by a person distracted by numerous
other undertakings, is only in conformity with
a trite axiom, about the most natural proneness
of humanity.

The work has therefore been minutely collated
with the original, by a commission of able
scholars ; and a list, extending to fourteen pages,
has been made of mistakes. With this accurate
correction, the work is offered for immediate
publication.

The will of this no less estimable than learned
man was in his own hand, and was remarkable
for the kindness of its provisions. All his
household were secured their full pay for life if
they had been ten years in his service, half-pay
if they had been six. A large sum, besides, was
to be divided among them. For the very poor
of his native village he } rovided an endowment
of 12,000 dollars, besides leaving them his
residuary legatees. To its parish church he
bequeathed all his ecclesiastical plate and fur
niture.

His library, which he describes as large and
precious, he says he would have gladly left for
the general use of the Roman clergy. But he
had not means to provide premises in which to
preserve it, or a proper endowment to increase,

GKEGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 495

or sufficient officers to guard it. He therefore
desires it to be valued, and sold ; yet so that,
should the Papal Government be disposed to
purchase it, the price should only be half the
valuation. Even, however, should this be the
case, he makes it a condition that his collection
be kept apart and bear his name; or at least,
that each book should keep his arms already
placed within it. His MSS. he left absolutely
to the Vatican. It need not be added, that the
Pope immediately gave orders for the purchase
of the library ; which has been placed in an
apartment by itself, in the great library over
which Mai had shed such additional lustre.1
There Pius IX. went to visit it in the carnival
of 1856.

1 In the Address read by tlie President of the R.S.L. in 1855
(p. 20), it was stated that, " owing to the scanty finances, or the
stinginess, of the Pontifical Government," the library had been sold.
This was corrected as an "erratum" in the Annual Report for
1856, p. 10; but no excuse was made for the use of so offensive
a word, wrongly applied. The Holy See, or Papal Government,
may be, or may have been, too poor to carry out all its wishes. It
may have been economical, but has never deserved to be taunted
as stingy. Pius VII. bought Cardinal Zelada's magnificent library
for the Vatican ; Leo XII. Cicognara's rare collection, and greatly
increased the unique series of papyri formed by Pius VI. ; Gre
gory XVI. added ten rooms, and gave a most valuable cabinet of
early Christian paintings, besides founding three new museums.
Surely, even if Pius IX., who has done so much, had been unable
to purchase the Mai library, such a term ought not to have been
applied io his Government. Yet England may refuse to purchase
the Soulage collection without such reproofs being administered !

496 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

A little anecdote is connected with this portion
of his will. A few days before his death, while
apparently in full possession of his ordinary
health, he stopped his carriage at the door of a
well-known bookseller, whom he much employed
in his book transactions, and asked him if there
was any news in his line of business. The trades
man, with surprise, replied that till the winter
nothing would be going on. " Then," said the
Cardinal, " you will soon have an extensive job
to do." " What ? " it was naturally asked. " My

dear B ," replied Mai, with tears in his eyes,

and pressing the hand of his attached client, " you
will soon have to value my library. Farewell ! "
This circumstance, and his having left, for
the first time, the key of his private cabinet,
in which were his secret papers, with his
executor, Cardinal Altieri, naturally led all to
suppose that premonitory symptoms, unseen by
others, forewarned him of his approaching
dissolution.

His marble monument, commenced in his
lifetime, is a beautiful specimen of what artists
know by the name of the cinquecento style. It
is composed of a base from which rise two
Corinthian pilasters, flanking a deep niche, and
supporting an arch. In the niche is a rich
sarcophagus, on which reposes the effigy of the

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH, 497

Cardinal, offering up his works towards which he
points, to the Incarnate Wisdom, who is repre
sented in relief on the upper portion of the recess.
On each of its walls are medallions representing
Mai's nomination to the Ambrosian and Vatican
libraries. Above them and below are angels
holding scrolls, on which are written, in Greek,
Latin, Hebrew, and old Syriac, the text of
1 Esdras, vii. 6. "He was a ready scribe in the
law." The Holy Spirit, and the four Doctors
of the Latin Church in relief, occupy the inside
of the arch ; above which, outside, rises the
architectural cornice, then a semicircular lunette
bearing the Cardinal's arms, and towering above
all the triumphant cross.

Among Mai's papers was found his sepulchral
inscription, in his own hand. It has been en
graven on the base of this monument, now
erecting in his titular church of St. Anastasia.
.Benzoni, one of the most distinguished artists of
Rome, is the sculptor chosen by Mai himself
for the work. The following is the epitaph
carved upon it : —

" Qui doctis vigilans studiis mea tempora trivi,

Bergomatum soboles, Angelus, hie jaceo.
Purpureum mihi syrma dedit rubrumque galerum
Roma, sed empyreum das mihi, CHBISTE, polum.
Te expectans, longos potui tolerare labores ;
Nunc mihi sit tecum dulcis et alta quies ! "

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498 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

The indulgent reader will, perhaps, accept the
following for a translation : —

" I, who my life in wakeful studies wore,

Bergamo's son, named Angelo, here lie.
The purple robe and crimson hat I bore

Rome gave : Thou giv'st me, CHRIST ! th' empyreal

sky.

Awaiting Thee, long toil I could endure :
So with Thee be my rest now, sweet, secure !"

