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MDCCCLXXXIIU!

RECOLLECTIONS

THE LAST FOUR POPES

ROME m THEIR TIMES.

H. E. CARDINAL WISEMAN.
"Komffi nutriri mihi contigit atque dooeri."— HoRiinra.
gtk anb SLeMsefc m&mt.

LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
13, GEEAT MABLBOEOUGH STEEET.

§nngas:
CLAT AHD TAYLOK, PRlNTERa.

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 Yolume to present a
view of the subject treated, different from what is pre
sented 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 evi
dence. 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 sincerity
of his views, and to the correctness of his statements.
If inaccuracy in any detailjhave crept in, where the nar
rative extends over so long a period, this cannot affect
views which result from the continued observation of far
more occurrences than could be specifically described.
This is not a history, nor a series of biographies, nor
a journal, nor what are called memoirs. It is so much

IV PREFACE.
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 de
scription 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 wit
ness have its place among the materials of a future his
torian, who may perhaps be searching for those, by pre
ference, which proceed not from anonymous sources, or
secondary 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 the risk of un
popularity, fear not to subscribe their depositions.
It may be said, that a darker and shadier side must
exist in every picture : thefe must have been many
crimes within and without the walls of Eome, 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,
corruption, 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 truth-telling witnesses. But
to the author, such narratives would have been impossi
ble. He does not retain in his memory histories of
startling wickedness, nor pictures of peculiar degrada
tion. He has seen much of the people, of the poorest

PREFACE. V
from city and country, in the hospitals, where for years
he has been happy in attending to their spiritual 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 sincerity, that later he has not sought it. His
familiars and friends have been naturally those who had
been trained in the same school as himself ; and among
the acquaintances of his foreign life, he hardly remem
bers one whose conduct or principles he knew or be
lieved to be immoral. Had he found them so, he hopes
the acquaintance would soon have been terminated.
His looks were, therefore, towards the virtuous ;
their images stamped themselves habitually upon his
mind's eye; and the succession of these, forms the
pleasing recollections of many years. Of others he can
not speak ; and to do so would be, even if he could, un
congenial 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 mstmctively
loved and honoured.

CONTENTS.

fart t\t first.

PIUS THE SEVENTH.
CHAP. PJaE
I. THE AUTHOR'S FIRST ARRIVAL IN ROME . . . . 3
n. THE FIRST AUDIENCE . . „ . . . . . . 10
HI. CHARACTER OF PIUS THE SEVENTH  17
IV. CONTINUATION  31
V. CONDITION AND FEELINGS OF ROME  52
VI. CARDINAL CONSALVI  64
VH. POLICY OF PIUS THE SEVENTH'S GOVERNMENT .. .. 82
Vm. RELATIONS WITH ENGLAND  90
IX. LITERATURE, SCIENCE, ART  93
X. BRIGANDAGE  113
XI. CLOSE OF PIUS THE SEVENTH'S PONTIFICATE . . . . 125

fart ijr* Smmfo.
LEO THE TWELFTH.
I. HIS ELECTION  133
II. CHARACTER AND POLICY OF LEO THE TWELFTH .. 144
III. CONTINUATION   155
IV. THE JUBILEE  170

Vlll CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
V. THE POPE AND THE ENGLISH COLLEGE  183
VI. CONTINUATION  195
TEC. THE ENGLISH CARDINALATE  204
VHI. CLOSE OF LEO'S PONTIFICATE •  216

fari tfe» % p».
PIUS THE EIGHTH.

I. HIS ELECTION AND PREVIOUS HISTORY  225
II. PERSONAL CHARACTER  234
III. FRENCH AND ENGLISH CARDINALS  239
IV. THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS OF THE PONTIFICATE . . . . 248

fart % Jtattife.
GEEGORY THE SIXTEENTH.
I. HIS CONSECRATION  263
II. PUBLIC WORKS OF GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH . . . . 275
m. events of Gregory's pontificate  285
IV. SOME OF THE REMARKABLE MEN OF GREGORY THE
SIXTEENTH'S PONTIFICATE  293
V. CARDINAL ANGELO MAI  303
VI. CHARACTER OF GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH .. .. 318

fart % first.
PIUS THE SEVENTH.

RECOLLECTIONS OB
THE LAST EOUK 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 company 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.
This was long before a single steamer had appeared in the
Mediterranean, or even plied between the French and Eng
lish coasts. The land-journey across Prance, 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. A voyage -by sea from
Liverpool to Leghorn was therefore considered the simplest
method of conveying a party of ten persons from England
to Italy. It is not the purpose of this work to describe the adven
tures and perils, at which many might smile, of " the middle
passage " and subsequent travel. It will be sufficient to say

4 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
that the embarkation took place on the 2nd of October, and
the arrival late in December ; that, of this period, a fort
night was spent in beating up from Savona to Genoa, and
another week in running from Genoa to Livorno ; that a
man fell overboard and was drowned off Cape St. Yincent ;
that a dog went raving mad on board, from want of fresh
water, and luckily, after clearing the decks, jumped or slip
ped 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.
The reader, who may now make the whole journey in
four days, will indulgently understand how pleasing must
have been to those early travellers' 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, these
words brought the first promise of approaching 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, when surmounted, gave a more swelling and majestic
outline to the great cupola which alone, in the distance, re
presented " Roma," and cut, 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 six who that day entered it,
while the remainder followed more leisurely, Rome had been
no new thought. Before any idea had been entertained of
restoring the English College there, its history, its topogra
phy, 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 tourists' reports and fabulous
plans. How faint must the hope have been of the fulfilment
of schemes which involved a voyage thrice the length ofone to

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 5
America at present, and, with its additional land journey,
about as long as a circular sail, in a clipper, to New Zea
land! It has been written above, " maris et viarum ; " for the
land-ways were about as tedious and as perilous as the broad
ocean path. Eor "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, unfoundedly we
really beheve, 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 Plorence we were of course as
sured that the roads were most unsafe ; and two evidences of
this met our eyes, though they carried with them some anti
dote of comfort. At that moment the dense woods which
skirted the road near Bolsena were, by order of the govern
ment, being cut down to a considerable distance on either side
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 bandit is naturally a
prowler. But, further, from time to time we passed tall
posts on the wayside ; — not bearing either the festooned gar
lands of the vine, or the strained harp- wires of the electric
telegraph, both symbols of peace and harmony, but support
ing ghastly trophies of justice avenged on the spot where
crime had been committed — the limbs, still freshr of executed
outlaws. Long-standing desires, then, were about to be satisfied at
last, some degree of recent apprehension 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 then by no means what it now
is. 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 which overhung his path, till a narrow
gate led him .into a long close alley, the first in. the grounds.

6 THE LAST EOTJK POPES.
Within the Plaminian Gate, the obehsk indeed was there, as
were the two twin churches beyond, closing, by their porti
coes and domes, the wedges of houses between the three great
divergent streets ; but that was all. The sculptured terraces
of Monte Pincio had as yet no existence; this was still a
green hill, scored by unshaded roads and chance-tracked
paths to its more shapely summit. On the opposite side a
long low barrack-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 further end. Still it was one of the grandest
approaches to any modern city, and one that did not alto
gether deceive you. The slow pace of a vettura along the
Corso gives 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 also bear his imperial name ;
but in addition, a more modern one, unpleasant to travellers '
ears — that of Custom House. Even this most distasteful
department of civilised government contrives in Rome to get
lodged in a classical monument of ancient taste.
Prom this point, after its disagreeable ceremonial 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 occasionally be caught 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 Earnese palace, as completely Michelangelesque
in brick as the Moses is in marble ; and another turn and a
few yards of distance placed us at the door ofthe " venerable
English College." Had 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 ex
pectation had wrought up the mind to a thousand fancies P
No description had preceded actual sight. No traveller, since

PIUS THE SEVENTH. , 7
the beginning of the century, or even from an earlier period,
had visited 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 fol
lowers, it seemed incredible 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, glowing with the lemon and orange, and presenting
to one's first approach a perspective in fresco by Pozzi, —
engraved by him in his celebrated work on perspective ; a
library, airy, large, and cheerful, whose shelves, however, ex
hibited a specimen of what antiquarians call " opus tumul-
tuarium," in the piled up disorganized volumes from folio to
duodecimo, that crammed them ; a refectory, wainscoted in
polished walnut, and above that, St. George and the Dragon
by the same artist, 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 with celestial glories, leading to the altar, that had to
become the very hearthstone of new domestic attachments
and the centre of many yet untasted 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 Enghsh voices, and
give back the bounding tread of those who had returned to
claim their own. And 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,

8 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
simple and collegiate indeed, yet spic-and-span new, and
manifestly prepared for their expected arrival.
One felt at once at home ; the house belonged to no one
else ; it was English ground, a part of fatherland, a restored
inheritance. And though 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 hkely
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 re
store it to use. There it stood, nave and aisles, separated
by pillars connected by arches, ah 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 ofthe altar-pieces, especially of the noble
painting by Durante ALbcrti, still preserved in the house re
presenting the Patron-Mystery, and St. Thomas of Canter
bury, and St. Edward the Martyr. This vision of the past
lasted but a few years ; for the walls were pronounced unsafe,
the old church was demolished, and the unsightly shell of a
thoroughly modern church was substituted for the old basi
lica under the direction of Yaladier, a good architect, but
one who knew nothing of the feelings which should have
guided his mind and pencil in such a work.
It was something however to see, that first day, the spot
revisited by English youth where many an English pilgrim,
gentle or simple, had knelt, leaning on his trusty staff cut in
Needwood or the New Porest ; where many a noble student
from Bologna or Padua had prayed, as he had been lodged
and fed, in forma pauperis, 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 scat
tered memorials of the past. One splendid monument, erected

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 9
to Sir Thomas Dereham at the bottom of the church, was
entirely walled up and roofed over, and so invisible. Shat
tered and defaced lay the richly efiigied tombs of an Archbishop
of York, and a Prior of Worcester, and of many other Eng
hsh worthies : while sadder wreckage of the recent storm
was piled on one side, — the skulls and bones of, perhaps,
Cardinal Allen, P. Persons, and others, whose coffins had
been dragged up from the vaults below, and converted into
munitions of war.
And if there needed a hving link between the present
and the past, between the young generation 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 octogen
arian porter Yincenzo, 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 patri
archal affection, on seeing the haunts of his own youth re-
peopled.

10 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER II.
THE EIRST AUDIENCE.

This second chapter, it may be imagined, ought to open
with an apology for the first. Por, what interest can the
reader be supposed to take ir- -ts 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, re
collections, or opinions, who is not composing a history from
other people's materials, but seeking to contribute his own
share; however shght, to the stock of future collectors, is
bound to establish some claim to credit with his readers. If
he cannot advance any on the grounds of past diligence or
present skiU, of careful observation or graphic power,' he
must at least endeavour to gain that right, which casual cir
cumstances and fortuitous position may confer upon him, to
belief and attention.
Now, for any one born within the precincts of the pre
sent century to venture on giving his personal observations
or recoUections 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, not merely of hearing, but of see
ing, 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 fa
miliarly 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

PIUS THE SEVENTH. II
but in the simple habit of a collegian, and through the claim
of filial rights upon a common father, was secured an early
approach to the feet of the good and holy Pius YII. It cer
tainly makes one feel old when one's life is counted by five
pontificates ; but this, to a cathohc mind, is surely compensat
ed by the reflection, that each venerated possessor of that ex
alted dignity has shed his blessing upon one portion or other
of its existence, from the buoyant and hopeful time of early
youth, to heavier and sadder hours. Thisunbroken continuance-
of a kindness, which amounts to a grace, required a peculiarity
of position that has no claim to merit, and therefore may be
freely mentioned. The pages which follow will require this
freedom, already commenced in the foregoing chapter ; let
this one apology suffice for the volume. Nor will it appear
unnatural, that a relation so estabhshed, between condescend
ing 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 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-estab
lishment of the suppressed Enghsh College in Rome — was
the work, almost spontaneous, of Pius, and his great minister
Cardinal Consalvi. It may be not uninteresting to return to
this subject hereafter. Por the present thus much may
suffice. Although a rector, and one fully qualified for his
ofiice, had been in possession of the house for a year, the
arrival of a colony of students was the real opening of the
estabhshment. On the day aUuded to, the excellent superior,
the Rev. Robert GradweU, on returning home, found the
first instalment of this important body really domiciled in his
house, to the extent of having converted to present use the
preparations 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 Enghsh College, should be presented to the- •

12 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
Holy Pather within a few days. Among the more fortunate
ones was, owing to a favourable accident, the present writeft
The feelings of any one permitted to approach "that most
venerable man had necessarily a colour and vividness beyondj
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 especiaUy, who re
membered him only in a position so different from his natural
one — as a captive and a persecuted Pontiff; who had almost j
learnt to disjoin the idea of the supreme rule of the Church
from aU the pomp and even power of worldly state, and to
associate it with prisons and bonds, as in the early ages —
there was around the tiara of Pius the halo of the confessor,
that eclipsed aU 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 hohness," but of an aged 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 wiU of God be ever done ! "
Then had come the news of his wonderful triumphs, his hum
ble 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 its 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 a temporary
retreat ; so that the final settlement of the Holy Pontiff in'
his dominions, and their restoration in their integrity,1 had
occurred only three years before, and bore the character of
recent events. As yet indeed one might have said, that the
triumphal arches and garlands of his joyful entry into Romes
had scarcely faded, and that the echoes of the cries of wel-
come that greeted him, still lingered among the seven hUlsJ
Por the people all spoke of them as things of yesterday
1 By the Treaty of Vienna, June 9th, 1815.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 13
It was not therefore being " presented to the Pope," as
the current phrase runs, that awaited us, at least in an or
dinary sense. To every catholic, and to a young ecclesiastic
in particular, this must be an event in his life: and the
ceremony combined a double feeling, elsewhere impossible,
composed of the reverence paid to a sovereign and the homage
due to the supreme Head of our rehgion. Erom the mon
arch 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 individual sentiment which the personal character of
Pope Pius VII. excited in our minds, it wiU be easUy con
ceived, that our hearts beat with more than usual speed, and
not without some httle flurry, as we ascended the great stair.
case of the Quirinal palace on Christmas-eve, the day ap
pointed for audience. This is a different entrance from the
one now generally used. After passing through the magni
ficent 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 delay, we were summoned to enter this ; a room so
smaU that it scarcely aUowed space for the usual genuflexions
at the door, and in the middle of the apartment. But in
stead of receiving us, as was customary — seated — the mfid
and amiable Pontiff had risen to welcome us, and meet us,
as we approached. He did not aUow it to be a mere pre
sentation, or a visit of ceremony. It was a fatherly reception,
and in the truest sense our inauguration into the duties that
awaited us. It wiU 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 Pather received
them standing, shook hands with each, and welcomed them

14 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 wiU 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 iUustrious Pius VII. Whatever we had
read of the gentleness, condescension, and sweetness of hia
speech, his manner, and his expression, was fully justified, real
ised, and made personal. It was not from what we had heard,
but from what we had seen and experienced, thatwe 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 ofthe Catholic Church, venerable by
his very age, and a youth who had nothing even to promise ;
the first exhortation on entering a course of ecclesiastical
study — its very inaugural discourse, from him who was be
heved 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 rehgion, though
holding no royal power and majesty, 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 the earth, aspirants to the ecclesiastical state, in
boyhood, and weU-nigh in childhood, speaking as many lan
guages as were used by the Apostles on the day of Pentecost;
and yet perhaps hardly one of them fails to come into per
sonal contact with him, to whom from infancy he has looked
up, as the most exalted personage 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 hfe, per
haps a starting-point for success. In addition to the general
attachment that united him with millions to the Head of his
Church, there is estabhshed a personal bond, an individual

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 15
connection. It is no longer awe and distant reverence, but
an affection as distinct in character as that to one intimately
related. And this relation is strengthened, in the youthful
mind at every succeeding year of his course. He knows
that every professor whose lectures he' hears has been directly
and immediately appointed, after careful selection, by the
Pope himself, and 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
hps 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 privUege which may be exercised by each
coUege, on some important feast ? — he is separately presented
to the Holy Pather, and receives a paternal and gracious com
pliment. Does he give a public demonstration of his ability
or application, by holding, as it is caUed, a thesis, that is, a
joust against aU comers to test his prowess, at the close of
his philosophical or theological studies ? — still more is he en
titled, as the very guerdon of his success, to lay at the feet
of him whose doctrines he has openly maintained and defended
the printed articles on which he has stood trial, and to hear
kind encouraging words, which compensate for his months
of toUsome preparation, and his day of anxious struggle.
PinaUy, 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 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 associations of youth.
Nor does it seldom happen that one find one's self
remembered from a previous interview, and a question is asked

16 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
which shows the kind tenacity of a memory through which
things of higher interest must have passed in the interval. Is
it wonderful that what is unmeaningly caUed " ultramontane
ism " should increase on every side ? Por what in reahty 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 untravelled as much as
by the travelled cathoUc. PaciUties of access, and many other
causes, have increased the number of those who have come
into contact with successive Pontiffs : and this contact has
seldom faUed to ripen an abstract behef into an affectionate
sentiment : but with those who have continued for years un
der the same influence, unvarying in its winning and impres
sive forms, it becomes a fixed element constant and perse
vering where all else may differ, and gives a warmth and
strength to their rehgious and ecclesiastical convictions. The
German student wUl carry away his Roman impressions,
theorised perhaps in a more abstruse and transcendental
form ; the Prenchman wiU bear them in a more imaginative
and poetical shape ; to the EngUsh mind they wiU present \
themselves more practicaUy, and as guides to action ; while
perh is the American wUl relish them the more keenly be
cause they contrast so strongly with whatever he most ad
mires in secular and temporal poUcy, and bear the seal of a
distinct order of existence. But aU, whithersoever they go,
wUl belong to the school in whieh they have been educated, '
and naturaUy communicate their own feehngs to many.
This chapter, as much as the first, may seem to require
an apology for irrelevancies. If so, let this be the apology.
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 im
pressions, which may give the one a right to portray the
other.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 17

CHAPTER III.
CHARACTER OE PIUS THE SEVENTH.
It would be difficult to imagine a countenance that more
faithfuUy brings to the surface the inward character, or a
character that more fuUy 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
comefrom the pencilof an artist than that of him 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 comphment ; for the two por
traits formed portions of a series containing all the sovereigns,
and their ambassadors, who took part in that momentous
assembly. Most readers wiU have admired it yet existing in
Windsor Castle.
But the writer had the. advantage of seeing these two ad
mirable pictures when exhibited, by the artist himself, under
the roof which covered their originals — the Quirinal Palace,
and of thus judging of their accuracy. Among the multi
tudes who flocked to view them, there was but one opinion,
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
previous nineteen years of his chequered pontificate, but none
that approached to this, or gave him hving to the world. Of
the Cardinal this was the first representation from hfe. A
friend of the author's called on the Cardinal to present his
credentials at the very moment that Sir Thomas was with
him, on the 13th of May, and the Cardinal introduced them
2.

18 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 negligence in secondary parts, and his
neglect even of accuracy in accessories, the heads were acknow
ledged to be faultless, and brUliantly successful.1 The pose
of the body, sunk unelastic into the chair, and seeking sup
port 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 clearly impressed with an habitual smUe, show the
serene and enduring mind with which the vicissitudes of a
long hfe had been passed — a hfe of rare passages and changes,
— from a noble home to a cloister ; from the cowl to the mi
tre ; from the bishopric to the See of Peter ; then from the
palace to the dungeon ; and now, at last, again from Savona
to Rome. That there shoidd be lassitude, and even feeble
ness, marked in that frame and on that countenance, can ex
cite no wonder ; but that there should be not one symptom
of soured temper, or bitter recollection, or unkind thought,
nay, not even of remembered humihation and anguish, is
proof not only of a sweet disposition, but of a weU-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 nothing to mankind, the king every
thing to the nation. What he was before the commencement
1 It is from La-wrence's portrait that the head is copied in this volume.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 19
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 country's annals he must die before reaching
that throne wliich will eclipse them all. A Black Prince, vor
a Princess Charlotte, had the best friend to their early fame in
death. A royal crown wiU 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 Scjevola'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 subse
quent character. This is certainly the case with Pius VII.
That he was a man so meek and gentle, so incapable of ran
cour or resentment, that Cardinal Pacca scruples not to ap
ply to him the inspired words descriptive of Moses, " that he
was the mildest of men," no one has ever questioned. This-
particular quahty 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 hfe.
No one, moreover, will refuse to him that strength which
is the companion often of the gentlest disposition, a power of
unrepining endurance, the patient fortitude which suffers
without complaint and without suUenness.
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 sufficiently brought forward, to explain or
Ulustrate 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 mUd and sweet disposition, a higher
influence bestowed upon him a better gift. Rehgion invested
him with the beauty of an unsullied life, with a character of
irreproachable virtue throughout his length of days. Pew
famihes in Europe are more Ulustrious than his ; but, while

20 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
from his father he derived high nobility, from his mother*
daughter of Marchese Ghini, he received a more valuable
portion, that of a rare piety and virtue. She was, indeed, a
lady of singular exceUence, renowned in the world for every
religious quality. After having completed the education of
her chUdren, when the future Pontiff had reached the age ot
twenty-one, in 1763, she entered a convent of Carmelites at
Pano, where her memory is stiU 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 examples and
maternal teaching formed, as has been said, the very ground
work of Pius's character. At the age of sixteen, after a pre
liminary education in the college for nobles at Ravenna, he
retired, upon mature deliberation, to the Benedictine Abbey
of Santa Maria del Monte, near Cesena, his native city.
There could be no worldly motive for this step. He had no
thing to fly from in his home. His birth and patrimony
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
in the world had been, even slightly, an object of his am
bition, he was cutting off every chance of it which his con-
1 The archdeacon Hyacinth Ignatius Chiaramonti, hrother of Pius,
published in 1786, and dedicated to him, then cardinal, a Latin poem,
" De majorum suorum laudibus," in which he thus addresses their mo
ther : — " 0 semper memoranda parens ! 0 carmine nostro
Non unquam laudata satis ! me despice clemens,
Exutumque tibi mortali corpore junge :
Sit, precor, ha?c merces, nostrorum hsee meta laborum."
I remember it used to be said at Eome, and I have read the same assur
ance since, that only the resolute opposition of the son, -when elevated to
the supreme pontificate, prevented the more solemn recognition, by beati
fication, of the extraordinary sanctity of the mother.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 21
nections, or his efforts, might have secured him in the secu
lar 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
equahty with the peasant's or artisan's son ; the surrender
of comforts in every change, — passing from the paintings and
tapestries of the ancestral 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 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 subjec
tion with ready cheerfulness of time, actions, will, to the
guidance of rule and of obedience. Por any one who sees the
youthful aspirants to the religious institutes here or abroad,
in recreation or at study, may easUy decide who will perse
vere, by a very simple ride. The joyous faces, and the spark
ling eyes, denote the future monks far more surely than tho
demure looks and stolen glances.
In the days of Pius's distress, all his previous discipline
came admirably to his aid. He had commenced it at
sixteen; had dropped his high-sounding names of Barna
bas 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 superb esplanade densely
thronged. Eager to get sight • of the spectacle, and clear
himself of the throng that elbowed him, he leapt up behind

22 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
an empty carriage. The coachman turned round, but instead
of resenting this intrusion on his dominions, said good-
naturedly to him, " My dear little monk, why are you so anxi
ous to see a function which one day will fall to your lot ?" l
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 Acade
my," an establishment for the education of youths preparing
for pubUc life. This preference, due to the choice made by
Barnabas of the monastic state, cut off all hopes of his pre
ferment, 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 hard
ship and sorrow. He was as a man already acquainted with
these things. A condition which might have embarrassed
him, or worn him down, or added to the weight of public
griefs those petty annoyances which stiU more oppressively
tease and fret, presented to him only analogies with the life
to which he had accustomed himself, and was treated with
comparative 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 sum
mer-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 Cardi
nal Pacca) " repondent a mes procedes pour eux, et rient
quelquefois avec nous;" writes General Radet, in a letter
brutal and vulgar in its tone, addressed to General Miollis,
the morning after the first day's distressing travel.2 Nay,
1 The authority for this anecdote is the Pope's learned secretary Mon
signor Testa, who told the author'he had heard it from the Pope.
2 Published in Chevalier Artaud's Life of Pius VIII., p. 295. It had

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 23
Cardinal Pacca amusingly teUs us, that, when they had just
started on this most dismal of journeys, the Pope asked him
if he had any money. The secretary of state rephed, that
he had had no opportunity of providing himself. " We then
drew forth our purses," continues the cardinal, " and not
withstanding the state of affliction we were in at being thus
torn away from Rome, 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 (IOd.),
and of mine, of three grossi (7%d.). We had precisely thirty-
five bajoccbi between us. The Pope, extending his hand,
showed his papetto to General Radet, saying, at the same
time, ' Look here — this is aU I possess.' " l Truly, " Us rient
quelquefois avec nous." A good joke i' faith ; a monarch
smiling at finding himself pennUess ; and the man to whom
he smUes 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.
So much for money and any care about it. The august
traveller was without even a change of clothes or of linen.
And later stiU, when no longer in the hands of men hke Ra
det, he was in possession of one only dress, a stuff cassock,
given to him by the King of Spain, totaUy unsuited to the
season in which he was obhged to wear it. This he men
tioned to a friend, an Enghshman at Rome, in 1820, from
come to light only about 1844. This letter is alluded to in the same
General's apologetic epistle to Pius VII., dated September 12th, 1814,
published at the end of Cardinal Paoca's Memoirs.
1 Cardinal Pacca's Memoirs, Sir G. Head's translation. Many inaccu
racies occur in the translation, both of Italian and of Latin. For example,
vol. 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 " ofthe greatest of doctors St. Jerom." Page 157,
Tertullian's words : " Novi pastores in pace leones, in preelio cervos," are
rendered by " New pastors," for " I have known," to govern cervos. Thus
knew and new are both represented in Latin by novi.

24 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
whom I derive the statement. Indeed those who have de
sired to lower him before the world, have dwelt particularly
on the want of dignity which they discovered in his perform
ing 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 aU 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 Temple,1 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,
with the privUeges of the first fisherman, whose ring he wore,
inseparable from his very title ; and with the firm conviction,
or rather consciousness, 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 wUl caU it, one blighting defiance, one solemn
appeal to the faith, however drugged to sleep, of those around
him, be detaUed, 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 that of Dugueselin, or Surrey,
or King Richard. For there is nothing that the imagina
tion can feed on, or enlarge, or elevate. It is the entire sim
phcity, naturalness, and unaffected submission to the wiU of
God, without an effort to excite sympathy, diminish severity,
or strike out an effect, that constitute the singular beauty of
this touching episode.
In the history of the first Charles it is recorded 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 a deeper impression than could have
1 Charles I. and Louis XVI.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 25
been expected. 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 di
minish the number of the dishes, and to take his meals in
private."1 I remember reading, many years ago, the narrative writ
ten by an Infanta of Spain,2 pf her expidsion or flight from
Madrid ; and 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, since her birth, eaten from
anything less costly than gold plate.
In strong contrast with such examples of pitiful murmur
ing stands the uncomplaining and cheerful traveller from
Rome to Savona. Por, indeed, he had been trained for priva
tion and suffering. " Behold, they who are clothed in soft rai
ment are in the houses of kings." Such was the royal Stuart,
such was the gentle Bourbon. But Pius had been educated
in the rough habit and with the plain diet of the monk, in
fastings often, and in watchings, and in many trials of sub
jection and obedience. It is not difficult to live over again
our earher life : the officer easUy plays the soldier in battle
a painter never forgets how to sketch. And so the monk, ie
his simphcity 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 obhterated 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, and 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 weU how to serve himself
and, if needful, others. "Redire in naturam puerorum," to
1 Lingard's E. H., Charles I., ch. iii. 5th ed.
2 Afterwards Queen of Etruria.

26 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
become as little chUdren, is more difficult for a grown man,
than it was for a sovereign like Pius to return to his novi
ciate, whether he was cooped up in a tight weU-closeds
carriage on the road to Radicofani, 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 ; " and
not to put another reading on the occasional smile of his
prisoners than he did, and write instead ; " Us se rient
parfois de nous."
In fact, this previous life of absolute abandonment to the
care of Providence ; of total ignorance whence the very
necessities of life were provided, but of certainty that some
thing would be found ; of day-by-day attention to spiritual
or inteUectual things, without domestic solicitudes or secular
cares, that had fiUed up the monastic period of the Pope's
life ; was only the practical iUustration of a principle which
his early piety taught him at his mother's knee — of reliance
on God, and simple surrender to His wUl. Thus ripened
and strengthened, the principle must have become one of
boundless trustfulness and unwavering faith. It was a con
fidence, without anxiety, in Him who feeds the fowls of the
air and clothes the grass ofthe field. But under what circum
stances ? It was indeed a trust in Him who bountifully
caters for the sparrow, but felt and expressed when the poor
bird was actually in the claws of the kite. It was a hope in
Him who arrays His lilies more splendidly than Solomon in
aU 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, nor is he
a hero. Eor 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 mid-day into a
darker and cooler evening atmosphere. All around is sub
dued and stUl, and the colouring becomes mellower and

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 27
smaU detaUs almost disappear, and even the expression looks
more placid and more grave. But every feature is there,
and the character is unchanged: the same the smile, the
same the tender eye, and the speaking lip. No grand
peculiarities are developed: 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 continuous imprisonments in
the latter portion of the Acts. St. Paul is confined at
Phihppi and Jerusalem, Caesarea and Rome, warily guarded,
as an important person, now by sea and now by land. But
it is aU 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 wdth a chain, or in free custody.
Above ah, no account of how he bore it ; none of his looks,
his words, his sufferings ; none of his patience, his cheer
fulness, his prayer, his union with Christ. We are supposed
to understand all this, and not to require telling that St.
Paul in the stocks of the inner dungeon of PhUippi, singing
God's praises, was the same as St. Paul speaking with noble
courage before Pestus ; that it was the privilege of the apo
stohc character to be as serene in a dungeon as gracious on
the episcopal chair. And so, in course of time, when the
lesser detaUs and spare anecdotes of Pius's captivity shah
have been first dUuted, then melted away in the growing
mass of historic material, the writer of his abridged life wUl
find it sufficient to say that he bore his captivity, its perhaps
unintentional rigour, its accidental aggravations, and its occa
sional insults, as became his high dignity and noblest in
heritance, and in the character and spirit of an apostle.
As the monastic training prepared the Pontiff for one
most important portion of his pontifical duties particularly
destined for him by Divine Providence, so 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 prevaUed in Pius VII. to the almost exclusion of intel-

28 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
lectual gifts. Kindness and benevolence, forgiveness and
meekness, have been the characteristics by which he has
been generally known, and for which he has been universally
esteemed. But, however remarkable this gentleness of na
ture, it was by no means an usurper of his entire character'
Though not possessed of genius, nor perhaps of over-average
abUities, what he had were fully cultivated and vigorously; ,
.employed. It is far from being the object of this work to re
produce matter aheady published, or load its pages by long
quotations. It wUl be, therefore, sufficient to refer to Car
dinal Pacca's excellent memoirs for a fuller explanation on
this subject. He traces, indeed, to this mistaken apprehen
sion of the Pope's character, the afflicting coUision which
ensued between the two greatest spheres of spiritual and of
temporal power — the see of Rome and the empire of Prance.
But one sentence says so much to our present purpose, and
wUl spare so much less authoritative treatment of the sub
ject, that it will be weU 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 pro
ceeds : — •" Having, therefore, attentively studied his charac
ter, and well knowing his disposition, I can affirm that Pius
VII. was by no means deficient in talent, nor of weak, pi>
sillanimous nature. On the contrary, he was a man of read-
wit, lively, more than commonly versed in the sacred sciences,
and especiaUy possessed of that peculiar description of good
sound sense that in matters of business intuitively perceives
the difficulties to be overcome, and sees everything in its
proper light." '
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 assigned him. But it is more to the pur
pose 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
1 Vol. ii. p. 43.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 29
of philosophical and theological 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 experiment
not usuaUy accorded to persons of inferior skill. The pro
positions or programme of his pubhc contest were engraved,
as the custom used to be, at the foot of a large aUegorical
print ; and the thesis was dedicated to Cardinal GanganeUi.
Thus two future popes met together, the one as patron and
the other as chent, on the noble field of science. A copy of
this chaUenge was, I know, in the English CoUege library ;
it was curious, and made itself remembered by the circum
stance that one of the subjects proposed in it was the con
futation of an absurd fanatic, who had maintained that no
place is found in heaven for the daughters of Eve. Andthis
was only one of many occasions in which he made public
display of his learning and ready prowess.
After this he was pubhc professor in the coUeges of his
order, first at Parma, then at Rome. At the age of thirty
he was promoted, in general chapter, lector or doctor of theo
logy ; and for six years more held the chair of canon law.
It would have been impossible, in such a body as the Bene
dictines of that period in Italy, for any one to have been
thus advanced, and intrusted with the highest teaching, un
less 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 exer
cise, continued for so niany years, have acquired greater
maturity of judgment, stronger power of reasoning, and
acuter penetration into character, and shrewder knowledge of
men. Eor 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 genius of the
professor. Hence, a person who hved 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 aU that approached him, he was no less respected
for his assiduity and ability in public affairs. Indeed, dur-

30 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
ing the latter years of his pontificate, to which these re-
collections belong, many questions relating to Great Britain
and her colonies had to be discussed. Step by step the
Holy Eather himself was referred to, and took a personal in
terest in them, and indeed entered fully into them ; so that
the respectable English ecclesiastic 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, necessarUy new, and even strange as they were, to
Rome.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 31

CHAPTER IV.
CONTINUATION.
The simplicity of habits, which proved so valuable m
sustaining the amiable Pontiff through the more painful
vicissitudes of his reigu, never left him after he had ascended
the throne. Early hours, a frugal table, a solitary life ;
monotony, almost, of pursuits, consisting of a regular round
of official audiences, fixed for each day, and almost each
hour, and unrelieved by court festivities or public recrea
tion — such is the life, more or less, of every successive
Pope. He is not exempt from any of the obligations of his
priesthood. He celebrates mass each morning, and assists
at a second celebration. He recites the breviary, like any of
his poorest curates ; his beads too, most certainly, like
any simple cathohc at home or abroad ; besides, probably,
other special devotions. He listens to sermons ; not merely
formal ones in his chapel, but real honest preachings, strong
and bold, by a Capuchin friar, during Advent and Lent.
AU this is every-day work ; to which must he added the
more pubhc functions in which he takes a prominent, and
often a laborious, part. To say that Pius VII. lived this hfe,
would be simply 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 oue trait in his character which must not be omitted,
hecause it shows the strength of principles acting in oppo
sition 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.

