Pius IX. And His Time

The spiritual sovereignty, “with which,” to use the words of a British statesman, “there is nothing on this earth that can at all compare,” was crowned with surpassing glory. Doctrines which, hitherto, had been open to theological discussion, were ascertained and pronounced to be in accordance with the belief of all preceding Christian ages. The Church was enabled, through the labors of her Chief and the zeal of her Priesthood, to extend vastly the place of her tent. The life of Pius IX. himself was a marvel and a glory. None of his predecessors, not even Peter, attained to his length of days.

On the other hand, the venerable Pontiff, and, together with him, the Catholic people, were doomed to behold and lament the loss of the time-honored patrimony of St. Peter. The Papacy, however, unlike all temporal sovereignties, was able to sustain so great a loss. More ancient than its temporal power, it still survives; “not a mere antique, but in undiminished vigor.”

PIUS IX. AND HIS TIME.

John Mary Count Mastai Ferreti was born at Sinigaglia, on the 13th of May, 1792. At the age of twenty-two he came to Rome. Anxious to serve the Holy Father, and yet not aspiring to the priesthood, he resolved to become a member of the Noble Guard. This the delicate state of his health forbade. Repelled by the Prince Commandant, he sought counsel of the Pope. Pius VII. pronounced that his destiny was the Cross, and advised him to devote himself to the ecclesiastical state. The words of the Holy Father were, to the youthful Mastai, as a voice from on high. He decided for the Church, and, as if in testimony that his decision was ratified in heaven, the falling-sickness left him. His studies were more than ordinarily successful, and he already gave proof of those high qualities which were afterwards so greatly developed. The distinguished Canon Graniare, his professor, little dreaming of the exalted destiny which awaited him, held him up as a pattern of excellence to his fellow-students, saying that he possessed the heart of a Pope.

Whilst yet a student, Mastai interested himself in an orphanage, which was founded by John Bonghi, a charitable mason of Rome. He spent in this institution the first seven years of his priesthood, devoting himself to the care of the orphans, who were, as yet, his only parishioners. The income which he derived from family resources was liberally applied in supplying the wants of these destitute children, and even in ministering to their recreation.

It now became his duty to accompany, as a missionary priest, Monsignore Mazi, who was appointed Vicar-Apostolic for Chili, Peru and Mexico. These countries had thrown off the yoke of Spain and adopted Republican forms of government. The Vicar-Apostolic and his companions suffered much in the course of their voyage to America. They were cast into prison, at the Island of Majorca, by Spanish officials, who took it amiss that Rome should hold direct relations with the rebellious subjects of their government. Their ship was attacked by corsairs, and was afterwards in danger from a storm. A single circumstance only need be mentioned in order to show what the faithful ministers of the Church had to endure when traversing the inhospitable steppes of the Pampas. Once, at night, they had no other shelter than a wretched cabin built with the bones of animals, which still emitted a cadaverous odour.

In those arid deserts, they suffered from thirst as well as from dearth of provisions. Great results can only be attained by equally great labors. If, after a period of privation, the travellers enjoyed no more luxurious refreshment than the waters of the crystal brook, it might well be said, “de torrente in viabibet propterea exaltabit caput.” (They shall be reduced to quench their thirst in the mountain stream, and therefore shall be exalted.) The delegates of the Holy Father were received with enthusiasm by the South American populations. Meanwhile, the narrow governments that were set over those countries raised so many difficulties that the mission was only partially successful.

This mission, however, was not without benefit to the Reverend Count Mastai. It had been the means of developing the admirable qualities which he possessed. It had afforded him the opportunity of seeing many cities, as well as the manners and customs of many people. These lessons of travel were not addressed to an ordinary mind. His views were enlarged, elevated and refined by contact with so many rising or fallen civilizations, so many different nationalities, and by the spectacle of Nature, that admirable handmaid of the Divinity, with her varied splendors and her manifold wonders, astonishing no less in the immensity of the ocean than in the vast forests of the New World.

The mind appears to grow as the sphere of material life extends. Vast horizons are adapted to great souls, and prepare them for great things. The Abbe Mastai had thus received in his youth two most salutary lessons, which are often wanting to the best-tried virtues of the sacerdotal state—the lesson of the world, which Mastai had received before the time of his vocation to Holy Orders, and the lessons of travel, which disengages the mind from the bondage of local prejudices. Both of these teachers he admirably understood. He had, indeed, drank of the torrent which exalts.

Leo XII. now filled the Apostolic Chair. This Pontiff, highly appreciating the good sense and penetration of which Mastai had given proof in the difficult mission to Chili, appointed him Canon of Sancta Maria, Rome, in via lata, and, at the same time, conferred on him the dignity of Prelate. Never was the Roman purple more adorned by the learning and genuine virtue of him on whom it was bestowed.