This epitaph makes known the man, not un
conscious, indeed, of his great parts, nor of their
noble devotion, not blind to his life -long assiduity
and its well-earned success, but still consistent
in all, and throughout all, with the principles,
the thoughts, and the conduct of a true eccle
siastic. This Mai eminently was, from youth to
old age, adorned with every priestly virtue,
modest and humble, so that speak to him of his
own great works, and he turned you away from
the topic with a blush and gentle disclaimer,
which was manifestly sincere. His habits were
most simple and temperate. He rose very early,
and after Mass sat down to his books before six,
and studied the whole morning, with the inter
ruption of a light meal. Of course at one period
of his life, both before and after his cardinalate,
he had official audiences to give, and he never
was absent from any religious service at which
others of his rank attended. Still every moment

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 499

that could be snatched from these duties, which
were always thoroughly discharged, was seized
for his favourite pursuits ; and I should doubt if,
during the few moments that a secretary might
take in going to the next room for a paper, and
returning with it, a line was not copied or trans
lated from the open manuscript on the table.
He rarely went into society, except for a few
minutes, where courteous duty imperatively de
manded it. A solitary drive, which I have some
times counted it an honour to deprive of that
epithet, perhaps a short walk, was almost all the
robbery that he permitted recreation to make
from his domestic converse at home, with that
chaste wisdom that had early captivated his heart.
Soon after dusk, his servants were dismissed, his
outer door was inexorably bolted, and alone with
his codices he was lavish of his midnight oil, pro
tracting his studies to an unknown hour.

This retirement and uncongeniality with
society obtained for him, with those who did
not know him, a character of moroseness or
haughtiness, which disappeared the moment you
approached him. He was most affable, kind, and
ready to assist by counsel or suggestion ; and,
however interrupted in his own work, he never
betrayed impatience or a desire to get rid of the
visit. His countenance, perhaps, encouraged

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500 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

with some that misinterpretation of his charac
ter. A most noble forehead, equal to containing,
piled up but orderly within, any amount. of
knowledge, caught the eye of the visitor to a
Papal function, and generally inspired the desire
to know whose countenance it distinguished.
Then came eyes deeply burrowing under brows
knitted somewhat by the effort which a short
sighted person makes to see, till he has rendered
habitual the expression of that strain. His fea
tures were dignified, modelled on a firm intellec
tual type. And undoubtedly his conversation was
serious; to a beholder severe, but not to a listener.
One naturally spoke with him on grave subjects,
loved to learn from his conversation, listened
with respect, with reverence rather, and felt in
the presence of a virtuous and a wise man, with
whom it would be a pride one day to have been
familiar. But there was not a particle of super
ciliousness, or overbearing, or sarcastic manners
about him, none of the oppressiveness of genius,
or the ponderousness of rare learning. Yet
both were discernible in everything he said and
wrote, the learning and the genius. His manner
was calm and earnest, but unimpassioned ; per
suasive and eloquent, without clamour. His
published discourses are specimens of beautiful
diction and noble thoughts.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 501

One very common imputation cast upon him,
however, was a want of liberality in permitting
others to share his advantages. It used to be
commonly said, that he shut the Vatican to
scholars, especially from foreign countries, who
wished to collate manuscripts for some particular
work. If I have to speak from personal expe
rience, I can only say that I never either felt or
observed this failing. I ever found him, not
merely obliging, but extremely kind, at all times ;
and was permitted to examine, to collate, and to
copy or trace any manuscripts that I required,
or wished to study.1 And I have generally seen
the great reading-room of the Library crowded
with scholars busy upon codices. Mere idlers,
or persons who came with no definite object, it
is very probable that he would not encourage ;
but I should doubt if any great classical work
has been published in our time, which is deprived
of the advantages derivable from Roman manu
scripts, in consequence of such a refusal to
examine them, or if ever any scholar properly

1 As early as 1827 these feelings were openly expressed by me
in the following passage: — "Neque pariter silentio praetermit-
tendus Vir toto literario orbi clarus, 111. Angelus Mai, sub cujus
auspiciis Bibliothecse Vaticanae Kti^Xia Syriaca evolvi ; quique,
quum nihil a se alienum putet quod literis sacris profanisque, quas
omnes dum colit exornat, possit benevertere, me in his studiis
aliquid proficere conantem, jam non dieam humanitate, sed et
benevolentia est prosecutus." — Horce Syriacce, Praef. p. xiii.

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502 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

recommended experienced a rebuff. Like most
persons, who, working hard themselves, exact
full labour from those subject to them, Mai had
his murmurers in the Library itself; but time
has fully justified his exaction of vigilance and
industry from them.

Perhaps we may not ill characterise him and
his pursuits, by an amalgamation and adaptation
of two eulogies by an old poet : —

Angele Mai, " studiose, memor, celer, ignoratis

Assidue in libris, nee nisi operta legens ;
Exesas tineis opicasque evolvere chartas

Major quam promptis cura tibi in studiis.
Aurea mens, vox suada tibi, turn sermo quietus :

Nee cunctator eras, nee properante sono.
Pulchra senecta, nitens habitus, procul ira dolusque,

Et placidae vitas congrua meta tibi."1

Well might Niebuhr say of him, that he was
" a man divinely granted to our age, to whom
no one citizen or stranger, — to use the words of
Ennius, — will be able to repay the fruit of his
labours." 2

1 Again will the courteous reader accept a poor translation ? —

" Mai, studious, unforgetting, quick, intent

On books long lost, — to trace their covered lines;
Parchments, worm-gnawed, thy care, — time-soiled and rent,

Beyond what lore on modern pages shines ;
Sterling thy mind ; winning thy tongue, and sweet ;
Rapid nor slow thy speech. Fair looked old age
In thy sheen robes, free from all craft or heat :
Meet for thy placid course, its closing stage."