32 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
His predecessor, and relation, had unfortunately left a con
trary example, — a weakness in a life of strong-minded virtue;
a blemish in a pontificate of sorrowful glory. But the se
venth Pius, who had renounced famUy ties, with famUy com
forts, when he entered his noviceship, returned no more to
the bonds which he had cast aside. He was, in this, irre
proachable ; and his conduct has been an example and a
law to his successors.
This, of course, helped to make the isolation of the Pope
more complete. Pius VIL, however, was in the habit of ad
mitting 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 exceUent man united in himself many
rare qualities. He was an elegant classical scholar, and com
posed his Latin letters as few else could do ; he was acquainted
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 CoUege. He was to be found every
afternoon talung his walk on Monte Pincio, generally in com
pany with two or three friends, of whom the iUustrious Mai
was one. There one could join him, and learn the pohtical
and ecclesiastical chit-chat of the day. Sometimes a long-
bearded Armenian or Syrian, or an American or Chinese mis
sionary, would be in the group, and contribute interesting in
telligence from the extremities of the earth. The venerable
prelate, who formed the unfailing centre of the society, ever
bore a winning smile on his aged countenance, with just the
smallest twinkling of droUery,1 and that sense of the ludicrous
1 He was one of those priests who refused to take the clergy oath ex
acted 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

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 83
which is inseparable from genius, and served to make him
suggest questions calculated to bring out any little eccentri
city or outlandishness 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 advantage of the canonical ex
emption which his situation gave him from choral attendance
twice a day at Santa Maria Maggiore, of which he was a pre
bendary. An anecdote of his early hfe, related by himself, is inter
esting, because it refers also to a much more celebrated
character. In his youth Testa was attached to the nuncia
ture at Paris, and gained the esteem of many scientific men.
Among them was Buffon, who one day asked him to dinner.
On entering the drawing-room he found himself unexpectedly
in a company composed of the most eminent naturahsts 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 Priday, 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 l'observer." He then saw that, evidently in compliment
such comforts as had been provided. Then Monsignor Testa would give
the signal from his loop-hole, by the ambiguous phrase, well known to aU
the captives, of " Sursum corda," and the cord was quickly drawn up.1
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 de
ported 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«
3 \

34 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
to him, the gentlemen naturalists had to confine their observ
ations that day exclusively to aquatic animals, from whatever
other animal reign the cook might have taken his condiments.1
In addition to the recreation of occasional evenings in the
society of his friends, 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 on the kerb
stone. Many a time have the writer and his companions
chosen that direction for a walk, and been accosted by a pass
ing salutation fuU of kindness.
Those, however, who wished really to see this Pontiff in
his happiest aspect, would foUow him to the churches which
he might chance to visit ; or attend his ecclesiastical func
tions. 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 in person any of
the greater offices of the Church. His attendance was aU
that he could give, and that mostly in the palace chapel. Be
sides at that time he hved exclusively at the Quirinal palace,
or Monte CavaUo ; so that the solemn and almost sublime
Sixtine chapel, with its royal haU and subsidiary Pauline cha
pel, were little seen, except by lovers of art. The Vatican
palace was, indeed, rather a collection of museums than a pa
pal residence, tUl the next pontificate. In the over-light and
freshly decorated chapel of Monte CavaUo, therefore, most of
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. The king watched, and
pressed him with dish after dish, till the senator, seeing his royal host ap
parently 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 pur
posely put to the test.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 35
the great offices ofthe Church, excepting those of Easter-tide
and SS. Peter and Paul's feast, were performed; shorn, in
deed of their great splendour, as now witnessed by every
tourist. Even on these greater occasions, and when in the
Vatican basUica, the Pope simply attended ; but that pre
sence gave to aU its colour and solemnity. That sphit of piety
which his saintly mother had engrafted on a sweet and gen
tle 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, abstracted 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 procession ofthe
day is made round the whole Square of St. Peter's ; the colon
nade of which is continued round along the furthest houses,
by means of a temporary portico. The beginning of the pro
cession 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 vUlages, rich in velvet, embroidery, and bullion, pass
in succession the religious corporations, as they are caUed, of
the city ; next, the chapters of the many collegiate churches,
and those ofthe basUicas, 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,
necessarUy, of the double function and character of its pos
sessor, — prelates of various degrees, holding the great offices
of state and of the household, judges, administrators, and
councillors. 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,

36 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
and Copts. To them again succeeds the Sacred College, di
vided, like a chapter, into deacons and priests, but with the
addition of the stUl higher order of bishops. And at the time
of which we write, there were men distmguished by the im
portant posts which they had occupied in public affahs, and
theh share in suffering, and theh example of virtuous con
stancy. Eew of those whose names occur in Cardinal Pacca's
memoirs, and in other records ofthe time, were, as yet, want
ing to surround the good Pope with the associations of his pre
vious history. Many of them, including the eminent his
torian himself, were, in appearance, most venerable ; bearing
a heavy weight of years on theh spare erect forms ; their
heads mingling their thin white locks with theh unblemished
ermine, in rivalry of its whiteness ; walking with the gait of
princes, and speaking with the grace of vhtuous wisdom ; and
when seated in order, during a sacred function, looking so
calmly dignified, so placid and noble, that many must on
beholding them have entertained the same thought which
crossed the writer's fancy. It was, that if an artist wished
to represent the Roman senators sUently seated in the Eo
rum, when the soldiers of Brennus entered, paused, knelt,
and worshipped, he would with difficulty have found any
where else the fittest models for his picture. But here he
would have possessed aU : heads, attitude, expression, feel- .
ing, in the very national type of the same people ; and, more-
over, 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 immediately preceded the final 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 lpok, 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'
suit3 being richly damascened in gold— gleamed amid the

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 37
red damask tunics of bearers, walking symmetricaUy and un
flinchingly under a heavy burden; while the many two-
handed swords of the Swiss flamed upwards, paraUel 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 also wore the quaint cos
tume of days gone by.
But high in ah, beneath the canopy, and upon the estrade
or small platform borne aloft, is the crowning object of the
entire procession. Upon a faldstool richly covered stands the
golden Monstrance,1 as it was anciently caUed in England,
that contains the holiest object of Cathohc behef and wor
ship ; and behind it the Pontiff kneels, with his ample em
broidered mantle embracing the faldstool before him. Thus
he is borne along, so that aU may see and join him in his
devotion, wherein he is undisturbed even by the motion re
quhed to walk in a procession. No one who ever saw Pope
Pius VII. in this position wUl easUy 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 sUent meditation within ; the noble features so composed
that no expression of human feeling or of earthly thought
could be traced upon, or gathered from, them ; the bare head,
scarcely ever uncovered except then,2 with locks stUl dark
floating unheeded in the breeze ; — these characteristic forms
and appearances of a human frame, unmoving and unwaver
ing as a sculptured figure, might have been taken as the
purest and sublimest symbol of entranced adoration. The
sweUing chorus of the hymns and psalms before him evi
dently did not reach his ear ; the smoke of fragrant incense
just beneath him did not soothe his nostrils ; the waves of a
1 Used in the exposition of the Blessed Sacrament.
1 The white skull-cap worn by the Pope is called the Solideo, because
taken off in homage only to God.

38 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
multitude, swayed to and fro with the murmur of a sea,
traced not its image on his eyeballs : he was himself ab
stracted from all that sense could perceive, and was centred
in one thought, in one act of mind, soul, and heart, in one
duty of his sublime office, one privUege of his supreme com
mission. 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 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
copies. 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 usuaUy allied
with gentleness and meekness. Irresolution, when left to
himself, strongly contrasted with courage when, under advice,
he clearly saw his duty. Some attributed this failing to the
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 re
marks, in virtue of alliteration, the Italians allow to have written Italian
verse like natives : Milton and Menage being the other two.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 39
low estimate which the Holy Pather had formed of his own
abilities — to an habitual humility of thought. No doubt,
in his unselfish and simple heart, a failing hke this, that
easily leans towards virtue's side, naturaUy took this form ;
and a poor estimation of his ovstu gifts would both clothe and
strengthen a true feebleness that existed. But the fault, if
natural, was not one to be cured by the training which ma
tured his other good qualities. There is not, indeed, a hap
pier life for the weak in sphit than that in a community.
It most truly reheves the mind of daily and worrying cares,
and leaves it serene for occupations that soften and soothe
it ; but it blunts the edge of that self-reliance, which would
cut a knot or thrust aside an obstacle, and it renders coun
sel easy and accessible, or even indispensable ; for where
many hve together in peaceful community of interests, there
is httle that requires sohtary action. Solitary action 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 confi
dence. 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 misfortunes 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 captive ; when bereft of all advice and
sympathy, but closely pressed on by those who, probably
themselves deceived, thoroughly deceived him, — that he com
mitted the one error of his life and pontificate, in 1813.
Por there came to him men " of the seed of Aaron," who
could not be expected to mislead him : themselves free and
moving amidst the busiest of the world, they showed, him,
through the loopholes of his prison, that world from which
he was shut out, as agitated on its surface, and to its lowest

40 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
, depths, through his unbendingness ; the Church as torn to
schism, and rehgion as weakened to destruction, by 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 in a moment of conscientious alarm ; under
false, but vhtuous, impressions, he consented, though con-
ditionaUy, 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 successfuUy repaired it. He
would have no help from others in this work, he suffered no
man to risk peace or comfort by assisting him. He would
be his own secretary ; wrote, corrected, and transcribed the
necessary documents ; by his humble candour recovered his
bright serenity, his sweet smile, and unruffled peace ; 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
pubUe under two very different aspects ; as related with
passionless simplicity by Cardinal Pacca, or as dramaticaUy
and caustically narrated by the Abbe de Pradt. The one
bears aU 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 aUuded in the fortunes of the Pope, and,
aceording to merely human calculation, in those ofthe Church,
without a moment's reflection on what forms its highest
view. When, through our own progress, historical events have so
far receded from our sight that we no longer discern their
lesser detaUs, or the feelings which they excited, they pass
into the domain of providential records. The actors in th.em
stand in a more solemn hght ; theh relative proportions,
1 The deputation of bishops and others, who visited him at Savona.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 41 '
perhaps their places, change ; theh influence on the world
can be measured by results. This is the case even in daUy
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 baUoon, and was admired and honoured
by great onesj has passed out of sight, borne away on the
very wings of unsubstantial uselessness ; while a man who
was sUently 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 sphit of a coming
world. But when we look back at pubhc men and things placed in
the very midst of eventful currents, which flow on, but which
they modify, direct, and control irresistibly, they are manifestly
not accidents, but causes — now seen and felt to be such — of
what moves around 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
down, carried away, and clean dissolved ; but to the last they
wUl have been the necessary quantities 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 the stream, of an Alexander, or a Charlemagne,
or a Christopher Columbus, destroys 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 import
ance at least, of which may not be estimable for many gener
ations to come. With all their vices, blunders, crimes,
follies, grandeur, and littlenesses, we see in them instruments
of an unusual, stark and strong, providential interposition,
beneficent in the end, though sometimes awfully judicial in
the beginning.

42 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
Into the hst 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 by instinct, with aU 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, and filling it with the grace of ancient
kings ; he seemed to have learnt intuitively, in the stern
occupations of war, the tastes, the tact, the amenities, and,
what was stiU 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 theh reviver ; an Augus
tan age of literature broke forth from the chaos of revo
lutionary barbarism ; its brilliant authors hung theh thanksj
in verse and prose, upon his armour or his ermine ; and manu- •
factures sprang up with a taste and profusion which not only
shed a new lustre round his haUs from Sevres and the Gobe
lins, but made Erance more than ever the arbiter of elegan
cies and the dictatress of fashion. To this must be added,
the wonderful and inborn mastership in the craft of govern
ment, which he at once displayed ; — his power of domestic
organization and internal rule, whereby he held in his own
hands the threads of command, from every department, pre-
fectship, and mayoralty, almost as completely if not as instan
taneously acting as the telegraph wires in the cabinet of his
present Ulustrious successor. And, further, add the mental
clearness and practical thinking-power requhed to enable a
man to be a lawgiver, and to draw up a code of universal
justice, civil and criminal, theoretical and applied  classifi
cation of offences, procedure, adjustment of punishment,
prevention, pursuit, and correction. Such a code, too, as could,

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 43
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 compUed, 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 pro
fessional abUity and experience are coUected, without the
direction 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 de
nies no praise to the learned and industrious men who ar
ranged and composed it, teUs the future as the present age,
who it was that watched over the great work to maturity,
presided personally over the deliberations of its compUers,
ruled theh differences, threw in the valuable ingredient of a
strong-unbiassed sense; and, if he sometimes embroiled, oftener
conciliated, jarring sentiments. Nor is it slender praise of
this undertaking accomplished amidst innumerable other
cares, that it should have remained estabhshed in countries
from which every other vestige of Erench dominion has van
ished ; — preserved as of great value by dynasties of rival
houses, in spite of the first impulse of sudden restorations to
abolish every novelty, and the tendency of time and experi
ence to produce something more national.
" Quot hbras in duce summo ! " we may well exclaim ; and
ask, Was such a man sent on the pubhc stage without a part
aUotted to himofsurpreme importance andinevitable influence?
But now another evidence of a providential destiny has come.

44 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
after many years, before us ; — one which baffles many a pre
vious 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 at
tractions and counter-attractions had been part of their pe
riodical laws of motion ; and swung them, more rudely than
usual, from theh steady course. But the disturbing brush
was over ; the eccentric body had flown by, never to return.
"Write this man chUdless," had become truth, plainly re
corded in the world's history. And that history had scarcely
begun to acknowledge and extol what was reaUy 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 os
tracised, branded, and proscribed name should be found in
the same place, bearing after it the same imperial title, an
nulled, abolished by a congress of Europe, — with every hu
man probabUity, and many earnest desires, that both may be
continued in a lasting dynasty, — is surely strange and unex
pected enough to estabhsh a providential dispensation in the
history of the first Emperor. It suggests the idea, that what
ever he did or intended, that partook of his nobler and higher
nature, his genius, his grandeur of mind, and his faith, are to
be preserved and even developed, as a legacy of famUy love
alone can be ; whUe the errors and the excesses that have
clouded it will ever serve as traditionary lessons, where they
can be most accurately appreciated for avoidance.
AU this may, no doubt, appear superfluous ; for no one,
who recognises what we may caU providential crises in history,
wiU refuse to acknowledge one in the appearance of Napoleon
Bonaparte ; rising suddenly and straight, Uke a soUd 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 stiU further, before the
writer's view can be made clear.
Europe has experienced many pohtical revolutions, but

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 45
it has witnessed only one social one. It has been only by
invasion and conquest that an entire and ancient royal dy
nasty has been swept away ; every order of rank and nobility
abolished ; the whole class of the priesthood, and the national
religion, with aU its institutions, monuments, rites, and
usages, annuUe'd by death, confiscation, destruction, or abro
gation ; the map ofthe country puUed to pieces, its provinces
remodeUed under other names ; its weights and 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 sys
tem of government, finance, justice, and municipal adminis
tration, effaced and produced anew. When the Turks seized
on the Byzantine empire they effected exactly such a revolu
tion ; and such the Saracens made in Andalusia and Granada.
For even they did not change that stubborn element of na
tionality — language. The Albanian and the Moldavian, the
Arab and the Greek, the scattered tribes of the mountains or
the sands, retained theh mother-tongues.
What is caUed the Prench revolution did therefore, 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 its scoriae and ashes the
rich soU and teeming produce of civUisation. These will in
deed reappear; the surface, new and unnatural, will be ab
raded by time and storms ; and graduaUy the germs of old
hfe, crushed, but not killed, wiU struggle through, and be
green again above the black field.
The terrible upheaving of the subsoUs over the surface,
consist they of mobs or clubs, mountains or conventions ; the
triumph of proletarianism over the noble and the sacred, the
aristocracy of genius as of birth ; the execrable impartiality
of wickedness, which could send a BaiUy or a Lavoisier to the
scaffold as willingly as a Danton or a Robespierre ; the per-

46 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
severing struggle to destroy whatever was enlightened by-
education, study, and famUiarity with pohshed literature and
elegant society, seemed to lead almost to the very extinction^
not of civilisation only, but of whatever could again revive
it. Eor there arose, too, from that very slime of corruption
and brutality,1 a crop of ferocious genius ,and prowess, which
threatened not only to render the new order of things per
manent, but to endow it with power of propagation and ex
tension. It is hard to say whether this giant power was the
nation's wUl or the nation's arm : whether it gave, or foUow
ed, an impulse ; whether successive leaders, — as they rose to
the surface of that turbid pool, controUed its billows for a
while, and then were tossed to be impaled upon its rocks,—
forced theh way up by innate might, or were pushed and
whirled by the turbulence below into upper ah. 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 morahty, 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. Por this they mis
took the tremendous outbreaks of rude strength, and the
choking throbs of a maniacal access.
1 A few years ago, after the barricades, a number of proletaires, 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 ac
cepted, 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 listen
ing to his account, exclaimed : " Ah, Monsieur ! vous ne nous eonnaissez
pas. Nous ferions autant. Nous sommes de la boue nous autres. Nous
accepterions votre pain avec une main, et nous vous poignarderions avec
l'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. 47
Count De Maistre, with truthful humour, describes the
human animal as composed of three elements, soul, body,
and — lete.1 When the bestial element gets the uppermost,
it must be for a wUd start and headlong career of some sort ;
and here it was for a mad pohtical 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 in
dustry, or the golden car of royal state. In doing this, it
had torn every tie which connected 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 judgment-seat ; or rather it was a more
terrible procedure, by mob accusation, trial, sentence, and
¦execution. One band only remained unbroken, flung loose upon the
neck, in this wUd career ; and he who should have courage
onough to seize it, and cool prudence to handle it, so as to
wheel round almost unconsciously, aud bring back to the
beaten track of nations, this yet uncontroUable 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 aU 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
1 Voyage autour de ma Chambre.

48 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
fifty or sixty years, no one can doubt that a higher wiU 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 caUed into action once more the dor
mant instincts of classified society, subordination, moral re
sponsibUity, and at last religion. The opportune appearance
of such a man, gifted with such a combination of necessary
qualifications, as indispensable then as at aU times rare, be
comes, so contemplated, a providential fact.
This consideration does not obhge or lead us to the ap
probation of a single act against justice, reUgion, or truth.
Not one aggressive war, not one deed of oppression, however
briUiant in its execution or plausible in its motives ; not one
act of spoliation, or violence, or irreverence to person, place,'
or thing ; nothing, in fine, unjustifiable by the eternal laws
of justice, can we, or wiU we, ever approve. Every extenu
ating 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 restor
ation of rehgion, its hierarchy, its influence, and its complete
organisation, free from modern theories of doctrine, or fo
reign systems of government.
And especiaUy nobody wiU, for a moment, suspect us of
wishing to mitigate the guUt of what he himself deplored
and repented of, — the treatment of the venerated Pontiff
whom we may seem to have forgotten. Although, no doubt,
his violent removal from Rome was not commanded by the
Emperor ; and still less could he have intended the rude
ness, irreverence, and sacrilegiousness of the mode in which
it was done ; yet the injury was not repaired, nor were its
sufferings compensated. The responsibUity unhappUy was
assumed, and so incurred. To deplore the fault, is to testify

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 49
feelings very different from aversion 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 purv
poses of his first glorious mission, after he had mastered his
noble steed, had- aUowed it to trample under-foot 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 im
pressed by early education with any clear idea of the marked
limits of two powers essentiaUy distinct on earth ; Ul-advised
by those who should have been his counsellors, who, with a
single exception,1 left uncorrected, or rather seconded, the
feeUng which experience had made a second nature — the
very secret of unbroken success — that being irresistible he
must not be resisted; — he brought himself into collision
where, humanly speaking, he could not doubt of victory.
The weU-wrought iron vase met in the stream the simple
vessel of softest clay. The steel armour of the warrior brush
ed 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 historical, or
rather providential, moment. To the cathohc mind the
reading is simple. It required a man of marveUous genius,
of irresistible power, of unfailing success ; of singular quick
ness 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 soldier, a chieftain, a lawgiver, an
emperor in mind and presentiment ; — it needed aU this and
more, to form the man who should subdue the most tre
mendous of social convulsions, and give a designation to his
era in history.
Well, and no wonder he deemed himself invincible ! And
• Abbe Emery ; and Napoleon respected and honoured him for it,
4

50 XHE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 elo
quent, nor brilliant in qualities or attainments, meek, gentle,
sweet, humble-minded, and devout ; it required only a Pope
of average character in the qualifications of his state, to prove
that there was a power superior to that of a mighty con
queror, and give to the age a rival, though unbelted, hero.
And no wonder if the captor was made captive,1 and the
conqueror was subdued. Por 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 mUd 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 interview of Fontaine
bleau 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 bio
grapher 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 Ms misfortunes, who had heard his own narrative of his sufferings, gives
a very different account of the conclusion of this interview from that gener
ally 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 suffered for the preservation of the Church and of religion.
It ended by a firm but mild expression of his determination to undergo any
thing rather than consent to what was demanded. He continues : —
"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 i And what
more honourable homage could have been paid to the conduct of tha
Pope I

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 51
The Emperor Arcadius, more perhaps through evU coun
sel than through mahce, had the great Bishop St. John
Chrysostom removed from his patriarchal see, and carried
away into the fastnesses of cold inclement mountains. Years
after his death, Theodosius and Pulcheria made reparation
in the same city, publicly and fearlessly, for the injury in
flicted by theh parents on so holy a man.
And has there been vhtuaUy no repetition of this same
noble and generous scene ? Upon how many a Erench sol
dier and officer has the splendid statue of Pius in the Vati
can seemed to look down, smiling and forgivingly, and with
hand outstretched to shed a blessing, at once sacerdotal and
paternal ?

52 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER V.
CONDITION AND FEELINGS OF EOME.
At the period to which the foregoing chapters relate, it
was not difficult to learn the feehngs with which every class
in Rome looked back at the times through which the coun
try had lately passed, and those with which the people con
templated their actual condition.
The Romans, whatever changes may hav6 occurred in theh
character, have always retained, as an inalienable part of theh
inheritance, a sensitive consciousness that theh 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 Ravennai
or of the papal court to Avignon, might have appeared suffi
cient to strip her of her rank ; whUe the successive spoUations,
sackings, burnings, and demolitions, inflicted by barbarianB
or factions, would have accounted for her sinking to the posi
tion of Veii or CoUatium. But the destiny of Rome had
risen above every catastrophe, superior to all accidents, and
to all designs hostile to her supremacy. Now, 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 computation of time was altered. The peace-nur
tured children of the soil were subjected to military conscrip
tion, which rent them from theh families, and sent them far
away to the frozen regions of Russia, or the torrid shores of
Andalusia, to bleed and die for strangers.
Erom 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 j1 many of the best families had left it,
The first was the population in 1800; the second in 1813. This was

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 53
some indeed to occupy posts of trust in other portions of
the Emphe, others to escape the responsibUities and
honours of a government towards which they felt no attrac
tion. Money had become scarce ; the abundant sources of
pubhc and private charity had been dried up ; assignats had
first been freely circulated, and then suddenly made valueless ;
and many honest famihes had been driven to want.1
The sweeping away of the Court, with its many depend
encies, the breaking up of the households of perhaps fifty
cardinals, and of many prelates and ambassadors, had thrown
thousands out of direct employment, and tens of thousands
of workmen, artists, and artisans, to whom such estabUsh-
ments gave occupation. At the same time were necessarily
closed the various offices for the administration of ecclesias
tical affairs,_loeal and general, which give bread to more lay
men 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
Ufe. The most precious manuscripts of the Vatican, with which
they were by theh very names associated (Codex Vaticanus
was a title of honour), the invaluable coUection of medals,
every statue and group of fame, the master-pieces of painting
in aU the churches, the archives of the Vatican and of other
departments of ecclesiastical government, and many other
treasures, to Rome invaluable, had been removed. The noble
hahs of the Vatican and Capitol had been empty and
deserted : for plaster casts, and a few artists obUged to be
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.
1 A gentleman of great credit informed me that, going out one morning
early, he saw standing, among many others, a nobleman awaiting the open
ing 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.

54 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
content with them, could UI replace the original marbles,, and
the crowds that used to flock to admire them. Private gal
leries had shared a simUar fate. The Borghese collection of
statues had been sold to the Emperor ; and the Albani museum
had been in part removed, but fortunately was in part only
packed up for the journey, and thus to a great extent saved.1
If Rome had deplored, and most justly, the loss of her
¦ arts, her greatest secular ornaments, what must have been
her grief at the reUgious desolation into whieh she had been
plunged ? Eor 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 wiU acknowledge, that it is not merely
for the sake of her unrivaUed monuments that they travel so
far, but that the religious ceremonies, which they expect to
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 con
straint. 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
Government, 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 th& 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 these, 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
restitution 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 commissioner ; and in December following, the
remaining pieces of sculpture from 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 valuable, 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.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 55
witness, form no smaU portion of theh attraction. Why
else 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 beUs
are hushed, and its music consists of lamentations and mi
sereres ?
Rome is a city of churches, neither more nor less than a
city of gaUeries and museums : for its' churches enter into
this class of wonders too. 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 theh outlines, though poor in detail,
while others present no great features, yet are teeming with
artistic treasure. Here is a fresco by Raffaele, there a chapel
or a group by Michelangelo ; in this is a dome by Lanfranco,
in that spandrils by Domenichino ; 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 en
shrining a sUver statue. But I well remember old men who
wept when you spoke of these things ; as the shes of Israel
did, who could contrast the new temple of Jerusalem with the
vanished glories of the old. Everything was now poor, com
pared with what they had seen before the treaty of Tolentino,
and the subsequent levies of church treasure during foreign
occupation. However, even aU 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 stUl more irre
parable loss of a sovereign-priest (like Melchisedec) officiat
ing before and for his people ; with his ministers of state, his
high princes and nobles surrounding and assisting him, bring
ing to the service of God what elsewhere is royal state.
Such a ceremonial had its own proportioned seats, in the
greater basihcas, never seen as they deserve to be, at other
times. St. Peter's, else, is a grand aggregation of splendid

56 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
churches, chapels, tombs, and works of art. Thus it becomes
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 Earnese palace, with its deep-diving stahs lead
ing to a court waUed 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 animated,
and surrounded on every side, by living and moving sumptu.
ousness. 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 rehes below
the place of sacrifice — the saints under the altar ; — the quiet
spot at which a few devout worshippers at most times may
be found, bowing under the 100 lamps, is crowded by rising
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 apo
stles below.
This position no one else can occupy, with any associa
tions that give it its singular character. It is only his pre
sence 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 im.
possibility to attempt any substitution for it. It might be
said, that the highest form of religious celebration known in
the Cathohc 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 oc-

PIUS THE SEVENTH. ^ 57
casions, not to feel aU the mortification and abasement in
volved in this privation.
There can be no difficulty, therefore, in imagining that
the restoration of the Pontifical Government had been
haUed, and, at the time of which we write, was stUl re
garded as a return to happiness and prosperity, as a passage
from gloom and suUenness 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 wUl always happen that some profit
more under an unlawful tenure than under a legitimate
master ; and it had always been noticed, that in every mea
sure of spoliation and violence, not only was the necessary
information 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 h duro calle
Lo scendere e il salir per le altrui scale," '
the nobles, that is, who, of blood scarcely less than royal and
even imperial, had been obliged to pay court to strangers of
much lower rank, and indeed to sohcit their patronage ; the
merchant class who had suffered from general stagnation;
and the peasantry, whose traditional loyalty had always been
seasoned with religious reverence, 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." 2 Not only the artist, but the
homehest citizen of Rome, rejoiced, as he saw the huge cases
pass along the streets, which he was told contained the Lao-
coon or the ApoUo, the transfiguration or the Communion
of St. Jerome. And even objects of minor interest to the
many, the manuscripts of the Vatican, the archives of the
1 Paradiso, xvii.
2 "Ad ejus reditum lugubres vestes Italia mutavit." — St. Jerome.

58 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
Palace, ofthe pubhc ministries, even of the Holy Office, were
welcomed back with joy, as evidence of a return to what
every one considered the normal state.
And so when, upon his return to Rome, Pius VII. pro
ceeded 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 ter-
ritory, the commotion of aU was, beyond description, tender.
To many stiU 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 pontifical altar, so, outside, one
woiUd almost suppose that everything was accessory to the
papal benediction. On any other day, the great square basks
in the mid-day sun with unaUuring magnificence. Its tall
obehsk sends but a slim shadow to travel round the oval plane,
like the gnomon of a huge dial ; its fountains murmur with
a dehcious 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 theh freshness ; and, neg
lecting the shorter path, the pilgrim looks with dismay at the
dazzling pavement and long flight of unsheltered steps be
tween himself and the church, and prudently plunges into
the forest of columns at either side of the piazza, and threads
his way through theh uniting shadows, intended, as an in
scription teUs him, for this express purpose ;] and thus sacri
fices, to the comfort of a cooler approach, the view of the
great church towards which he has perhaps been wending
his way for days.
But on the days that the sovereign Pontiff bestows his
blessing from the loggia as it is called, that is, from above
the principal entrance to the portico of the church, no one
1 The inscription is from Isa. 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."

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 59
thinks of the heat, or sultriness even, of the day, aggravated
though it be by the crowd of many thousand panting bodies.
Everything seems arranged for one purpose : and no other
place on earth could answer half so weU. The gigantic
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 mi
lages cover it ; some standing in eager expectation, many,
chiefly women and chUdren, stretched at full length, wait
ing more calmly. The men are in their gayest attire, with
blue or green velvet jackets, their hair gathered in a green
silk net, with white stockings ; 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 supposed to give a
rule of proportion for the primeval wearer, they would have
given the he to the old proverb : " ex pede Hereuletn." But
the female atthe on those occasions, far more than now
since the invasion of Manchester has reached even Apennine
villages, was characteristically distinct; . The peasants of Eras-
cati and Albano, with immense gold earrings and necklaces,
the sUver skewer through the hair under the snow-white flat
kerchief, with richly brocaded stomachers and showy sUks;
looked almost poor beside the Oriental splendour of the
costume, supposed to be in truth Saracenic, of the dames from
Nettuno. A veU 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
predominant feature of more inland districts, as of Sonnino
and Sezze.
Such a multitude covers the steps and terraces, and con
verts them into a hving 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
visitors ; 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 with ease to hold within their margin

€0 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
the vast assembly ; and the dark shadowy spaces between
the pillars are relieved by the glimpses of golden state car
riages, and the nodding heads of plumed horses enjoying the
cool retreat.
So rich and varied, and yet harmonious, a scene could be
produced by one person only, and for a single and almost
memientary act. Por hours 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 rush
ing from every dhection to reach the preappointed 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 every thing is in its own proper place : no
lens has a focus more accurate, or more powerfully concen
trates its rays, than the space over the central balcony, just
large enough to contain one human countenance, which was
lately blank but is now filled up. By whatever feeling the
eye may be dhected ; by the simple faith of the Itahan, the
love of picturesqueness of the German, the curiosity of the
unbeliever, or the cynicism of the Exeter Hall declaimer ; —
each is inevitably turned, however reluctantly, to that one
point ; fifty thousand eyes 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 speU-bound for the few
moments that he is before them ; they can look at nothing
else. And what is the purpose of aU this ?
It is a vision of a moment. After long expectation, a
few heads are just seen, hardly recognisable, above the balus
trade of the balcony; then the flabellae or fans of state-
and last, lifted high, the mitred pontiff. A few words are
spoken, which are undistinguishable to the crowd beneath.
The Pope rises, raises to heaven his eyes, opens wide and
closes his arms, and pours out from a full heart, and often
with a clear sonorous voice, a blessing on aU below. Amidst
the clang of bells, the clatter of drums, and the crash of

PIUS THE SEVENTH, 01
military bands, whUe the trumpet is yet speaking to the
cannoneer, and he to heaven, the vision has departed : the ob
served 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 left his blessing to his loving children.
Can a position so preeminent be aUotted to any other human
being? Could another sovereign periodicaUy become the
centre of anything so magnificent, moraUy as weU as mate
rially ? Could he bring together thousands of strangers and
of subjects, ambassadors, kings, and even emperors, with
multitudes of poor, who would make pUgrimage on foot from
distant regions, and coUect them on a single spot, that they
might look up to him for a few moments, or even faU on
theh knees, as he showed himself at a window of his palace ?
Yet who has ever witnessed the papal benediction of 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 subhme ? And on what rests the difference ? On
an irresistible behef 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 whUe for the greatest and the least
to come any distance to partake, if, they beUeve ; if not, at
least to be spectators of its marveUous exercise. Certainly
aU wiU agree, that, if it do exist, it could not possibly be used
more gloriously, or in a manner more worthy of it. An im
provement on this is hardly imaginable ; never did a great
occasion so completely create its own circumstances.
If the recoUection of a scene so well remembered, be
cause so often witnessed, and generaUy from the midst of
the peasants' position, have carried the writer away from his
real subject, 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 glanc
ing in the sun ; but their places were filled up by the tens

«2 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
of thousands more of fervent subjects, who had poured in
from greater distances than usual, to welcome theh sove
reign and Pontiff. It was at this function, more than in any
other portion of his triumphal procession, that the gush of
spontaneous emotion became irresistible, and consequently
universal ; so as to leave no eye tearless, and no heart un
moved. 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 restoration of a native, though an ecclesiastical,
government. Indeed this pecuharity was to them a chief
recommendation. It had been to them, in theh youth, a
kind, paternal, and peaceful rule, and they who were too
young to remember it, had received theh ideas of it from
parents and masters, then deploring the changes which they
had experienced. It cannot be unfah or unreasonable to
appeal to those who had tried a variety, for a rational opinion
as to a preference. A generation has intervened since those
days of bitter recoUection, during which, no doubt, much has
been forgotten of famUy sorrows and pubUc dechne ; the love
of change and passion for novelty, which are inherent in
youth, and form indeed phases of its characteristic feeling of
hope, are strong enough to counteract the pleadings of ex
perience, 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, inflammatory proclamations were spread through
the papal dominions, caUing on the people to rise and join
the four revolutionary camps at Pesaro, Macerata, Spoleto,
and Erosinone. 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 evU intentions
of traitors. He bade them remember " how chimerical and
deceitful, in past attempts to overthrow social order, had been
the prospects held out of an imaginary happiness ; how false

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 63
the promises to protect religion and recompense vhtue ; how
frail and delusive the assurances of a better administration
of justice, of greater hberty, of a diminution of imposts, and
increase of salaries." And he expressed all confidence, that
these reminiscences and experiences would be a sufficient
antidote against seditious and rebeUions 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 theh convictions.

64 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER VI.
CARDINAL CONSALVI.
It is impossible to treat of the latter portion of this Pon
tificate, especiaUy to make any allusion to the principles of
its government, without bringing before the reader's notice
the man whose figure mingles with every reminiscence of the
period, and who was the very spring and regulator 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, and consequently had received his
education long before the symptoms of what afterwards con
vulsed Europe had fahly manifested themselves. Early im
pressions are usually so deep as not to be effaced by subse
quent ones ; and it is possible that the partiaUty which
Consalvi always manifested towards England, in his pohtical
career, may be traceable to the early kindness and favour
which 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
caUed, the Cardinal Duke, or the Duke of York, was bishop
of Erascati, and would never exchange his see for those
borne by the Dean and Subdean of the Sacred CoUege.
Of that prettily-situated city, successor of Tusculum, from
which the bishop yet derives his title, the Cardinal is still
considered the great benefactor. Whatever else may have
been wantmg for his title, to a royal heart he was no pre
tender. His charities were without bounds ; poverty and
distress were unknown in his see. The episcopal palace was
almost, if not enthely, rebuUt by him, though he generally
resided in a neighbouring vUla ; the cathedral was much im
proved and richly furnished. But the seminary, or diocesan

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 65
ecclesiastical College, was the object of his pecuUar care.
Most of it was built by him, and the hbrary, a most elegant
apartment, and rich in many Enghsh works, was the fruit of
his munificence. Though he was not himself either learned
or endowed with great abUities, he knew the value of learn
ing and abUities, engaged excellent professors for his semi
nary, and brought men of genius round him. Hence his
coUege was frequented not only by aspirants to the clerical
state, but by youths of the best families, destined for secular
professions.1 Among these was the young Roman Ercole, or Hercules,
Consalvi. There he distinguished himself, and at some pub
hc exhibition, caught the eye of the Cardinal bishop, who
1 The diocese of Frascati was full, when the author first knew it, of re
collections 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 Cardinal's old age and distress, by loss of his pensions
and benefices throngh the French invasion, the Prince offered him a pen
sion, which was gratefully accepted ; and afterwards gave Canova the com
mission 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 ecclesiastical 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 spolia
tion, 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 1 " a gold piece,
worth about 10*. Thinking that the diminutive termination must indicate
small coin, the duke replied, ' ' I think that is too little. Give him a grosso : "
a silver 5d. r

66 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
honoured it, according to custom, with his presence. Let
not the reader be startled if he hears, that it was rather by
the ornamental than by the useful arts that the future states
man captivated the good Duke-bishop's affections. It is
said to have been his skiU 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 privUege 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 — whieh en
courages 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 confid
ence in a higher direction. But of those who have succeeded
in doing anything 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 instruments in higher, and stronger, and
better hands, for their appointed work. By some, indolence
and pride may be mistaken for this holy consciousness of
future power; but the difference of objects proposed wiU
generaUy 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 Con
salvi did not hesitate to do. We may imagine that his au
dience, at one of those annual exhibitions common in aU con
tinental coUeges, were astonished to hear him openly avow his
assurance of future distinction, fame, and wealth. This he
did in a poetical composition, which fortunately has been
preserved in the library of the Erascati seminary, and deserves
to be published here, I believe for the first time.1
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 ac
count of all his maladies, and the treatment of them by physicians, probably

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 67
It is written in the taste of the last century, in that now
intolerable aUegory, which clothes virtues in the dress of pa
gan divinities, and personifies, as good or evU beings of an
other order, the quahties, actions, or sufferings of man. It
will be seen also from the title that the young Marquis Con-
ealvi was already a member of the Arcadia, the great poetical
society of Rome, and bore in consequence a name bucolic, as
weU as his family designation.

'DEL SIGR. MAECHESE ERCOLE CONSALVI,
FEA GLI AECADI FLOEIDANTE EBMINIANO,
SUL RITOKNO AI SUOI STTOII
POEMETTO.
" Me che riporto alle belle arti, e ai dolci
Industri studj desioso il piede,
E che dai 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, ciii porser pargoletto il latte
Le suore che hanno sede in sui Parnasso,
Con lieto sguardo caramente accogli :
L' egida poni, e la terribil asta
Onde t' armi la' destra, e svegli in petto
Cui delicato cor alto spavento.
Tu cortese qual sei, Tritonia Diva,
Figlia del sommo reggitor de' Numi,
Porgimi aita ; piano e facil dammi
Questo sentiero, e i voti miei seconda.
Io sovra d' esso affrettero ben ratto
I passi miei, e tergero pur lieto
Dalla pallida fronte i miei sudori.
Se allor che a destra ed a sinistra io volgo

drawn np for consultation. I read it at the time, and remember some
curious particulars, but have not been able to procure a copy.'