There is at Rome an institution of charity, the greatest which that city or even the world possesses, the immense hospital of St. Michael a Ripa Grande. A whole people dwells within its vast precincts. It is at once a place of retreat for aged and infirm men, a most extensive professional school for poor girls, and a sort of workshop, on a great scale, for children that have been forsaken. The greater number learn trades. Some, who give proof of higher talents, apply, at the expense of the hospital, to the study of the fine arts. This hospital is, in itself, a world, and its government requires almost the qualities of a statesman. Pope Leo XII., anxious to render available the rare abilities of Canon Mastai, named him President of the commission which governs this great establishment. There was need, at the time, so low was the state of the hospital budget, of the nicest management, unremitting care, and the highest financial capacity. These qualities were all speedily at work, and in the course of two years all the resources of the institution were in admirable order. The fear of bankruptcy was removed, deficits of income made up, and receipts abundant.

It had not been the custom to allow to apprentice-workmen any share in the fruits of their labors. Herein Mastai effected a great and certainly not uncalled-for reform. Far from impoverishing the hospital, this liberal measure only showed, by its happy results, that justice is in perfect harmony with economy, and that the best houses are not those which make the most of the labor of their inmates, but those which encourage industry by allowing it what is just. The orphans were thus, in two years, enabled to have a small sum, which secured to them, so far, a mitigation of their lot. Meanwhile, the proceeds of the hospital were doubled. This was remarkable success. Count Mastai’s reputation for administrative ability was now of the highest order.

In the Consistory of May 21st, 1827, Canon Count Mastai was named Archbishop of Spoleto. Thus did Pope Leo XII. signalize his solicitude and affection for the city of his birth. The appointment came not too soon. It required all the influence of a great mind to maintain peace at Spoleto. Party spirit ran high. One side clamored against abuses: the other, dreading all change, clung pertinaciously to the past. Wrath was treasured in every bosom. If civil war had not yet broken out, it raged already in the breasts of the people. Spoleto resembled two hostile camps, and vividly recalled the state of these cities of the Middle-Age, where stood in presence, and armed from head to heel, the undying enmities of the Ghibellins and the Guelphs. The slightest occasion would have sufficed to cause the hardly-suppressed embers of deadly strife to burst into a flame. Through the zeal and diplomacy of the Archbishop, such occasion was averted. Spoleto may yet remember, and not without emotion, how earnestly he studied to appease wild passions, with what delicacy and perseverance he labored to reconcile the terrible feuds that prevailed, to calm the dire spirit of revenge, to bury the sense of wrong in the oblivion of forgiveness. At length, in 1831 and 1832, a hopeless rebellion unfurled its blood-red banner. It was speedily and pitilessly repressed. Such an occasion only was wanting in order to show what one man can do when sustained by the power of virtue and the esteem of mankind. The foreign and Teutonic arm which conquered the insurrection had been always hateful to the Italian people; nor did its display and exercise of military force, in restoring tranquillity to the troubled State, conciliate their friendship.

Only when vanquished did the rebels appear before the walls of Spoleto. In their extremity, they came to beg for shelter and for bread. In the estimation of the benevolent Archbishop, they were as lost sheep whom it was his duty, if possible, to save. He hastened, accordingly, to meet the wolf. The Austrian General, although a stern warrior, was, at the same time, the servant of a Christian Power. He listened to the Archbishop’s remonstrances, and resolved to refrain from further military proceedings, the Prelate undertaking to disarm the rebels, and thus satisfy the sad requirements of war without any recourse to useless and hateful cruelties. Returning to the city, he addressed the insurgents, and, to his unspeakable satisfaction, they at once came to lay at his feet those arms which the Austrian soldiers could only have torn from their lifeless bodies. Thus did the good pastor, by disarming, save the rebellious flock.

Mastai was now transferred to Imola. This city is less considerable than Spoleto. The diocese, however, is richer and more populous. Its Episcopal chair leads directly to the Cardinalate. It has also thrice given to the Catholic Church its Chief Pastor. The people of Spoleto sent a deputation, but in vain, to beseech the Holy Father to leave the good pastor to his affectionate flock.

He was destined also to reign in the hearts of the good people of Imola. The numerous institutions there, which owe their existence to his Episcopal zeal and Christian charity, are monuments of his pastoral care. The virtue of which Archbishop Mastai was so bright a pattern had no sourness in it, no outward show of austerity; nor was it forbidding and intolerant, but sweet and gentle. Words of forgiveness were always on his lips, and his hand was ever open to distress. He labored assiduously to reform, wherever reform was needed, but, what rarely happens, without alienating affection from the reformer. It was his constant study to elevate the character of the clergy, and he ceased not to encourage among them learning as well as piety. Into the Diocesan Seminary, which was always the object of his most anxious care, he introduced some new branches of study, such as agriculture, practical as well as theoretical, and a general knowledge of the medical art. There was yet wanting to the clergy of his diocese a common centre where they could meet for mutual edification and instruction. To this purpose he devoted his own palace, and founded there a Biblical Academy. The members of this Academy met once a month in order to discuss together some subjects connected with the Sacred Writings. None can be ignorant how powerfully such meetings contribute to promote the study of the Scriptures, pulpit eloquence, and the great science of theology. In order, moreover, to obviate the dangers to which students were exposed, who, whilst they studied at the Seminary, were not inmates, and enjoyed not the safeguards of its discipline, he founded an institution called the “Convitto,” where the poorer alumni were boarded without charge.