AUSONIUS, Prof, de Victoria et Staphylw.
In vita Agathise.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 503

CHAPTER VL

CHARACTER OF GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH.

THERE is yet living at least one English noble
man, celebrated for his love of art, who saw
Pius VII. when elected Pope at Venice in 1800.
It may be doubted if there be a second person
in the United Kingdom whose recollection of
Pontiffs reaches so far back. There are hun
dreds, however, if not thousands, who remember
Gregory XVL, who have been presented to him,
and who consequently retain distinct impressions
of his looks, his address, and his conversation.
Scarcely an Englishman, whose travels were per
formed during his long Pontificate, left Rome
without this honour and gratification. Upon
such points, therefore, as merely meet the eye,
recollections of him may be said to be spread
over the whole country, and, indeed, to exist
in one generation or other of every travelled
family.

The remarks one heard from such outside ob
servers were, that at first sight his features did

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504 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

not seem cast in so noble a mould as those of his
predecessors ; they were large and rounded, and
wanted those finer touches which suggest ideas
of higher genius or delicate taste. But this
judgment ceased the moment you came into
closer contact and conversation with him. He
did not discourse freely in any languages but
Italian and Latin ; and, therefore, persons who
had to communicate with him through an in
terpreter, such, for example, as the late Baron
Kestner, and to have each sentence twice re
peated, could form a very imperfect opinion of
his conversational powers. But those who could
speak Italian freely, and approached him merely
to receive his blessing, soon found him launch
into familiar conversation, which drew them on
almost into forgetfulness of his twofold dignity.
His countenance then, and still more when dis
coursing on graver topics, lighted up, and was
mantled with a glowing expression; his eyes
became bright and animated, and his intelligence
and learning gave themselves utterance through
his flowing and graceful language. I remember
an English man of letters who got upon the sub
ject of poetry in his audience, and came away
much struck by the Pope's judicious observa
tions, as well as extensive and familiar acquaint
ance with his theme,

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 505

In health he was robust, and his powers of
exertion, physical and mental, were very great.
He could tire most of his attendants in his daily
walks. His favourite one was beyond Ponte-
molle along the old Flaminian Way to Torre di
Quinta, a considerable distance ; and he enjoyed
seeing much younger men glad to remount their
horses or their carriages to return home. His
health was, indeed, so hale and sound, on his
accession, that he declined naming any physi
cian or surgeon for his own person, but ordered
the salaries of those offices, and others which
he similarly kept in abeyance, to be invested,
towards forming a superannuation fund for
the servants and officers of the palace. This he
nursed and increased till it became of considerable
amount. After a few years, however, a cancerous
affection attacked his face; and in 1835, by
advice of the Prussian minister, he sent for an
able physician, Dr. Alertz of Aix-la-Chapelle,
whom I happened to travel with on board a
steamer, in company with Dr. Reumont, for
many years attached to the Prussian embassy at
Florence, and well known in art-literature for
his able writings on Andrea del Sarto. The
young German, acting with the Italian physi
cian to the palace, arrested the progress of the
disease, so that it does not seem to have acted

506 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

on Gregory's constitution or shortened the ful
ness of his days.

This strength of frame and soundness of organs
enabled the Pope, throughout his reign, to attend
to business, temporal and ecclesiastical, with
unwearying assiduity and unvarying cheerful
ness. The severer habits of his claustral life had
inured him to the regularity and even monotony
of the Papal, its early hours, its seclusion from
social enjoyment, its silent meals, its many
solitary hours, and their unrelaxed occupation.
He commenced his morning so truly matuti-
nally that he dispensed with the attendance of a
chaplain at his own Mass, saying that it was
unreasonable to expect other persons to accom
modate themselves to his unseasonable hours.
His own servant alone assisted him. A peculiar
simplicity of habits was remarkable in him.
When Cardinal-Prefect of Propaganda I often
noticed this; and how he would do himself what
ordinarily a servant might have been called in to
perform. Hence, while he provided richly for the
splendour of divine worship, and replaced some
of its plundered ornaments, he would wear
nothing costly himself.1

His vigorous mind, as has been observed,

1 Such as shoes richly embroidered, in accordance with the prac
tice of the Pope's wearing the cross upon his.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 507

seemed to shrink from no amount of application
to business of every class. It was no idle life,
indeed, that he led. In the management of
ecclesiastical affairs business is divided among
congregations, or boards as we should call them,
but the ultimate result, in every important case,
depends on the Papal approbation. It was not
uncommon for Gregory to hesitate in giving his
assent, and to have the papers in the cause brought
to himself, and finally come to a different de
cision from that of the congregation. Cardinal
Acton used to say that he had known as many
as eight or ten cases in which the Pope had
refused to ratify the judgment of a congregation,
and had at length reversed it, upon canonical
grounds which had been overlooked by the many
learned persons previously engaged in its dis
cussion. And this instinctive perception occurred
in cases affecting distant countries. One instance
related to Canada. A distinguished bishop of
that country found that the Pope demurred to a
resolution passed by the Propaganda about it ;
and in a few days, as he declared, fresh informa
tion arrived which fully justified the correctness
of the sovereign judgment. A similar instance
referred to Germany.

I remember that on one occasion, admitted
on a day of privacy, I found him writing, him-

508 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

self, a, long Latin letter to a bishop in Germany,
which he most condescendingly read to me ;
and masterly it was in sentiment and expres
sion. It produced, indeed, its intended effect,
though involving one of the rarest exercises of
Pontifical authority. In like manner he wrote,
himself, an answer of several sheets, sending his
own autograph copy, to one of the bishops in
England, on a matter which related to an eccle
siastical affair of this country.