68 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
II guardo, a te mirar, Diva, vedrotti
Oltre 1' usato tuo lieta guardarmi,
Con dolce riso sulla rosea bocca,
Con bella grazia alle ridenti ciglia,
Un tuo sorriso, od un gentil tuo detto,
Conforterammi il cuor tremante, e a lui
Dara lena bastante. Allor, si, allor
Vengane pure, il bieco guardo torva
Con quelle scarne sue livide guancie
E con quelle aggrottate orride ciglia
L' indefessa mai sempre aspra fatica,
Non mai stanca in operare, e mi minacci
Lunghe, e fiere vigilie, affanni, e stenti. .
Io si, che sotto la tua scorta, a vile
Terro listenti, ed ogni duro affanno
Ed ogni angoscia, sprezzerb ben forte
La Donna iniqua, e di costanza armato
E piu che smalto invigorito il petto,
A giogo la terrd ; 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 vedrd fra poco,
Quando, per bella amabile fortuna,
Coutento, e lieto di me stesso i giorni
Passar vedrammi ognun che al fuso eterno
L' immite Parca tutto di mi fila
E tutt' altro sard da quel che or sono."
It may not be amiss to add a translation, for the benefit
of those who cannot foUow the original ; which, it must be
owned, is rather verbose, and yet cramped in expression. It
shall be as literal as possible.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 69
VERSES BY THE MARQUIS HERCULES CONSALVI,
AMONG THE AECADIANS, FLOEIDANTE EEMINIANO,
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.
" Yes, I will reach the goal, which sweet Desire,
Most noble offspring, as she boasts, of Hope,

70 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
Points to, with flattering look that wins my 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 youth
ful poet, cannot be fuUy known. Probably, however, York '
did him better service than Pallas. Consalvi passed through
the usual preUminary steps, by which the cardinalate is at
tained, in curia ; for he never was a nuncio abroad ; nor did
he ever take priest's orders, so as to be more immediately
employed in purely ecclesiastical administration. On the
11th of August, 1800, he was named Cardinal Deacon of
the Church of St. Mary ad Martyres, better known as the
Pantheon. Although he early enjoyed the confidence of Pius VIL,
it was not tUl a later period that his extraordinary powers
became known and admired throughout Europe. So dis
tinguished, indeed, was he among the Roman prelatura, that
the Sacred College assembled in the conclave which elected
1 There are several meaals of the Cardinal Duke, commemorating his
title. One is rather a coin struck in his name, sede vacante, — this being
*he privilege of the Vice-chancellor at such periods. It bears the royal
arms of England, Scotland, and Ireland, 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
".ddition of Ep. Tuscul. On the reverse is a figure of Religion, with his
erown and hat at her feet, and the legend round, " Non desideriis homi
num, sed voluntate Dei." On the exergue is the date 1766.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 71
Pius VII. at Yenice, in 1800, chose him for their secretary,
and he was immediately 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 ofiice, 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 pubUc life, which shone so brightly in his
youthful vision. Eor one, who had been educated in the
comparative seclusion of the Roman government and court,
to find himself suddenly transferred from this, and even from
banishment, into contact with the most brilhant array of
camp and court celebrities which Europe had ever seen
united, and, what was more, with the councU of such states
men, most cunning in their craft, as sovereigns could bring
together to watch over theh 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 Erance, WelUngton, Bliicher, Met
ternich, Castlereagh, and a host of plenipotentiaries of claim
ants of states and principalities, and representatives of every
form of government, had to be made acquaintance with, to
be gained, and to be treated with, by the representative of
one, whom aU no doubt respected, but to whom aU were not
so ready to be generous, if even 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 dweU on an interesting episode in it.
In the June of 1814, the Emperor of Russia and the
King of Prussia visited London ; and many wUl remember

72 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
the fetes, splendid but somewhat chUdish, which greeted
them. The writer retains them among his holiday reminis
cences, for they took place in vacation time : and they be
longed decidedly to the age of pavUions and pagodas. At
the same time Cardinal Consalvi crossed the Straits, and ap
peared in London. He was bearer of a brief, or letter, to the
Prince Regent, from the Pope. Let it be remembered, that
the penal laws were as yet in force, and that the dreadful pe
nalties oi praemunire cut off all friendly commerce between the
ruler of these realms and the Head of the Cathohc Church.
How this first Cardinal who had landed in England since the
days of Pole was treated and received, wUl best be learnt
from the account which Pius VII. gave of the event, in hia
AUocution 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 to
wards his most Christian Majesty ; and having been received
with that interest and affection for us which it was natural
for us to expect from his piety and religion, proceeded to
London without delay ; whither the other sovereigns, with
the exception of our beloved Son in Christ, Erancis Emperor
of Austria, had gone. And here we cannot sufficiently ex
press to you what feelings of joy and gratitude fiUed us, on
learning what occurred on that occasion, in that most splen
did city, capital of so mighty a kingdom. Eor the first time
for more than 200 years, a Cardinal of the holy Roman
Church, and moreover a Legate of this Apostolic See, ap
peared publicly in that city, by the kind and generous per
mission 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 audience of Hia
Royal Highness, the Prince Regent of England, to present
our brief, and express the sentiments of admhation, friend
ship, and attachment which we entertain towards hhn, as
well as towards that valiant, and in so many ways illustrious,
nation, he was received at the palace with such marks of

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 73
benevolence and of kindness for us whom he represented, as
could with difficulty have been exceeded. On which account,
professing ourselves deeply obliged to that prince, and to the
different orders that compose that generous nation, towards
which we always entertained great good-wiU, we most gladly
seize such an occasion to attest thus pubhcly 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 of the Holy See to the restoration
of its dismembered provinces. The success of this fhst ap
peal made the Pope rejoice, as he himself teUs us, at the
selection which he had made of his minister.
It was, however, at the Congress at Yienna that the di
plomatic battle had to be fought. The decree of Napoleon of
Eeb. 10, 1814, which released the Pope from captivity, re
stored to him only the Departments of Rome and of Thrasy-
mene. The richest and fairest of his provinces were stUl to
be regained : and they were tempting additions to more
powerful dominions. The ability, perseverance, and admir
able tact of Cardinal Consalvi won them back. He seems
to have been quite in his place among the most acute diplo
matists of the assembly. He even gained theh admhation
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 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 aUocution

74 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
above quoted, makes particular mention of this assistance.
AU obstacles were at length overcome ; about the middle of
June, 1815, Monsignor Mazio, Secretary to the Cardinal Ple
nipotentiary, anived in Rome from Vienna, with the welcome
tidings, that the three Legations, the Marches of Ancona,
and the Duchies of Benevento and Ponte Corvo, had been re
cognised as integral parts of the Papal States. The Cardinal
energeticaUy protested against the retention of the Erench
possessions, and of a territory beyond the Po.
If the reader wish to know the character of the states
man who, in his first essay, rose to. the level of the old ex
perienced ministers and negotiators of continental Europe,
he shall have it in the words of an English lady, married
into a noble Erench family, and remarkable for her shrewd
ness and keenness in determining character. She had the
honour of receiving Cardinal Consalvi into her house at
Rouen, during his exUe in Erance : " Perhaps," said she, a
few years after, to an intimate friend of the Cardinal's, " you
will be surprised to hear what I am going to teU you, as to the
opinion which I formed of your tutor at Vienna, before he
had been a fortnight in my house. True humUity 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 Vienna."
When he returned to Rome, he had to undertake the re
organisation of the* entire state after years of dismember
ment, the formation of a new magistracy, and the reestab
lishment of new municipal, financial, and ecclesiastical
systems. Of 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.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 75-
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 prsegravat artes
Infra se positas."
But he seems to have borne all opposition, and even oblo
quy, with equanimity and placid forbearance.
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
skUl in music, he became in his turn the friend and protector
of another, to whom music was a profession. This was
Cimarosa, the well-known composer of the Matrimonio se
greto, and of much exceUent sacred music. Like Mozart,
he composed 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 anecdote
relating to a man of singular acquirements. WhUe at
Vienna, many learned men from aU parts of Germany were
naturaUy introduced to him, and he was repeatedly asked
how was Ignatius 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 in
quhy, in some respects, cannot have been satisfactory. He
Would find an old man, as I have often seen hhn, bent
with age, dressed in an old cassock, and a coeval cloak, tot
tering, as he leant on his stick and muttered to himself, up
and down the immeasurable corridors of the Roman College,
or sat in one of the recesses that gave 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 -T
and a courteous gleam lighted up his lack-lustre eye, as he

76 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
unfailingly returned the greeting. He was indeed past caring
for anything, though he wanted for no comfort. During these
last years of mental helplessness, through which he would
brook no control, his room, left always unguarded, 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 immediately granting him an additional
pension. '
1 This extraordinary man is not so generally known as his illustrious
¦ namesake and contemporary at Parma, the collector of the greatest num
ber of Hebrew manuscripts ever brought together. Vet in learning, ex
tensive and deep, he was much his superior. In 1788, he published at
Rome his Commentationes Laertiance. Some one has said, " If you wish
to appear learned, quote Diogenes 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 im
mense spontaneous flow of varied erudition, Rabbinical, Oriental, classical,
and patristic. On the receipt of this wonderful work, the Academy of
Leipzig held an extraordinary 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 Lat-
tanzi. 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 amuse
ment : of the Latin classics I have been professor, so you had better not try
me." The late Cardinal Cappaccini, secretary and friend to Cardinal Con
salvi, used to tell how, when he was one of De Rossi's pupils in Hebrew, if

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 77
The Cardinal's affections were warm and faithful. Those
who were officially connected with him were sincerely at
tached to him ; and those whom he received to audience, after
they had gained his esteem, would be welcomed with a cor
dial embrace. The chief sharer, however, of his dearer affec
tions 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 for
got their tender love, and kept a compact made between them
of sharing but one grave. Accordingly, in the Pantheon,
where, as its Deacon, 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 subscrip
tion of his many friends. But in the Church of St. Marcel
lus is a modest tomb, on which it is inscribed that there
repose the bodies of the two brothers : —
QUI . CUM . SINGULARI . AMOKE . DUM . VIVEBANT
SB . MUTUO . DILEXISSENT
COBPOEA . ETIAM . SUA
UNA . EADEMQUE . UENA . CONDI . VOLUEKE.
In the transaction of business, the Cardinal Secretary of
State was most assiduous. In addition to the burthen of
his manifold duties, he had, according to Itahan custom, to
devote certain hours of the day to audiences, not bespoken
beforehand, but granted to aU ranks and all descriptions of
persons. His memory and accuracy in the discharge of this
often hksome duty were wonderful. After he had admitted
separately aU those whose position or known business en
titled them to this distinction, he saUied forth into his ante
room, fiUed 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.
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, He
brew, and Italian quotations.

78 THE LAST FOUR. POPES.
Female petitioners were admitted separately, often while he
partook of his sohtary and simple meal in the middle of the
day ; when they were aUowed more scope for prolixity of
speech. To those who came for theh replies, he was ever
ready to give them, in writing or by word of mouth ; and it
is said, that seldom or never ' did he mistake a 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 intel
ligence. Deeply seated under shaggy and overhanging
brows, it had a sharp penetrating 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 mUdness in it, which modi
fied any sharpness of expression apparent in his eagle eye.
His voice also was soft, though perhaps rather husky and
unmusical. The poem which we have quoted, as the youthful vati-
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 buffo 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 ofthe innocent aspirant, and at first over
whelmed 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 tha
¦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. 79
cination 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 considerable fortune, there is
no doubt. But he hved without luxury, and in the papal
palace free of many charges, and with the utmost simplicity ;
he certainly spent but Uttle on himself, and he was no lover
of money. Whatever he had saved, he left chiefly for reli
gious and charitable purposes. By his will he bequeathed
his diplomatic presents, three very rich snuff-boxes, to com
plete 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 property he willed to Propaganda for the support of
foreign missions, subject to annuities to his dependents, one
or two of which remain unexpired.
The Pope and his minister seemed providentially made
for each other. The comprehensive and energetic mind of
Consalvi, his noble views and his industrious love of details,
fiUed up that void which might otherwise have succeeded the
restoration, and have created disappointment, after the ad
miration and love that years of exile had won for the Pon
tiff. The wise and gentle and unshaken confidence of the
prince gave ample room for expansion to the abilities 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 physicaUy they may
be said to have proved 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
requhed by him for whose comfort and glory they had been
intrusted to him.
The pope died August 20th, 1823, and his successor, Leo

80 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
XII., was elected on the 28th of September foUowing. Of
course there were different sentiments prevalent in Rome
concerning Consalvi's principles of administration. Every
prime minister faUs, more than most men, under the Hora-
tian principle, . . . . " Laudator 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 Consalvi. 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 Con
salvi would have aUowed him to continue in office. Probably
he had outlaboured his strength, and had concealed the fail
ure of his health under exhausting efforts, so long as his good
patron requhed his assistance. In the journal kept by a
warm admirer of the Cardinal, I find the following entry as
early as Nov. 4 : — " Saw Card. Consalvi. He is unwell. He
rejoices at the success of the students at the Concorso (com
petitive examinations) . 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 universaUy praised and
lamented, even in the London papers." By December he
had been obliged to seek rest and a mUd chmate at the mo
dest little sea-town of Porto d'Anzo, but derived no benefit
from the change. The journal above quoted says : " Tues
day, 13 Jan. 1824. Saw Card. Consalvi, who was in bed,
fallen away and pale, very httle 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 expir
ing. The Pope, himself confined to his bed, and so iU that
on Christmas eve he was not expected to live tiU the morrow,
had sent for the Cardinal, who went from his bed to see him.
Erom that moment, all difference was at an end. Two ge
nerous minds, hitherto estranged, met, and recognised each
other's worth. There was instantaneous forgetfulness of the
past : and a silent understanding for the future. To the as-

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 81
tonishment of many, the Pope named Consalvi Prefect of
Propaganda, a most honourable and influential post. This
was on the 14th of January. 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 bim among other things,
" and CathoUc Emancipation wiU take place in England, un
der your pontificate. I have worked hard for it, having be
gun when in London."
Leo XII., expressing his admhation 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 demissory for several
students ofthe EngUsh coUege : on the 24th important papers
were sent him from the pope. He deshed the messenger to
teU the Holy Father, who had asked if he could do anything
for him, that the only thing he could do was, to send hhn the
last apostohc 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 re
join, in a better world, the master whom he had faithfuUy
served, and the friend whom he had affectionately loved.
. . . . " Quos ignea virtus
Innocuos vita?, patientes setheris imi
Fecit, et aeternos animam collegit in orbes." 1
1 " Two days after the Cardinal's death, the Pope said to Monsignor
Testa, who has been before spoken of, ' Che cose mi ha detto quell' uomo,
l'ultima volta che 1' ho veduto ! ' Then hanging down his head, he added :
' Ma sembra che Dio vuol castigarmi in tutte le maniera.' " — 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 en
larged to preternatural dimensions.

82 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER VII.
POLICY OF PJTJS THE SEVENTH'S GOVERNMENT.
Without entering into any general considerations 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 theh own times and places, and by
the only principles then and there applicable to them ; one
may say unhesitatingly that the government of Pius VIL,
through his minister Consalvi, was just, liberal, and enlight
ened. No doubt, had that sovereign reenacted the laws
under which his subjects had groaned as an oppression, and
reestablished the repubUc which they stiU detested as a
usurpation ; had he acted in the teeth of aU Europe, in spite
of every principle which guided sovereigns and statesmen in
his restoration; had he even thereby risked for himself
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 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 phe
nomenon, a man behind the age, which had outgrown revo
lutionary fancies ; in fine, a dotard who had better have
been translated from the ceU of a prison to that of an asylum,
than restored from exUe 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 achievements of other princes, with
out a claim to the prizes of theh victories. He was re
stored concurrently by Protestant and Catholic Powers, witb

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 83
the applause of the civilised world ; and amidst the acclama
tions of joy, or rather in accordance with the longings, of
his own subjects. He was restored on the principle which
formed the basis of aU restorations at the time ; — that Eu
rope, so long convulsed, and so long unsettled, should return
to the normal state from which she had been wrenched.
Emphes were restored as empires, kingdoms resettled as
kingdoms, grand-duchies as grand- duchies, republics as re
publics. And so the Pope was given back to Rome, 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
independence of the Pope, that is, the combination in one
of spiritual rule over the whole Catholic Church with a
temporal hmited sovereignty, had been sensibly demonstrated
to be an important element in the readjustment of Europe.
The evUs resulting from the subjection of the common Father
of all the faithful to one of his more powerful chUdren, had
been universaUy felt ; and the continuation of such an ir
regular condition 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 Erench in
1797, the Pope, then Cardinal Bishop of Imola, had been
placed in a situation of great difficulty, which requhed both
tact and courage ; and he had displayed both. WhUe he
retained the firmest fidelity to his sovereign, he exhorted his
people to submit to the overwhelming power of the enemy,
and not to tempt them, by an hritating and useless resistance,
to put in execution theh barbarous threats of universal
massacre, and destruction by fire of cities and villages. A
fierce and disorderly insurrection at Lugo proved how real
and earnest was the menace. General Augereau, on the
8th of July, completely defeated the foohsh patriots, and
delivered theh 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 inhabit-

84 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
ants, humbled himself so far, as to cast himself on his knees
before the Erench 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. caUed him to Rome. He entreated to
be aUowed to return to his people, to shield them from dan
ger, when a new perU surprised him. The Austrians, sub
sidised by England, were for a short time masters of the
province of JEmilia, and were approaching Imola, when the
bishop considered it his duty to exhort his people to submit
to them, as theh liberators from the yoke, imposed upon
them. No sooner had the Austrians rethed than he was
accused of sedition. Instead of flying from the danger, he
proceeded at once to the Erench 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.
His enemies, however, were not so easUy satisfied ; and
the republican magistrates of Imola denounced him to the
supreme authorities of Bologna, as having favoured the Aus
trians. Letters to him, from Cardinals Gioannetti and Mat
tel, containing circulars addressed by them to theh flocks in
favour of Austria, were intercepted, and formed the ground
work of the charge ; fabrications and exaggerations composed
its superstructure. The French general, incensed, 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 by their sacrifice. Boldly he directed
his steps towards the approaching spoUers. The general was
Macdonald. Chiaramonti met him face to face : with apo-
stoUc freedom, he reproved him strongly for his intended
barbarity, and vindicated frankly his own conduct. He pre
vaUed and saved the city from destruction or devastation. It

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 85
is not wonderful that his biographers should have compared
this intrepid and generous conduct to that of St. Leo the
Great meeting Attila.1
When, only three years after these occurrences, Chiara
monti found himself the occupant of the throne, the out
works of which he had so resolutely defended against repub
lican and anti- Christian invasion, when he was placed at the
head of a warfare, the outposts of which he had known so
weU 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 considered as the result
• of weakness, may be traceable to this quality.
The first public acts of the new Pontiff showed that,
nevertheless, he was above prejudices, and weU understood
sound principles of pohtical economy. Besides excellent
provisions for reforms in every department of public ad
ministration, in that of justice among others, two series of
measures characterised the commencement of his 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 pubhc mind in consequence ; and the export
ation 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 abohshed
1 This was his third or fourth escape. At an earlier period, when the
Cisalpine republic was established, he denounced it to 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.

86 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
with its exclusive privUeges, so as to make it free to all to
bake and sell bread. AU duty was also taken off oU, and its
free importation was permitted. These new measures took
the public by surprise ; but they were soon much extended.
Eor, early in the foUowing 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 motuproprio 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 Abundance, with a ship at its side, and the in
scription : —
COMMERCIORVM . PRIVILEGIA . ABOLITA.
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,1
had been stripped of theh jewels to pay the ruinous contri
bution 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 comphcated, but
most important, operation, which was not fuUy 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 administration of theh 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, be
yond 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 upon import-commerce ; and
1 One was of the golden period of Julius II.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 87
has been getting' rid of monopohes, or rather, the farming
of internal resources, with the most gratifying success.
Another evU of the past calamitous period had been the
total depreciation of the coinage. A quantity of base metal,
as well as a copper currency, had been put into circulation,
with artificial values, after 1793 ; and the usual iU-judged
attempts had been resorted to, of raising them, when faUen
in the market, by public authority. The last of these useless
efforts, by the Commissioner NaseUi, in 1800, before the
Pope's arrival, had only produced embarrassment and di
minished commercial confidence. The Pope, however, and
his minister took a better view of this monetary difficulty.
Several schemes which had been proposed for clearing the
country of the debased circulation, whereby loss would have
fallen heavily on the holders of it, were unhesitatingly reject
ed. Instead of this, a fair and current value was assigned to it,
and it was received at that rate by aU government offices,
and at the mint, and no more was reissued. This was in
December, 1801, and January 13, 1802. In October the
plan was completed. On the 5th of that month aU the base
coin was caUed in, and government bore the entire loss. A
million and a half of dollars were paid out in silver, aU over
the States, and not a coin of inferior metal left in circulation.
And from that day tUl the late repubUc, no country in Eu
rope had a better or more abundant sUver circulation than
the Papal states.
The measure was, however, completed by the readjust
ment of aU pubUc contracts made under the previous con
dition of the money market; and tables were published
giving the proportions between the values of the old and
new coinages, so as to assist all classes to remodel existing
engagements on an equitable basis.
Never was any measure more blessed, by the poor espe
cially, than this. Hence, as the great event of the year, the
medal for 1802 artisticaUy perpetuates it, with the legend:
M0NETA . RESTITVTA.

88 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 pf the great movement is not yet stiU ;
but murmurs duUy in quiet corners, where Conservative
members feel themselves at home ; amidst grumbling farm
ers ; and occasionally breaks into a whisper in some eccen
tric 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 forbidding
their exportation, not only permitted their free entry, but
gave a premium on their introduction 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 sovereign and his ministry ; and
they were fully considered. Many religious houses and
other establishments had been sold by the Erench govern
ment, and had even passed through several hands. On the
14th of August, 1816, aU such properties as had not been
materially altered, and which could thus again be restored to
theh original purposes, were demanded back ; but the ac
tual holders were aU to be indemnified for theh losses ; and
a commission ad referendum was appointed to examine in
dividual claims, that they might be fuUy satisfied.
In order to distribute fahly the burthens of taxation, a
new and complete survey and valuation ofthe entire property
of cities and of the country were most accurately made, cor
responding to the Erench Cadastre ; perhaps in no country
is it so exact as in Rome. A special commission soon accom
plished this useful undertaking, whUe another prepared a new
demarcation of provinces, or delegations, and governments,
with theh respective forms of administration and judicial ar-

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 89
rangements. 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
doUars on the land tax was made in 1816. When we con
sider 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 pubhc works, and in promoting science and art ; we
may surely conclude that there must have been a wise ad
ministration to effect ah this, without recurring to loans, or
creating a foreign debt.

90 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

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 this the writer owes aU his means
of possessing recoUections of late pontiffs. It has been aheady
aUuded 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 admhation for this empire,
and even an affection for it, seemed instinctive both in the
Pope and in his minister. It is indeed weU known, and
scarcely needs repetition, that one ofthe avowed, and perhaps
principal, causes of the rupture between Pius and Napoleon
was the refusal ofthe Pope to join actively in what was caUed
the Continental system, that is, the exclusion of British
goods, and aU British commerce, from Continental ports and
countries. This is matter of history. But the personal cala
mities of the Holy Pontiff, his admirable patience and ex
emplary virtues, had, no doubt, theh share in enhancing the
sympathy due on account of the cause for which he suffered.
More than once was England ready to receive hhn 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
repeated when the Cavalier Canova, raised on the occasion to
the title of Marquess of Ischia, returned to Rome, with the
works of art restored from the Louvre. It is agreeable tore-
late, that the heavy expense of their removal from Paris to
Rome was defrayed enthely by our Government ; and this

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 91
act of graceful generosity was enhanced by the letter from
the Prince, of which Canova was bearer, as he was of let
ters from Lord Castlereagh to the Pope, and to the Secretary
of State. When Lord Exmouth had succeeded in his gallant at
tack on Algiers, he too wrote letters to both. That to the
Holy Father was couched in terms as respectful as a Catho
Uc could have used. It is dated Algiers, August 31, 1816,
from on board the " Queen Charlotte." It informs the
Pope of his success; declares that Christians' slavery is at
an end for ever, and adds that he sends him 173 captives,
subjects of his States. These, he hopes, wUl be a present
acceptable to His Hohness, and wUl give him a title to the
efficacy of his prayers.
It was a kind and grateful feeling towards England,
which led to the restoration of the national coUege 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 Protector" to the
establishment. He assisted personaUy at the meetings of
its superiors, and 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 Moorflelds, which now serves as
the pro-cathedral to the diocese of Westminster, was finished
in 1820. It was considered then as a spacious and hand
some buUding. A perspective drawing of its interior was
sent to Rome, and presented by the Rev. Dr. Gradwell to
the Pope. The good Pius immediately said that he would
send a token of his affectionate interest in the work. The
papal treasury and sacristy were very empty; but he ordered
the most valuable object in church plate which he possessed
to be prepared for a present. His attendants 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 Ca
tholics." On his restoration, the Chapter of Mexico had

92 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
sent him a massive gold chalice, richly set with emeralds,
pearls, and diamonds. It was accompanied by cruets, bell,
and dish, all of the finest gold. This was his intended gift,
and he commissioned 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 men
tioned the consecration of the chahce by himself. He was
answered that such an additional mark of kindness 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 inscription on the chalice, which is used at Moorflelds
on the greater solemnities.1
This chapter wiU be not unsuitably closed by the inscrip
tion which records, in the English College, the kindness of
Pius and his minister in restoring that national establish
ment. MEMOES
PII . VII . PONT . MAX .
QVOD . COLLEGIVM . ANGLOEVM
A GEEGOEIO . XIH .P.M.
IN . ANTIQVO . EIVS . NATIONIS . ADVENAEVH . HOSPITIO
PKIMITVS CONSTITVTVM
VHBE . AVTEM . A . GAIXIS . OCOVPATA
ANTE . AN. XX . D1SSOLVTVM

ANNO . MDCOCXVni . BESTITVEBIT
EIDEMQVE . AD . VOTVM . NATIONIS . EIVSDEII
EEOTOEEM . DE . CLEEO . IPSIVS . PEAEFECEEIT
HEBCVLE . CONSALVIO . S . E . B . CABD . COLLEGII . PATEONO
ANGLIAE . EPISCOPI . ET . CLEBVS
GEATI . ANIMI . CAVSA.
1 The inscription is as follows : — " Pius VII. Pont. Max. Templo Lon
dini, in Moorflelds, recens a Catholicis exstrueto, 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 entry :
— " May 1. — The King of England has written in Latin to the Pope with
bis sign manual. The first instance of such a correspondence since our
devolution (1688). The Pope is pleased, and is answering it."

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 93

CHAPTER IX.
LITERATURE, SCIENCE, ART.

Neithee of the foreign occupations, the republican or
the imperial, lasted sufficiently long to interrupt that suc
cession 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, fornnstance, was the antiquarian Fea, one of those
men of the old school, like the Scaligers, the VossU, or rather,
Grawius and Gronovius, who could bring to the iUustration
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 hterary world by his magnificent edition
of Winkelmann, the notes to which are not inferior in value
to the text. Indeed, one might say that the two authors
divide the qualities of the book : the German bringing to
it the taste and sagacity of the artistic antiquarian, 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 stiU. 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,

¦94 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
like, ourselves. They suited theh 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 superficial gloss ia
worn away, that which dazzled, and that which offended, how
racy and how charming they become to us. Such are the
memoirs, the letters, the journals, and the essays of former
ages, theh chronicles even, in theh primeval quaintness.
They may have represented, and no doubt did represent,
fierce parties, gross enmities, sharp reproof, the envious eye,
the venomed tooth, the wicked smile, the curled Up, or the
lolling tongue. To us aU the leer and jibe, and even playful
malice, have softened down into harmless wit and gentle
sprightliness. WeU, no matter, the old love to converse with the dead ;
and therefore it is not surprising that one should remember
Fea with a parchment-bound book, foho or octavo, or per
haps a heap of many such before him. He was indeed an
antiquarian of the old school, as has been remarked; 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 verUy not a comely 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, stUl rich in ita
own oxidization. He was sharp and rough, and decisive in
tone, as weU as dogmatic in judgment. 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

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 95
would scarcely deign to look at it, but would teU 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 Cancelheri. I remember him coming
to pay his annual Christmas visit to the rector of the CoUege,
an octogenarian at least, taU, thin, but erect, and stUl elastic ¦
clean and neat to faultlessness, with a courteous manner,
and the smUing countenance that can be seen only in one
who looks back serenely on many years weU spent. He
used to say, that he began to write at eighteen, and had con
tinued tUl 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 titles,
are nothing, compared with the unlooked-for matters that
are jumbled and jostled together inside. Eew would have
thought of writing a volume on " the head physicians of the
Popes ;". or on "the practice of kissing the Pope's foot an
tecedently to the embroidery of the cross on his shoe;" or
on "the three papal functions in the Vatican Church;" or
on " men of great memory, or who have lost theh memories ; "
or finaUy, " 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 to the materials of his books is given by
the title, or any other usual guide.
I remember a most promising young German scholar, cut
off before he had time to fulfil the expectations of his friends.
This was Dr. Pappencordt, whose "History ofthe Vandals"
had early gained* a hterary prize in his own country. His
acquaintance with mediaeval history was amazing ; he remem
bered the dates of the most insignificant events ; and would
make excursions into the desolate border tracts in the moun
tains, between Rome and Naples, to visit the theatre of the

96 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
most puny action between pugnacious barons in Central Italy.
I dwell with pleasure on his memory ; for many an interest
ing bit of information, which has not been without its use,
did I coUect from him, on topics of Italian history, whereof
one did not find clever men in the country take much heed.
He was stiU, as I have intimated, very young : and he had all
the amiable and candid worth which belongs to the youthful
enthusiast. But aheady, as he informed 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 compUation ; but he had ex
perienced the misfortune, to which every accumulator of inky
sheets is Uable, of seeing just the last of them taken at the
end of winter to light the stove, by that deadhest enemy of
hterary litter, a tidy housemaid. WeU, 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 nowhere been able to find. It was this. The Coun
cU of Trent was transferred after the seventh session to
Bologna, where the eighth and ninth sessions (merely formal
ones) were celebrated. The ground aUeged was the existence
of contagious or epidemical disease in 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 CouncU gave
another reason, and denied the reality of the one aUeged.
The German historian was deshous of finding the medical
certificate or declaration alluded to in the Decree, and men
tioned, but never given, by historians. At length, while
plunging through a tangled jungle, the produce of Cancel
heri' s unchecked fertility, his work on the Papal villeggia-
turas and the tarantula, he lit most opportunely on the very
document, like a soUtary flower in the wUderness. It was
there given textually from the original.
It was thus that he may be said to have verified the char
acter which Niebuhr, one of the learned foreigners in Rome
at the time of these recoUections, gave to CanceUieri's writ-

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 97
ings ; that " they contained some things that were important,
many things that were useful, and everything that is super
fluous." One of the most useful features of his writings is,
that on whatever subject he treats he gives you the fullest'
list of authors upon it compiled tiU his time. Thus, his work
on memory contains a catalogue of writers on artificial me
mory, and of inventors 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
Uterature who have since distinguished themselves 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
sphits, or occasion, to become authors in a science which was
but httle encouraged. Complete sUence, however, might be
interpreted as an admission that Rome was 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
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
1 Such an author may well be supposed to have got together, in the .
course of hie long life, a most miscellaneous and extensive collection 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 ; who also became possessor of the collection 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 vo
lumes, or cartons, 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.

98 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
although the author weU remembers the paragraph in the
Roman paper which announced his arrival from Milan, and the
subsequent one which proudly proclaimed his immortal dis
covery of Cicero " De Republiea," yet it was not tiU a later
period that he could acquire, what he cherishes among his
most valuable recollections, the kind and familiar intercourse
enjoyed with this good and gifted man, not only in the shady
aUeys 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 permitted to say a few words
upon a subject connected with it, and especiaUy with its
more sacred department. The pulpit is one of the best in
dexes' of national taste in foreign literature. Indeed we can
hardly except that of our own country. Terse and nervous
language, conveying original thought and solid learning, is a
proof of a sterling literature having a hold on the national
mind. When poetry in England, and inscriptions in Italy,
were but a tissue of quaintnesses, forced conceits, sports
with words, extravagant hyperboles, and turgid phraseology,
the most admired orators of the day carried every such.
violation of good taste into the sanctuary; and no doubt
they moved theh 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 " Pic
colomini " 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 debasement of the current
literature of Italy, during the reign of what is there known
under the chronological term of " seicentismo." 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 feU together ; the second pulled the

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 99
first down to theh own level ; and they both dragged them
selves along their duU and weedy path. Three Jesuit writers
alone escaped this general corruption, Bartoh, PaUavicini,
and Segneri. Traces may be discovered in them, especiaUy
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 honourable 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 paint
ing, have clear relations, not only of time, but of character,
with the hterature 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 intoler
ant 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 witness to what only con
stitutes 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 unidiomatic
or foreign words that have made it almost a mongrel speech,
is to return to a period antecedent to that of corruption,
and to adopt a stern principle of excluding nearly every mo
dern accession. The Germans have been happy in their
efforts to create a multitude of new words, which have super
seded the modern bastard GaUo- German, and other interpo
lations 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 hterary combination we
have neither power nor wiU. But our own best writers, we
feel, are those who have most naturally returned to tastes

100 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 pre
ponderance 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, em
ploying words unused in the conversation or the writing of
the drawing-room.
The Itahan had a classical period to which he could re
turn, a definite unaUoyed standard of purity to which he
might lead back his language. One writer reigned supreme
there, and 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 venera
tion, and consequent imitation, of Dante to extremes. But
not only did such writers as Petrarch and Boccaccio, poets-or
romancers, or the host of inferior novelists, impure in matter
as pure in style, enter into the list of models for the revival
of good taste ; but also most religious and ascetic writings,
like the sweet " Fioretti " of St. Francis, the life and letters
of St. Catherine, and the " Mirror of Penance " of Passavanti.
A return to the standard of hterary excellence of that
period was, therefore, perfectly compatible with a correspond
ing improvement in the most religious and sphitual class of
writings. A danger of extravagance, or even of mistake,
might indeed alarm ; and examples are famUiarly quoted of
both, on the part of Father Cesari, the originator, in great
measure, of the movement towards purism, as it was catted.
Objections of this sort are chUdish ; no great change is ef
fected without enthusiasm, and no enthusiasm can exist with
out exaggeration, which of itself is mistake. The work has
gone steadUy on : and no one can compare the Itahan htera
ture of the present day with that of the beginning of the
century, and not perceive the immeasurable gain. One

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 101
Italian periodical alone, the " Oiviltd cattolico, " of Rome,
contrasted with any pubhshed formerly, wiU prove the dif
ference. 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 be
neath the savoury seasoning of " aniseed and cummin ; "
men's ears are tickled by a tissue of elegant paragraphs, and
by exquisite phraseology combined in harmonious periods.
It would be unjust to say that this was all that lately at
tracted crowds to the preaching of the Avvocato Barberi,
who in mature age exchanged the forensic gown for the cas
sock, and transferred his eloquence from the bar to the
pulpit. No doubt there were ideas as weU as phrases in his
discourses ; and ideas that proceeded from a vigorous and
a cultivated mind. But men went to hear him as they went
to hear an elegant musician, who charmed, but changed not,
the hstener ; as one whose sermons of " judgment " 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 communication between clergyman arid
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. GeneraUy it has neither the ignor
ant violence of the one, nor the tame common-place of the
other. Those who have been in Italy, and have frequented,
with fuU comprehension of the language, the sermons deli
vered every Sunday in the principal churches of great cities,
will acknowledge, whatever theh religion at home, that no
where have they hstened to discourses containing more solid
¦and useful matter, couched in more finished and yet simple
language, or dehvered in a more forcible yet unexaggerated
manner. To say that similar addresses would not be heard in the

102 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
poorer quarters of towns, or in country vUlages, would be
only to assert, that Italian priests have too much good sense,
not to accommodate matter and manner to the characters
and capacities of their audiences. Nevertheless it wUl be
seen that day after day crowds of poor wUl go to hear a
preacher of eminence-; for he would soon lose his high cha
racter, if he soared into regions whither the simple faithful
could not foUow him.
Foreigners, unfortunately, seldom trouble themselves
about what does not come within the circle of fashionable
ordinary occupation. Without, 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 Gesu ; and
we will beheve that he wiU hear as much plain practical in
struction on Holy Writ, simply deUvered, as he is hkely 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. ZeechinelU, a man
deeply versed in the sacred writings ; and dehvered 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 vhtuous ¦ life, _
and not following it.
But besides the solid matter which one may often, indeed
generaUy, hear in an Itahan sermon, there'is a music accom
panying it which gives it a winning charm, unknown to coun
tries beyond the Alps. The grace of dehvery seems to be
one of the fine arts ; for it lingers in theh 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 pos
session of a compact crowd, that reached from the altar-raUs
to the door, and fitted every aisle and all avaUable standing
room. The preacher ascended the pulpit, simply dressed in
his Francisan habit, which left the throat bare, and by the

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 103
ample folds of its sleeves added dignity to the majestic action
of his arms. His figure was fuU, but his movements were
easy and graceful. His countenance was calm, nuld, unfur-
rowed as yet by age, but stUl 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 observa
tion of outward qualities and tokens was natural, and hkely
to make an indelible impression. Indeed, I remember no ser
mon as I do this, so far as the " faithful eyes " go. And yet
the ears had their treat to. The first and merely unintel
ligible 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 the listener
in every nook of the vast church, yet flexible and varying,
ranging from the keenest tone of reproach to the tenderest
watt of pathos. But the movement and gesture that accom
panied its accents were as accordant with them as the grace
ful action of the minstrel, caUing 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 commentary on 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,- 1 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 func
tions of life, that their energies may be concentrated on a
single organ. And scarcely less grand is the relief which
breaks forth, in a universal murmur, a single open breath
from each one sweUing into a note that oonveys more ap
plause, 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, as the same preacher in the

104 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
choh of St. Peter's uttered one of those sublime passages,
feeling as if*I lay prostrate in spirit, before a passing vision,
scarcely daring to move or even turn the eyes aside. He was
reproving negligence in attending at the celebration 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 attitudes,
the countenances, and the feelings of adoring spirits, whUe
for once only assisting at what is, in the Church militant, a
daUy privilege. /
Now, if any one will turn to the printed sermons of Father I
Pacifico Deani, he may find the very sermons aUuded to, and/
wonder that they can have been thus described. While far
from pretending to make comparison between the peerless
master-piece of ancient eloquence and the humble Francis
can's devout discourses, one may be allowed to answer the
objection, in the words by which JEschines enhanced his great)
and successful rival's merit: " What if you had heard him
speak them ? " This, no doubt, was great part of the charm, — I
greater to one who, till then, had been accustomed only to
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 j
At the period on which we are engaged, science was
efficiently represented in Rome. Professors Conti and Ca- i
landrelli are weU known in the annals of astronomy for the
regularity and accuracy of their observations, annually pub
lished, in the Roman observatory, and by other valuable con
tributions to mathematical science in its highest branches.
They were inseparable companions and most faithful friends.
1 F. Pacifico, a peasant child, was heard by a religious, preaching 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 edu
cated, 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 re
peat the discourse.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 105
The first was stUl the professor whose lectures we attended ;
the second, a good old man, had rethed from pubhc duties.
Pius VIL encouraged first, then chartered and endowed, an
academy or society, yet existing, for practical science, estab
hshed by Professor Scarpellini, and having its seat in the
Capitol. Dr. Morichini, besides being a most able physi
cian, was the friend and often the co-labourer of Sir Hum
phrey Davy, who made many experiments at the Sapienza in
Rome, to which he was warmly attached. Dr. Morichini
was the first who discovered, and appUed, the magnetising
power of the violet ray in the prism.
It would be easy to add a list of names of persons weU
versed in science who then lived and wrote, as Settele, Riche-
bach, Vagnuzzi, and the numerous professors at the Uni
versity ; but names hke those of the late E. Vico, and the
hving F. Secchi, are stiU better known to scientific 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 lan
guage, may in some measure be extended to this. The con
dition to which it had sunk could be remedied only by a
complete transfer of affection and principle, from this to a
better, indeed a faultless, period. And what could that be
but the period of 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 beau
ties of the heathen school, chastened by the feehngs of a
hetter rehgion ; the strong development by Michelangelo
was the burst of individual genius, not 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
meanness of conception, this simplest of artistic resources
for exciting grand ideas of God's noblest earthly creation, in

106 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
the minds of the beings on whom He conferred that dignify.
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 the 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 excellence, not even
the last to perfection, is equal to the stride from groveUing •
degradation to healthy action and truthful principle ; espe
cially when this at once places him who makes it in a pre
eminence 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 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 Cammuccinis in Italy ; which sought its subjects iu
an unclean mythology or a pagan heroism, and its forms in
the movementless and rigidly accurate marbles of antique
production. A raw unmeUow colouring, over-bright and un-
blending, devoid of delicacy and tenderness, clothed the fault
less design 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 brandished sabre in so fraU a material as
marble. Why should not the eye have been as weU left
without an his ? There is, indeed, in the Hospital of Santo
Sphito, in Rome, a ward painted in fresco, with countless
figures, all somehow made eyeless ; but this was the caprice, or
malice, not the classicism of the artist.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 107
This last yet reigns too much in Italy, where has sprung
up, in the mean time, that beautiful German school, which
at Munich, Cologne, Dusseldorf, and Berlin, has produced
such lovely works ; and whieh, stUl 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 VIL in the li
brary or museum, to commemorate its great events, are httle
worthy of theh 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 hterary and artis
tic. In the earher portion of his pontificate, Pius had already
walked in his iUustrious predecessors' footsteps. The MuseO'
Pio-Clementino, the addition of his two immediate predecess
ors, seemed to leave him little hopes of surpassing it. The
magnificence of its haUs, the variety of its coUections, and the
beauty of many among its sculptures, combined the splendour
of a palace with the richness of a gallery. The earUer con
tributions of our Pope were simple but most valuable. The
long corridors 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 inscriptions, Christian on one side, and heathen on
the other.
Nothing can be more becoming than this modest approach,
at every step growing in interest and value, towards the clus
tered temples of that acropolis or capitol of art. You walk
along an avenue, one side adorned by the stately and mature
or even decaying memorials of heathen dominion, the other
by the young and growing and vigorous monuments of early
Christian culture. " There they stand face to face, as if in
hostUe array, about to begin a battle long since fought and
won. On the right may be read laudatory epitaphs of men,

108 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
whose families were conspicuous in repubhcan Rome ; long
inscriptions descriptive of the victories, and commemorative
of the titles, of Nerva or Trajan ; then dedications to deities,
announcements of theh feasts, or fairs in theh honour ; and
an endless variety of edicts, descriptions of property, sacred
and domestic, and sepulchral monuments. The great busi
ness of a mighty empire, mUitary, administrative, rehgious,
and social, stands catalogued on that wall. What can ever
take its place ? And the outward form itself exhibits stability
and high civilisation. These various records are inscribed
with all the elegance of an accomphshed stone-mason's chisel,
in straight lines and in bold uncial letters ; with occasional
ornaments or reliefs, that bespeak the sculptor ; on blocks or
slabs of valuable marbles, with an elegance of phrase that
moves the scholar's envy.
Opposite to these imperial monuments are arranged a
multitude of irregular, broken fragments 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 innocent " child, a third to " a weU-deserving " friend,
If the other side records victories, this only speaks of losses;
if that roars out war, this murmurs only soft peace ; if that
adorns with military trophies, this illuminates with scourges
and pincers : the one may perhaps surmount with the soar
ing 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 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 be
low, 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

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 109
dragged up from its caverns to fight with wUd beasts: At
length the mines were sprung, and heathenism tottered, feU,
and crashed, like Dagon, on its own pavements. And, through
the rents and fissures, basUicas started up from their conceal
ment below, cast in moulds of sand, unseen, in those depths;
altar and chancel, roof and pavement, baptistery and pon
tifical chair, up they rose in brick or marble, wood or bronze,
what they had been in friable sandstone below. A new em
pire, new laws ; a new civUisation, a new art ; a new learn
ing, a new moraUty, 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 dehberation, and
in Its own hands. To have kept up its monuments would
have been impossible. What could Christians have done
with thermae, amphitheatres, and their lewd representations ?
Tet to have destroyed them would have been called barbar.
ous. 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 aU 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 vaUeys, and in the holes
ofthe rock." 3 For the Saracen predatory incursions in the
eighth century devastated the outlying Christian monu
ments, and caused the final spoliation of the catacombs.
The Church has kindly taken into her keeping the ga
thered fragments and ruins of both invasions, from north
1 Isa. v. 26. 2 Jer. xlvii. 2. * Tsa. vii. 18.