In the beginning of his reign long edicts
were published on the turbulence and disorder
of the times, full of touching appeals and gene
rous sentiments, which, I believe, were considered
as the productions of his own pen. In cases of
life and death, the silence of the Pope, on the
report of the trial being submitted to him by
the chief judge, is equivalent to a ratification of
the sentence, which then takes its course. But
Gregory always desired the entire pleadings and
depositions to be brought to him, and went
carefully through them himself: and if he made
no observation in returning the papers, it was
understood that he tacitly approved the fatal
sentence. Oftener, however, he leaned to the side
of mercy ; and executions were rare, and only
for atrocious crimes. I am not aware that there
was a single political execution in his Pontificate.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 509

In the discharge of his high duties he re
spected not the person of man, and cared no
thing for the pride or strength of those whom
he had to encounter. To one great contest
which he sustained, allusion has been made
under the last Pontificate, without intention of
taking up the thread of its narrative in this.
It may be sufficient to say that in its last phase,
the imprisonment of the Archbishop of Cologne,
he fully sustained his character for unflinching
support of the cause committed to the protection
of his sublime office. Indeed, scarcely a year of
his Pontificate passed by, without his having to
pronounce an allocution on the oppression of the
Church in some country or other, north or south
of Europe, east or west of the world. He
spoke the truth plainly and publicly ; and gene
rally reaped the fruit of his straightforwardness
and courage.

The most painful of his conflicts, however,
was one face to face with the greatest of Eu
rope's sovereigns, a man accustomed to com
mand without contradiction, and to be sur
rounded by complete submission. He did not
imagine that there was a human being who
would presume to read him a lesson, or still less
to administer him a rebuke. It may be proper
to premise that the present Emperor of Russia,

510 THE LAST EOUR POPES.

while Czarowich, visited Rome, and was re
ceived with the utmost respect by all ranks, and
with extreme kindness by the Pope. The
young prince expressed himself highly gratified
by his reception ; and I was told by those to
whom he had declared it, that he had procured
a portrait of Gregory, which he said he should
always keep, as that of a friend deeply venerated
and esteemed. Further, in 1842, the Emperor,
his father, had sent very splendid presents to
the Pope, a vase of malachite, now in the Vatican
library, and a large supply of the same precious
material for the Basilica of St. Paul. Still he
had not ceased to deal harshly, not to say
cruelly, with his Catholic subjects, especially the
Poles. They were driven into the Greek com
munion by putting it out of their power to
follow their own worship ; they were deprived of
their own bishops and priests, and even per
secuted by more violent inflictions and personal
sufferings. On this subject the Holy See had
both publicly and privately complained ; but no
redress, and but little, if any, alleviation, had
been obtained. At length, in December, 1845,
the Emperor Nicholas I. came himself to Rome.
It was observed, both in Italy and, I believe, in
England, how minute and unrelaxed were the
precautions taken to secure him against any

GREGOKY THE SIXTEENTH. 511

danger of conspiracy : how his apartment, bed,
food, body-guard, were arranged with a watchful
eye to the prevention of any surprise from
hidden enemies. Be this as it may, nothing
amiss befell him, unless it was his momentous
interview with the Head of that Church which
he had mercilessly persecuted, with him whose
rival he considered himself, as real autocratic
Head of a large proportion of what he called
the " Orthodox Church," and as recognised pro
tector of its entire communion. It was ar
ranged that the Emperor should be attended by
M. de Bouteneff, his Minister at Eome, arid
that the Pope should have a Cardinal at his
side. He selected, as has been said, the English
Cardinal Acton. This was not a usual pro
vision for a royal visit, but gave it rather the
air of a conference ; and so in truth it was.
The Pope felt he had a solemn and trying duty
to perform. Could he allow the persecutor of
his flock to approach him, and depart without a
word of expostulation and even of reproof?
Could he receive him with a bland smile and
insincere accolade ; speak to him of the unmean
ing topics of the hour, or of the cold politics of
the world ? Impossible ! It would have been
at variance, not with personal disposition, but
with the spiritual character which he held of

512 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

Father of the Faithful, Defender of the weak ;
Shepherd of the ravened flock ; Protector of the
persecuted ; Representative of fearless, uncom
promising, martyred Pontiffs ; Vicar of Him who
feared no stalking, any more than prowling, wolf.
It would have been to his conscience a gnawing
and undying reproach, if he had lost the oppor
tunity of saying face to face what he had written
and spoken of one absent, or if he had not em
ployed his privilege as a sovereign to second his
mission as a Pontiff. He would have confirmed
by his cowardice or his forbearance, though it
might have been called courtly refinement or
gentleness of character, all the self-confidence
and fearlessness of a fanatical persecutor, placed
above all but some great moral control.

Certainly much hung in the balance of that
Pontiff's deliberation, how he should act. That
meekest of men, Pius VII., had not neglected
the opportunity of his captivity, to enumerate,
with fervid gentleness, to his powerful master,
the evils which the Church had suffered at his
hands. Gregory never undertook any grave work
without much prayer ; and one so momentous as
this was not assuredly determined on, except
after long and earnest supplication. What were
the Emperor's intentions, what his ideas, what his
desires in coming to "Rome, and having necessa-

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 513

rily a personal meeting with the Pope, it is im
possible to conjecture. Did he hope to overcome
him by his splendid presence, truly majestic,
soldier-like, and imperial ? Or to cajole and win
him by soothing speeches and insincere promises ?
Or to gain the interpretative approval of silence
and forbearance ? One must conjecture in vain.
Certain it is, that he came, he saw, and con
quered not. It has been already mentioned,
that the subject and particulars of the conference
were never revealed by its only witness at Rome.
The Pope's own account was brief, simple, and
full of conscious power. " I said to him all that
the Holy Ghost dictated to me."

And that he had not spoken vainly, with
words that had beaten the air, but that their
strokes had been well placed and driven home,
there was evidence otherwise recorded. An
English gentleman was in some part of the palace
through which the Imperial visitor passed as he
returned from his interview, and described his
altered appearance. He had entered with his
usual firm and royal aspect, grand as it was from
statue-like features, stately frame, and martial
bearing ; free and at his ease, with gracious looks
and condescending gestures of salutation. So
he passed through the long suite of ante-rooms,
the Imperial eagle, glossy, fiery, " with plumes
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514 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

unruffled, and with eye unquenched," in all the
glory of pinions which no flight had ever wearied,
of beak and talon which no prey had yet resisted.
He came forth again, with head uncovered, and
hair, if it can be said of man, dishevelled ; hag
gard and pale, looking as though in an hour he
had passed through the condensation of a pro
tracted fever ; taking long strides, with stooping
shoulders, unobservant, unsaluting : he waited
not for his carriage to come to the foot of the
stairs, but rushed out into the outer court, and
hurried away from apparently the scene of a
discomfiture. It was the eagle dragged from his
eyrie among the clefts of the rocks, " from his
nest among the stars," his feathers crumpled, and
his eye quelled1, by a power till then despised.

But let us be fully just. The interview did
not excite rancorous or revengeful feelings. No
doubt the Pontiff's words were in the spirit of
those on the High Priest's breast-plate — " doc
trine and truth," sound in principle and true in
fact. They convinced and persuaded. Facts
with their proofs had, no doubt, been carefully
prepared, and could not be gainsayed. The
strong emotion which Gregory on other occasions
easily betrayed could not have been restrained
here. Often in prayer has every beholder seen

1 Abdias (Obadiab), i. 8, 9.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 515

the tears running down his glowing counte
nance ; often those who have approached him
with a tale of distress, or stood by when news of
a crime has been communicated to him, have
seen his features quiver, and his eye dim with
the double sorrow of the Apostle, the tear of
weakness with the weak, the scalding drop of
indignation for sin.1 This sensibility cannot
have been stemmed, even by the coldness of an
interpreted discourse, but must have accompa
nied that flow of eloquent words to which, when
earnest, Gregory gave utterance.

All this must have told effectually, where
there could be nothing to reply. Mistaken zeal,
early prejudice, and an extravagance of national
feelings had no doubt influenced the conduct of
the Czar towards his Catholic subjects, against
the better impulses of his own nature, which
Russians always considered just, generous, and
even parental. Xo one had before possessed the
opportunity, or the courage, to appeal to the in
ward tribunal of this better sense. When well
made such a call could hardly fail.

" Prima est haec ultio, quod se
Judice nemo nocens absolvitur, improba quamvis
Gratia fallaci praetoris vicerit urna." JUVENAL,

From that interview the Catholics of Russia may

1 2 Cor. xi. 29.

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516 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

date a milder treatment, and perhaps a juster
rule.

Other instances might be given of Gregory's
firmness in dealing with cases requiring that
virtue as well as prudence. Such was the
cutting up, root though not branch, of a man
already mentioned as giving promise at one
time of being leader, as he had been founder, of
a magnificent politico-religious school in France,
the Abbe de la Mennais. By the Encyclical of
June 25, 1834 (Sincjulari Nos), he condemned
the " Paroles d'un Croyant," and thereby tore
off the mask from him who soon exhibited him
self to wondering and weeping thousands in his
true aspect. Similarly did he deal with a dif
ferent school, that of Hermes, in Germany, the
errors of which were purely theological, and of a
rationalistic tendency. It was seriously affecting
ecclesiastical education on the Rhine ; for it was
supported by professors of unimpeachable con
duct, and mainly sound doctrine. The creeping
error was crushed in its infancy, after much dis
cussion and much forbearance.

Kindness and considerateness were indeed dis
cernible in all the Pope's actions. His charities
were in full conformity with the traditions arid
instincts of his See. Scarcely, if ever, is a year of
his Pontificate unmarked by some private con-

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 517

tribution on a large scale to one object of
compassion or another. He elevated much the
scale, and enlarged the basis, of the magnificent
establishment, industrial and eleemosynary, of
San Michele a Ripa, in which are collected
under one roof every class of sufferers, male and
female, from decrepit and helpless old age down
to children ; from the inmates of the reformatory
to those of the nursery, and every sort of in
dustry, from the painter, sculptor, and engraver
to the weaver, the shoemaker, and the car
penter. Under the liberal management of Car
dinal Tosti, and the special patronage of Gregory,
who annually visited the establishment to in
spect its productions in art and in manufac
tures, and gave it large orders, this has become
one of the happiest combinations of charity's
well-organised functions. And the same is to
be said of another equally important receptacle
for poor children of a lower order, at the Ter
mini, that is Thermae of Diocletian. This had
fallen much into decay ; but partly through the
munificence, more still under the fostering care,
of the Pope, it received a new development,
which it only wanted the perfecting hand of
his successor to carry to its attainable com
pleteness.