110 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
and from east ; and here they are placed separate, but united,
and in 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 grace
ful 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 interrupt
ed 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
triumphantly 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 : " Her i dice-
bamus," " 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 gaUery 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 in
deed wonderful, how such a budding could have been erected,
richly decorated, and fitted with master-pieces of art, in bo
short a time. When first I remember it, it was stUl in the
mason's hands, brick walls amidst a forest of scaffold poles ;
yet the Pope Uved to see it finished in aU its beauty. The
architect, if I remember rightly, 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
Tuseulan hills, when he was disfigured by a huge tumour on
his shoulder, the consequence of a faU, which shortly carried
him to an early grave.
To the hbrary Pius made considerable additions, not only
of manuscripts, but of many thousands of printed volumes.
Among these was a magnificent coUection of Bibles, and
biblical works. The Pantheon had long been to Rome, what

PIUS THE SEVENTH. Ill
Santa Croce was to Florence, and Westminster Abbey once
was to us ; the mausoleum of great men. The busts of distin
guished Itahans were ranged round its walls, and gave a
profane appearance to the church. By order of the Sovereign
Pontiff a new gallery was prepared in the Capitol, under the
name of Protomotheca ; and in one night of 1820, the whole
of the busts were removed from the Pantheon, and carried
thither. It is, however, one even greater glory of Pius's reign,
that he commenced that series of excavations round ancient
monuments which have been continued tUl the present day,
and have done more for sohd antiquarian learning than any
previous study. Former excavations had been carried on
mainly to obtain works of art, and were fitted up again as
fast as made. But, in 1807, the arch of Septimius 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
outward watt faUing. The excavations and restorations of
ancient monuments were continued by the French authorities
under the Emphe, and often with a bolder hand, for churches
were destroyed or desecrated to discover or restore heathen
edifices.1 But after the restoration the work was resumed
' I remember reading in Dr. Heber's " Journal," that an Armenian
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
bis 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, and he
•did not believe his story. The fact was, the Armenian and the Englishman
looted 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 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 pub-

112 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
with vigour. Archaeologists were wonderfuUy disappointed,
when on excavating round a column in the centre of the
Eorum, which had been the very pivot of systems, it dis
played on its pedestal an inscription of Phocas, a monarch
totally out of the pale of classical society. Besides, however,
other interesting restorations, that of the arch of Titus re
flects the greatest credit on the commission appointed by
Pius for the preservation of ancient edifices. This, not only
beautiful, but precious monument had, by the Frangipani
family, been made the nucleus of a hideous casteUated fort. Its
masonry, however, embraced and held together, as weU as
crushed, the marble arch ; so that on freeing it from its rude
buttresses, there was fear of its coUapsing ; and it had first
to be well bound together by props and bracing beams, a
process in which Roman architects are unrivalled. . It was
in this condition that I first remember the arch of Titus.
The seven-branch candlestick, the table, the trumpets, and
other spoils of the temple, which Reland has so wett Ulus-
trated in a learned little treatise, as collateral and monu-,
mental evidences of Scripture truth, were. invisible in great
measure behind the wooden framework, whieh also completely
hid from view the beautiful relief of the apotheosis in the
key-stone. The simple expedient was adopted by the archi
tect Stern of completing the arch in stone ; for its sides had
been removed. Thus encased in a solid structure, which
continued all the architectural lines, and renewed its pro
portions to the mutilated centre, the arch was both com
pletely secured, and almost restored to its pristine elegance.
lished, 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.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 113

CHAPTER X.
BRIGANDAGE.

I might be reproached with overlooking one of the most
vivid, though painful, recoUections of youth, if nothing ap
peared 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 con
sidered a blot upen 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 theh atrocities more dread
ful, than after the restoration of the pontifical government.
And yet, it would be most unjust to throw on that govern
ment the' blame.
Let us begin by remarking that no one has ever charged
the Erench 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 abetting of
brigandism was death, summarily inflicted. To be found
with a smaU provision of food, was capitaUy punished in a
shepherd who guarded a flock in the sohtudes of the moun
tains. Hence, boys have been executed, with men that had
dragged them within the snares of the law, although those
that accompanied them to the scaffold have assured the
writer that they were innocent as infants of the crime of
highway robbery. And hence, too, the poor shepherds were
often in a fearful dUemma : if they saw the banditti, and did
not denounce them, they suffered as abettors and accom-
phces ; if they set the patrol on theh track, they ran the risk
of assassination. Sometimes a more cruel expedient was
adopted. Many of that time wUl remember a poor peasant
boy, who used to beg alms in Eome, whose tongue had been
8

114 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 un
ceasing pursuit of weU-disciplined troops, could not put down
the peculiar form of robbery known in ItaUan by the terms
of " crassazione" and " assassinio," and yet the government
that employed these means unsuccessfuUy has never been
taxed with feebleness, why should the one which immediately
succeeded it be accused of 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 mihtary 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 evU was, through
them, completely put down. This was only in the foUowing
pontificate. The struggle, under such varied circumstances, between
society and lawlessness, and the return of the latter to opeU
war, after it has been repeatedly and effectuaUy 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 encourage a character of crime different from what
wiU flourish in one like ours. A ridge of high mountains,
almost inaccessible in parts, traversed only through deep
and narrow ravines, commanded by overhanging cliffs, with
one state at its feet on one side and another on the other,
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 tott, it soon
swells into a band, by the successive adhesions of escaped

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 115
or hberated convicts, runaways from pursuing justice, or
mere idle scapegraces, who gradually inure themselves to
deeds of blood, and become elated to something of military
feeling by the terror which they inspire. 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 sympathy among neighbours, and a charac
ter of knight-errantry among tourists. AU 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 stUl are the obstacles to success against them,
from their favoured position. By timely warnings from secret
sharers in theh booty, or depraved atties, they hear, or used
to hear, in time, of the approach of any armed force against
them ; theh own scouts, from " coigns of vantage " on the
cornice of a rocky battlement, or from tree-tops, gave notice
of the immediate approach of danger. Surprise was rendered
almost impossible ; and a scrambhng attack through ravines,
up rugged crags, and amidst tangled brushwood, had, to
regular troops from the plain, aU the disadvantages and
perils, without its dignity, of a guerilla combat. It cannot
be denied that the conduct of the soldiers was intrepid and
worthy of a better battle-field ; but often when they had
forced the position of a robber band, it would spring over
the boundary line of another state, and there defy its baffled
pursuers. This was something Uke 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 convention was made
between Rome and Westminster of the one side, and Na
ples and the City of the other side, that the pohce 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

116 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
in 1818, but proved insufficient. What was necessary and
was resorted to 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 pur
suit is necessary because no flight is possible.
If the reader wishes to refresh his memory on the ex
ploits of the banditti of that period, and recaU theh practices
and mode of hfe, he has only to turn to Washington Irving's
" Tales of a Traveller," where, in the third part, he gives
" The Painter's Adventure " among his robber stories. In
his preface he says that " the Adventure of the Young
Painter among the banditti is taken almost enthely from an
authentic narrative in manuscript." True : and astonished
and disappointed was the poor Erench artist, when he found
that the manuscript which he used to lend freely to his
friends had been translated and published without his per
mission or knowledge by M. Wassinton, as he called his
Uterary pirate. The writer had read it as a work of fiction
by the amusing American tourist ; for who beheves the ac
count in prefaces, of manuscripts, whether found in a Cura's
leather trunk, or " Old Mortality's waUet," or " Master
Humphrey's clock," or nowhere in particular? There was a
contradiction, indeed, in calling that the adventure of a
young painter, in which the 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 easUy be passed over-,
but it was too true for M. ChatiUon, the artist, that he had
passed into the stage of " the lean and shppered pantaloon,"
when he was taken, as he describes, from the VUla RuffineUa,
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 detained him
till dusk, when they compelled him to be theh guide to the
house. M. ChatiUon lent his manuscript, among other neigh
bours, to us of the English College ; and I beheve we were

PIUS THE SEVENTH* 117
the first to discover and inform him, that it was already
pubhshed in English, with such alterations as made the ac
count apocryphal ; but with such a charm as would deprive '
the original, if printed, of aU chance of success. A few
years ago, after his adventure, M. ChatiUon became an in
mate of Lord Shrewsbury's famUy, 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," wUl find the name of " the young painter,"
M. ChatiUon, appended as the label to some very moderate
works of art.
Washington Irving alludes to the carrying off of what he
caUs "the school of Terracina." It was in fact the episcopal
seminary, situated outside the city, that was invaded one
night; and aU its inmates 'were carried away, — superiors,
prefects, scholars, and servants. On the road the brigands
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 of the captives to escape -and give the
alarm. Others got away ; the feeble were dismissed ; tUl at
last a few boys of the best famtties in the neighbourhood
were alone retained in the mountain fastnesses. Letters
were sent to their famihes, demanding sums of money for
theh 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 theh throats cut, and dead.
The survivors were brought to Rome, to teU theh sad tale
to the good and tender-hearted Pius ; and well the writer
remembers seeing the poor boys stUl under the influence of
theh 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
occurred in 1820. The Enghsh College possesses a country-

118 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
house, deliciously situated in the village of Monte Porzio.
Like most viUages 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
bpsoming does it swell upwards ; and so luxuriously clothed
is it with the three gifts whereby " men are multiplied," *
that the vttlage 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. WhUe the
entrance and front of this viUa are upon the regular streets
of the Uttle 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 vaUey, along which runs a shady road, rises up
a gentle acclivity, vine and olive clad ; above, this is clasped by
a belt of stately chesnuts, the bread-tree of the Itahan peasant ;
and thence springs a round craggy mound, looking stern and
defiant hke what it was — the citadel of Tusculum. Upon its
rocky front our students have planted a huge cross.
Such is the view which presents itself immediately oppo
site the spectator, if leaning over the low parapet of the Eng
Ush garden. The beauties to right and to left belong not 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 continuous
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 unfading 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, carry
ing wine to Rome, is glad at midnight to catch its solemn
peal as it mingles with the tinkle of his own drowsy beUs.
1 Ps. iv. 8.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 119
Such an unceasing call to prayer and praise can be answered,
not by monks nor by friars, but only by anchorites.
And to such does this sweet abode belong. A nearer ap
proach does not behe the distant aspect. It is as neat, as
regular, as clean, and as tranquil as it looks. It is truly a
vttlage divided by streets, in each of which are rows of houses
exactly symmetrical. A smaU sitting-room, a sleeping cell, a
chapel completely fitted up, in case of Ulness, 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 abundantly supphed. While singing None
in choir, the day's only meal is deposited in a little locker
within the door of the cell, for each one's sohtary refection.
On a few great festivals they dine together ; but not even the
Pope, at his frequent visits, has meat placed before hhn.
Everything, as has been said, is scrupulously clean. The houses
inside and out, the well-furnished hbrary, the strangers' apart
ments (for hospitahty is freely given), and stiU more the
church, are faultless in this respect. And so are the vener
able men who stand in choir, and whose noble voices sustain
the church's magnificent psalmody, with unwavering slowness
of intonation. They are clad in white from head to foot ;
their thick wooUen drapery fatting in large folds ; and the
shaven head, but flowing beard, the calm features, the down
cast eyes, and often venerable aspect, make every one a pic
ture, 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 sUent and un-
noticing ; but the guest-master wUl teU 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 beside 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 hottow-
ness 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 hke a bride's arch,"

120 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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
foUows a fourth, belonging to one of the noblest Roman
famtties, who yet prefers his cottage and his lentU to the
palace and the banquet.
Such was the Camaldoli, and such were its inmates, when
a robber chief determined to carry them off into the moun
tains. The gardens, woods, and fields of the hermit-vittage
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 seclusion not for defence,
the wolf clomb into the peaceful fold. One by one the un
suspecting inmates were aroused from theh slumber to un
holy Matins ; and soon found themselves assembled in front
ofthe church, surrounded by a large band of ruffians, armed
to the teeth, muttering curses and blasphemies to smother
theh remorse. It was the policy of these wretches to leave
not one behind who might betray theh 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 preparations 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 not to expostulate with the freebooters.
Next morning, the early bell was sUent ; it was the clock
of the neighbourhood, so the silence was ominous and incon
venient. Hour after hour went by ; — was there no chaunt,
no oblation, no sacred duty at Camaldoli ? One may easUy
imagine the horror and consternation spread on every side,

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 121
as the news travelled round, of the sacrUegious abduction
of these unoffending, most respected, and most charitable
men ; from whose gate no poor man was ever known to de
part unreheved. The history was related by the two or
three left, through necessity, behind, and by those who
graduaUy escaped during the several days' march, or were
aUowed to return, as obstacles to the rapid movements soon
requhed. A large ransom was demanded for the few retained 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 aU the rehgious escaped except
one. A musket baU had broken his thigh, and he lay help
less on the ground. But the robbers were worsted, and he
was saved. He belonged to the noble family of Altemps,
whose palace, opposite to the church of Sant' ApoUinare
was designed or decorated hy Baldassare Peruzzi, and con
tains an apartment intact since it was occupied by St.
Charles Borromeo. To this famUy residence he was con
veyed, and there was attended for a long time, tiU 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 Tuseulan hermitage
underwent a change. The fold required better guarding.
The low watts between the gardens on our side, were buUt
up to a formidable height, and slashed with rows of loop
holes, so as to be defensible by the fire-arms of secular serv
ants. 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 theh 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 beU.
They were kept chained up all day ; at night they were let
loose, and woe to any one who should have presumed to ap-

122 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
proach them without the Camaldolese 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, whUe he discharged, as an edifying lay-brother,
the duties of porter.
It will be easUy imagined how this daring attack upon
aged and poor reUgious was calculated to awaken some un
easiness in a smaUer ecclesiastical body, only separated by a
narrow valley, and occupying a corresponding situation op
posite ; and moreover having the fatal reputation 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 dehghts of vttleggiatura
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 httle Roman
theatre, and entangled in the brambles and undferwood that
now cushion its seats, when suddenly there came upon the
stage a party of most unexpected actors. About 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 aecidentaUy, they
hemmed us in, standing above the party. The looks of terror
imprinted on the countenances of one or two of our body
are not easUy to be forgotten. 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, leggings or sandals, gay sashes, and car
bines, 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 spitefuUy restive cavalcatura,
and remained last. " Are you the English CoUege ? " asked

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 123
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 stUl
nearer. Each rejoinder was true in the mouth of the speaker.
" How many are you ? " " Ten.' ' This seemed stUl more
ominous. But the next question left scarcely room for hope.
"Have you seen the armed patrol of Frascati anywhere
about?" A gasping "No "was the necessary answer. Apause
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 Claver-
house'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 subhme of
terror to the ridiculous of courage was instantaneous. Of
course no one had been frightened, and nobody 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 to falling
among robbers with real fire-arms and imaginary fierce
looks. If this topic has been made prominent among the recol
lections of a memorable period, it is to show the deshe to
speak impartially, and not conceal blots. That immense
energy was displayed by the Government to efface them, and
great sacrifices were made, no one who recollects the period
can faU to remember. MUitary law reigned in the infested
districts, to this extent, thpt the principal banditti were con
demned to death as outlaws, and theh sentence published
with descriptions of theh persons : so that nothing more was
requhed, when they were taken, than to. identify their per
sons, 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 theh haunts. It was
proposed even to remove the inhabitants of districts that

124 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
appeared incurable. Impunity was offered to such as deli
vered themselves 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 easUy 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 lately here sufficient crimes, dark and cold, reach
ing to shedding of blood and to the heedless ruin of thou
sands, 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 aheady detaUed has revived ; but
more in the northern provinces. Again it is the fruit of a
disturbance of pubttc order, by revolution instead of by war.
Again its seat is a border district, where the mountain
boundary Une is traced between Tuscany and the Papal
States. And again this consequence of an abnormal condi
tion is imputed to the normal ; the legitimate sovereign is
held responsible for the evUs 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 revolution has engendered.

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 125

CHAPTER XI.
CLOSE OP 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 anni
versary of his seizure in the Quirinal palace by General Ra-
det. On that day, in the year 1823, in the same place, the
aged Pontiff, about six in the evening, being alone, rose from
bis chair, and leaning with one hand on the bureau before it,
Bought with the other a cord balustrade which went round
his room. He missed it ; his foot shpped, and he feU. 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 discovered that the
neck of the femur was fractured — the very accident which
has so lately befallen the veteran Radetzky.
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 serenity and fortitude which had distin
guished him in the vicissitudes of his life. He lingered for
six weeks, the object of affectionate solicitude to all Rome.
A person intimately connected with our coUege was in the
Pope's household, and brought us daUy information of every
variation in his health. It was whUe in this state of anxiety,
that aU Rome was startled one morning by news so melan
choly, and so naturally connected with the august patient,
that in ancient times it would have been considered a por
tent, beyond statues sweating blood in the Eorum, or victims

126 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
speaking in the temples. It was rumoured that the great
basilica of St. Paul's beyond the waUs was burnt 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 pave- :
ment a patchwork of ancient inscribed marbles, the pillars
of matchless Phrygian marble in the central, and of inferior
marble in the lateral aisles, for it was a 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 a cinder, through
ages of exposure, under a scanty thing, 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 beheved. 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 tiU the afternoon that either the heat of the
season or the occupations ofthe day permitted one to go far be
yond 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 organised body — were using aU theh
appliances to prevent the flames breaking out from the
smouldering ruins. There, among others, was the enthusi
astic Awocato Fea, almost frantic with grief. He was not
merely an antiquarian in sculptures and inscriptions, he was
deeply versed in ecclesiastical history, and loved most dearly
its monuments. St. Paul's was one of the most venerable
^nd most precious of these. The very abandonment of the
huge pile, standing in sohtary grandeur on the banks of

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 127
the Tyber, was one source of its value. While it had been
kept in perfect repair,' httle or nothing had been done to
modernise it and alter its primitive form and ornaments, ex
cepting the later addition of some modern chapels above the
transept ; it stood naked and almost rude, but unencumbered
with the lumpish and tasteless plaster, and encasement of the
old basilica in a modern Berninesque church, which had dis
figured the Lateran cathedral under the pretence of support
ing it. It remained genuine, though bare, as St. Apollinaris
in Classe at Ravenna, — the city, eminently, of unspotted
basilicas. No chapels, altars, or mural monuments softened
the severity of its outhnes ; only the series of papal portraits,
running round the upper line of the waUs, 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 the secondary rows of
piUars 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 bewttdered
cries of Fea was : " Save the triumphal arch!" He made
light now apparently of the rest. The term is apphed to the
great arch, which, supported on two massive pUlars, closes
the nave, or rather separates it from the transept and apse
beyond. Above this arch rises a wall, clothed in mosaic,
now happUy revived and perfected, of the Theodosian period.
The triumphal arch of St. Paul's stiU towered nobly among
the nuns, almost uhscathed, as did the Gothic ciborium or
marble canopy over the altar. On the face of the arch re
mained the majestic figure of our Lord in glory ; and round
it a metrical inscription, in which the Empress Galla Placida
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
hasilica. To preserve it just where it had stood for 1400
years would be almost to annul the effectg of the conflagra-

128 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
tion : it would make the new edifice a continuation of the old.
This was attended to. One of the first steps taken was
carefully to remove aU that remained of the ancient mosaic,
by the skilful hands of the Vatican workmen in that exqui
site art ; and one of the last was to restore it to its place
over the rebuUt 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 hngered 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, especiaUy delirium. On the foUowing
day, the Holy Pontiff expressed his deshe to receive the Via
ticum, and it was administered to him by Cardinal Bertaz-
zoli. Thus strengthened with the Bread of Angels, he awaited
calmly his end. On the nineteenth he received Extreme
Unction, and orders were sent to aU the churches to recite
in every Mass, the prayer " for the Pontiff at the point of
death." WhUe it was being said aU 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 pon
tificate 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 theh own imperial
character ; andright imperially were they received and treated.
Without disturbing 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 con-

PIUS THE SEVENTH. 129
trasted with the severity of pontifical dweUings. Among
the recoUections of the period, there rise, distinct and vivid,
the pubhc fetes given in honour of these iUustrious guests.
The King of Prussia visited Rome in 1822 in a more private
manner, and afforded us an opportunity of seeing the Nestor
1 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 theh abode : in 1819 he went to Na
ples, to recruit his health, and there died, while she remained
at home, sickened too and died. Neither ever learnt any
news, on this side of the grave, of the other's Ulness or death.
Charles Emanuel IV. of Savoy had also rethed to Rome,
old and blind. I can well remember seeing him kneeling be
fore the altar of Santa Maria Maggiore on Christmas Day,
feeble and supported by two attendants. This was on my
first Christmas in Rome : he died the foUowing year. Our
own banished Queen sought refuge there for a time ; 1 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 aUowed to have theh palaces, their estates, theh titles,
and theh position, not only unmolested, but fully recognised.
And no one surely hved more respected, or died more regretted,
than the Princess Lsetitia, the Emperor's honoured mother.
This is truly a noble prerogative of Rome, to be the neutral
territory on which the representatives of rival and even hos
tUe 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
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 re
marked : " They have prayed a long time for me as Princess of "^ales, and
I am no better for it ; perhaps now that they have given up praying for me,
I may improve." — MS. Journal. g

130 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
hope to see many men celebrated for theh genius or theh
industry, in every department of hterature 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 att these extraneous glories, which shed
an ennobling splendour round the old age and waning ponti
ficate of Pius VIL, 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 aU. One may doubt if
there be an instance in history, where the judgment of pos
terity is less hkely to reverse the verdict of contemporaries.

| mt \\t Stearin.
LEO THE TWELFTH.

1B®.X1

LEO THE TWELFTH.

CHAPTER I.
HIS ELECTION.

The interval between the close of one pontificate and the
commencement of another is a period of some excitement,
and necessarily of much anxiety. I remember being at
Paris when Louis XVIII. died, and Charles X. succeeded to
him. Chateaubriand pubhshed a pamphlet with the title,
" Le Roi est .mort, vive le Roi." There is no interregnum
in successive monarchy : and that title to a book consists of
words uttered by some marshal or herald, at the close of the
royal funeral, as he first points with his baton into the vault,
and then raises it into the air.
But in elective monarchy, and in the only one surviving
in Europe, there is of course a period of provisional arrange
ments, foreseen and pre-disposed. Time is required for the
electors to assemble, from distant provinces, or even foreign
countries ; and this is occupied in paying the last tribute of
respect and affection to the departed 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 to the mortal re
mains of the immortal Pius, the writer weU recoUects per
forming. These preliminaries occupy three days : during which
rises, as if by magic, or from the crypts below, an immense

134 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
catafalque, a colossal architectural structure, which fills the
nave of that basttiea, illustrated by inscriptions, and adorned
by statuary. Before this huge monument, for nine days,
funeral rites are performed, closed by a funeral oration. For
the body of the last Pope there is a uniform resting-place
in St. Peter's, — a plain sarcophagus, of marbled stucco,
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. This change takes
place late in the evening, and is considered private. I can
not recollect whether it was on this or on a subsequent oc
casion that I witnessed it, with my college companions.
In the afternoon of the last day of the novendiali, as
they are called, the cardinals assemble in a church near the
Quirinal palace, and walk thence in procession, accompanied
by theh conclavisti, a secretary, a chaplain, and a servant or
two, to the great gate of that royal residence, in which one
wttl remain as master and supreme lord. Of course the hUl
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 shortly be the sovereign of
their fah city, and, what is much more, the Head of the
Cathohc Church from the rising to the setting sun. Equal
they pass the threshold of that gate : they share together
the supreme rule, temporal and spiritual : there is still em
bosomed in them aU the voice yet silent, that soon wUl 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 wttl sit enthroned, and aU the rest wUl kiss his
feet ; one wUl be sovereign, the others his subjects ; one the
shepherd, and the others his flock.
This is a singular and a deeply interesting moment ; a

LEO THE TWELFTH. 135
scene not easUy 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 stiU retaining his brttliant gaze.
There is the courteous, yet intrepid, Pacca ; taU and erect,
with a bland look that covers a sterUng and high-principled
heart : there, with snow-white head, and less firm step than
his companion, is the truly venerable and saintly De
Gregorio, lately a prisoner for bisv fidehty: Galeffi, less
intellectual in features, but with a calm genial look that
makes him a general favourite : Opizzoni, already and tttl
lately Archbishop of Bologna, who had boldly asserted the
claims of papal, over those of imperial, authority, in a
manner that had gained him imprisonment ; beloved and
venerated by his flock, admired at Rome, dignified and ami
able in look. Many others were there whose names have not
remained inscribed so deeply in the annals of the time, or re
tained theh hold on the memory of its survivors. But ther,e
was one who no doubt entered as he came out, without a flutter
of anxiety, when he faced the gate on either side. This was
Odescalchi, young stUl, most noble in rank and in heart,
with saintliness marked in his countenance, and probably
meditating aheady his retreat from dignity and office, and
the exchange of the purple robe for the novice's black gown.
Many who preferred holiness to every other qualification,
looked on his modest features with hope, perhaps, 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, taU 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 one
holding not only a high rank, but an important office, and
1 1 Reg. xvi. 7.

136 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
necessarily active amidst the population of Rome. For he
was its Cardinal Vicar, exercising the functions of Ordinary.
Nevertheless, to most he was a stranger : the constant drain
of an exhausting complaint not only made him look blood
less, but confined him great part of the year 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 deUa Genga, whom a higher
election than that of man's wUl had destined to fill the Pon
tifical 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 was born at the family seat of
DeUa Genga, August the 20th, 1760. He received his early
education in a College at Osimo, from which he passed to
one estabhshed in Rome for natives of the province whose
name it bore, the Gollegio Piceno. Thence, having embraced
the ecclesiastical state, he entered the Academia Mcclesiastica,
an establishment already mentioned in the third chapter of
our first book. The celebrated Cardinal Gerdtt ordained
him priest, on the 4th of June, 1783.
Pope Pius VI., visiting the house, and struck with his
appearance, his manner, and the quickness of mind percept
ible in his conversation, shortly took him into his household.
In 1793, notwithstanding his youth and his strong remon
strances, he was consecrated Archbishop of Tyre, by Cardi
nal de York, in the cathedral of Frascati ; and sent as nun
cio to Lucerne, whence in the foUowing year he went to
succeed the Ulustrious Pacca, in the more important nuncia
ture of Cologne.
In 1805, he became the subject of a grave contest be
tween the Holy See and Napoleon. For the Pope named
him extraordinary envoy to the German Diet, and the Em
peror wished the Bishop of Orleans to be appointed. The
Pope prevailed, and ordered the return of Monsignor Della
Genga to Germany. He resided at Munich, and was there

LEO THE TWELFTH. 137
universally esteemed. In 1808, he was in Paris, engaged in
diplomatic affahs on behalf of his sovereign ; and, having
witnessed, on returning to Rome, the treatment which he
was receiving from his enemies, he rethed 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 chUdren, and the cultivation of music.
He was drawn from his obscurity at the restoration, and
deputed to present to Louis XVIII., at Paris, the Pope's
letter of congratulation. This circumstance led to differ
ences between him and Cardinal Consalvi, nobly repahed on
both sides, when the one had mounted the throne. But
DeUa Genga returned from his mission of courtesy, with a
health so shattered, 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 Rome, and discharged the duties of his office with
exemplary exactness, zeal, and prudence, till he occupied
that highest place of which he had been the deputy.1
WhUe we have been thus sketching, hastily and, imper
fectly, one of many who passed almost unnoticed in the solemn
procession to conclave,2 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 sub
sequently, held in the Quirinal palace. This noble building,
known equaUy by the name of Monte CavaUo, consists of a
1 These details of Leo XII.'s earlier life are condensed from the " His
toire du Pape Leon XII.," by the Chevalier Artaud de Montor. 2 vols.
2 English writers commit a common error by speaking of "the con
clave," as meaning the body ot cardinals assembled, on any occasion. The
word is only applied to them when "locked up together," for eleetion of the
Pope. When assembled by him, they compose '' a Consistory."

138 THE. LAST FOUR POPES.
large quadrangle, round which run the papal apartments.
From this stretches out, along a whole street, an immense
wing, its two upper floors divided into a great number of
small but complete suites of apartments, occupie d perma
nently, or occasionally, 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 examined,
and delivered to him in the shape of " broken victuals," by
the watchful guardians of the turns and lattices, through
which alone anything, even conversation, can penetrate into
the seclusion of that sacred retreat. Eor a few hours, the
first evening, 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 comphment to theh occu
pants, perhaps speaking the same good wishes to fifty, which
they know can be accomplished in only one. After that aU
is closed ; a wicket is left accessible for the entrance of any
cardinal who is not yet arrived; but every aperture is
jealously guarded by faithful janitors, judges and prelates of
various tribunals, who relieve one another. Every letter even
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, there are no private residences op
posite, 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 car
dinals, 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 -pon
dered reply from the presiding cardinal.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 139
In the mean time, within, and unseen from without, feroet
opus. That human feelings, and even human passions, may
find theh 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 wttl indeed be, at all times, diversities of opinion on
matters of ecclesiastical and civU polity. Eor, in the former,
there wttl be some who conscientiously deshe things to be
ruled with a strong hand, and corrected by severe measures,
whUe others will be in favour of a more gentle pressure, and a
gradual reform. Some wUl be inclined to yield more to the
- demands of the temporal power, and so prevent violent col-
Usions ; others will think it safer to resist every smaller en
croachment that may lead to greater usurpations. It may
even happen that a pohtico-ecclesiastical cause of division
exists. These may consider Austria as the truest friend of
reUgion, 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 elec
tion is of a prince as well as of a pontiff, and that serious
diversities of opinion may be held, relative to the civU 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 de
shes, opinions widely different ; and when choice must be
made of one who has to work out his own principles, it is
most natural that each elector wiU deshe them to be in har
mony 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 individuals, more energetic or
more ardent than others, should become the representatives
and leaders of aU consentient with them, and so come to be
reputed heads of parties, or even theh creators.

140 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
Such divisions in opinion wttl be more deeply marked,
and more inevitably adopted, after violent agitations and
great changes, such as had distinguished the pontificate of
Pius. The Church and the State had needed almost to be re
organised, after such devastation as had completely swept
away the ancient landmarks. New kingdoms had arisen
which Uterally effaced the outlines of old ecclesiastical juris
diction ; and even what before had been a CathoUc state had
come under Protestant dominion. Conventual life and pro
perty 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 ecclesias
tical jurisprudence ; the authority of bishops had been de
prived 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 conscien
tiously believe that prudence and charity had guided every
portion of the late policy, and wish it to be continued under
the same guidance. Without exaggeration, 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 wttl appear like a compromise. The extreme views
on either side must be softened; the intermediate party
will do this. Two-thirds of the votes are requhed for a
valid election. If this proportion could be commanded bv

LEO THE TWELFTH. 141
one section, it would cease to be a party, and, therefore,
where different opinions divide the body, a moderate view,
more or less coneihatory, wUi prevaU after a time ; and the
choice wiU probably faU on one who has lost the confidence
of none, but who has not taken a prominent part in public
affahs. 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 describe 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 contained within the palace, and there, on tickets so
arranged that the voter's name cannot be seen, write the
name of him for whom they give theh suffrage. These pa
pers 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 usuaUy assembled in the square
outside. Some day, instead of this usual signal to disperse,
the sound of pick and hammer is heard, and a small opening
is seen in the wall 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 oc
casion of which we treat, the announcement ran as foUows : —
" I give you tidings of great joy ; we have as Pope the
most eminent and reverend Lord, Hannibal Cardinal of the
Holy Roman Church Della Genga, Priest of the title of St.
Mary's beyond the Tiber, who has assumed the name of
Leo XII." i
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 previous Christian name. Thus Leo XII. would continue to sign

142 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
The news flew like electricity through the city, almost as
quickly as the cannon's roar proclaimed it. This was on
the 28th of September, after a short conclave of twenty-five
days. #
On the 5th of October the imposing ceremony of Leo's
coronation took place. Eor the first time I then witnessed
pontifical High Mass in St. Peter's. All was new : the cere
mony, 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 al
ready 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 in his private
oratory holy orders from his hands, as I had not enjoyed
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 be passed
once only in each pontificate. As the procession was slowly
advancing towards the high altar of the Vatican basUica, 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 budding on
earth, there stood around a circle of officers, nobles, princes,
and ambassadors in their dazzhng costumes ; and within them
the highest dignitaries of religion on earth, bishops and
patriarchs of the western and of the eastern Church ; with
the sacred coUege in their embroidered robes, crowned by
heads which an artist might have rejoiced to study, and
which claimed reverence from every beholder. But above
them, on his throne, was he whom they had raised there, in
spite of tears and remonstrances. Surely, if a hfe of severe
discipline, of constant suffering, and of long seclusion had
himself as "Hannibal," and the present Pope signs "John "at the foot
of the most important ecclesiastical documents. The form is, " Placet
Joannes."

LEO THE TWELFTH. 143
not sufficed to extinguish ambition in his breast, his present
position was calculated 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 meek
ness. 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
faU at the Pontiff's feet, as the chaplain, in a bold sonoroxis
voice, chaunts aloud : " Pater Sancte, sic transit gloria
mundi." "Holy Father, thus passeth away the world's
glory!" Three times is this impressive rite performed in
that procession, as though to counteract the earthly influ
ences 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 ; Uke 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, aUowed no suspicion of an inward feeling that
requhed the warning. It seemed in most perfect harmony
with his inmost thoughts.

144 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER n.
CHARACTER, AND POLICY OF LEO THE TWELFTH.
Yeaes of suffering, by lowering Ulness, had robbed the
Pope, already in his sixty-fourth year, of many graces which
adorned his earher hfe. 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 aU.
There was a softness and yet a penetration in the first, which
gained at sight affection and excited awe : which mvited
you to speak familiarly, yet checked any impulse to become
unguarded. And his voice was courteously bland and win
ning ; he spoke without 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 " swept over the crowd, as the pro
cession 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 at least was the
impression which actual experience in that moment sug
gested. But besides these pleasing characteristics, there was an
other, which 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
smaU ; he stood conspicuous among his attendants ; and he

LEO THE TWELFTH. 145
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 function to which
I have aUuded, that displayed these two gifts, differing im
measurably as they do in quality, but most admhably har
monising when combined. The first of these acts was the
communion at that his first pontifical celebration, and the
first ever witnessed by many. It is not easy to describe to
one who has never witnessed it, this touching and overawing
ceremonial. The person who has once seen it with attention
and inteUigence needs no description, he can never forget it.
In St. Peter's, as in att 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 ch6ir 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. Ample and lofty, it is 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 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 peerless 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
10

146 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 att his attendants, has re
thed to his throne ; and the altar stands in its noble sim
plicity, apparently abandoned by its dignified servants. And
yet it is still the object of aU reverence. There is something
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 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, turn
ing from side to side, the jewelled chalice ; and descending
the steps of the altar, slowly and solemnly bears it, raised on
high, along the space between altar and throne. A crash is
heard of swords lowered to the ground, and theh scabbards
ringing on the marble pavement, as the guards faU 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 connected with this part of
the function, that gave it, in the eyes of many, a special in
terest. 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 princi
ples, were keenly ahve to this singular coincidence. It was
sufficiently known that the two had not agreed on important
matters ; it was confidently reported that Consalvi had op
posed the election of Leo ; it had been said, that before then,

LEO THE TWELFTH. 147
at the Restoration in France, sharp words had been ad
dressed 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 recon
ciliation. 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 diplo
matic chcle — that keen eyes and observant minds were bent
upon the Pontiff and his deacon, to trace some, even casual,
look of exultation, or of humttiation, in theh respective
countenances ; but in vain. Even if they would have " suf
fered 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 subhme
action of that moment with any such profane thoughts,
memory faithfully represents its picture. Calm, dignified,
and devout, abstracted from the cares of public life, forget
ful of the world in which he had moved, and utterly uncon
scious of the gazing thousands of eyes around him, advanced
the aged minister, now the simple deacon, with steady un
faltering step and graceful movement. The man whom
kings and emperors had honoured with friendship; from
esteem for whom the haughty and selfish George of England
had broken through all the bonds of premunire and penal
statutes, and the vile etiquettes of 300 years, by writing to
him ; who had glided amidst the crowds of courts unflurried
and admired ; now shorn of power and highest office, is just
as much at home in his dalmatic at the altar, and moves along

148 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
unembarrassed in his clerical ministry, with countenance and
gait as becoming his plaee as though he had never occupied
another. Many a one who had thought that Consalvi's na
tural post was the congress-hall of Vienna, or the banquet-
room of Carlton House, would see in that hour that the sanc
tuary of St. Peter's was as completely his home. He looked,
he moved, he hved that day, as those who loved him could
have wished ; just as one would himself deshe to do on the
last day of his pubhc religious appearance.
But the Pope himself, as he first rose, and then knelt at
the Deacon's approach, must have defied the sharpest eye
that sought in his a gleam of human feeUng. Deep and aU-
absorbing devotion imparted a glow to his pale features ; and,
however his person might be surrounded by civU 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 first Cardinal Deacon, the
aged Albani. He then stood up to give his first solemn bene
diction 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, nothing 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 Cathohc there — and there were few
else — received it as the first exercise, in his favour, of vicarial
power from Him whose hands alone essentially contain " be
nediction and glory, honour and power."

LEO THE TWELFTH. 149
The promises of the new reign were bright and spring-like.
If the Pope had not taken any part in pubhc affairs, if his
health had kept him even out of sight, during previous years,
he now displayed an intelligence, and an activity, whieh 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 assatted him with increased fury,
and threatened to cut short at once aU his hopeful beginnings.
Early in December he was so ill as to suspend audiences ; be
fore the end he was considered past recovery. In the course
of January, 1824, he began to raUy, against aU hope. On
the 26th of that month, I find the following entry in the jour
nal before me : — " I had my first audience of Leo XII. He
was UI in bed, as pale as a corpse, and much thinner than last
year, but cheerful and conversable  I said, ' I am
a foreigner, who came here at the caU of Pius VIL, six years
ago; .... my first patrons, Pius VIL, 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 country.' He said he
would," Ac.
AU Rome 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 Mon
signor Strambi, ofthe Congregation ofthe Passion. He came
immediately, saw the Pope, assured him of his recovery, as
he had offered up to Heaven his own valueless hfe in ex
change for one so precious. 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 December, and the
Pontiff rose, hke one from the grave.
As he recovered, his character and his policy graduaUy
developed themselves. In the first a great simplicity, in the
second an active spirit of reform, were manifested. Of the
fhst quahty, as exhibited in his personal habits,, there wiU be

150 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
a better opportunity to say a few words. But it showed it
self in other ways. His reign, even taking into account its
brief duration, will appear less distinguished than those of
his predecessors, or successors, from the want of great pubhc
works. This, however, is at least partly due to the quahty
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 smtte, or to snarl, as his temper may
lead, at what he considers a pompous inscription on a trum
pery 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 advan
tages. How do we trace out the history of an ancient edifice so
well as by the inscriptions 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 recover its form
and architecture so accurately, as from a medal on which it
has been represented, by the Emperor, or family, that built,
or repahed, or embellished it ? How, again, should we trace
out the dark history of mediaeval monuments, their destruc
tion by time or by fire, without the rude verses and cramped
tablets that run along them, or hang upon them ? And in
deed 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 transmit " ser
mons in stone ;" 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 simUar advantages
for remote posterity. The style, too, of such inscriptions
follows the variations of taste, as decidedly as do the monu
ments on which they are carved. They are, in fact, them
selves artistic monuments. It saves, moreover, much trouble
to the visitor of a great city to see at once, written in large

\

LEO THE TWELFTH. 151
capitals upon the front of each lofty budding, its name, age,
founder, and use. He cannot mistake an hospital for the
war ofiice, 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 frag
ments of plaster might disclose the whereabouts of a dis
senting chapel ; and a queer old tablet might teU of some
humble almshouses, 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 Ring."
But, whether the practice be good or bad, Leo XII.
certainly did not adopt it. It was generaUy understood that
he would not aUow his name to be placed on any of his
works. It was even said that, having visited some machinery
on the roof of St. Peter's for raising water thither, and being
shown by Galeffi, the Cardinal archpriest of the church, an
inscription recording that it was done in his pontificate, he
deshed 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 un
tiring patience required to accomphsh. One of these vast
enterprises was the rebuttding of the great Ostian basilica,
consumed by fire in the last days of his predecessor. It was
soon discovered that no single portion ofthe 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 wUderness. But the Holy Father took a more

152 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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,nn golden mosaic, of his holy patron, St. Leo the Great.
He appealed, indeed, to the charity of the faithful through
out the world, and he was generously answered. But tbe
sums thus collected scarcely sufficed for prettminary ex
penses : l those who, like myself, can remember the endless
shoring up and supporting of every part of the fire-eafen
walls, and the magnificent scaffolding that for strength
would have borne an army, and for ease and security of ac
cess 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 dis
lodging huge masses from Alpine quarries — the blocks of
granite which were to form the monolith shafts of the giant .
columns for the nave and aisles in all four rows, besides the1
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 that were made form but a very secondary
item in the budget of its execution.
Another great and useful work, not fuUy completed tUl 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 admhe it, not in
tranquil course, but as broken and dashed to pieces in suc
cessive waterfalls, used to gain its celebrity at the expense
of the comfort and prosperity of the town through which it
rushed. The "prceeeps Anio " often forgot its propriety,
and refused to do as Thames was bid, " always keep between
1 Fr. 1,600,000.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 153
its banks." As it pushed headlong toward the spot where
the traveller expected it, in the Sibyl's cave, botting and
torturing itself with deafening roar, it would at times swell
and burst its bounds, sweeping away the houses that bordered
it, with road, watt, and bridge, not only hurling them below,
but bearing them into a huge chasm, in which it buried it
self under-ground. In the mean time, above the deep cold
deU into which you dive to see these mysteries of Anio's
urn, towers, like a pinnacle projected on the deep blue sky,
the graceful temple of the Sibyl ; raised high on a pedestal of
sharply cut rock, and seated as on a throne of velvet verdure ;
— that most exquisite specimen of art crowning nature, in
perfect harmony of beauties. One of those traitorous out
breaks of the classical stream occurred in November, 1826.
It was more than usuaUy destructive ; and the ravages com
mitted, and the damage inflicted, on the neighbouring in
habitants were beyond the reach of local resources. The
Pope gave immediate orders for effectual repahs, on such a
seale as would give security against future recurrence of the
calamity, A great deal was done ; and, in the October of
the foUowing year, he went, according to his practice, with
out giving notice, to inspect the progress of his works. It
may well be imagined what dehght this unexpected visit
caused to the inhabitants of that poor, though industrious
and beautiful, city. They crowded around him, and accom
panied 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 tun
nel through the hard travertine rock ; and diverting the
main stream before it reaches the town. These cunicoli, as
they are caUed, form one of the grandest works of Gregory
the Sixteenth's pontificate. They are worthy of Imperial
Rome, 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 ;

154 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
for they pour theh stream in one sheet into the vaUey be
yond; and when time shaU have clothed its border with
shrubs, and its stones with moss, it wiU not be easy to dis
cern in the work the hand of man, unless a wett-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 to art.
The library, the museum, excavations, and public monu
ments, were as studiously attended to, and as steadily im
proved or carried on, as at any other time ; so that his pon
tificate was by no means a stagnant one ; though records of
its works may be sought in vain. Proofs of this will not be
wanting as we proceed.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 155

CHAPTER III.
CONTINUATION.
The policy of the Pope manifested an active spirit of re
form. This pervaded every part of his public government,
from general administration to minute details. He placed
the finances of the state under rigid administration, and
brought them into such a condition, that he was early able
to diminish taxation to no inconsiderable degree. Immedi
ately after his coronation, he abolished several imposts ; in
March 1824, and January 1825, still further reductions were
made in taxes which pressed unequaUy on particular classes.
If I remember right, some of these abolitions affected ma-
teriaUy 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 JubUee. But so far from these having dis
turbed the equilibrium of the financial system, the Pope
found himself able, at its close, that is, on January 1, 1826,
to reduce the property-tax 25 per cent, throughout his do
minions. As it was the heaviest and principal of aU 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 Congress of Vienna, upon the famUy of
Beauharnais. AU this land, which had belonged to rehgious

156 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
corporations, including many large and noble monastic edi
fices, in several fertile provinces of the north, had been given
as a dotation to Prince Eugene, with remainder to his famUy.
The inconveniences and evils resulting from this most arbi
trary arrangement were numerous and manifest. Not only
was a gigantic system of absenteeism 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 created over a very sus
ceptible population, by means of the widely-scattered pa
tronage 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
coUectors, clerks, overseers, land-surveyors, and higher
officers ; and in almost every village was a branch of this
Uttle emphe, for managing the farms, and even smaller hold
ings, of former communities. Many of the employed were,
moreover, foreigners, whose religion was in declared antipa
thy to that of the natives, and whose morals neither edified
nor improved the population.
To get rid of such an unnatural and anomalous state of
things could not but be deshable 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, inalienable except 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 resources, which were overwhelming,
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 estates, it had to be managed by a cumbrous and
complicated administration, scattered over a broad terri
tory; 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

LEO THE TWELFTH. 157
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 mo
ment of Gregory's accession, soon absorbed the contents of
the treasury, and threw into confusion the finance of the
country for many years.
StiU, at a later period (1845), he was able to accomphsh
this work. Under the papal sanction a company was formed
at Rome, in which the highest nobihty took shares and di
rection, 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 easUy 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.
Besides improving so materiaUy the financial state of his
dominions, the Pope turned his attention to many other
points of government. Soon after his accession he pubhshed
a new code, or digest of law. This was effected by the Motu
proprio of October 5, 1824, the first anniversary of his coron
ation. It is entitled Reformatio Tribunalium ; and begins
by mentioning that Pius VII. had, in 1816, appointed a
commission, composed of able advocates, to reform the mode
of procedure ; and that, on his own accession, 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 approved by
them. 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 pubhc revenues, neces
sary to secure " cheap justice " to his subjects.
Education, in its highest branches, was another object of
his solicitude. The Papal States contained several univer
sities, besides other places of education which partook of
the nature and possessed the privUeges of such institutions.

158 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
By the Bull " Quod Divina Sapientia," published August
28, 1824, Leo reorganised the entire university system. The
universities of Rome and Bologna composed the first class.
Ferrara, Perugia, Camerino, Macerata, and Eermo had uni
versities of an inferior grade. Those of the first class had
each thirty-eight, those of the second seventeen, chahs.
To take Rome as the example of the first class ; it was
composed of theological, medical, legal, and philosophical
faculties, or coUeges, 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 him
self for examination and receive degrees in this faculty. And
so in the phUological department, degrees could be taken in
all the languages of which chahs exist there ;— that is, in
Greek, Hebrew, Syro-Chaldaic, and Arabic. The members
of the faculties were not merely professors of the university,
but men eminent in the pursuits which they represented, in
other institutions of the city, or even in private hfe.
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 approving, correcting, or rejecting, changes suggested by
the different faculties ; of filling up vacancies in chahs ; and
watching over the disciphne, 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 chahs, or other preferment, at a
distance. Among his former auditors, within the compass
of two years, the writer can now reckon a Patriarch of Je
rusalem, a Bishop, a Vicar-General of a distinguished See,
four professors in universities, and one at least in a great

LEO THE TWELFTH. 159
pubhc institution. These he has come across or heard of
since ; others, from their sterling quaUties, 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 pro
fessorships possessed, from a long period, by rehgious orders,
all the chairs were thrown open to public competition.1 On
a 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 pubhshed such a work on the matter of the
class, as might well stand in the place of a mere examination
paper, and such as proved the author's competency for the
professorship to which he aspired.2 And, in addition to this,
the Pope made the emoluments of the chairs better objects
of ambition, by considerably increasing them. Indeed, he
was most generous in providing means for the higher educa
tion 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 endowed classes
under the superintendence of the latter at the old German
College ; where education begins almost with its very rudi
ments and reaches the highest point of ecclesiastical erudition.
It wttl not be uninteresting to add, that Leo XII. ordered
the works of Gahleo, and others of a similar character, to be
removed 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 adjustment of the parishes of Rome. There, as else
where, great inequalities existed in the labour, and in the
remuneration, of parish priests. The richer quarters of the
1 " Professores in posterum deligantur per concursum.'' Tit. v. No. 53.
2 Tit. v. No. 70.

160 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
city, of course, were comparatively more lucrative than where
all was misery ; and yet the calls of charity were most urgent
in the latter. 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 re
tained thhty-four. To these he added nine, making the
total number forty-three.1 He moreover equahsed theh re
venues ; 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 maintenance secured to a rector
of a Roman parish would be treated as a sorry provision for
a London curate.
There was an anecdote current at Rome, when this new
circumscription was going on. The Pope, in his plans, in
tended the Chiesa Nuova to be a parish church. This be
longs to the Fathers of the Oratory, founded, as aU 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 smaU communities of branches from
them which seemed dying out, and in which it was difficult
to maintain full monastic observance. These he took mea
sures gradually to suppress, by allowing the actual members
to incorporate themselves with similar or cognate establish
ments ; or, by receiving no more novices, gradually to be
' Bull " Super Universum," Nov. 1, 1824.

'.bMulkJtii

LEO THE TWELFTH. 161
dissolved. Such a measure had of course its disapprovers ;
but certainly it was undertaken in a sincere spirit of enforc
ing, to the utmost, rehgious observance.
It may interest many readers but httle to learn the full
extent which the reforming spirit of this Pontiff contemplated.
Yet even those who affect indifference to whatever concerns
Rome and its sovereign bishops, will not refuse evidence
which proves, in one of them, the sincere and efficacious de
she to amend abuses, even in matters apparently trifling.
Some cf these reforms, certainly, were not inspired by
any desire of popularity. They were decidedly unpopular,
both with strangers and 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 used to be Ughted up by one marvellous
cross of hght, suspended from the dome. This artificial me
teor flung a radiance on the altar, where aU other lights were
extinguished, and even round the tomb of the Apostles,
where, on one evening, certain rites are performed ; it illu
minated brightly the balcony under the cupola, from which
venerable rehes are exhibited ; and it sent a flood of light
along every open space, tipping every salient point and coigne
with radiance, and leaving sharp-cut shadows beyond. It
was such an effect of chiaro-oscuro — the most brilliant chiaro
and the densest oscuro — as every artist loved to contemplate.
But it was over-beautiful : it attracted multitudes who went \
only 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 wrondrous
light, studying 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 att intended to be most solemn. It made one sore
and irritable to witness such conduct ; nay ashamed of one's
11

162 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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.
Unhapptty for generations to come, it was considered
impossible to check this disorder, except by removing its cause.
The illuminated cross, which was made of highly burnished cop
per plates studded with lamps, disappeared, at the beginning of
Leo's reign, by his orders ; and, except when once renewed
as a profane spectacle 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 in
troduced, for the special accommodation of foreign ladies, who
could thence foUow 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 drinking, 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 per
verse mahce.
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 im
proper times, and assist in repressing any unbecoming con
duct. Modesty of dress was also inculcated, and enforced
in church. These were not popular measures, and they 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 popu
lar, like the luminous cross, went another measure, in excit
ing angry feelings among the people. Though, compared
with other nations, the Italians cannot be considered as un-
eober, and the lightness of theh ordinary wines does not so

LEO THE TWELFTH. 163
easUy 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 theh drink.
There, time is lost, and evtt conversation exchanged ; there
stupid discussions are raised, whence spring noisy brawls.
the jar of which kindles fierce passions and sometimes deadly
hate. OccasionaUy 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
evUs to which the drink-shop, whatever it may sell, every
where 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 par
tition, through whieh wine could be handed out, and money
taken in ; but there was no convenience allowed for sitting,
and but httle for standing. This, it was hoped, would have
induced men to take their refreshment home, and share it
with theh families. And so no doubt many did ; while an
end was put to drinking bouts, and the incentive of convers
ation to continue them ; as weU as to much strife and pas
sion. It threw a portion of the crowd outside, instead of
theh being sheltered within ; and created gatherings round
the shop-door ; but a sultry sun, or a sharp shower, or a cold
winter's night, easUy 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 witt show how little he valued the plea
sant breeze of popular favour, in doing his duty. Some

164 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
other actions of his witt show how this sternness, in reme
dying or preventing the vices of the poor, was accompanied
by kindness and charity. Soon after his accession, he had
one evening finished his audiences, when he asked one of his
domestic prelates, who hved 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 accom
panied by his noble attendant, drove to the School of the
Deaf and Dumb, where an examination was being held.
Such an event had never been before known, and we may
imagine the delight and gratitude of pupils and teachers at
this most unexpected surprise. He attended to the examin
ations, 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 inspect great improvements which he
introduced into them, but to converse with their unfortunate
inmates, and retteve 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 were unexpectedly visited, and theh inmates con
soled by the benign presence and soothing words of theh
holy Pontiff.
Anxious, however, to provide for the just and efficient
administration of charitable funds, many of which were mis
spent on worthless objects or wasted in the driblets of se
parate distributions, he appointed a Commission of high
ecclesiastics and irreproachable laymen, to consolidate all the
alms-funds of Rome, and see to theh 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

LEO THE TWELFTH. 165
and a " lady of charity," from among the parishioners. No
thing 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 en
closure from having no external church. The clergy of the
English and Scotch colleges often ministered to their sphitual
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 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 beU informed the community, who
could not see into the street, that aU this hubbub was on their
account. " What is the matter ? Who wants anything at
this hour?" asked the aroused portress. " 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 con
versing with them, departed, leaving them full of consolation.
There was an exceUent and ample convent then unoccu
pied, near the beautiful fountain famUiar to traveUers by the
name of the Tartarughe, that is, Tortoises. It had every
requisite 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 ladies of the Roman 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

166 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
new home, whither their furniture had been removed. It
was amusing to hear the nuns describe that day ; — their be
wilderment in going through the streets after years of seclu
sion ; their bedazzlement and awe in the Vatican, and its
church, which they visited ; their delight at finding them
selves in so spacious and convenient a house ; theh relief
after a day harassing and toilsome to them, when theh kind
visitors had all left, and they closed their doors for ever to
the outer world ; then, lastly, their dismay at finding them
selves 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 she
willingly shared with her famishing companions.
In this way did Pope Leo love to do good. 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 weU to throw to
gether a few more actions, which are connected with its sub
ject, at least remotely, and which could not, perhaps, be so
well introduced 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 coUection of.
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 re
ligious 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 con
versed 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. 167
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 Agin-
court. Eor the compilation of this book, he had naturally
collected most valuable and expensive works on every depart
ment of art. At his death, this collection was for sale. It
was purchased by the Pope, and given to the Vatican hbrary.
Besides this, he added many thousands of volumes to its rich
stores, so that new rooms had to be incorporated in its im
mense range. The classical department particularly was in- -
creased. It was during this pontificate also that the germ of the
now splendid Etruscan museum was formed ; for the excava
tions and study of the cities of tombs, which still remain on
the borders of Tuscany, belonging to the old Etruscan towns,
were peculiarly carried oh under this Pope.
He showed himself, indeed, quite as great a patron of art
as any of his predecessors ; but he was most anxious that
morahty should not be compromised by it. A group of
statues in the new gaUery erected by his predecessor disap
peared after his first visit, as did gradually other pieces of
ancient sculpture offensive to Christian modesty. When a
magnificent collection of engravings representing Canova's
works had been prepared, he purchased the plates at an im
mense cost, I beUeve 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 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.
And in conclusion, as illustrative of his good nature and
kindness, I wttl mention a singular visit which he one day
unexpectedly receited. 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

168 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 sove
reign 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 stahcase of the palace is a sentinel, and
in the great royal hall is a small guard in attendance. This
would be the difficult pass ; for the next room is the fhst of
the pontifical apartments, occupied only 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 dis
covered, into the penetraha of the palace. She had of course
been 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
presumption had never before been known ; there was a mys
tery 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 societies were then becom
ing 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 ad
venturous lady to be admitted at once. He gave her a long
audience, treating her with his usual kindness. She was an
American woman, who had been seized with a strong charit
able deshe to convert the Pope from what she considered

LEO THE TWELFTH. 169
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. Eor 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 Pro
testant in conversation 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 mnst naturally expect 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 Shrews
bury, with whom many will remember it.

170 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER IV.
THE JUBILEE.

The great event of this pontificate undoubtedly was the
JubUee of 1825. The first historical celebration of tbis
festival was in 1300 ; though it was then said that a vague
tradition recorded a similar observance, of the first year in
the preceding century. It seems as if a. spontaneous rush
of pilgrims to Rome took place at the beginning 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 centenary 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 proclaimed 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 Ascen
sion Day of the preceding year, the Pope promulgates the
Holy Year, or JubUee. On Christmas Eve, he proceeds in
state to the great portico of the Vatican basilica ; which,
though only a vestibule, must needs be of great dimensions,
to afford a place for such ceremonials, and the thousands
who flock to witness 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 hps of pUgrims. On in
quiry, 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 Jubilee is this gate unclosed ; and it is for the pur-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 171
pose of opening it, as symbolical of the commencement of
the JubUee, 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 pUgrims from
Southern Italy, eagerly wait in the portico and on the steps
without. After preliminary prayers from Scripture singularly
apt, the Pope goes down from his throne, and, armed with
a sUver hammer, strikes the wall in the 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
Sanpietrini.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. WeU does the ceremonial of that day
remain impressed on my memory ; and one httle incident is
coupled with it. Among the earliest to pass, with every
sign of reverence and devotion, through the holy gate, I re
member seeing, with emotion, the first clergyman who in
our times had abandoned dignity and ease as the price of his
conversion. He was surrounded, or followed, by his family
in this pttgrim's act, as he had been followed by them in his
"pUgrimage of grace." Such a person was rare in those
days, and indeed singular : we httle thought how our eyes
might become accustomed, one day, to the sight of many
Uke him.
Some reader may perhaps ask, in what, after all, consists
the Jubilee ? what are its duties, and what its occupations ?
A Catholic easily understands it. It is a year in which the
Holy See does aU it can to make Rome spirituaUy attractive,
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 are quite remarkable.

172 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
and spiritually only. The theatres are closed ; pubhc amuse
ments suspended; even private 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 conscience or instructing ignorance ; the con
fessionals 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 att, the sphitual remis
sion of temporal punishment for sin, known familiarly to
Catholics under the name of an Indulgence, is more copiously
imparted, on conditions by no means over easy. Rome,
during that year, becomes the attracting centre of Catholic
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 Heaven and to the Holy See for the
blessings which they feel they have received, and the edify
ing scenes in whieh they have been aUowed to partake.
However, before endeavouring to recall to memory a few
of these, it may be well to describe 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 effectually 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 Rome of political consphators
and members of secret societies ; who, under the cloak of
the pilgrim's scalloped cape, might meet in safety to plot
destruction. The Treasurer 'was terrified at the inroad which
extra expenses would make into his budget, and protested
against financial embarrassments that he foresaw would en-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 173
sue. Yes, reader ! marvel not ; you who have possibly been
taught that a Jubilee is one of the happiest devices of Ro
man astuteness for fining an exhausted exchequer ; a sort of
wholesale barter for temporal goods, of those sphitual goods,
which are usually dealt in retail only ! If such has been the
doctrine taught you, and believed by you, may you, if no
thing else wttl undeceive you, live tiU next Jubilee, and have
heart to visit it, and satisfy yourself with your own eyes,
whether Rome be 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
shaU see.
From abroad, innumerable difficulties were raised. Na
ples was naturally the power most interested in the coming
, festival, both from proximity of place, from traditional feel
ings, and from the easy propensity of its population to
abandon home, either in quest of labour or for pilgrim pur
poses. Its minister was instructed to raise every difficulty,
and even to engage the representatives of foreign powers in
active opposition. Austria, still under the influence of Jo
sephine ideas, was at the best cold : and the German Pro
testant powers declared open hostility. Yet in the face of
att these obstacles, Leo's only answer was, " Nevertheless
the JubUee shall be !" And it was.
On Ascension Day he issued the Bull of preparation,
clear, bold, and cheering, as a silver clarion's note. Seldom
has a document proceeded even from the Holy See more
noble and stately, more tender and paternal. Its language,
pure, elegant, and finely rounded, flows with all the great
ness of Roman eloquence ; yet in tone, in Ulustration, and
in pathos, it is thoroughly Christian, and eminently ecclesi
astical. It speaks — as only a Pope could speak, with a con
sciousness of power that cannot fail, and of authority that
cannot stray. Its teaching is that of a master, its instruc
tion 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

174 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
way of faithful pUgrims, but to protect and favour them,
and the people readUy to accept his fatherly invitation, and
hasten in crowds to the banquet of grace spread before them,
Then, after having warmly exhorted those who, in addition,
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 affec
tionate forgiveness he invites them to approach him and ac
cept him as their father too ; and his words bring back the
noble gesture with which he threw open his arms, when he
gave his first pubUc benediction, and seemed to open a way
to his heart for aU mankind, and then press them to itin a
tender embrace.
Erom the moment this decisive document was issued,
some preparations were begun, and others were more actively
pursued. The first class of these prehminaries were of a religious
character. Missioni, or courses of stirring sermons, calling
on sinners to turn from theh evU courses, were preached,
not merely in churches but in pubhc squares — for the
churches did not suffice — so to cleanse the city from sin,
and 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, and be audible ; fortunately these were to be found;
in contact with a heart full of goodness and piety, in the
breast ofthe 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.
But to return ; the Pope took many by surprise, when
they saw him, opposite, Ustening, from the apartments of

LEO THE TWELFTH. 175
the Russian embassy in the Pamphili palace, to the Canon's
closing sermon. Thence he descended, accompanied by his
heterodox host and admher, the Che v. Italinski, to a throne
erected for him in the open ah.
In addition to this spiritual preparation, material im
provements were not forgotten. A visitation of churches,
oratories, and all religious institutions had been begun, in
virtue of which aU 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, basi-
Ucas. But more serious still were the preparations necessary
to lodge and feed the crowds of pilgrims 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 theh poor countrymen,
as he took upon himself this duty of hospitality. He ob
served 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 for the charitable
entertainment of pilgrims. Hence it is called La Trinita
dei pellegrini. It is divided into two sides, one for men and
the other for women. The ground floor is laid out in im
mense refectories, above which are dormitories equaUy vast.
During the Holy Week there is a certain amount of activity
in the house ; as a considerable number of pilgrims then ar
rive, perhaps half a refectory, and half a dormitory, may be
occupied. During the rest of the year, the establishment
sends a huge carriage, now rather modernised, to the hos
pitals, to bring away aU discharged . patients ; to whom,
under the title of convalescents, it gives three days' hospi
tality, and, often, leisure to look out for some occupation.
The revenues of the house, the fruit of charity, are toler-
¦ably abundant ; and it used to be said that, in the interval
between two jubttees, they were employed, the first half of

176 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
the time in paying off the liabihties 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 Novem
ber, our confraternity of the Holy Trinity, to which many
Enghsh belong, lodged and fed for three days ,23,090 men
and 15,754 women, in aU 38,844 persons ; besides 350 mem
bers of branch confraternities.- From this some idea may
be formed of the scale on which hospitahty was exercised
during the entire year.
The order observed was the foUowing. The pUgrim, on
his arrival at the house, had his papers of pilgrimage ex
amined, and received his ticket of hospitality. In the even.
ing the new comers were brought into a haU 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 theh part of the house,
washed theh feet, way-worn and sore by days or weeks of
travel ; and the ointment of the apothecary, or the skiU
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 pUgrims joined the long procession
to supper. A bench along the watt, and a table before it,
railed off to prevent the pressure of curious multitudes, were
simple arrangements 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
refectory communicated with a roomy 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 noble
man, in the red coarse gown and badge of the brotherhood,.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 177
with a white apron over it, armed with a ladle, dispensed the
steaming fluid into plates held ready ; and a string of brothers,
at arm's length from one another aU round the refectory,
handing forward the plates with the alacrity of bricklayers'
labourers, soon furnished each hungry expectant with his
reeking portion. Two additional rations were served out in
the same manner. The guests fell to with hearty good wttl,
and generaUy 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 not hired, but aU
brethren of the confraternity; sometimes a royal prince,
generaUy some cardinals, always bishops, prelates, noblemen,
priests, gentry, and artificers. Then, occasionally, a sudden
commotion, a wavy movement through the crowd, would
reach from the outer door along the passage to the lavatory,
just as prayers were beginning. AU understood what it
meant. The Holy Father was coming without notice. In
deed none was requhed ; 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 num
ber, he was naturaUy placed first ; and he would probably
feel more sensitively than a duU uneducated peasant, the hon
our, not unmixed 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 coming 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 Rome as visitors, without
any indelicate recognition. It was whispered that one cou
ple, a German and his wife, were of even higher blood. In-
12

178 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
deed, I remember one used often to remark, that the elegant
language, the polished manners, and the half-easy, half-em
barrassed ah of some pUgrims, bespoke a different class from
that of the general run. But one thing was very noticeable od
this as on other occasions — the naturalness, and absence ol
embarrassment (so weU expressed in Italian by disinvoltura),
with which these poor people received the attentions of per
sons whom they knew to be of such superior station, civU 01
ecclesiastical. WhUe they aUowed all menial services to be
performed for them, without' awkward 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 theh being ren
dered. They manifestly understood, 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 mor
row'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 the deep recesses of the dormitory above, yet seeming to "
be born again and grow at the beginning of the line still un-
emerged from the supper hall.
During the day, the pUgrims were conducted in bands
from sanctuary to sanctuary; were instructed at stated
times ; were directed to the performance of their higher re
hgious 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 privUeges of a pilgrimage to Rome.
Hence he had repeatedly to show himself to the crowds, and
bless them. They were instructed to hold up whatever they
wished to have blessed ; and certainly scarcely ever did Rome

LEO THE TWELFTH. 179
present a more motley crowd, arrayed in every variety of
costume, from the sober, and almost clerical, dress of the'
German peasant, to the rainbow hues of the Abruzzi or
Campania. But the Pope manifested his hearty sympathy
in his JubUee by a more remarkable proof than these. He
daUy served in his own palace twelve pilgrims at table ; and
his biographer tells us that he continued this practice
throughout his reign'.1 To his accompanying them I well re
member 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
pUgrimage 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 ap
pease the Divine wrath manifested in the plague.
It must not be thought that the celebration of the Jubi
lee completely monopolised the attention of the Pope. No
year of his reign was more actively occupied than this with
important affairs, especiaUy abroad. But one great and bene
ficial improvement within may be traced to this " holy year."
The Pope was determined that the roads should be safe for
his poor pUgrims, and took such active measures, in concert
with neighbouring states, that the system of brigandage was
completely extinguished. The last act, however, of its destruc
tion deserves 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 ban
ditti, unauthorised and uninvited. Without pass- word except
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, and preached to them repent-
1 Chevalier Artaud, vol. ii. p. 48.

180 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
ance and change of life. They listened : perhaps they knew
that active measures were being planned for theh extermin
ation ; more probably the very simphcity and daring of the
feeble unarmed peace-maker touched theh rude natures, and
they wavered. But they were among the most dreaded of
theh race, nay, the most unpardonable, for some of them
had been the assassins of the Terracina students. One of
them was their chief Gasparone, who owned to the commis
sion of many murders. What hope could they entertain of
pardon ? The old man took upon himself to give his priestly
word that their lives would be spared : they beheved that
word, and surrendered to him at discretion. The city of
Sezze was astonished at beholding this herd of wolves led in
by a lamb. AU admired the heroic action, the self-devoting
charity of this worthy ecclesiastic, who sought no reward,
and who might have received a bullet or ^a stab for his first
welcome from those desperadoes, but who had done in a few
hours what troops and statesmen, 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
theh lives of expiation in the fortress of Civita Vecchia.
Before closing this chapter it may not be out of place to
add a few words on a subject connected with the JubUee.
The coUege, so long the writer's home, where he gathered
the recollections embodied in this volume, owed its existence
to this rehgious institution. It is true that the Saxon King
Ina had opened a home to his countrymen visiting the shrine
of the apostles ; and this was continued in after ages. StiU
nothing hke an hospice for English pUgrims existed tUl the
first great Jubilee, when John Shepherd and his wife Alice,
seeing this want, settled in Rome, and devoted their sub
stance to the support of poor palmers from theh own coun
try.1 This smaU beginning grew into sufficient importance
1 In this Jubilee several English pilgrims are supposed to have perished
by an accident on the bridge of St. Angelo. A mule kicking iu 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. 181
for it to become a royal charity ; the King of England be
came 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 col
lected and arranged in a corridor of the coUege, is a shield
surmounted by a crown, and carved with the ancient arms of
England, hons or lionceaux, and fleur-de-lis, quarterly. This
used formerly to be outside the house, and under it was the
foUowing 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 cottutrtcta buo,
(SucceffuS bebfta (egi,
Slngfta bant, regt,
grratcta ftgna, fuo,"
" 8auretttt'u$ Shance me fecit
tn.cccc.rij,."
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."
In the archives of the college are preserved the hsts of the
pilgrims who, from year to year, visited Rome ; and as the
country or diocese from which they came is recorded, they
are valuable documents, consulted for local or famUy his
tory. Many of the pUgrims were youths of good connec
tions, students at Bologna, who, in theh holidays or at the
close of theh course, chose to visit Rome as pUgrims im, forma
pauperum, and received hospitahty 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

182 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
theh " hostehies " to receive their countrymen, especiaUy 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 pUgrims from England to Rome ; and arrivals
pretty nearly ceased under Elizabeth. In the mean time
three different English estabhshments had been united,—
those of the Holy Trinity, of St. Thomas, and of St. Edward,
— on the spot where our present coUege stands ; and a church
had been buUt, the great altarpiece of which, yet preserved,
commemorated the formation of this coalition. A bishop,
and several other refugees for the faith, lived there, till
Gregory XIIL, in 1579, converted the hospital into a col
lege, as then more needed, with the condition that should
the reUgious position of England ever change, the institu
tion should return to its original purpose. May the happy
omen be accomplished, but without any necessity for its
proposed consequence !
The mention of this place naturaUy awakens recoUec
tions, in whieh it is associated with the principal subject of
this work. The Enghsh College and Leo XII. blend to
gether in pleasing harmony among the remembrances on
which the writer can look back most gratefully.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 183

CHAPTER V.
THE POPE AND THE ENGLISH COLLEGE.
The recoUections of this volume commenced in 1818 ;
the great event of the JubUee brings us down to 1825.
This is a long interval in the spring of life. The obscure
and noiseless duties of youth must, during such an interval,
work a change in mind, in feeling, in habits, perhaps in state.
So it was here. The aim of years, the goal of long prepara
tion, the longed-for crown of unwavering desires, the only
prize thought worthy of being aspired to, was attained in the
bright JubUee spring of Rome. It marks a blessed epoch
in a hfe, 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 fulness of that luxury, spiritual and
inteUectual, which he and they, so far, had only sipped.
The hfe of the student in Rome should be one of un
blended enjoyment. If he loves his work, or, what is the
same, if he throws himseU7 conscientiously into it, it is
sweetened to him as it can be nowhere else. His very re
laxations become at once subsidiary to it, yet most delight
fully reereative. His daUy 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
monuments. He can never be alone ; a thousand memories,
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

184 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
would one seek solitude more naturaUy than in the very
cemetery of a cemetery, where the tombs themselves are
buried, where the sepulchres are themselves things decayed
and mouldering 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 famUy, many
generations of it, the Nasones, for instance, to which Ovid
belonged, or an enthe tribe, hke the Freedmen, the Liberti
of Augustus ; slaves gathered from all climates and moulded
into one household, provided not only with board and lodg
ing 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 laby
rinth under ground, stiU in a small space Ue crowded the
great band of noble Scipios, the founders of Rome's trans
marine emphe, and preparers of her higher civilisation, who
thought it a glory to crown the sepulchral inscriptions which
recorded the highest titles of conquest abroad by the bust of
Ennius, the gentle father of poetry at home. As Cicero was
invited to hear them speak the wisest of heathen morality,
the kindliest whisperings of an unhoping consolation, so wiU
they not aUow us to be lonely whom a higher law teaches to
pity them, yet not to 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 theh sepulchral slabs, not
the name of theh 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 emperors coveted the
surnames of the Parthic, the Germanic, or the British ; what
must be the higher glory of him who not only absorbed aU
these titles in himseU", but crowned them all by that of the
Empire itself, which, deemed invincible, as it was, by those
conquerors, he subdued ? Such was the Galilean fisherman,
who gained the title of " the Roman," the true " Pontifex
Maximus;" which title he has so transmitted to his sue-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 185
cessors, 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, frhat his studies are, or ought to be, turgid with the
germs of life, rich as the tree in early spring in the assurance
of future bloom and fruit. On the darkest page of abstruse
theology there wttl shine a bright ray from an object perhaps
just discovered ; but on the lighter one of history and prac
tical doctrine there UteraUy sparkle beams of every hue — Uke
flowers reflected in a running stream — from every monu
ment and every record of the past there present ; so as to
make it truly an Uluminated page. The very portrait of every
heathen and every Christian emperor is distinct before the
mind from numerous effigies ; the Rome of his time is traced
in ruins, sometimes 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 con
nected with his reign. Then the whole of Christian hfe and
history — legible still, even to the traditional portraiture of
apostles, martyrs, and theh Head, traced from catacomb to
basilica and cloister — makes the history of the Church, her
dogmas, practices, and vicissitudes, as vivid to the eye as any
modern illustrated book can make a record of the past. In
deed, the monumental Church history, by the learned Bian
chini, in tables of each successive reign or age, is a volume
weU 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
opportunities 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 the surface of which only
he had been aUowed to skim, and drink long deep draughts
from the fountains which hitherto he could only taste ? The
recollection of them will come back, after many years, in
images of long delicious stroUs, in musing loneliness, through

186 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
the deserted ways of the ancient city ; of chmbmgs among
its hUls, over ruins, to reach some vantage-ground for map
ping 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 sohtude of an open basi
lica, 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 monument 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 mys
teries ; the Sessorian of Calvary and its touching rehes.
Baronius gives you his injunctions on Christian architec
ture inscribed, as a legacy, in his title of Fasciola; St.
Dominic lives, in the fresh paintings of a faithful disciple,1
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
himself, in his signature to letters, "The Cardinal of St.
Praxedes ;" near it, in a sister church, is fresh the memory
of St. Justin Martyr, addressing his Apologies for Chris
tianity to heathen emperor and senates, and of Pudens and
his British spouse ; and, far beyond the city gates, the cheer
ful PhUip is seen kneeling in St. Sebastian's, waiting for the
door to the Platonia to be opened for him, that he may watch
the night through, in fhe martyrs' dormitory.
Thus does Rome sink deep and deeper into the soul,
hke the dew, of which every separate drop is soft and weight
less, but which stUl finds its way to the root of everything
beneath the sott, 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 Ufe.
It would be difficult to describe what may be learned by one
who will search its inward being, its innumerable reposito
ries of art, its countless institutions of charity, its private,
1 Pare Besson.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 187
as weU as pubUc, resources for mental culture, m 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.1 Who has re
mained in Rome for his inteUectual cultivation, and does not
remember quiet hours in one of the great pubhc hbraries,
where noiseless rronks brought him, and piled around hhn,
the folios which he required ; and he sat as stttl 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,
wttl look back upon the time with a pleasurable regret..
Imagine hhn seated alone in the second haU of the Vatican
hbrary, round which are ranged now empty desks — for it is
vacation time ; — while above is a row of portraits of eminent
Ubrarians, many distinguished for theh 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 and ultramarine, as airy and brilliant as the Zuc-
cari could lay them. The half-closed shutters and drawn
curtains impart a drowsy atmosphere to the delicious cool
ness, which gives no idea of the brotting 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 assi
duously plodding, perhaps dull-looking, emaciated student,
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 substantive. Perhaps, at the moment of a de
hghtful discovery ; — that the dusky membranaceous docu
ment 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
1 There used to be, perhaps there still is, a select literary society, meet
ing weekly to read papers exclusively on Dante.