The prolonged reign of this Pontiff, from 1831

L L 3

518 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

to 1846, presented sufficient opportunities for
exercising that charity which the right hand
cannot conceal from the left. Thus from Oc
tober 26th, 1831, to the beginning of 1832, suc
cessive shocks of earthquakes destroyed many
houses and villages in Umbria, and shook almost
to pieces cities with their sumptuous buildings. I
remember travelling through the province not
long after, and witnessing their frightful effects.
Some villages through which the road passed
— and many more among the hills — were
utterly destroyed, though providentially the loss
of life was not in proportion to material demoli
tion. Foligno was so shattered, that, excepting
the solid cathedral and a few other public build
ings, there was not an edifice but what was
shored up; and in fact the main street was
traversed, through its whole length, by beams,
which made the out-thrust and bulging walls on
either side give mutual support. And now the
traveller will see wall-plates all along, to which
interior iron tie-rods are attached binding every
house within. But the most signal and afflict
ing overthrow was that of the noble sanctuary
of Sta. Maria degli Angioli, the dome of which,
towering in the plain or valley of Perugia just
below Asisi, was a beautiful object. This dome
covered the celebrated Portiuncula, or Chapel of

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 519

St. Francis, the small rural oratory in which he
began the work of his stupendous Institute.
The entire nave fell in, leaving the cupola mar
vellously suspended over the little sanctuary, not
a brick of which was displaced.1

Subscriptions for the many sufferers by this
calamity were immediately opened,, with the
Pope at their head. As to the church, although
he and many others contributed largely, the
great merit of patient and persevering alms-
gathering belongs to a simple Franciscan lay-
brother of the house which served the church,
Br. Luigi Ferri, of Bologna ; who went from coun
try to country begging contributions, in place of
which he often received, and patiently endured, re
buffs, and insults, and occasionally the impostor's
meed in prisons and police-courts. He collected
16,000 dollars. The church was completely
restored, and solemnly reopened in forty months.

Again, when the cholera appeared in Ancona,
a city which had shown itself particularly hos-

1 On being cleaned, one end of this chapel was found to have
been painted in fresco by Pietro Perugino, and cut down, so as to
mutilate the picture. Overbeck has executed a most lovely painting
on the other end, representing a heavenly vision showering flowers
on St. Francis in prayer. It is well known by its engraving. He
lived for some years in the convent attached, while he finished his
work, like one of its members, refusing all other remuneration.
See "Dublin Review," vol. i. p. 458. He had begun his work in
1830.

L L 4

520 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

tile to him, Gregory sent, from his own resources,
considerable relief.

His more private charities are known to have
been profuse : but there was one form, though a
more spiritual one, which was peculiarly exhi
bited. On one occasion a Spanish lady, per
plexed in conscience, desired to unburthen its
anxieties to him as chief pastor ; and Gregory
descended into the confessional for her, to dis
charge the functions of a simple priest. And a
German lady of great information and ability,

the Baroness K , informed me, how being

still a Lutheran, but drawn singularly towards
the Catholic Church, she asked for an oppor
tunity of placing her difficulties for solution
before the Sovereign Pontiff, as its highest autho
rity : and it was instantly granted. He received
her in his garden ; and, ordering his attendants
to remain in one place, walked up and down with
her in their presence till he had solved her
doubts, and given her his blessing. She was
afterwards one of the most zealous co-operators
with the Princess Borghese, in supporting the
cholera orphans.

And now to come nearer home, he ever showed
more than kindness towards those who repre
sented our country in Rome. Having been Pre
fect of Propaganda for so many years he had

GKEGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 521

become minutely acquainted with every part of
the British dominions, both at home and abroad,
with its bishops, its wants, its actual condition
and future prospects. A singular instance of
his sagacity in this knowledge may be quoted.
Not only did he increase, as has been said, the
number of Apostolic Vicariates in England, but
spontaneously, without being led to it, he told
the writer that the hierarchy would have to be
established here, upon the removal of one ob
stacle, which he specially described, and empha
tically characterised, and which it was not in
his own power to deal with. When that should
occur, he distinctly remarked, this form of
church government must be introduced into
England. In the course of a few years, but after
his death, the event to which he had pointed
took place, with consequent circumstances which
ordinarily he could not have foreseen ; and his
successor, unapprised of that forethought, almost
at once executed what Gregory had intended
under similar conditions.

The Irish College had special motives of grati
tude to this Pontiff. The late venerable Bishop
of Dromore, then the Rev. Dr. Michael Blake,
Parish priest in Dublin, came to restore this
establishment, first suppressed under the French
occupation, and then incorporated with the Col-

522 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

lege of Propaganda. The old building on the
Quirinal Hill was considered unsuitable, or pro
bably was unavailable for the purpose, and Pope
Leo XII. by his Brief " Plura inter collegia" of
February 14th, 1826, assigned for the new college
a small house, formerly the Umbrian College,
situated in the street Delle botteghe oscure, with
a very small church annexed. Dr. Blake go
verned the college till he resigned it into the
hands of the Eev. Dr. Boylan, who in his
turn was succeeded by the present Archbishop
Cullen. Dr. Blake was created Bishop of
Dromore in 1833; and I rejoice to see him
yet vigorously discharging the duties of his
office.