188 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
in the loose drapery of home in summer — for he hves 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 soUd profit
thus gained, and garnered for the evtt days of busier life.
Any one, surely, whose years of mental cultivation can thus
associate themselves, must retain a happy and a grateful im
pression on mind and heart.
Thus far, the chapter has been very rambling, and pos
sibly it will continue somewhat of the same character. The
difficulty, in fact, of the present task increases most sen
sibly at this point, where arise personal contact and more
famiUar intercourse with those of whom we treat ; and
where a hitherto distant and reverential acquaintance with
their qualities matures into close observation, actual expe
rience, and sensible enjoyment. The circumstances under
which these qualities were learned and felt come so tho
roughly 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 alter
native but that of suppressing what would be most Ufe-like,
because most confidential. To explain 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 the writer's 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

LEO THE TWELFTH. 189
truly worthy Rector, Dr. Gradwell, was appointed Bishop,
he was, by almost natural sequence, named to succeed him.
These official positions necessarUy gave rise to more fre
quent opportunities, and an occasional obligation, of ap
proaching the person of the Sovereign. For in Rome such
access is easy,' and almost indispensable for persons holding
an ecclesiastical situation of responsibUity. And in the in
stance alluded to, there is attached to the headship of the
college an agency of English ecclesiastical affairs, which,
though mainly conducted through ministerial channels, in
volves from time to time good reason for addressing the
Pope in person. As a general recoUection of these frequent
audiences, it may be simply stated, that they were uniformly
condescending, fatherly, and most amiably conducted in look
and speech. It requhed some restraint on oneself not to be
too famiUar. However insignificant the occasion or the per
son, 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 aUuded to in our se
cond 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 chaUenge against all comers who dare 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 narrative an account of the pro
ceedings may be new. The youth selected wttl have ordinary
power of application and memory, wUl 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 construction, but also in its scholastic
and more barbaric technologies. He prints in a goodly
quarto his thesis, which must not contain fewer than a hun
dred points, but which probably his professors may carry up
to four times that number, embracing the entire field of Ca-

190 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
thohc theology. This httle volume is circulated among
friends, and an invitation is sent to every ecclesiastical estab
lishment in Rome ; day and hour and place being specified, ¦
with the usual clauses, that in the morning " datur omnibus,"
all may attack ; whUe in the afternoon the same Uberty is
granted only after three weU-selected champions shall have
broken theh lances.
When the time comes, the respondent finds himself, he
hardly knows how, seated behind a table at the end of an
immense hall, which it requires a sustained voice to fill, sup
ported 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 professors, 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 wUl 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 mes
senger was despatched to him by the professors, he shook his
head, and declined becoming an assailant. He had been sent
to hsten 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 witheringly condemned. Probably it was the only time
that they were ever seated together, when they thus hstened
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, elo
quently addresses a few encouraging sentences to his young
competitor, whose heart is beating in anxious uncertainty on
what side he wttl be assailed ; tiU a period is rounded off, by
the declaration ,of the number in his propositions about to
be impugned. A crackling sound of stiff paper turning si
multaneously in every hand through the haU filled with stu
dents, reUgious, and auditors lay and clerical, announces uni-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 191
versa! eagerness to see the selected theme, and reheves the
tension of the pUloried youth, who, for the first time in his
Ufe, finds himself painfully conspicuous, and feels the weight
of past labour and of future responsibUity 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 aU of proof. Of course he
knows that no assattant 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 lu
cid query of Enghsh law ; to wit, " Vtrum averia carucce in
vetito namio capta sint irreplegiabilia." 1 Still there are sub
jects on which one is better got up than others ; and there
are some more interesting, more fuU of detaU, and more suit
able for a Uvely iUustration. 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 ofthe defendant's prowess, wUl give him fair oppor
tunity for its display. To this the writer must plead guUty ;
he has done his best to try the mettle of such young com
batants striving to win theh spurs. But when he has had
such men as the Archbishop of Dublin or of Thyana,2 or the
Bishops of Pittsburg or CUfton, to attack, he has had no oc
casion to repent having weU 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 faUure, and his
1 In vernacular: "Whether beasts of the plough, taken in withernam,
are capable of being replevied." — Blackstone, iii. 9.
2 Mgr. Barrili, just consecrated, and named Nuncio to Madrid.

192 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
coming one a dark and dismal uncertainty. It arrives, how
ever, 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 sufccour. 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, shs the Cardinal who has accepted the dedication of
the disputation. It had been intended, 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 chcle was sufficiently formidable ; one
patriarch, four archbishops, 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 profess
ors, abbots, and rectors, and an immense crowd of persons
even of equal rank, out of full dress ; which, being requhed
in the inner chcle, 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 obtained, but in Rome not borne ? It
is to proceed 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 paternal blessing ; but his
cheeks glow and his heart beats as he bends beneath the ex
pressions of the kindest encouragement, and even words of
praise. He wttl find the common father of little as of great,
aheady informed of the proceedings of yesterday, of any pe
culiar 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 to His glory the ghts which God
has given him. 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

LEO THE TWELFTH. 193
be done by Leo, with a sweetness and emboldening gracious
ness, which would compensate to a youth any amount of la
bour undergone, for enrolment in such a prince's spiritual
and theological army. It raised him above himself and his
own pusillanimous 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. Such looks, such words, such a scene, are not
easUy 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 impressionable mind of a youth, accompanied by a bene
diction full of grace, and proceeding from one whom he re
veres 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 were not sharp and
lasting. In the tempering of steel, after much manipulation,
it is said that att the finest blades pass through the hands of
one superior workman ; who, by some secret skttl and consum
mate 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 mo
ments, receive what Milton calls " a touch of celestial tem
per," from the master-hand in the ecclesiastical armoury.
To have witnessed more than once such scenes has cer
tainly left a strong impression, and confirmed all that has
aheady been said in this volume, of the particular kindness
with which Leo XII. always treated those of our college who
approached him, especially in connection with study. There
will be further occasion to exempUfy this assertion.
One demonstration of his interest in that establishment
is but little known. He had conceived a plan simUar 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.
13

194 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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, and ascertain the rent which they yielded, and the
necessary outlay to be incurred by the proposed plan ; also
the additional funds requisite for an endowment, to carry it
out permanently. For he desired that no loss should faU
upon the college, but that rather it should reap complete ad
vantage. However, death came prematurely to prevent the
execution of these generous intentions, which were afterwards
learned from Nicolai himself.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 195

CHAPTER. VI.
CONTINUATION.
The instance of great interest and kindness aUuded to,
towards the close of the last chapter, was one which afforded
the writer many opportunities of noting the undeviating
goodness of heart which characterised this Pontiff. It so
happened, that a person connected with the* Enghsh College
was an aspirant to a chair in the Roman University. lie
had been encouraged by his professors to compete for it on
its approaching vacancy. 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 com
petition. 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, and of considerable reputation,
would be named. The more youthful aspirant unhesitatingly
solicited an audience, at which I was present. He told the
Pope frankly of his intentions, and of his earnest wish that
the recent enactments of His Holiness should be carried out
in his favour.. Nothing could be more affable, more en
couraging, than Leo's reply. He expressed his dehght 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 fa
vour," 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

196 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
volume through the press — probably a very heavy one, but
sprightliness or brilliancy was not a condition of the BuU.
When a vacancy arrived, it was made known, together with
the announcement that it had been fitted up. AU 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
shaU not easily forget it. It was not necessary to restate
the case. " I remember it att," the Pope said most kindly. " I
have been surprised. I have sent for C  , through whom
this has been done ; I have 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 fahly and boldly, and you shall not lose the
fruits of your industry. ' I wttl keep my word, and the pro
visions 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 annoyance, 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 deshes. Another audience for thanksgiving 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
carried through. If this young client gained no new ener
gies, gathered no strength from such repeated proofs of
interest and condescension, if these did not both direct
and impel, steer and fiU the sails of his little bark, through
many troubled waters, — nay, if they did not tinge and sa
vour his entire mental life, we may write that man soulless
and incapable of any noble emotions.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 197
The kindness, however, of Pope Leo XII. for our national
•establishment was not confined to considerate acts towards
individuals ; but he gave us aU an unexpected proof of his
singular condescension. I have already described the villa of
the coUege, 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 neighbourhood, there are stately vittas,
and noble convents, all round the place, to tempt him to them.
Leo, stttl afflicted with many infirmities, never went far
into the country. He had fitted up a small villa, what one
might caU, if not irreverent, " a box," three or four miles
from Rome, whither 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 Gandolfo was never, I beUeve,
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 hiUs.
It was in the autumnal vacation of 1827, that certain
preparations, of ominous import, attracted the attention of
the students : loads of collegiate atthe, furniture, and hang
ings arrived mysteriously, and were put aside ; cleansing
and painting commenced vigorously at a most inconvenient
period ; and then a supply, apparently superfluous, of galli-
nacese, cackhng 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. Rumours

198 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
began to be afloat ; yet no one dared to expect so unusual
an honour as they bespoke for the httle village. Only two
persons were in the secret, the Rector and his Vice-rector,
besides those engaged in the preparations. But secrecy was
strictly enjoined and faithfuUy kept, tUl it was necessary to
give orders for repairing the roads, cleaning the streets,
erecting triumphal arches, and hanging out tapestries ; in
which arts of adornment Itahan vUlages are singularly ex
pert. In fact, illuminations, fire-works, and a balloon, were
added quickly to our preparations.
The culinary department was transferred from the sim
pler dispensations of the coUege cook to the more scientific
operations of a courtly manipulator ; and a banquet began
to be prepared, the provider of which could no longer re
main concealed. Yet, so strict were the precautions taken
to observe secrecy, and prevent any concourse of people,
that the highest officers of the household were kept in com
plete ignorance of the Pope's intentions. For, early on the
29th of October, there drove up to the house the Maggior-
domo and Maestro di Camera (afterwards Cardinals Maraz-
zani and Barberini), who 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 vUla at Monte Porzio. Great
was their astonishment at learning that His Holiness was
expected in a few hours. And, in like manner, we were
under strict injunctions to admit no one into the house, and
invite no guest, as the visit was strictly to the college. In
deed this the Pope again and again repeated, when deputa
tions wished to approach him.
The morning was wet, and caused us much uneasiness,
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,

LEO THE TWELFTH. 199
almost smothered in the vineyards, tUl the olive garden of the
lordly but desolate palace of Mandragone 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 ; tttl another
and another flashed on many straining eyes. Then the tramp
of many horses, at fuU speed, was heard ; and at last along one
of the level reaches of the road came into sight the whole
cortege, — noble guards and 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 accUvity on which we were placed ;
then it roUed for a moment through the gateway of the vU-
lage, and finaUy, after rattling through its narrow streets,
pulled up before the house. The Pope alighted, gave his bless
ing to aU around him, then walked to the pubhc church, and
made his prayer of adoration. He thence proceeded on foot
to a neat house in the httle square, from the balcony of which
he blessed the assembled inhabitants ; and where he received
most affably the more respectable vttlagers.
After this, we had him aU 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 hospitahty. During the
genial month of October, there is so far a relaxation from this
rule, that entertainments are given by the Pope 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 smaU 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, though scarcely removed
from the rest of the party.1
1 A short time ago, when the Pope was at Florence, the English Min-

200 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 requisites for the meat and drink which supphed 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
below, chesnut and cypress above, and rich green pasture join
ing them to the azurest of skies. The first observation which
the Pope made was one not a httle 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, either by
complexion, by stature, or by sinewy build, to the bracing air
which they first breathed on earth. How are they now scat
tered, above the earth and beneath it ! Several worthtty fill
episcopal chahs ; many are labouring, with meritorious in
dustry, in the ecclesiastical field ; a large proportion have
reached theh hour of rest. However, on that day all were
bUthe and happy, joyful and jocund, under theh Father's
smUe and kindly looks. For the Pope ate scarcely anything,
ister 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. Per
haps the custom mentioned 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 tbe 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 con
sidering himself insulted by the observance of established court rules. At
any rate, we have heard no more of this great diplomatic case.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 201
and barely tasted drink. But he would employ his leisure in
carving, and sending down the dishes from his own table ;
whUe 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 Cathohc ecclesiastic does, in those
rehgious duties which have to consecrate its actions, —
meditation, prayer, and the celebration of the Divine Mys
teries, 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 sohd food, was att
the sustenance whieh he took tUl 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 tUl ten, when he
took his first and only meal. To say that it was frugal would
be little ; nor could we wonder at the accredited report that
he would not aUow his personal expenses to exceed a doUar
a day, when we heard from his own lips that the dry New
foundland stock-fish, the baccala of Italy, was his very ordin
ary and favourite food.
This abstemiousness enabled Leo to go through func
tions which no other Pope in modern times has attempted,
such as singing mass at Santa Maria Maggiore on Christmas
Eve, which involved fasting from the previous midnight — at
least three and twenty hours ; — then going to St. Anastasia's
Church, the "Station" for the mass at dawn; after saying
which* he sang the thhd mass at St. Peter's on the day
itself. To proceed, however ; after our cheerful meal, the Pope
rethed 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 famiUar conversation, till
the hour of his departure. He would not sit on the gold

202 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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, hving chiefly on
theh own patrimonies, performed well the subsidiary duties
which a sohtary rector could not have adequately fulfilled.
I remember weU 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 feehngs veering be
tween the bitter and the sour. They forget that he is, at
any rate, a sovereign ; and one may presume that, if there
existed an EngUsh " educational estabttshment " 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 theh hall, it would be con
sidered a very gracious act, and perhaps a national compli
ment ; at least, a mark of his respect for the people to which
it belonged. The ecclesiastical Sovereign of Rome, too, is
considered, popularly, as hving in almost inaccessible state,
and not easily drawn into familiar contact with others.
Surely, then, it is no wonder that such an act of condescen
sion 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 hhn which it had
lavished on his predecessor. But to theh eyes such a visit
was much more than one from a lesser sovereign. His eccle
siastical elevation, his spiritual principahty, his reUgious
character, render his worldly position only secondary, and
give him a precedence in the hierarchy of monarchs, which
the possessors of wider territories and of heavier budgets
wUl not deny. An act of paternal condescension from one
so considered, such as has been described, could not. fad to
remain engraven on the hearts of all who witnessed it, or
rather experienced it. They wished their successors also to

LEO THE TWELFTH. 203=
keep it before theh minds ; and therefore had the memory
of this kindness graven upon something less perishable than
those fleshly tablets ; — upon two handsome marble slabs, one
in the coUege, and one in the hall so highly honoured, vary
ing only in the designation of place. The foUowing is a copy
of the first : — HONOEI
LEONIS. xn. PONT. MAX.
OPTIMI . ET . INDVLGENTISSIMI . PEINCIPIS

QVOD IV. KAL. NOV. AN. MDCOCXXVn.
I AI/VMNOS . COLLESII . ANGLOEVM
POBTIODVNI . KVSTICANTES
LIBENS . INVISEEIT
IN . CONV1V1VM . ADHIBVEEIT
OMNIQVE . COMITATE . COMPLEXVS . SIT
BOBEETVS . GEADWELL, . EEOTOE . OOLLEGn
ET . IIDEM . ALVMNI
VJB. FLACIDO . ZVELA . CARD. PATEONO . SVPFEAGANTE
DEVOTI . GBATIQVE . ANIMI . MONVMENTVM
DEDIOAVEBVNT

204 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER VII.
THE ENGLISH CARDINALATE.

Although it was his successor Pius VIII. who first, in
modern times, created an English Cardinal, the idea of doing
so arose in the mind of Leo XII. under circumstances of a
peculiar nature. 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 member of the family of the Pope
who had elevated him to that honour. And if that Pontiff
had belonged to a rehgious body, it would be, or might be,
restored to his order.
Now Leo XII. had been created Cardinal by Pius, VIL,
who was a 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 Rome
the Right Rev. Dr. Baines, Bishop of Siga, and Coadjutor
of the English Western District. He 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 accompanied him, in
hopes that change of chmate might do more than medicines
or theh administrators. They were not deceived. The mild
climate, the interesting recreation, and perhaps, more still,
the rest from the labour and excitement in which he had
hved, did theh 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 ob
servable by spring. A delightful summer spent between
Assisi and Porto di Eermo completed the task ; and he used
to recount, on his return, the astonishment of the simple

LEO THE TWELFTH. 205
rustics among whom he had hved, at receiving payments by a
strip of paper, with a few lines upon it^as iUegible to them
as a doctor's prescription is to more educated people — which,
upon being presented at a certain palazzo in the neighbour
ing city,, they found, to theh amazement, unhesitatingly
converted into the exact amount due to them, in clearly
ringing coin.
By degrees the reputation which he had acquired in Eng
land began to spread in Rome ; several noble famihes 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 att who approached
him, in spite of a decided tone and manner which made it
difficult to differ from him in opinion. He had sometimes
original views upon a certain class of subjects ; but on every
topic he had a command of language, and a clear manner of
expressing his sentiments, which commanded attention, and
generaUy won assent. Hence his acquaintances were always
willing Usteners, and soon became sincere admhers, then
warm partisans. Unfortunately, this proved to hhn a dan
gerous gift. When he undertook great and magnificent
works, he would stand alone: assent to his plans was a
condition of being near him ; any one that did not agree, or
that ventured to suggest deliberation, or provoke discussion,
was easUy put aside ; he isolated himself with his own ge
nius ; he had no counsellor but himself ; and he who had, at
one time, surrounded himself with men of learning, of pru
dence, and of devotedness to him, found himself at last almost
alone, and fretted a noble heart to a sohtary death.
At the period, however, to which this chapter belongs, these
faults could scarcely show themselves to any great disparage
ment 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
shaU 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 ora-

206 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
tor. Many people will remember him. He was happiest in his
unwritten discourses. The flow of his words was easy and co
pious, 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 manner was full of pathos, sometimes more even
than the matter justified ; there was a peculiar tremulousness
of voice, which gave his words more than double effect, not
withstanding the drawback of a provincial accent, and occa
sional dramatic pronunciations. In spite of such defects,
he was considered, by att 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 episcopal promotion Prior of Ampleforth in York
shire. 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 Enghsh monk, if, on inquhy, his
character should prove equal to the proposed elevation."
Such inquiries were made, in good measure amongst us, with
out theh object being communicated. The result was, that
the bishop was deshed to remove from the private apartments
in the Palazzo Costa, where he had been hving with his Eng
lish friends, to the Benedictine monastery of San Callisto,
and to wear the episcopal habit of his order.
Pius VIIL, I have been assured on good authority,
renewed the offer, which the Bishop now declined, and then
only selected a very old Benedictine Abbot, Crescini, from
Parma, to receive the hat which he, as weU as Leo, owed to
Pius VIL It was, indeed, given, but not enjoyed; for the
good rehgious, who was quite worthy otherwise of his honours,
died either on his journey, or immediately on his arrival at
home.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 207
It is evident, however, that Dr. Baines would have been
made a Cardinal, not on national grounds, but as a Bene
dictine. StiU 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 in-
-tention 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 mat
ter of choice, but almost of necessity, to pursue it further.
WhUe it is matter of absolute certainty, that Leo had made
up his mind to name Bishop Baines a member of the cardi-
nahtial coUege, 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 ex
hibited nothing unreasonable in itself ; though certainly the
sudden creation of two EngUsh 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 weU 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 literature, or in the annals of the British clergy,
¦there is a name that could have been more worthily in
scribed, or would have shone more brightly, on the roU of
Roman dignitaries, than that of Lingard. 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 dhected, and most soundly
based. Mr. Lingard was vice-president of the college which
I entered at eight years of age, and I have retained upon
my memory the vivid recollection of specific acts of thought
ful and delicate kindness, which showed a tender heart mind
ful of its duties, amidst the many harassing occupations just
devolved on him, through the death of the president, and his
own Uterery engagements ; for he was reconducting his first

208 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
great work through the press. But though he went from
coUege soon after, and I later left the country, and saw
him not again for fifteen years, yet there grew up an under
standing first, and by degrees a correspondence and an in
timacy between us, which continued to the close of his life.
Personally, there was much kind encouragement in pur
suits, and in views of pubhc conduct; then — what is a
more valuable evidence of regard — the mooting occasional
points of difference for discussion, and from time to time
" notes and queries " for information to be obtained, often
formed the peculiar links of epistolary communication be
tween us. Then, no one could approach him and not be
charmed by the prevalent temperament of his mind. A
buoyancy, a playfulness, and a simplicity of manner and
conversation ; an exquisite vein of sathical and critical hu
mour, 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 Broug
ham and Scarlett,1 as with the young eoUegian 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
feeUng, united to solid and varied learning, strong faith, and
sincere piety, supplied the deep concrete foundation on
which rested those more elegant and ahy external graces.
Such was Lingard to aU who knew him, sure to be loved, if
only known. Hence, though he never asphed to ecclesias
tical honours at home, and his friends respected him too
highly to thrust them upon him against his deshe, it will
never be known till his Ufe is really written, and his corre
spondence published, how great a share he had in the direc
tion of our ecclesiastical affairs in England, and how truly
he was almost the oracle which our bishops consulted in
matters of intricate or dehcate importance. His works-
alone, however, wttl secure him his true place with posterity.
1 The Bar presented him, by subscription, with his own portrait.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 209
That such a man should have received the highest hon
ours, should have been placed and Jhave stood on a level
with a Mai or a GerdU, a Baronius or a Norris, could not
have astonished the hterary 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 fe 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. Nor is it at all neces
sary 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 ques
tion, strange as it may sound, is really — " Was Dr. Lingard
actually a cardinal ? "
In tho biography alluded to is the following passage :
" At a creation of cardinals in the following year, (Leo) in
formed the Consistory that among those whom he had reserved
in petto for the same dignity was one, ' a man of great ta
lents, an accomplished scholar, whose writings, drawn ex
1 A conversation, related as having taken place between the Pope and
the historian, in Fordyce's " History of the County Palatine 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 emi
grants, and. three medals to Canova (see Weekly Register, June 5, 1858).
On this subject also I can speak from experience ; this mark of honour to-
Dr. Lingard had no specific meaning. 14

210 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
authenlieis fontibus, had not only rendered great service to
rehgion, but had dehghted and astonished Europe.' In
Rome this was generaUy understood to refer to the histo
rian of England."
When the Pope made this speech it must have been in
this form : " Moreover, we create a cardinal of the Holy Ro
man Church, ' a man of great talents, etc.,' whom, however,
we reserve in peotore" 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 pubhshes 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 aU created in the interval. If, therefore, Dr.
Lingard was the person meant by the Pope on the occasion
referred to in the foregoing extract, the EngUsh historian
was truly and really created a cardinal.
J£ so, what prevented his proclamation ? The biography
goes on to say that Dr. Lingard took steps to prevent it. Is
this possible ? Is it consistent with his delicate modesty and
sensitive abhorrence of praise even from a chUd, to imagine
that he at once took to himself this description of the re
served 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 aUocution "
has an inkling of it more than others, who can judge of the
person by the quahties or actions attributed to him. These
are often definite. The idea, however, of " Monsignor Testa,"
or any one else about the Pope, presuming to decide 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 reaUy created and reserved, he could not have
got off thus easily. Either, therefore, the Pope changed hia
mind, or death prevented his carrying out his intentions,
though he hved more than two years afterwards ; or, what
was the fact, it was not to Dr. Lingard that the Holy Fa
ther alluded. But " in Rome it was generally understood
to refer to him." Here hes the mistake. I well remember

LEO THE TWELFTH. 211
the day, the allocution, and its apphcation. It was a nota
ble address when Leo emphaticaUy intimated that in the
creation of future cardinals he would not be guided by rou
tine 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 coneluskn came the mysteri
ous reservation of a cardinal belonging to this highly quali
fied class. I weU remember the excitement and delight with
which our president, the old and affectionate friend of Dr.
Lingard, on coming 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, assented, as we did,
to his interpretation. But beyond this chcle, where Dr.
Lingard was known and appreciated, it certainly was not
so ; a very different person was then, and ever afterwards,
and is stiU considered to have been the subject of the Pope's
reservation.2 1 It was said that, on occasion of this declaration, a well-known car
dinal, kind and good-natured, but whose career had been civil rather than
ecclesiastical, and who had no pretensions to great acquirements in learn
ing, turning to his neighbour, said, "It is well that I am already a car
dinal, or I should now stand no chance.' '
2 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 in Rome very few Italians who read English, or could
translate it. Lingard's reputation was made abroad by his great " His
tory." His "Anglo-Saxon Church" and his "Tracts" had never been
translated; and the version of his "History," made by a Signor 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

212 THE LAST FOUE POPES.
This was the celebrated Abbe1 de la Mennais.
As has been said, he had been to Rome in 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 Roman princi
ples. The boldness of his declarations on doctrine, the in
dependence 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 undaunt
edly assaulted the flying rear of the great revolution — the
indifference which lingered stttl behind it, by his splendid
" Traite sur l'lndifference en Matiere de Religion ; " he had
next endeavoured to beat back from reSccupying its place —
what he considered had led to that fatal epoch and its deso
lating results, — a kingly Gallicanism. This he had done by
a treatise less popular, indeed, but full of historical research
and clearness of reasoning : " La Doctrine de I'Eglise sur
l'lnstitution des Eveques."
It was to this work that Pope Leo was considered to al
lude. 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 read
ing and study, rather than of genius and intellectual prowess,
that it has been attributed to a worthy brother, who sur
vives the more brilliant 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 Ploer-
mel, but are scattered all through Northern France, devoted
to the education of the poor.
Be this as it may, the more celebrated brother has his
name on the title-page, and had wettnigh won its honours.
And then he was gathering 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
be done by complimentary briefs. The Pope assented. Dr. Gradwellwas
added to the number. He and Dr. Lingard received the degree of LL.D.
in addition to that of D.D.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 213
so much of fascinating power to draw the genius, energy
devotedness, and sincerity of ardent youth about him ; never
did any one so well indoctrinate them with his own principles
as to make these principles invincible by even his own
powers. He was in this hke Tertullian, who, when sound of
mind, " prescribed " medicines too potent for the subtle poi
sons which he dealt out in his heterodox insanity. Both laid
theh foundations too deep, and made them too strong, to be
blasted even by theh own mines.
How he did so mightily prevaU on others it is hard to
say. He was truly in look and presence almost contempt
ible ; small, weakly, without pride of countenance or mastery
of eye, without any external grace ; his tongue seemed to be
the organ by which, unaided, he gave marveUous 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,
he poured out, in answer to a question, a stream of thought,
flowing spontaneous and unrippled as a brook through a
summer meadow. He at once seized the whole subject,
divided it into its heads, as symmetrically as Elechier or
Massillon ; then took them one by one, enucleated each, and
drew his conclusions. AU this went on in a monotonous but
soft tone, and was so unbroken, so unhesitating, and yet so
poUshed and elegant, that, if you had closed your eyes, you
might have easily fancied you were Ustening to the reading
of a finished and elaborately corrected volume.
Then, everything was illustrated by happy imagery, so
apt, so graphic, and so complete. I remember his once de
scribing, in glowing 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 perfect accomplishment of
predictions and types been made ; and that, therefore, a
more glorious phase yet awaited the Church than any she

214 THE LAST FOUE POPES.
«
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 hke 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. persons,
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 ofthe 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 de
scribed the ways in which prejudices had to be overcome,
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 implements 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 pohsh ; true as
steel, well-balanced and without flaw, were the instruments
that issued from that forge ; Montalembert, Rio, Cceur, La
cordaire, Cbrnballot, and many others, who have not failed
in the work for which they had been destined by a higher
power than that of an earthly teacher.
But in de la Mermais there was long a canker deeply
sunk. There was a maggot in the very core of that beautiful
fruit. It was only in 1837, when he finished his ecclesias
tical career by his " Affaires de Rome," that the worm had
fuUy writhed itself out, and wound itself, like the serpent, of
Eden, round the rind. But it had been there att along.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 215
During his last journey to Rome, to which that book re
ferred, 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 evU sphit, who wttl drag me one day to per
dition." 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 tumed out so worthless!
And others have thought, that, if Leo's intentions had been
carried out, the evU spirit would have been thereby exor
cised, and, the dross being thus removed, the gold alone
would have remained. But when ever1 was a passion cured
by being humoured or satisfied ?
It is easy to account for Leo's abandonment of his inten
tions 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 PhUip playfully re
jecting, and a Baronius obediently receiving.

216 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER VIII.
CLOSE OP LEO'S PONTIFICATE.

Theee is an act of this papal reign which deserves record,
as characteristic of the Pontiff himself, and as illustrating the
practical working of the supremacy under comphcations
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 Consistory assembled, on the ecclesiastical posi
tion 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 stttl all its old
rights over them ;, and, among them, that of episcopal pre
sentation. The exercise of such a power, if it existed, would
have been contradictory to its object, and therefore self-de
feating. Bishops are intended to feed a flock ; and of what
use would bishops have been, who could never even look
upon their sees or be heard by theh people ? Eor it would
have been quite unreasonable to expect that the free repub
lics would acknowledge 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 previous claims had been abrogated, and
new rights vested in their present rulers. It was just a ease
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 al
locution alluded to, the Pope announced, that, not feeling
justified in longer permitting those sees to remain vacant, and
those immense populations to wander hke sheep without a
shepherd, he had provided them with worthy pastors, with-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 217
out the intervention of either side, but in vhtue of his su
preme apostohc authority. The Court of Madrid was angry,
and refused to admit the Papal Nuncio, Tiberi ; and a httle
episode in the hfe of the present Pontiff arose from this
passing coolness.1
The last recollection which shaU be recorded of this
good and amiable man may be considered too personal ; but
it relates to a public expression of his interest in our coun
trymen. On some occasion or other, it happened that the
author accompanied the Rector to an audience of the Pope.
This was in 1827. After transacting other business, His
Holiness remarked, that there being no English Church in
Rome, Cathohcs who came there had no opportunity of
hearing the word of God, and even others who might desire
to hear a sermon in theh own language had no means of
gratifying theh wish. It was therefore, he said, his inten
tion to have, during the whiter, in some church weU situated,
a course of Enghsh sermons, to be delivered every Sunday.
It was to be attended by aU coUeges and reUgious com
munities 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 com
panion, and suggested him ; though, with the exception of
such juventte essays as students blushingly dehver before
theh own companions, he had never addressed an audience.
1 Pius VIL, at the request of Cienfuegos, envoy from Chili, sent as en
voy 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 commissioners sailed Oct. 11th, 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 Afri
can presidio, when common sense prevailed, and they were restored to
liberty. See a full account in the " Dublin Review," vol. xxxiv. p. 469.

218 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
However, the burthen was laid there and then, with per
emptory kindness, by an authority that might not be gain-
sayed. And crushingly it pressed upon the shoulders : it
would be impossible to describe the anxiety, pain, and trouble
which this command cost for many years after. Nor would
this be aUuded to, were it not to illustrate what has been
kept in view through this volume, — how the most insignifi
cant 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 commerce with the dead to that of the
living, one who would gladly have confined iis time to the
former, — from books to men, from reading to speaking.
Nothing but this would have done it. Yet, supposing that
the province of one's Ufe 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 rehgion or his flock, surely a command,
over-riding all inclination, and forcing the wiU to undertake
the best 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 stiffened and unpUant ; and no second oppor
tunity could have been opened, after others had satisfied 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 to one at
a later period. The weary task to preacher and audience
was lightened by the occasional appearance in the pulpit,
before aUuded to, of the eloquent Dr. Baines, whose copia
fandi and finished address prevented perhaps the total
bhght, in its 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 Gesu e Maria in the Corso ; he had it furnished at
his expense each Sunday ; he ordered aU charges for adver-

LEO THE TWELFTH. 21i>
tisements and other costs to be defrayed by the palace, or
civil list ; and, what was more useful and considerate than
att, a detachment of his own choir attended, to introduce the
service by its own peculiar music. Its able director, Cano-
nico Baini, the closest approximator in modern times to
Palestrina and Bai, composed a httle motett with Enghsh
words, for our special use. After this Pontificate the papal
choh ceased to afford us help, and a faUing 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 admhation.
An affectionate blessing, and a ease containing a gold
and a sttver medal, were a sufficient reward to the first preach
ers, 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 countrymen partook.
Fatigued, and almost broken down by new anxious la
bours and insomnium, I started next day for Naples and
Sicily; traveUed round that island when it had yet only
twelve miles of carriage road in it ; ascended not only Vesu
vius, 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 Rector appointed Bishop, and about to leave Rome
for ever.
On the 6th of December, 1828, 1 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 sttver lion upon it ; which caught atten
tion from the trifling circumstance that the back of the
noble animal was saddled with several pahs of spectacles, no
doubt of different powers. It became interestingly con
nected with what shortly ensued.

220 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 consciousness
of his approaching end. He took leave of Monsignor Testa,
his Secretary of Latin Briefs to Princes, at the last weekly
audience he had, saying, most affectionately : " A few days
more, and we shall not meet again." He gave up the ring
usuaUy worn by the Pope to the custody of the Maggiordo-
mo, or High Steward of the Household, telhng him, as he
hesitated to receive it, that he was its proper guardian, and
that it might easily be lost in the confusion of an event
which was shortly to ensue. But the most striking proof of
presentiment was the foUowing. 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."
" Tour Holiness has only to command me," was the na
tural reply.
" It is this," the Pope continued, placing before him
a paper. " I have drawn up my epitaph, and I should be
obhged to you to correct it, and put it into proper style."
" I would rather have received any commission but that,"
said the sorrowful secretary, who was deeply attached to
his master. " Your Holiness, however, is I trust in no
hurry." " Ves, my dear Gasperini, you must bring it with you
next time."
It must be observed that in Italy, and particularly in
Rome, much importance is attached to the peculiar purity of
style in monumental inscriptions. The "lapidary" ' style,
as it is called, is a peculiar branch of classical composition,
confined to a few choice scholars. It differs from ordinary
1 Prom the Italian word lapide, which means an inscribed or monu
mental tablet.

LEO THE TWELFTH. 221
¦writing, not merely in the use of certain symbols, abbrevia
tions, and set phrases, but much more in the selection of
words, in theh coUocation, and in the absence of all rounded
period and expletives ; for which clearness, terseness, sim
phcity of construction, and the absence of a superfluous
phrase or word, must compensate. Some inscriptions lately
proposed for pubhc buUdings in this country offend against
every rule of the lapidary style ; will sound ridiculous to
foreign scholars, as they are almost unintelligible to natives ;
are long, intricate, and almost Teutonic, rather than Latin in
construction, " One half will not be understood.
The other not be read."
Among those who were considered in Rome the most practi
cally acquainted with the lapidary style was Monsignor Gaspe
rini, first Professor of Belles-lettres, then Rector ofthe Roman
Seminary, and finaUy Secretary of Latin Letters to the Pope-
To this obliging, amiable, and learned man many had recourse
when they wanted an inscription composed or pohshed. He
was the author of most put up in our college. At his next
week's audience, he laid the corrected inscription before Leo,
who read it, approved highly of it, thanked him most cor
dially, folded, and placed it under the lion-mounted slab,
where it remained, tiU 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 by a
private staircase to the apartments of the Secretary of State,
Cardinal Bernetti, and held a long conference with him, he
returned to his own closet, and resumed his work. He w as
there seized with his last illness ; and it was generaUy believed
that an operation unskilfully performed had aggravated in
stead of retteving its symptoms. He bore the torturing pain
of his disease with perfect patience, asked for the last rites of

222 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
the Church, and expired, in calm and freedom from suffering,
on the tenth.
He was buried temporarUy 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
lines with the smaU dome above, was inlaid in brass the fol
lowing inscription, alluded to as composed by himself. No
one can read it and fatt to be touched by its elegant sim
plicity. LEONI . MAGNO
PATBONO . COELESTI
ME . SVPPLEX . COMMENDANS
HIC . APVD . SACEOS . EIVS . CINEEES
LOCVM . SEPVLTVEAE . ELEGI
LEO XII.
HVMILIS . CLIENS
HAEEEDVM . TANTI . NOMINIS
MINIMVS

PIUS THE EIGHTH.

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PIUS THE EIGHTH.

CHAPTER I.
HIS ELECTION AND PREVIOUS HISTORY.
A pontificate which commenced on the 31st of March,
in 1829, and closed on the 1st of December of the following
year, hmited thus to a duration of twenty months, cannot
be expected to afford very ample materials for either pubhc
records or personal recoUections. Such was the brief sove
reignty in Church and State of the learned and holy Pius
TILL The election to this high dignity, and the succession to
this venerable name, of Cardinal Erancis Xavier Castighoni
cannot be said to have taken Rome by surprise. At the pre
ceding conclave of 1823 he was known to have united more
suffrages than any of his coUeagues, till the plenary number
centred suddenly on Cardinal della Genga; nor had any
thing occurred since to disqualify him for simUar favour, ex
cept the addition of some six years more to an age aheady
sufficiently advanced. In fact the duration of the conclave
was evidence of the facility with which the electors arrived
at their conclusion. Leo XII. died, as has been stated, Fe
bruary 10. On the 23rd the cardinals entered the conclave ;
and fresh arrivals continued for several days. Indeed it was
not tUl the third of March that the Cardinal Albani, accre
dited representative of Austria in the conclave, and charged
with the veto held by the Emperor, entered within the sa
cred precincts.

223 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
On the 31st of that month, he was the first to break
through them, and from the usual place announce to the as
sembled crowds, that Cardinal CastigUoni was elected Pope,
and had taken the name of Pius VIII. It will be naturaUy
asked, what were the qualities which secured to him this
rapid nomination. His short pontificate did not aUow time
for the display of any extraordinary powers ; nor would it
be fair, without evidence of them, to attribute them to him.
But there was all the moral assurance, which a previous life
could give, of his possessing the gifts necessary to make him
more than an ordinary man in his high elevation.
In an hereditary monarchy, the successor to the throne
may be known for many years to his future subjects, and he
may have been, during the period, qualifying himself for his
coming responsibility. He may have manifested symptoms
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, how
ever, rightly accepts the royal gift, and must be content.
For in compensation, the advantages of succession to a throne
by descent are so great and so manifest, that the revival of
an elective monarchy in Europe would be considered, by aU
who are not prepared to see it lapse into a presidency, as a
return to times of anarchy and revolution. The quiet subsid
ence 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 instinctive me
thod of transmitting royal prerogatives through royal blood.
How much of Poland's calamities and present condition are
due to perseverance in the elective principle !

PIUS THE EIGHTH. " 227
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 famUy succession ;
not even did it not enforce the celibacy of its clergy. The
head of the Church is not the spiritual ruler of one king
dom, and his office cannot be an hehloom, hke crown-jewels.
His headship extends over an enthe world, spiritually indeed,
yet sensibly and efficaciously : kingdoms and repubhcs are
equaUy 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
discharged by a person of matured age and judgment : there
could be no risk of regencies or tutorships, of imbecttity or
hereditary taints, of scandalous antecedents or present vices.
Only an election, by men trained themselves in the prepara
tory studies and practices of the ecclesiastical state, of one
whose hfe and conversation had passed before theh eyes,
could secure the appointment of a person duly endowed for
so high an office. They look, of course, primarily to the
quahties desirable for this spiritual dignity. It is a Pope
whom they have to elect for the ecclesiastical rule of the
world, not the sovereign of a smaU territory. His secular
dominion is the consequence, not the source, of his religious
position. Certainly it cannot be doubted that in later times
the electors have been faithful to their trust. What Ranke
has shown of their predecessors is incontestable of more
modern Pontiffs ; that not only none has disgraced his posi
tion by unworthy conduct, but aU have proved themselves
equal to any emergency that has met them, and been dis
tinguished by excellent and princely quaUties.
That those characteristics whieH determine the choice of
the electors do not first manifest themselves in conclave, but
have been displayed through years of pubhc life, in lega
tions, in nunciatures, in bishoprics, or in ofiice at home,
must be obvious. Hence men of accurate observation
may have noted them ; and a certain indefinite feeUng of

228 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
anticipation may be general, about the probable successor to
the vacant chah. In Cardinal Castighoni 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 hreproachable
would be but little : it had been always edifying, and adorned
with every ecclesiastical virtue.
Though born (November 20, 1761) of noble family, in
the small city of Cingoh, he had come early to Rome to
pursue his studies, and had distinguished himself in them
so much, that in 1800, when only thirty-nine years old, he
had been raised to the episcopal dignity in the See of Mont
alto near Ascoli. Here he had signahsed himself by his
apostottc zeal, and had consequently drawn upon his con
duct the jealous eye of the French authorities. He was
known to be staunch in his fidettty to the Sovereign Pontiff,
and to the rights of the Church : consequently he was de
nounced as dangerous, and honoured by exile, first to MUan,
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 aU 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 testi
mony borne to another, and if not a higher, at least a rarer,
quahty. This was ecclesiastical learning. Of his familiarity
with other portions of this extensive literary field, there witt
be occasion to speak later. But the branch of theological
lore in which Cardinal Castighoni had been most conspicu
ous was Canon law. Some readers may not be wiUing to
concede 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 ecclesiasti
cal jurisprudence, 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

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 229
other countries where ecclesiastical authority is more limited,
& person sohdly grounded in it, and practically versed in its
apphcation, naturally possesses a valuable advantage in the
conduct of affahs, especially those belonging to the highest
spheres. "We would not aUow a foreigner the right to de
spise that peculiar learning which we think qualifies a lawyer
of eminence for the woolsack ; especiaUy if from his ignor
ance of our unique legal principles and practice, he may not
have qualified himself to judge of it. However, the attain
ments of Cardinal Castighoni rose even higher than these.
He had been originaUy 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 Institutes : and this was the joint work of that
prelate and Castighoni. Indeed, the most learned portion of
it, the notes which enrich and explain it, were mainly the
production of the pupU. Now it so happened, that when the
relations between Pius VII. and the French Emperor became
intricate and unfriendly, and delicate questions arose of con
flicting claims and jurisdictions, it was to the Bishop of Mont
alto that the Pope had recourse, as his learned and trusty
counseUor 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' inflexibttity
which drew upon him the dishke of the occupying power in
Italy. Surely such learning must possess its fuU value with
those who have seen its fruits, when they are deliberating
about providing a prudent steersman and a skilful captain for
the bark of Peter, stiU travatted by past tempests, and closely
threatened by fresh storms.
When the Pope was restored to his own, Castighoni' s
merits were fully acknowledged and rewarded. On the 8th
•of March, 1816, he was raised to the cardinalitial dignity, and
named Bishop of Cesena, the Pope's own native city. He was
in course of time brought to Rome, and so became Bishop of
Tusculum, or Frascati, one of the episcopal titles in the Sa-

230 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
cred College. He was also named Penitentiary, an ofiice re
quiring great experience and prudence. He enjoyed the
friendship of Consalvi as well as the confidence of theh com
mon 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 con
jointly 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
affahs of the very highest order, and such results of its ap
plication, 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 ofthe whole religious
world ?
Such were the quahfications which induced the electors
in conclave to unite theh suffrages in the person of Cardinal
Castighoni ; and it is not wonderful that he should have se
lected for his pontifical name, Pius the Eighth. Indeed,
it has been said that the Holy Pontiff, to whom he thus re
corded his gratitude, had long before given him this title.
Eor, on some occasion when he was transacting business with
him, Pius VIL said to him with a smile, " Tour Holiness,
Pius the Eighth, may one day settle this matter." '
Such auguries being seldom told till after fulfilment, — for
without the modesty that would conceal them, there would
not be the virtues that can deserve them, — they are naturaUy
little heeded. To teU 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 oc
casionally be allowed to possess it. In this case, however, the
privUege was not necessary. As it has been aheady intim
ated, the accumulation of merits in tbe Cardinal might strike
the Pope even more, from his closer observation, than they
1 D'Artaud, Life of Pius VIII. ' John xi. 52.

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 231
would the electors ; and the good omen might only be the re
sult of sagacity combined with affection. In like manner, a
natural shrewdness which Pius possessed might have guided
him to a simUar prediction, if true as reported, to his inter
mediate successor, Leo XII. It used to be said that when
Monsignor deUa Genga was suddenly told to prepare for the
nunciature, and consequently for episcopal consecration, and
was therefore overwhelmed with grief, he flew to the feet of
Pius to entreat a 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 representative in troublesome and dangerous
times — may have carried his penetrating eye beyond the
successful fulfilment of that mission, to the accomphshment
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 shrewd
ness. AU 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 aUowed
to remain unappropriated, as inexplicable or devoid of suffi
cient evidence to be judged on, as too slight to be believed,
yet too good not to be repeated. In the first book of this
volume, a little incident was told of a coachman's good-na
tured omen to the young Benedictine monk, afterwards Pius
VIL, and the authority was given for it ; only one remove
from the august subject of the anecdote. Another, and more
strange one, recurs to mind, and rests upon exactly the same
authority. 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,
apparently an artisan, without a coat and in his apron, leaped
1 The zucchetto, worn white only by the Pope.

232 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 fulfil
ment 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 for
him to have finished a tolerably long life ; for Braschi, as
Pius VI., reigned nearly the years of Peter.2
1 IV. Reg. ix. 11, 12.
2 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 polities 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 follow
ing 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 neighbour
hood 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 resist
ance 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 tumed 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 as-
Bent. Nothing could be plainer. A lax weir could not be a close weir
(though such reasoning might not apply to corporations or constituen-

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 233
The new Pope chose for his secretary of state the Car
dinal 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 col
league, Consalvi. The house of Albani, too, was one of the
most Ulustrious and noble in Italy, boasting even of impe
rial aUiances. 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.
cies) ; 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
0' 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 motionless, the lack-lustre eye
bf the court regained its brightness ; the opposing counsel stared in amaze
ment and incredulity, and O'Connell's clients rubbed their hands in de
light. "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
lochs 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;
bnt 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 disappeared,
and O'Connell could never make out to whom he was indebted.

234 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER II.
PERSONAL CHARACTER.
The appearance of Pius VIII. was not, perhaps, so pre
possessing at first sight as that of his two predecessors. This
was not from any want either of character or of amiabUity
in his features. When you came to look into his counte
nance, 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 affec
tion in the neck kept his head turned and bowed down,
imparted an awkwardness, or want of elegance, to his move
ments, and prevented his countenance being fully and fa
vourably viewed. This, however, was not the worst; he
seemed, and indeed was, in a state of constant pain, which
produced an hritation 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 drew from the Pope the blandest of smttes,
and a most condescending apology on account of his in
firmities. Another effect of this suffering was, that many of the
functions of the Church were beyond his strength. For ex
ample, 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 curtaUed,
because the Pope could not kneel so long as it requhed.
This was indeed but a trifle ; for, notwithstanding his con
stant pain, he was assiduous in his attention to business, and
indefatigable in the discharge of every duty.
Being himself of a most dehcate conscience, he was per
haps severe and stern in his principles, and in enforcing

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 235
them. He was, for example, most scrupulous about any of
his famUy 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 communicated to them the
welcome news of hishaving been raised, by Divine Providence,
to the Chair of Peter, and shed bitter tears over the re-
sponsibttities with which this dignity overburthened him.
He sohcited their prayers, commanded them to refrain from
all pomp and pride, and added ; " let none of you, or of the
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'a
sympathies in it, remarked that St. Bernard belonged to the
same family ; since the ChatUlons in France and the Castig
honi in Italy were only different branches of the same illus
trious house. This remark, whether in the pleadings or in
conversation, sufficed to check the proceedings ; as the Pon
tiff, 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 pon
tificate. In speaking of this Pope's hterary accomplishments, his
superior knowledge of Canon Law was singled out. But
this was by no means his exclusive pursuit. To mention one
of a totaUy different class, he possessed a very rare acquaint
ance with numismatics. His French biographer bears wit
ness 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 him for a long time, people in waiting imagined they
were engaged in solemn diplomatic discussions, whUe, in truth,
they were merely debating the genuineness or value of some
Vespasian or Athenas.
Biblical hterature, however, was his favourite pursuit ;.

236 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 the Pope's
accession, he obtained an audience, in company with the late
most promising Professor Allemand, who occupied the Chah
of Holy Scripture in the Roman Seminary, and had collected
a most valuable library of modern biblical works in many
languages. The Pope then gave formal audiences on his
throne, and not in his private cabinet, so that a long conver
sation was more difficult. StUl he detained us long, discours
ing most warmly on the importance of those studies, in which
he encouraged his wUling listeners to persevere, and gave
evidence of his own extensive and minute acquaintance with
their many branches. He had, however, supplied better
proof of this knowledge than could be given in a mere con
versation. It is well known to every scholar, how thoroughly, for
more than a generation, the 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 supernatural ; 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 Pro
testant scriptural 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 MichaeUs or Rosenmutter the younger ; more
elegantly clothed in Gesenius ; more ingenious in Eichhorn,
and more daring in Paulus, the same spirit tainted the whole
of this branch of sacred literature from Semler to Strauss,
who gave the finishing stroke to the system, by the combin
ation 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 counter-

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 237
action in the system or constitution of rehgious Germany,
manifested by a return to a more positive theology.
This growing evU had manifested itself, up to a certain
point, only in Protestant divinity ; and the universities of
Heidelberg and HaUe, Jena and Leipsig, were among the
principal seats of this new infidelity. It was the more dan
gerous, because it had discarded all the buffoonery and
mockery of the grinning philosophe, and worked out its in-
fidehty hke a problem, with att 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 University 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 Introduction to
the Old Testament, and a Biblical Archaeology : both most
valuable for theh erudition, but both dangerously tinged
with the principles of infidelity, especiaUy in the very
first principles of bibhcal science. These were both large
works; so he published eompendiums of them in Latin,
each in one volume, for the use of students. But even into
these the poison was transfused. Perhaps Jahn was soured
and irritated by the treatment which he received from his
theological opponents, one in particular, immensely his in
ferior in learning, though sound in principle ; and he cer
tainly rephed with acrimony 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 consisted of the republication
of the two Introductions, cleansed of aU their perilous stuff,
and appearing under the name of a new author. This idea
was either suggested, or immediately and warmly encouraged,

238 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
by Cardinal Castiglioni. The undertaking was committed
to the learned Dr. E. 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 advantage
of maintaining a profitable correspondence. His Comment
ary on the Minor Prophets proves the learning and ability
of this excellent man to have been equal to much more than
mere adaptations of the works of others.
But, at the same time, the part taken by Pius in this
useful undertaking- is evidence of his zeal, and of his ac
complishments in the most essential branch of theological
learning. Further evidence wttl not be wanting.

PIUS THE EIGHTH. * 239

CHAPTER III.
FRENCH AND ENGLISH CARDINALS.
The short duration of Pius's reign did not give op
portunity 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 circumstances 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 civU rank through
out the Continent ; but every other dignity is similarly con
fined to a particular class. A civilian cannot hope to be a
general, or an admiral, or a lord-chancellor ; nor can an ec
clesiastic be in the House of Commons, nor can a lawyer
obtain the Victoria Cross. Every honour has its narrow
approach ; every elevation its steep and solitary path. But
each is limited to its own country. A WeUington may have
¦a galaxy of stars twinkling in diamonds from the azure vel
vet of his paU ; and a few crosses may be exchanged be
tween allied nations. But there is no military power that
flecks the uniform of the vattant — whether scarlet, blue, or
white — with a badge of honour; no "Repubhc of letters"
which places laurel crowns on the brows of the learned and
the scientific, in whatever language they have recorded theh
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 ex-

240 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
pect other sovereigns and states to soUcit for their subjects
its peculiar badge of generally recognised, dignity.
But the Church, being universal in her destinies, 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 prevails, has this provision.
As a matter of course, where there is good understanding
between any government and the Holy See, the distribu
tion of such a dignity is matter of mutual arrangement;
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 Cathohc Powers, to propose a certain
number of theh ecclesiastical subjects for the cardinalitial
dignity. Formerly when a general promotion, as it was
called, took place, that is, when a number of particular per
sons holding certain high offices were simultaneously in
vested with the purple, the privileged Courts had a claim
to propose theh candidates. This usage may now be con
sidered almost obsolete ; and indeed the reigning Pontiff
has dealt most Uberally in this respect, by naming many
more foreigners than ever before held place in that ecclesi
astical senate.
To illustrate the different principles on which such an
addition may be conducted, we may mention two of those
whom Pius VIII. invested with this high position, one
French, the other English.
The first was of the noble family of Rohan-Chabot,
which under the first of these designations belongs equaUy
to Germany and to Bohemia, as a princely house ; and in
France traces descent from St. Louis, and has infused its
blood by marriage into the royal House of Valois. Its
armorial motto has embodied in a few lines as strong a
consciousness of aU but regal claims, as such a distttled drop
of famtty haughtiness could well enclose :

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 241
" Roi ne peux,
Prince ne veux,
Rohan suis."
No one could have a higher right by bhth to asphe to
the Roman purple, than had the Abbe Louis Francis Au
gustus, of the Dukes of Rohan-Chabot, Prince of Leon, who
had embraced the ecclesiastical state. Moreover, he was
distinguished by piety, sufficient learning, and unimpeach
able 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 am
bassador, whose relation the young Duke was, made every
exertion for hhn ; but when, in his absence, his charge d'af
faires, in an audience, proposed the subject, the Pope, in his
sweetest manner, rephed by a Latin verse,
" Sunt animus, pietas, virtus; sed deficit aetas."
The appUcant was rather surprised at this ready and com
plete reply, which did full justice to both sides of the ques
tion. However, he was compelled, 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 rephed,
" Sunt mores, doctrina, genus ; sed deficit setas."
He added, that he had an ample record in his mind of the
merits, virtues, quahties, 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 weU known, however, that he would wilUngly
have introduced into the Sacred College the venerable
Bishop of Hermopolis, Monseigneur Erayssinous, had not
his modesty absolutely resisted every effort of the Pope ' to
obtain his acceptance. 1 Chevalier D' Artaud, Vie de Pie VIII.
16

242 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
It was not till 1830, that De Rohan, being now Arch
bishop of Besancon, was promoted by Pius VIII. In the
revolution which shortly followed in France, he was inter
cepted by a mob, and treated with great indignity ; a cir
cumstance which probably shortened his life. For he died
in February, 1833, in his 42nd year.
Very different is the cardinalate bestowed1 on our coun
tryman 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 Pontificate, to be en
joyed for only a very brief space. Cardinal Weld was named
partly in consideration of his own personal claims, partly also
to second a deshe of seeing an Englishman among the high
est 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, Austraha, and the
Islands of the Pacific, were in daily communication with the
Holy See, and with the Congregation of Propaganda, which
attended to their wants. Was it not reasonable, that near
the ruling Chah, and in the number of its counsellors, there
should be at least one who might represent that immense race,
endowed with its intelligence, familiar with its wants and its
forms of expressing them, as well as with the peculiar posi
tion 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 Cathohc

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 243
branch of the Stanley famUy, now extinct. He was educated
enthely at home ; and early gave proof of his great piety and
munificent charity. This was particularly displayed in favour
of the many religious communities which the French revolu
tion threw like shipwrecked families on our coast. He treated
them with the utmost kindness, received them into his very
house, and provided for all theh wants. This he first did
concurrently with his exceUent father ; but he continued aU
his good works after his parent's death, or rather increased
them. The Trappist nuns were received at Lulworth ; and,
with rare generosity, Mr. Weld bought from them, when they
quitted his estate, the buUdings, to him worthless, which
they had been aUowed, and even assisted, to raise. The poor
Clares from Gravehnes, and the nuns of the Visitation, who
took refuge, the first at Plymouth, and the second at Shep-
ton-Mallet, were special objects of his bounty.
In the mean time he had married, and had been blessed
with a daughter, the worthy representative 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
hberahty and dignity, had pursued the duties of the English
gentleman in his noblest character, acted as a country magis
trate, enjoyed country sports, and reciprocated hospitality
with his neighbours. It is well known that George III.
in his sojourns at Weymouth 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 eccle
siastical honours than this of a Dorsetshhe country squire,
in the field, or at his board ?
Tet they who knew him intimately, and had watched
through his hfe the virtue that distinguished 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 Chfford, abandoning the world, resigning his estates to
his next brother, their present worthy occupier, of yachting
celebrity, and removing on an annual pension to Paris to

244 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
embrace the ecclesiastical state. He was ordained priest in
April, 1821, by the Archbishop of that city.
He returned to England, and entered on the usual duties
of the priesthood at Chelsea, and continued his hberal exer
cise of charity tttl the Bishop Vicar-Apostolic of Upper
Canada, obtained his appointment as his coadjutor. He re
ceived, 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. Dur
ing the space of three years, that he "tacitis regnabat
Amyclis " — for he was bishop in partibus of that classical
city l — he lived at Hammersmith, directing there a com
munity of Benedictine nuns.
He was then invited to Rome for higher purposes, 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
VIIL Such a new and unexpected occurrence might have been
variously interpreted, according to party views ; and it would
have been naturaUy expected, that expression would be given
to those conflicting feelings. This, at any rate, was not the
case in Rome. Unanimous and unequivocal was the ex
pression of opinion among British residents and traveUers
there. All flocked to the reception given by the new Car
dinal, and manifested theh satisfaction at • such a manifesta
tion of good-will towards his country. And simUar were the
expressions of feeling that reached him from home. In the
funeral oration2 delivered at his sumptuous obsequies per
formed 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 contrary, had afforded satisfaction to those whom every
1 Not the Italian one, however, to which the verse and epithet refer.
2 Printed in English and Italian at Rome in that year.

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 245
Enghshman esteems and reveres : individuals, who at home
are known to indulge in expressions of decided hostility to
Rome, and to our holy rehgion, recognised in him a repre
sentative of both, whom they venerated and gladly ap
proached; and when his hospitable mansion was thrown
open to his countrymen, I believe that never was the sternest
professor of a different creed known to decUne the honour,
which the invitation of the Enghsh Cardinal was acknow
ledged to confer."
The first part only of this sentence can requhe any ex
planation. It shows that the circumstance aUuded to was
sufficiently public to have passed the bounds of delicate re
serve. 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, introducing a distinguished
member of her household, in which he was assured not only
that his promotion had given satisfaction to the exalted
chcle to which she belonged, but that should he ever visit
England, he would be received by that family with the re
spect which was his due. Such is the impressed recoUection
of this interesting and generously-minded document, read at
the time. Of course, a few years later, its practical ratifica
tion 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 benevolence ; perhaps the press saw no
thing to gain by agitating the nation on the subject. Cer
tain it is, however, that the promotion was made by the free
choice of the Pontiff, without any presentation from Eng
land, or any consultation with its government. In this re
spect, 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 Ian-

246 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
guage, or perfectly learn the ways of transacting high eccle
siastical 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 theo.
logical 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 was himself elevated 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, after
wards made Bishop of Aversa, and actually Nuncio at Vien
na ; a man of more than ordinary learning and abUity, weU
versed, even before, in English hterature, as weU as in that
of his own and other countries.
As his share, the Cardinal brought into his council sterl
ing good sense and business-like habits, thorough upright
ness and sincere humility ; and soon acquired considerable
influence in the congregations or departments of ecclesias
tical 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 furn
ished, and periodicaUy filled with the aristocracy of Rome,
native and foreign, and with multitudes of his countrymen,
all of whom found him always ready to render them 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 un
worthy. 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 apphcation 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 Dorsetshhe hills. Great sensibility

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 247
to cold and atmospheric changes gradually became percept
ible, and at length assumed the form of a pulmonary disease.
Surrounded by his family, and strengthened by every reli
gious succour, the Cardinal sank calmly into the repose of
the just, on the 10th of April, 1837. Seldom has a stranger
been more deeply and feelingly regretted by the inhabitants
of a city, than was this holy man by the poor of Rome.

248 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER IV.
THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS OP THE PONTIFICATE.
Lf 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 portentous
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 nar
row space comprised in this pontificate. Three or four signal
occurrences wttl suffice to verify this assertion.
And first — to begin with the very outset of Pius's Pon
tificate — he was elected March 31, 1829; and, scarcely a
month later, it was my pleasing duty to communicate to him
the gladsome 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 unbounded joy, and might well have been
communicated to the Head of the Cathohc Church in the
words by which the arrival of paschal time is announced to him
every year : " Pater sancte, annuntio vobis gaudium mag
num." To him, who was not only most intelligent, but ahve
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 pohtical state, of theh fellow-believers mainly interested
other nations. Through all the continent, Catholicity in
this emphe was supposed to be confined to Ireland ; and,
again and again, an English Cathohc traveller has heard
himself corrected, when he has so described himself, by such

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 249
an expression as this : " Of course you mean Irish ? " In
fact, even as late as the period we are dweUing on, when
languages were as yet not much studied, and there was a
more feeble circulation of foreign periodical literature, less
travelling too, and slenderer international relations, the mu
tual ignorance 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, than there is accurate knowledge of
our island in Continental states.
The constitution of this country, especially, eomplicated
as it is to ourselves, was a puzzle to races accustomed to
simple monarchy for ages, and scarcely possessing expe
rience of anything between that and bare republicanism. To
tell them that Cathohcs in Great Britain were excluded
from seats in ParUament, bore perhaps with many no more
sense of a hardship than to hear that they were not aUowed
a place in the Turkish Divan. They could not appreciate
the influence and importance of the position, nor the insuf
ferable insult of a perpetual and hereditary incapacity for it.
Hence our public rejoicing for the acquisition of this coveted
boon was uninteUigible to the multitude. After audience of
the Pope, the Vicar Rector of the College (now Archbishop
of Trebizond) and myself visited the Secretary of State, and
received from him warm expressions of congratulation. We
then proceeded 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 after
noon a banquet on a munificent scale was given at his vttla
near St. Paul's, by Monsignor Nicolai, the learned illus
trator of that Basilica; and in the evening we returned
home to see the upturned faces of multitudes reflecting the
briUiant "lamps of architecture " that tapestried our vener
able waUs. But the words " Emancipazione CattoUca,"

250 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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, unenlight
ened 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 Eng
land. 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
waUs. We had left our country when young, and -hardly
conscious of the wrongs which gaUed our elders ; we should
return to it in possession of our rights ; and thus have
hardly experienced 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, espe
cially at that period, this very great advantage, that it reared
the mind, and nursed the affections, beyond the reach of re
ligious contests and theh 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 pun
gency, in so long a course. Scarcely any amount of roaring
on platforms could have sent even a softened whisper across
the sea ; and the continuous attacks of a hostile press could
only reach one in the broken fragments that occasionally tes
sellated a foreign paper. Thus, one hardly knew of the bit
ter things said against what was dearest to us ; and certainly
I will bear witting 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 sphit, and learns to speak of
errors in a gentler tone, than elsewhere, though in the verv

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 251
centre of highest orthodox feeling. StUl, if wrongs had not
been 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 was, 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 pohtical act to have quietly subsided 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
generation still exists which had life and action before the
momentous step. Many survive it who regret even bitterly
the good old days of exclusion, 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 wttl 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 consciousness or preten
sion of this having been a concession. The remembrance of
a condition of things, when one portion of the same com
munity was a suppliant to the other for common rights, wttl
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 eompulsorily relieved. Then, and
only then, will that clear stage have been prepared, on which
peaceful and intellectual contention can be conducted as be
tween champions in ancient times ; devoid of hate and of heat,
and uninfluenced by recoUections of mutual relations, then
unknown to either side. But, certainly, the day that prepared
such a prospect for a country divided in religion, may weU
be considered a bright one in the brief annals of the Ponti
ficate within which it fell.

252 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
The second striking occurrence of Pius's Pontificate 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 tiU 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 rejoicmg at
the coming alliance between the power to which it related
and our own royal family, it would be UI- timed and ungracious
to enter into any details of the Pope's celebrated answer to
four great German prelates on the subject of mixed mar
riages. 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 clergy
men 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 indi
vidual convictions 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 govern
ment, who could speak as one having authority, and whom
they would all obey.
Pius, as Cardinal Castighoni, 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 Miinster, which was immediately
foUowed by a long practical instruction bearing the signa
ture of Cardinal Albani.
There is no intention of discussing the grounds or mo
tives 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

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 253
characterising the paper itself. Reading it now, after seven
teen years, one cannot faU 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 con
flict 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 dhections 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 dhections 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 yet lead to coUisions and conflicts, to
sufferings and violence, of which the blame would probably
be cast upon himself. It was painful therefore, in the ex
treme, 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 quahties not often combined : its
enactments are as clear and as definite as any statute could
make them, without wavering, flinching, or aught extenuat
ing ; at the same time, its enthe tone is conciliatory, respect
ful, and even friendly. To the bishops he speaks as a father
and a master : of theh sovereign he undeviatingly writes as
of a fellow-monarch, an ally, and a friend. His confidence
in the royal justice, fairness, and tolerance, is enthe and un
bounded. 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
disposition. Moreover, the consummate canonist is discover
able to the more learned, and this too in the hne of conde
scension and conciliation. His successor, in 1837, com-

254 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
menting on this Brief, justly remarked that it " pushed its
indulgence so far, that one might truly say it reached the
very boundary-line which could not be passed without vio
lation of duty." Every one knows what a nicety in legal
knowledge this requires. A weU-remembered popular leader
used to boast, that he trusted so confidently in his accurate
acquaintance with law, that he had no fear of ever overstep
ping 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 hreparably 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.
Eor more than a year this document lay buried in some min
isterial bureau at Berlin : it was then taken up, negotiated
about, and cast for three more years into obttvion. What
foUowed belongs to another Pontificate ; but wttl 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 throne of glorious Cologne, almost rebuUt un
der royal patronage ; the young Prince, future heh to the
Prussian crown, who is about to take into partnership of its
brilliancy andits 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 oc
casions, given proof of his own personal feelings in favour of
justice and fah deahng towards the newer, as weU as the
older, provinces of his kingdom.
Two important pubhc incidents thus marked the com
mencement and the middle of this brief Pontificate : the first
was joyful, the second painful; a thhd and stttl more disas
trous one preceded, perhaps prepared, its close. Like the

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 255
others, it only developed its consequences in another Pon
tificate. 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 domieUiary slaughter
were the strategy employed ; then aU was over, without
guillotine or fusillades. Such were the three days, once
caUed glorious in France, commemorated by anniversary fes
tivities. 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 whhled entire, by the revolutionary blast, across
the sea to a second exUe, but scarcely to a second hospitable
.welcome. And yet the fight and the turmoil, the agitation
and the waste of strength, did not even bring about a change
of name. When the dust and smoke had cleared away, an
other Bourbon was on the throne ; a monarch had succeeded
to a monarch ; a younger branch more vigorous in its off
shoots, fuller of younger sap, was planted on the same spot,
or rather sprang from the same trunk as the one so mer-
cUessly lopped. It appeared as if France had not at least
quarreUed with the root.
In August, the terrible lesson, easUy learnt, was faith
fuUy repeated in Brussels, and' Belgium was for ever
separated from Hottand. 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 coittd
not but be a spectacle full of terrors. The recoUection
of that sanguinary period was stiU fresh in the memory of
many. Charles X., who was expeUed 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 close connection. Pius VIII. had lived and suffered in
•one ; he could not but be deeply affected by another. It was

256 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
easy to foresee that examples so successful as these must en
courage the discontented of other countries, and that a spark
from one conflagration might suffice to set the drier materials
of older dynasties in a blaze. His own dominions 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 predecessor against
secret societies — the Carbonari. A lodge of these conspir
ators was discovered in Rome, and twenty-six of its members
were arrested. 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 consphacy. But Pius commuted his sentence, and mer
cifully spared his life.
These repeated shocks abroad and at home, 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 ma
lignant 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 mean time, Pius had taken a plain, straightforward
course. No sooner had the French revolution proved com
plete, and Louis-Philippe been seated firmly on his throne,
than he frankly recognised his government, and confirmed
the credentials of his own Nuncio. The Archbishop of
Paris, Monseigneur De Quelen, a man whose virtues all
must admhe, demurred to this decision, and sent an envoy
to Rome, to argue the question of the new oath of fidelity,
and of pubUc prayers for the head of the State. Several
other bishops Ukewise entertained similar conscientious scru
ples, and consulted the same supreme authority. On the 29th
of September, the Pope addressed a most luminous and kind
brief to the Archbishop, in which he rephed to his doubts,
and assured him that he might safely accord both the re
quired pledges of fidelity.
It cannot be necessary to remark, how fearfully the out-

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 257
break 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 suc
cessive convulsions in France ; visited successively greater
and lesser states, from emphes to grand-duchies ; and has
led to more changes of dynasties, more resignations of sove
reigns, more variation of national constitutions, more pro
visional governments, more periods of anarchy, more civil
strife, more military rule, more states of siege, more pohtical
assassinations, more disturbance of international law, and
more subversion 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,thebeginning of this revolutionary
movement seemed to cut short his valuable hfe. He was
conscious of his approaching end, and asked to receive the
Sacraments, whieh the highest and the lowest in the Church
equaUy require and desire ; or rather which bind us all to
gether in an equality of helplessness and of relief ; — like the
food of the 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 Uke a
common priest, receives the Viaticom under one species, the
same as any patient in the hospital, and goes through the
humble duty of confession, generally to a simple priest, hke
the everyday sinner of the world. In what is beheved to be
supernatural, and belongs to the order of grace, he is on the
level with his own chUdren. He can give more than they,
but he must receive the same.
But a trait is recorded of the dying Pius, which wiU jus
tify, or illustrate, what has been said concerning the delicacy
of his conscience as weU as the disinterestedness of his con
duct. On his death-bed, he sent for his treasurer Cristaldi,
and requested him, in virtue of the powers vested in his
17

258 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
office, to secure a small pension for life to one old and faith
ful 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 himseU a right to leave the
treasury burthened with this trifling personal gratuity. He
expressed 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 recoUections 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 Pon
tificate. It has been wished to exemplify, even at the risk
of being personal — which recollections must necessarily
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 charac
ter, blights all that is planted beneath it; while another
seems to draw upwards, and to give straight, though per
haps slender, growth to what springs up under its shelter.
Such is the benign and fostering protection and dhection
which many witt have experienced in the Roman Pontiff.
And, therefore, a recoUection 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, which turned on those studies which formed
the writer's favourite pursuits, and was calculated to en
courage perseverance in them. Another interview can more
easily be here inserted, because it has aheady been pubhshed
many years, and, therefore, 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 overlook this
opportunity of saying that, on every occasion, but principaUy
1 Chevalier D 'Artaud.

PIUS THE EIGHTH. 259
on the subject of these Lectures,1 I have received the most
condescending encouragement from those whose approbation
every Cathohc wttl consider his best reward."
" To this acknowledgment was appended the foUowing ex
planatory note : —
" I feel a pleasure in relating the following anecdote. A
few years ago, I prefixed to a thesis held by a member of the
EngUsh CoUege (afterwards the Right Rev. Bishop Baggs),
a Latin dissertation often or twelve pages, upon the necessity
of uniting general and scientific knowledge to theological
pursuits. I took a 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 beheve, appeared also at MUan. What was most
gratifying, however, to my own feelings, and may serve as a
confirmation of the assertions in the text, is, that when, two
days after, I waited upon the late Pope Pius VIIL, a man
truly versed in sacred and profane hterature, to present him,
according to usage, with a copy of the thesis prepared for
hhn, I found him with it on his table ; and, in the kindest
terms, he informed me, that, having heard of my httle Essay,
he had instantly sent for it, and added, in terms aUusive to
the figure quoted above from the ancient Fathers : ' Tou
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 httle germ,
which made it grow up, at least with the vigour of good in
tentions, into something more complete. Those few conde
scending words gave new zest to researches commenced,
imparted value to what had been already gathered, and en
couragement towards collecting what stttl lay scattered.
They shed a cheerful brightness over one period of hfe. And
that very moment might not be unjustly considered its very
midpoint. We aU look back, from our lengthening desert
path, upon some such green and sunlit oasis from which we
1 Lectures on the Connection between Science and Revealed Religion.