The following history of his own early career,
given by one intimately connected with this
admirable house, can hardly fail to edify my
readers. When a student at Eome, he was re
markably slow and considered dull. This was
owing, perhaps entirely, to considerable indis
tinctness in his speech, accompanied by hesitation.
On one occasion, venturing to interpose his
opinion in some discussion among his comrades,
one of them rudely interrupted him by saying :
" What business have you to speak, who are the
dunce of the college ? " The wound was smarting
but salutary. The meek boy did not reply, but

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 523

retired heart-sore into solitude. He reflected on
what had been said publicly to him, without
rebuke from any one, with silent concurrence of
all. Yes, that was his character among them,
that the opinion even of the kindest of his
friends. If they had not told him of it, one had
let it out to him. To this rough monitor he
ought to be thankful, for telling him the truth.
And now what was to be done ? The reproach
must be wiped away, the character reversed.
Its causes, real or imaginary, must be cured at
any cost. This must be the unremitting task of
his school-life ; he must never forget it.

He took immediate steps for this purpose. He
accordingly wrote on a slip of paper " The Dunce
of the College," in plain unmistakable letters,
and placed it on his desk, where, unseen by
others, it should ever be before his eyes. During
the regular hours of application there it was; at
times of extra study, while others were at re
creation, this stinging goad was at his side. He
adopted a slow deliberate utterance, which ac
companied him through life, but which perfectly
remedied his original defect. He soon rose
honourably both in his class, and in the estima
tion of his school-fellows — those severest but most
accurate of judges — who, however, knew not of
the spell which formed the secret of his success,

524 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

And so he passed through all the honoured
degrees of his sacred profession, to its highest
attainable dignity. Often have I found this
anecdote useful to encourage a down-hearted
student : though, of course, I have concealed the
name.

In the year 1836 Gregory XVI. bestowed on
the Irish College a much more spacious house,
with a considerable garden. But what forms its
chief prize is the church attached to it, being the
old basilica of St. Agatha in Suburra, which St.
Gregory the Great himself tells us in his Dia
logues, he cleansed from the taint of Arianism,
amidst peculiar and portentous occurrences.
It is the diaconal church of Cardinal Antonelli,
who has been liberal in repairing and greatly
embellishing it.

As to the English College, Gregory XVI.
never failed to show it the greatest kindness.
Twice he visited it, once while I presided over
it, under the following circumstances. By acts
of perfectly unsolicited goodness, he had twice
placed me in his household as one of his cham
berlains, first honorary, and then in full degree.
In neither instance was the act of grace heard
of till accomplished, nor in either was any
fee permitted to be paid. This office, to which
no emoluments are attached, gave a place in

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 525

all public functions, the most favourable, per
haps, for witnessing them. On the 2nd of
February, 1837, the anniversary of the Pope's
election, I was proceeding to take my place in
the Sistine Chapel, when a voice whispered in
my ear, that next day, early, His Holiness in
tended visiting our house. It was one of his
more immediate attendants, who, not wishing us
to be taken by surprise, gave the timely warning,
otherwise we should have received notice in the
evening, without time to make suitable prepara
tions. Accordingly everything was got ready
in time. The College, which is a noble edifice,
has a suite of large halls, well fitted for even a
Papal reception. The first had just been adorned
with what was till then unseen in Rome, a col
lection of large maps hung on rollers, brought
from England, the second contained a number
of valuable paintings, the third was the library.
In the first a throne was erected, on which the
Pope received the inmates of the house, and a
few friends brought hastily together. One good
thing on such occasions is, that there is no
address to be presented, and no formal answer
to be given ; no tax, in other words, on the
resources of commonplace, and no study to say
as much as possible on the one side and as little
as possible on the other. An easy familiarity

526 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

and freedom marks all such intercourse between
sovereign and subjects. The innocent repartee,
the pleasant anecdote, still more the cheery
laugh, are not prohibited nor withheld. The
function of the throne, therefore, was soon over,
and Gregory, seated in the library, was in a
short time talking in his usual good-natured
strain with all around him. Somehow or other
he had received notice of many other importa
tions from England, made by me in a visit to
this country in 1836; and he expressed his in
tention of seeing them all. So he visited every
part of the house, enjoying with evident glee
many things of outlandish use, none more than
the beer-machine adapted to the purposes of
uplifting the produce of the vine, instead of that
of the bine. And scarcely less an object of
amusement was a gigantic medicine-chest, which
the master-craftsman in such wares, in London,
declared to have been the largest and completest
he had ever manufactured, the next having been
one for the Emperor of Morocco. The bottles
containing the inscrutable compounds of the
London pharmacopoeia, wkh their inviting
golden labels, the bright finish of every part, the
neatness of fit, and the accuracy of packing,
almost overcame that involuntary shudder and
creeping of the flesh, with which an ordinary

GREG Oil Y THE SIXTEENTH. 527

mind contemplates a large collection of what
in that state, and by those in health, is in
variably called physic. It becomes medicine in
a small phial by the bedside.

So passed pleasantly the morning hours, in a
loitering cheerful visit, without etiquette or
formalities, till the door was reached and a kind
farewell was given, and the royal carriages
dashed away towards some other place selected
for another of these carnival visits. Of course,
the event of that day was not allowed to fade
from memory; but was, as usual, commemorated
and perpetuated by an inscription, as follows : —

GREGORIO . XVI. PONT. MAX.

CATHOLICJE . RELIGIONIS . PROPAGATOR!

QVOD . III. NONAS . FEBRVARIAS . AN. M.D.CCC. XXXVII.

COLLEGIVM . ANGLORVM . INVISENS

ALVMNOSQVE . ADLOQVIO . ET . OMNI . BENIGNITATE . SOLATVS
STVDIOSISSIMAM . ANIMI . VOLUNTATEM

IN . CATHOLICOS . ANGLOS . VNIVERSOS

PVBLICO . HOC . TESTIMONIO . DECLARAVIT,

NICOLAVS . WISEMAN . COLLEGII . RECTOR

IIDEMQUE . ALVMNI

AD . MEMORIAM . AVSPICATISSIME . DIEI
IN . ANGLORVM . CATHOLICORVM . ANIMIS . ALTE . DEFIXAM

POSTERITATI . COMMENDANDAM

THOMA . WELD. PRESB. CARD. PATRONO . SUFFRAGANTE
DEVOTI . SANCT1TATI . MAJESTATIQVE . EJVS.

Another marble slab records a second visit to
the College in 1843; but that is beyond the
boundaries of personal recollection.

528 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

And now we come to our closing pages, the
more difficult in proportion as they are the more
agreeable to the writer. For they must be filled
up with the more personal impressions of this
Pontiff's character, distinct from merely official
reminiscences. It must be by general observa
tions only that this can be done. Let me then
repeat that acquaintance with this Pope com
menced, as it had done with no other before
him, while he occupied a subordinate position ;
and nobody thought of him as a future sove
reign. As Prefect of Propaganda I had fre
quently to see him on business, and found him
most simple in his habits and kind in his inter
course. The clearness of his views, and quick
ness of his perception, made it both easy and
agreeable to transact business with him. His
confidence once gained upon such subjects as
belonged more particularly to one's own sphere,
was easily extended to other matters. I could
give several instances of this facility ; and it
was extended to the time of his Pontificate.
Not only was an audience easily obtained on
ordinary days, and at usual hours, but it was
graciously granted almost at any time, when the
ante-chamber was closed, and on days other
wise reserved for private occupation. Indeed
it was not uncommon to receive a summons on

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 529

such days, with an order to proceed at once to
the palace in ordinary dress. Once I well re
member how this familiar kindness served me in
great stead. I was engaged in delivering a
course of Lectures, already alluded to, in the
apartments of Cardinal Weld, in 1835. They
were attended by very large and highly culti
vated audiences. On one of the days of de
livery I had been prevented from writing the
Lecture in time, and was labouring to make up
for my delay, but in vain. Quarter after quarter
of each hour flew rapidly on, and my advance
bore no proportion to the matter before me.
The fatal hour of twelve was fast approaching,
and I knew not what excuse I could make, nor
how to supply, except by a lame recital, the im
portant portion yet unwritten of my task, — for
an index to the Lectures had been printed and
circulated. Just as the last moment arrived, a
carriage from the palace drove to the door, with
a message that I would step into it at once, as
His Holiness wished to speak to me. This was
indeed a " Deus ex machina ; " the only and
least thought of expedient that could have saved
me from my embarrassment. A messenger was
despatched to inform the gathering audience of
the unexpected cause of necessary adjournment
of our sitting till the next day. The object of
M M

530 THE LAST FOUR POPES,

my summons was one of very trifling import
ance; and Gregory little knew what a service
he had unintentionally rendered me. " Sic rne
servavit Apollo."

But here I must pause. The reception on
all such occasions was cordial and most paternal.
An embrace would supply the place of cere
monious forms on entrance : at one time a lono-

o

familiar conversation, seated side by side; at
another a visit to the penetralia of the Pon
tifical apartment, a small suite of entresols com
municating by an internal staircase, occupied
the time. There Gregory had his most choice
collection of books, from every part of the
world, beautifully bound, and he would ask
about English works in it; and many other
exquisite gems of art, miniatures and copies, as
well as original paintings. What it has been
my happiness to hear from him in such visits
it would be betraying a sacred trust to reveal.
But many and many words then spoken rise to
the mind in times of trouble, like stars not only
bright in themselves, but all the brighter in
their reflection from the darkness of their mirror.
They have been words of mastery and spell over
after events, promises and prognostics which
have not failed, assurances and supports that have
never come to nought. Innumerable favours

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 531

and gracious acts, so many unexpected and
unmerited manifestations of goodness, so con
tinued a freedom, or rather familiarity, of com
munication as I have enjoyed from the con
descending kindness of this Pontiff, leave his
memory impressed on mine as that of a father
rather than a sovereign. Encouragement the
most unrestrained and warm-hearted in my
pursuits, literary or ecclesiastical, however
valueless in themselves ; proofs of reliance on
my fidelity at least, in affairs of greater moment
than mine could ever be ; such other marks of
favourable sentiments as have been described,
even though they necessarily led to a separation
from him, painful at least to me : all these
conspire to make me remember Gregory with a
feeling distinct from that associated in my mind
with any of his predecessors ; not with deeper
veneration than I entertain for Pius VII. ; not
with warmer gratitude than for Leo XII. ; not
with sincerer respect than for Pius VIII. ; but
with a feeling more akin to affection, such as
does not often pass the narrow circle that bounds
domestic relations. Another sentiment of de-
votedness and attachment still remains, reserved
for one whose eulogium cannot enter, and
sincerely I pray in me may never come, into
the compass of only a past recollection.

532 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

Even the close of Gregory's Pontificate, his
last years and edifying end, belong not to these
imperfect records. If the courteous companions
of my journey through the past wish to learn
about them, they must consult the common
mother of all the Faithful, who treasures up in
her better memory the acts and virtues of her
Pontiffs and their Fathers.

" Ilactenus annorum, Comites, elementa meorum
Et mcuiini, et meminisse juvat ; — scit ca3tera Mater."

SXATIL'S

THE END.

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