260 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
started ; but, what was more, mine was then peopled and
alive with kindred minds. It is then, that, on reaching back
through memory to that happier time, to me
" Occurrunt animse, qnales neque candidiores
Terra tulit, neque queis me sit devinctior alter."
During that brief and long-passed era of life, congenial pur
suits created links of which few now remain, between the
survivor and many well more worthy to have Uved. Not to
speak of Italy, and many great and good men who flourished
there, especiaUy 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 Mon-^
golian learning, Abel-Remusat ; not to mention Balbi, Oza-
nam, Hahna, and many others: and in Germany to have
been in simUar relations with Mohler, Klee, — both too early
taken from us, — Scholz, Schlegel, Windischmann the elder,
and the two noble-minded Gorreses, the phttosopher of the
noblest faculties, and the poet of the sweetest affections.
Many others, indeed, as yet survive, to share the recol
lections 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, linger
ing 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.

$nt t\t $mt\.
GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH.

CHAPTER I.
HIS CONSECRATION.
" Tou must now revise your own proofs. I fear I shaU
not have much time in future to correct them." Such were
the words which I heard from the mouth of Gregory XVI.
They were preceded by a kind exclamation of recognition,
and followed by a hearty blessing, as I knelt before him in
the narrow passage leading from the private papal apart
ments. It was only a few days after his accession. The
new Pope alluded to an act of singular kindness on his part.
He had deshed me to expand and essay and publish it as a
little work in Italian ; on a subject in which, as Prefect of
Propaganda, he took an interest. It was passing through
the press of that Institution, and he had undertaken to cor
rect its sheets. Throughout the duration of the conclave,
down to the very eve of his election, he had persevered in
this proof of condescension, and thus probably spared the
future reader some amount of infelicities in diction, or inac
curacies in facts. At any rate that short interview proved
to me that Gregory's elevation to the Sovereign Pontificate
had not altered that amiability and simplicity of character
which I had already so often experienced.
The conclave after the death of Pius commenced in the
middle of December, with the observance of aU usual forms.
At one time it seemed hkely to close by the election of Car
dinal Giustiniani ; when the Court of Spain interposed and

264 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
prevented it. Allusion has been made to the existence of
this privilege, vested more by usage, than by any formal act
of recognition, at least in three great Catholic Powers.
Should two-thhds of the votes centre in any person, he is at
once Pope, beyond the reach of any prohibitory declaration.
It is, therefore, when the votes seem to be converging to
wards some one obnoxious, no matter why, to one of those
sovereigns, that his ambassador to conclave, himself a Car
dinal, by a circular, admonishes his colleagues of this feeling
in the court which he represents. This suffices to make
them turn in another direction.
Thus in the conclave preceding the one now before us,
Cardinal SeveroU was nearly elected, when Cardinal Albani,
on behalf of Austria, to which Severoli had been formerly
Nuncio, inhibited 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 inti
mated, first to Giustiniani's nephew, Odescalchi, then to the
Dean Pacca, that Spain objected to that nomination. Every
one was amazed. Giustiniani had been Nuncio in Spain ;
and the ground of his exclusion was supposed to be, his par
ticipation in Leo XII's appointment of bishops in South
America. If so, the object in view was signatty defeated.
For the power of veto possessed by the crown of any coun
try is exhausted by its first exercise ; the sting remams
behind in the wound. Cardinal Cappellari had been instru
mental, far more than Giustiniani, in promoting those epis
copal nominations, 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 excellent and noble prince on the
occasion. I have heard Cardinal Weld, and his secretary in
conclave, Bishop Riddell, describe how wretched and pining
he looked while the prospect of the papacy hung before hhn,
for he was scrupulous and tender of conscience to excess ;

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 265
and how he brightened up and looked hke himself again, the
moment the vision had passed away. Indeed, no sooner had
the note of the Spanish lay ambassador, Labrador, been read
in his presence by the Dean, than Cardinal Giustiniani rose,
and standing in the middle of the chapel, addressed his col
leagues. He was taU, his scanty hah was white with age,
his countenance peculiarly mttd. His mother was an Eng
Ush lady, and his famtty are now claiming the Newburgh
peerage in Scotland, from the Crown.1 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 ' exclu
sion ' pubhshed 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 my
nunciature, I dare congratulate myself with having rendered
His Majesty signal service in the difficult chcumstances
wherein he was placed." He then referred to some proofs
of acknowledgment of this fidehty from the Spanish Crown ;
and continued : " I wttl always cherish the memory of these
kindnesses shown me by His Catholic Majesty, and wttl en
tertain toward him the most profound respect, and in addi
tion a most lively interest for aU that can regard his wel
fare, and that of his august family. I wttl further add, that,
of aU the benefits conferred on me by His Majesty, I con
sider the greatest and most acceptable to me (at least in its
effects) to be his having this day closed for me the access to
the most subhme dignity of the Pontificate. Knowing, as 1
do, my great weakness, I could not bring myself to foresee
that I should ever have to take on myself so heavy a bur
then ; 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 tranquttlity, and I retain only the gratifica
tion of knowing that some of my most worthy coUeagues
have deigned to cast a look on me, and have honoured me
1 It has since been obtained.

266 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
with theh votes, for which I beg to offer them my eternal
and sincerest gratitude."
This address visibly moved the enthe assembly; and
many Cardinals visited Giustiniani in his cell, to express to
him theh admhation of his conduct and his virtues.1
Gregory XVI. gave him every proof of his 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 con
ferring 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 divi
sions in the Church, the secular and regular. Pius VII. be
longed to the latter, the two next Popes to the former class.
In Cardinal CapeUari a return was made to the monastic
order. His three immediate predecessors had passed through
certain preparatory steps ; had been graced with the episco
pal dignity before they reached the pontifical, had been
bishops or pubttc 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 phrase ;2 and after this,
he only filled one, and that an ecclesiastical ofiice. His
previous life, therefore, may be easUy sketched.
Bartholomew Albert CappeUari was born at Bettuno, in
Lombardy, September 18, 1765, of parents belonging to the
nobles of the place. In 1783 he took the habit of the Camal
dolese 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 pubhshed a large work of great merit, which gave
proof of his extensive and varied learning.3 In 1805 he was
1 Moroni, Dizionario, vol. xxxi. p. 221.
2 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.
3 It is entitled, " II trionfo della Santa Sede, e della Chiesa, contro gli

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 267
created Abbot, and exercised the office at the monasterv of
St. Gregory in Rome, and in that of his original profession
at Venice. The first, however, became his place of resi
dence. The church and monastery of St. Gregory are beautifuUy
situated on the Caelian Hill, and occupy the site of a reU
gious 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, adorn
ed with exquisite frescoes. Over the threshold of this house
proceeded St. Augustine, and the other missionaries, whom
St. Gregory sent to England. From the Benedictines it
passed into the hands of the Camaldolese, a branch indeed
of that religious order. The Camaldolese take their name
from one of the three celebrated " Sanctuaries " of Tuscany,
"situated among the fastnesses of the Apennines, and remark
able for the beauties of their positions, and of the prospects
around them. But the Camaldolese, founded by St. Ro-
muald in the thirteenth century, have two forms of hfe, one
monastic, the other eremetical. The latter has been in part
described, where an account was given of the abduction, by
banditti, of a community on Tusculum. It was to the mo
nastic branch that D. Mauro Cappellari belonged. In the
splendid monastery of St. Gregory the Great, he passed up
wards of twenty years of quiet obscurity, enjoying the com
mand of a rich library, to which he greatly added.
But, although scarcely known to the pubhc, he was one
of the many living in Rome, who silent and unseen carry on
the great business of the Church, as its counsellors, theolo
gians, and referees in arduous affahs. In this way Father
Cappellari was well known to the Holy See ; and full oppor
tunity was given him to become acquainted with ecclesias
tical and even civil business, and to manifest his ability, pru
dence, and uprightness in its transaction. Among other
grave duties, Leo XII. imposed on him those of visitor of
assalti dei Novatori." It passed through three editions in Yenice, and
has been translated into several languages.

268 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
the four lesser Universities. Those who knew his merits
fully expected that he would be soon placed in a position to
display them more usefully ; when it appeared as if a friend
ly rival had stepped in between him and his well-earned
honours. Another rehgious of the same order, and from the same
province, had eome 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 quahties. 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 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 Ubrary 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 inti
mate friend of Father Cappellari ; and all Rome was aston
ished when he was named Cardinal by Pius VIL, in May,
1823, not because his own merits were underrated, but be
cause his elevation seemed to bar that of his feUow-monk.
For it was supposed to be impossible that two religious
should be raised to the purple from one very Umited monas
tic body. So Zurla felt it : and on receiving notice of his
coming nomination, he is said to have proceeded to the feet
of Pius, and deprecated it, as an injustice to his friend — in
deed, as certainly a mistake. However, it was not so. He
became Vicar of Rome, and was Protector of our CoUege
titt his death in Sicily in 1834. Not the shghtest interrup
tion of affection ever took place between the two religious
brethren, even after the last had become first; and Zurla
was vicar to Cappellari.
In fact, Leo XII., overlooking all usages, ordered a com
plete equipment for a cardinal to be prepared at his own
•charge ; and the colour and form of the robes left no doubt

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 269
who the unknown nominee was to be. On the 25th of
March, 1825, Leo created him Cardinal, but reserved him im,
petto, till March 13th of the following year, when he pro
claimed him with such an eulogium as has seldom been pro
nounced 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 protract
ed labours endured for the Apostohc See."
On the Feast of the Purification, February 2nd, 1831,
an end was put to the conclave by the election of Cappellari
to the Supreme Pontificate, by the name 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 eccle
siastical power. From the moment of his acceptance of the
papal dignity, he was Supreme Head of the Church ; could
decree, rule, name or depose bishops, and exercise every duty
of pontifical jurisdiction. But he could not ordain, nor con
secrate, tttl he had himself received the imposition of hands
from other bishops, inferior to himself, and holding under
and from him their sees and jurisdiction.
On a previous occasion, when Clement XIV. was named
Pope, he received episcopal consecration separately from his
coronation. Gregory united the two functions ; but follow
ing a still older precedent, departed from ordinary forms.
In the Roman Pontifical, the rite prescribed for episco
pal consecration is interwoven with the Mass, during which
the new Bishop occupies a very subordinate place tttl the
end, when he is enthroned, and pronounces his first episco
pal 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 the presence of his 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.

270 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 Vatican, whtte 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. Eor it was only
on the 4th that Bologna had risen. A canonade 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 Ciro Menotti, who had been
treated with all the kindness of a domestic friend by that
monarch, whtte he was the very centre of a general con
spiracy. 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 insurrection spread ; and,
having occupied the legations, overflowed its original bound
aries, and sent its forces towards the capital, where a move
ment was attempted, but with no real success.
I remember perfectly the night of February 12. It was
the carnival time, of the good old days, when later restric
tions had not been thought of, and every one was on plea
sure bent, hearty and harmless, for the hour. On the after
noon of that day, just as the sports were going to begin,
an edict peremptorily suspended them ; troops patrolled the
Corso, and other pubhc places ; and citizens were warned to
remain at home, as evil-disposed persons machinated mis
chief. Three days before a plot had been formed for the
surprise and seizure of the Fort of St. Angelo ; but it had
been fotted by the watchfulness of Government. 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 inten
tion of seizing its arms and ammunition. But the soldiers
were on the alert ; they returned the fire, wounded several,
and captured many of theh assailants ; and aU was quiet.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 271
One baU went through the gate of the Piombino- Palace,
and, I believe, killed the innocuous porter within.
As for ourselves, not knowing what might happen, or in
what direction the bhnd fury of a successful rebellion might
dhect itself; ignorant also of the extent and resources of
the aggressors ; we took every precaution against any noc
turnal 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 as
sailants ; and I doubt if Todleben himself could have suggested
a more scientific or more effectual way than we employed, of
securing it, by works easily thrown up, against nocturnal ag
gression. Watch and ward were also kept up ; tttl morning
dawned on our untried defences and nodding sentinels.
Whatever may have been the feelings of the provinces,
certainly Rome gave no proof of sympathy with revolution,
but rather manifested enthusiastic devotion to her new sove
reign. 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 thecommand
of this body. The loyalty of the poorer classes became al
most alarming. They surrounded the royal carriage in such
masses, that it was scarcely possible to move through them ;
and they expressed theh attachment and readiness to fight,
with a clamour and warmth that would have rendered any
attempt to remove them a dangerous experiment.
The Pope displayed the utmost calmness, fortitude, and
prudence. The blow was, no doubt, to him cruel and dis
appointing. It served better than any symbolical ceremony,
to remind him, on his coronation day, how earthly glory
passeth quickly 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 predecessors. There was no army

272 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
worth naming kept up in the States — one burthen the less,
to press on the people. Repression had never been a con
templated principle of government ; military occupation had
not been considered as the tenure of an ecclesiastical dynasty.
There was one consolation certainly in what had just oc
curred. The insurrection had broken out before his election
was known. It could have no personal motive, no enmity
to himseU. 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 resources of men
driven to extremity, by being denied aU redress. The out
burst was sudden, though doubtless premeditated ; it aimed
at the final overthrow of the reigning power, not at modi
fications of government. It pretended to seek, not reforms,
but the substitution of a republic for the existing and recog
nised rule. Now let any one impartiaUy discuss with himself,
what he would have done in simUar circumstances; and it will
be difficult for him to arrive at a condemnation of the course
pursued by Gregory. There was no question of concession,
but of cession 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 supreme rulers. They were now the nation, the
government ; sitting in provisional form, in provincial 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 provinces 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 would have
felt that his first duty was to secure integral possession of
his rightful dominions, and to rescue the country from civil

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 273
war ; there was no alternative but the one adopted by Gre
gory ; the caUing in the aid of an attied power, especiaUy
one to whom the well-known lesson applied —
" Nam tua res agitur, paries cum proximus ardet."
That foreign assistance, especiaUy when prolonged, is an
evil, no one can doubt ; and as such none more deplored it
than Gregory XVT. But there was only a choice of evils ;
and surely this one was less than anarchy and aU its mise
ries. In fact, it is a mistake to speak of choice ; since it was
a necessity without an alternative. Eor the outbreak itself,
independent of all abstract questions, was a grievous calamity
to the country. Its promoters, of course, appropriated to
themselves the provincial chests, and cut off supphes from
the capital, where pubhc payments had to be made ; the
additional expenses entatted by it, and the hregularities that
ensued in the collection of revenues, embarrassed for a long
time the pubhc finances : a loan had to be contracted for
the fhst time, and an external debt created ; public property
had to be ruinously sold, and profitable sources of national
income farmed out for a present advantage and eventual loss ;
and much property belonging to ecclesiastical corporations
was enfranchised and its proceeds converted into Govern
ment funds. But in the mean time payments of aU sorts
ran into arrears, whether dividends, salaries, pensions, or
assignments ; and I can speak with painful recollection of
the embarrassment in which persons charged with adminis
tration of property vested in public securities soon found
themselves involved, through the disturbance created by this
internal derangement. It was several years before the finan
cial 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 Pontificate, 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 Sep
tember foUowing he published seventeen more, and named
18

274 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
twelve cardinals, 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 metropolis ;
issued excellent laws for municipal government, and reorgan
ised that of several provinces, raising theh rank for theh ad
vantage ; 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 pres
sure and revolt was the pubhcation of an Apostohcal Con
stitution, which was dated August 31st, beginning " Soli-
citudo Ecclesiarum." It has been mentioned that Cardinal
Cappellari had been the chief instrument 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 Cappellari as a
negotiator were authoritatively proclaimed by him as Pope
in the Bull just mentioned ; that the Holy See recognises
governments established de facto, without thereby 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 magi
cal or iUusory 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 ; whilst it kept itself
clear of all internal disputes and embarrassing appeals during
actual contests.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 275

CHAPTER II.
PUBLIC WORKS OF GREGORY, THE SIXTEENTH.
The recollections of this volume commenced in the nine
teenth year of one Pontificate ; but 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 ; but, in a
similar manner, I must be aUowed to refer to circumstances
that foUowed my separation from the scenes of youth and
manhood. However warlike may appear the attitude, which Gregory
was compeUed to assume at the commencement of his reign,
the arts which stamped it with theh character were the arts
of peace. Scarcely any Pontificate has its foot-prints more
deeply or more widely impressed on it than his. He was not
content with continuing or extending. what his predecessors
had commenced, but he created ; that is, began from nothing,
and accomplished what, until his time, was altogether want
ing. Nor did he confine himself to any one department of
art; 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 enriched
the rest of the world. Unfortunately, in ancient times, many
of the sculptures which were excavated when the sott was for
the first time upturned, were placed in the palaces or vttlas
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

276 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
only with spoils secretly conveyed from Rome. Thus also,
whatever in the Museum of Naples bears the name of Far- -
nesian, as the Hercules and Dhce, came from the gigantic
palace of that family in Rome. Let us imagine these two
collections 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 of the
city ; in the vttlas and palaces of Rome, in the Louvre, at
Munich, in London, and it may well be said that the Eternal
City has not only heaped up artistic treasures for herself,
but has enriched with them the enthe world.
With this inexhaustible mine of wealth, she had not
thought of going beyond her own sott 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 losses. The consequence has
been most beneficial. Unable any longer to look to Italy for
the accumulation of masterpieces, we have turned to the ori
ginal fields where she reaped her golden harvests, to Greece
and Asia, to Lycia and Hahcarnassus. It was Gregory
XVI. who first enlarged the boundaries of artistic coUection
in Rome, and brought into near connection the monuments
of earlier schools, those from which it had always been sup
posed that the more elegant and subhme productions of
Grecian taste and genius had received their first inspirations.
The discovery of Assyrian monuments has indeed mate
rially 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 bulrushes of the NUe. And
Etruscan art is no antecedent preparer or modifier of Grecian
grace ; it is a portion of it, finished and refined, though cor
responding with it in progressive development, from rigid
archaism to unzoned luxurianey.
Gregory added to the Vatican — but kept unblended with
its chaster treasures — most valuable collections of these two"
new classes of monuments. He began nearest home. Men-

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 277
tion has aheady been made of the Etruscan discoveries com
menced a few years earUer in the Papal territory. Cam
pania had long supptted Europe with what are stitt called
Etruscan vases, probably the same objects of commerce as
figure in our customs hst under the designation of " Magna
Grascia ware." The Museum at Naples was rich in its col
lection 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, Vol
terra, 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 Academy of Cortona,
which extend to many volumes, full of interesting matter.
But, a few years before the accession of Gregory, a rich
vein of excavation had been struck into, situated beyond the
confines of modern Tuscany, but within the territory of an
cient Etruria. The very names of Vulci, Tarquinh, and
Ceras suggest to classical ears the idea of places belonging to
that ancient confederation ; but the names had themselves
been buried, hke the cities to which they belonged, under
such designations 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 re
searches, and drew from them an immense collection, which
has found its way to the British Museum. Etruscan " dig
gings " became the rage ; and many adventurers 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

278 The last four popes.
putting the luck penny into the hand of the rich or poor, to
pay his freightage to the churlish ferryman ; was fully appre
ciated and observed by the old ItaUans. The tomb of a re
spectable person occupied the space of a cottage ; its walls
were painted with frescoes of banquets, games, horses, and
men in large dimensions ; and within was exquisite furniture
in imperishable bronze, seats, beds, lamps, and other house
hold utensils, of the same metal, or of the more fragile but
more richly laboured clay. Nor were vases their most pre
cious contents ; but gold and jewelled ornaments, entombed
there in profusion, attest the wealth, the luxury, and taste
of ancient races, as weU as theh reverence for theh dead.
Breast-plates elaborately wrought of purest gold, neck-lacesj
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 yet serve
as models for the goldsmith's art.1
A glut in the market became an almost unavoidable re
sult of this superabundance of discovery. The Government
of Rome, being on the spot, had the advantage of choice ;
and Gregory XVI., with unbounded hberahty, purchased all
that could be requhed to form, at once, a complete coUec
tion. There was already, in the Vatican hbrary, 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 Cardinal Librarian's apartments, but had not been
occupied for many years. ' It belongs to the " Hand-books "
and " Guides " to give a description of this splendid collec-
1 The East is full of fables concerning vast treasures, yet concealed in
the sepulchres of monarchs, guarded by griffins or spirits. The account of
David's tomb, in connection with Herod, has become matter of history.
See Josephus, tom. i. p. 412, and p. 802, ed. Havercamp. Tn the second!
passage we are told that Herod found, not money, as Hyrcanus had, but
" many gold ornaments and precious things" (Koapov xPvc,°v Ka' ««/«/*
Xtwv -jtoXvv)

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 279
tion, and its admirable 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 re
mained so many ages beyond its reach. That famihes should
not have assumed that they had made rather a loan than a
gift of theh treasures to the dead, and, after a decent inter
val of mourning, have resumed possession ; that domestics
should not have filched them, or a fraternity of jewel — if not
body — snatchers should not have existed for sepulchral bur
glaries ; that in the feuds between tribes, when cities were
given to sack and ruin, rings snatched from the ears of ma
trons, and embroidered baldricks stripped from the bodies
of slaughtered warriors, the ashes of the dead should have
afforded protection to gold and pearls more efficaciously than
horses and 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 faith
fully, tttl a better motive and a more intelligent spirit kindly
transferred them to a surer custody and to admiring observ
ation, 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 fructify in the social
world; Uke 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 an
niversaries later he inaugurated its feUow-collection, the
Egyptian. It occupies the floor immediately below the first.
In one way, Rome may be said to have anticipated all
other countries in gathering Egyptian monuments, and in
making them known to Europe, before the collections of

280 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 bis successor. But the great
ones before the Vatican and the Lateran, the first plain, and
the second richly storied, had long been objects of admira
tion to every traveUer. Theh gigantic dimensions and ele
gant forms, their unmanageable material and finished work
manship, whether in pohsh or in carving ; then theh pre
served integrity as monoliths for so many thousands of
years, and the calculation of the mechanical strength and
skill which were required to extract them from their granite
bed, — transport them and raise them on to proportioned
pedestals — a piling of Pelion on Ossa, — had, perhaps more
practically than anything else, given the West a notion of
the precocious civilisation and huge works which so early
distinguished the banks of the Nile. And, except 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 Toung and Champollion. Such,
for instance, were two out of four basalt lions, which, couched
at the feet of Moses, delivered well-regulated jets of water
from theh indrawn lips into the fountain bearing that pa
triarch's name. They were covered with hieroglyphics,
which, read by the learned F. UngarelU, showed them to
belong to a very early dynasty, and to be perhaps coeval
with the Jewish lawgiver himself.
These and any other such remains were replaced by less
noble substitutes in their servtte occupations, and received a

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 281
place in the halls of the Vatican amidst other kingly monu
ments. But there was a thhd class of Egyptian, or rather
pseudo-Egyptian, works, which hkewise belonged exclusively
to Rome. The Emperor Adrian coUected in his vttla at
Tivoh imitations of celebrated buUdings in every part of the
world. Among the rest was a " Canopus," adorned by
Egyptian works, or rather by Graeco-Roman sculptures re
duced to Egyptian forms. The museums abounded with such
monuments drawn from the ruins of the villa ; and these also
were withdrawn from theh usurped positions, and united to
their more legitimate brethren ; thus producing a contrast be
tween the white marble progeny of Western, and the dusky
granite or basalt produ ctions of Eastern, art. This union gives
a local singularity to the Roman-Egyptian gallery.
Pius VII. had purchased a smaU but valuable coUection
brought from Egypt by Signor Guidi, and had placed it
round a hemicycle in the Vatican, that crossed the end of
the great Belvidere court, uniting its two flanks. It could
only be considered as placed there temporarily, and it migrat
ed to the new quarters prepared for Ises and Anubises, Cyno-
cephatt and Scarabsei. Such was the groundwork of this
new aggregation to the vast Vatican group of artistic won
ders ; 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-collec
tion, is strictly in keeping with its particular object, — is here
purely Egyptian, as elsewhere Etruscan or Grecian.
The Gallery of Paintings in the Vatican can hardly be
designated by that name, which suggests the idea of walls
covered with pictures from ceihng to wainscot, whether
stretched into great lengths as in Paris or Florence, or sur
rounding halls as in London or Dresden. In all other col
lections quantity gives value, to a certain extent ; and a
sufficient exemplification of every celebrated school is kept
in view. They are aU galleries for study. At the Vatican,
however, this is not the case. A few paintings, chiefly large,

282 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
are hung without crowding one another, or unfairly con
trasting, on ample spaces of wall, in lofty, spacious apart
ments, 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 plaee 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 position, in which
they will probably be visited for generations to come. One
ofthe 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 beautifully in theh ceilings by
some pre-Raffaelite artists. Gregory XVI. added this
magnificent range to the already vast hbrary, and filled it
with additional books. Another department of the hterary
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 pre
servation. He likewise purchased for himseU, and left in
the palace, the whole coUection of pictures by Peters, an
eminent German animal painter,1 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 waUs as composing exclusively the Vatican
gaUery. One must comprehend under this title the Sixtine
Chapel as the grandest specimen of Michael Angelo's mas
terly genius ; the " Stanze " and " Loggie " as the noblest
display of Raffaele's sweeter powers ; St. Laurence's Chapel
as a gem without a flaw of Beato Angelico's work, set in the
very centre of Raffaele's golden band; not to speak of
twenty other great artists, before and since, who have left
noble works upon the vaults and walls of that grandest of
1 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 hJ3
principal attention.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 28&
palaces. It was Gregory XVI. who thought of arresting
the progress of decay in some valuable portions of these sub
lime works. So httle consciousness was there of their inimi
table powers in the greatest artists, that they did not think
of sheltering theh works from the most inevitable causes of
destruction ; they painted in the open portico, where rain
and sun would play alternately ; 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 sculptor 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 Raffaele, and the arabesques and
Btuccoes of his pupils, were found to have been almost lost, —
indeed, preserved only by early copies and engravings. Gre
gory, 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.
It was natural to expect that, however vast the Vatican
might be, it would not suffice for the unceasing impouring
of new museums, as well as of individual objects of artistic
merit. It had overflowed aheady ; 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 containing works
which the Vatican and Capitol either could not contain, or
could not suitably harbour ; for new discoveries or acquisi
tions 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 preemption reserved to the
Government : such the subhme Sophocles, the rival or equal

284 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
of the Naples Aristides, discovered and given to the Pope,
in 1839, by the famUy of the present Cardinal Antonelli.
But what, perhaps, primarily demanded extensive accom
modation was an immense mosaic pavement representing
worthies of the cestus, emiment boxers and wrestlers in theh
day, natives of Tuscan cities, which were proud, one may
suppose, of theh sons' thews and sinews. These heroes of
the ring have thus been suddenly restored to fame, and are
likely to obtain a second immortality, if one may use the
phrase, more enduring than the first. Theh proportions are
colossal, and as they stand full-lengths in separate compart
ments, it requhed no restricted space to stretch them forth
in theh original position.
The Lateran Palace, a noble pUe, had long stood un
tenanted, except, for a time, as a receptacle for paupers.
The treasurer, Monsignor Tosti, had thoroughly repahed it,
and restored it to its primeval beauty ; yet it was insuffi
cient and ill-situated for a Papal residence. The " .ZEdes La-
teranse," — confiscated under Nero, celebrated by poets and
historians as most sumptuous, given by Maxentius to Con
stantine as his daughter's dowry, and by Constantine, with
its adjoining basilica, to be the episcopal palace and cathe
dral 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 separate
shrines found there for masterpieces, and galleries or cham
bers for lesser works, one of which is a copy in mosaic of a
¦celebrated floor-painting described by Pliny as existing at
Pergamus, 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
development, but in some respects a distinct destination, as
a depository of Christian sculptures.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 285

CHAPTER III.
EVENTS OE GREGORY'S PONTIFICATE.
Evert state or government presents two distinct aspects
and conditions, one internal, another external. In this it is
like any other association, any famtty, 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 Ulnesses, or afflictions ; or of the domestic
ioys, affections, and pleasures inside any house but our own.
There is a hidden Ufe too in every separate being that com
poses each homely circle, impenetrable to thesrest of its
members. No one can read the thoughts, unravel the mo
tives, map the mind, block out the deshes, trace the inten
tions of others with whom he has hved for years in contact.
Hence we must needs be content to act with them according
to the form in which they show themselves, and in the pro
portion that we require one another's cooperation.
Is it not so with kingdoms and principalities ? What do
we know of the internal policy, the yearly growth, the daily
actions of rulers and people, in states especiaUy that have
not attained an influential prominence ? Eor the readers of
newspapers, volumes are daily prepared of home-stirring in
formation, to be eagerly devoured : how much of it 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 sumptuously yes
terday at her table ; or who spoke at the last Bradford or
Wolverhampton Reform meeting ? Their very names defy
spelUng 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 himseU about
"the Principalities," or theh interior affahs, till theh out-

286 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
ward Ihe 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 concerns, to penetrate into the real feehngs,
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 pohtics, of its treaties, its tariffs, its commerce, of
¦course every one may judge, and has. probably data on which
to attempt at least to judge. But it is more than probable
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' beheve
that the occasional, and too evidently partisan, communica
tion to a newspaper constitutes the materials upon which an
accurate judgment can be formed ; while no trouble is taken
to ascertain the statistical, financial, moral, or social state of
the country, the administration of the state, or the inward
changes gradually introduced. Tet, while such indifference
is manifested concerning the interior state of other sovereign
ties, no such reserve is permitted about Rome ; and it seems
to be imagined that it is within everybody's power to dis
cover evils there ; and to prescribe theh remedy. There
surely is a very different reason for this interest than ordinary
philanthropy ; nor does it need to be defined.
Let us take Rome for what it is, a State recognised by all
Europe, as governed, for high and important reasons, by an
ecclesiastical Ruler ; and further assuming that he is no more
to be expected than any other head of a realm to commit
suicidal acts against himself or his authority, nor to yield to
the desires or attempts of those who plan and deshe the
overthrow of both ; we may then surely consider him a good
sovereign who devotes the whole of his mind and energies to
the happiness of his subjects, endeavouring to effect im
provements in every department of state and in every part of

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 287
his dominions. Now, certainly, no monarch ever did more
conscientiously labour, body and soul, for the good of those
committed to him, and for the discharge of his pubhc duties,
than the .vhtuous Gregory XVI.
It has been mentioned, that in the very year of his ac
cession he published new laws on the course of judicial pro
cedure. 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 departments, of
Home and Foreign Affairs ; and further gave a new system
to the department of Public Works.
In 1834 a national bank was estabhshed for the first time
in Rome ; and a complete code was pubhshed of laws and re
gulations for all pubttc administration. The year following,
a new coinage was issued more perfectly reduced to the de
cimal system than before ; as the gold coins previously bore
no proportion to it. The entire Roman Forum was thoroughly
restored ; and the monastery of St. Gregory, a conspicuous
pubUc -edifice, with the space and roads round it, was repahed
and beautified at the Pope's own expense. Very large public
works were also executed at the mouth of the Tiber, and in
the harbour and city of Civita Vecchia. The Anio also was
sent this year 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 sepulture 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 particularly severe in Ancona. The
Pope succoured liberally from, his own funds, as wett as from
public sources, every place which was attacked ; but, at the
same time, he omitted no precautionary measures 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

288 THE" LAST FOUR POPES.
averted. Then there was a solemn procession, in which the
Holy Father wanted. But some questioned the prudence of
thus assembhng crowds together ; and the events seem partly
to justify them. A sanitary commission was formed, to
wards which the Pope largely subscribed. Supernumerary-
hospitals were sought : the English College was unreservedly
offered to the authorities, with the services of its inmates to
attend the sick. The building was surveyed, and accepted
as an hospital for convalescents ; but this did not require any
help from the students, who, being obhged to leave the house,
retired to theh Tusculan viUa.
There we were regularly in a state of siege. Every town
and village exercised its municipal rights to the utmost, and
surrounded itseU with a sanitary cordon, which was as jealous
of foreign approach as the dragon guardian of the Hesper.
ides. Hence all communication between neighbouring ham
lets 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 attend
ance is at the public charge in att Roman communes, we
supplied medicines at free-cost. Thus we kept our dear vil
lage of Monte Porzio healthy and cheerful, whtte within-doors
we provided ample means of recreation for ourselves and the
more intelligent inhabitants.
The Pope remained at his post in Rome, attending to
everything, bestowing large alms, and providing for every
want. Thus at length the scourge passed by, and the
avenging angel sheathed his sword, after raising the mor
tality of the twelvemonth (between Easter and Easter) from
three to twelve thousand deaths. New duties then arose.
The Holy Father put himself at the head of the subscrip
tions for educating the numerous orphans left destitute by
the plague. Charity was here universal. The English Col
lege, hke many other institutions, undertook the support of

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 289
two chUdren. Houses were opened, by charitable contribu
tions, for those who remained ; and among the most active
and conspicuous agents in this merciful work was our coun
trywoman the Princess Borghese, first Lady Gwendeline
Talbot, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury ; a rarely gifted
lady, whose memory yet lives in Rome in the prayers of the
poor and the admiration ofthe great. It may be added that
the statistics of the cholera have nowhere been compUed
with greater accuracy and minuteness than in Rome.
In spite- of these anxious cares, this year saw its import
ant improvements. Besides the opening of the Etruscan
museum, and the enlargement of the Christian coUection,
both already mentioned, and the complete restoration of the
PauUne Chapel in the Vatican, there was established, for the
first time in the Roman States, a general insurance company,
embracing insurance against hail as well as -fire.
The year 1838 was remarkable for one of the most in
teresting 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 inscrip
tion. 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 monument singular in its construction and in
its mystery. An excrescent bastion at the outside of the gate
was subjected to excision, and disclosed in the process that
its core was an ancient tomb, of republican times, built with
strange materials. It had been raised by Marcus Vergilius
Eurysaces to his nameless wife ; and, as he was a rich baker,
for he was a public contractor (redemptor), he called the
tomb a bakery (pistrinum), and buUt up its waUs of stone
kneading-troughs, surmounted by reliefs which, represent
the whole process of making bread.
Another curious appearance no less astonished Rome, —
this was the arrival of two Ottoman ambassadors : the first,
19

290 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 in
telligent 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 tUem in theh
own house."
It was in this year also that the Vatican hbrary received
the addition of ten rooms.
Besides many great public works, some already men
tioned, the year 1839 was signahsed by the pubUcation of a
remarkable document, the Bull " In supremo apostolatus
fastigio " (Dec. 3), against the slave-trade. There can be
no doubt that in several, countries this splendid decree did
more to put down the slave-trade than negotiations or cor
vettes. Of this I was assured by several natives of those
countries. It contains a most interesting account, by way
of recital, of the untiring activity of former popes to put an
end to the infamous traffic.1
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 requhed 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 en
tire 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. AU the bishops of
the Papal States, and many from other parts of Italy, and
even from more distant countries, usually attend. These
1 Thus St. Wolstan's preaching prevailed more for the same purpose
with the Bristol merchants than royal prohibitions.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 291
are united in one magnificent procession : and on this oc
casion I remember one venerable grey-headed man who
supported the pendant of St. Alphonsus Liguori's banner ;
he was the saint's nephew, and had been confirmed by him.
The following year, 1840, closes att 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 ad
visable to increase the number of bishops in England, by
subdividing the four apostolic vicariates established in the
reign of James IL, so as to double their number. In fact
this had become a matter of absolute necessity. For exam
ple, the northern vicariate comprised not only the four
counties usuaUy designated by that epithet, but Lancashire
and Yorkshire besides. Since this first distribution of epis
copal jurisdiction, cities and towns, hke Manchester, Liver
pool, 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 ad
dition to these, the writer was appointed to the subordinate
situation of coadjutor or assistant to one aheady in posses
sion of a see with residence at Wolverhampton, the vener
able Bishop Walsh. It was a sorrowful evening, at the
beginning of autumn, when, after a residence in Rome pro
longed through twenty-two years, tiU 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,
Qua? mihi supremum tempus in urbe fuit,
Cum repeto noctem qua tot mihi chara reliqui,
Labitur ex oculis nunc quoque gutta meis."
In the chronological sketch here given only a few occur
rences of each year have been selected ; sufficient to show

292 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
how intent Gregory XVI. was upon steady improvement.
It would be easy to multiply examples even of material pro
gress, 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
railways, he always said that his successor must perforce in
volve himself in theh more rapid extension.
For those in one country, whose improvements naturally
take a given direction, to scorn others because they follow
another dhection equaUy congenial to them, and in which
they may in their turn give the lead to their scoffers, is
surely narrow and ungenerous. With boundless resources
and infinite advantages, England has her definite career of
progress, and in it 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 beauthul
arts. Italy gladly yields the palm to her in all industrial
pursuits ; admires, studies, and strives, with far more hmited
means, sometimes too subserviently, to copy. But it does
not jeer her, in return, for her backwardness in just becom
ing conscious of her artistic imperfection, nor for her some
what awkward ways of trying to repair it. Let there be,
not so much forbearance as mutual commendation, 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 requhe 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. 293

CHAPTER IV.
SOME OF THE REMARKABLE MEN OF GREGORY THE
SIXTEENTH'S PONTIFICATE.
During so long a reign as that of Gregory it might na
turally 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 to 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 lend
ing itseU to the luxuries of art, there has, nevertheless, hved
for a long period in the midst of it a school of foreign Chris
tian painting, born and bred in Rome itseU. Nay, we may
even say that the entire religious art of modern Germany,
not excluding Diisseldorf itself, owes its happy bhth to that
nursery of every art. Many years ago, several young Ger
man artists — would that they still were young ! — associated
themselves in Rome to draw and paint, taking for theh
models the purer and sweeter types of earher periods, when
religion walked hand in hand with the three great sisters,
whose badges are the penctt, the chisel, and the compasses ;
or rather when they followed her as wilttng handmaids.
While yet comparatively unknown, they executed a joint,
yet separate, work, by painting in fresco, as in old times,
vault and waUs, with all theh accessories, in three halls in
the Massimo Villa, at the Lateran. Each took one apart
ment, and with it one division of Dante's golden art-poem ;

294 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
¦so that the Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso furnished the
exclusive theme of each contribution. To this day the works
retain their freshness, and may well rank among the most
beautUul of modern performances, though little seen and
known by travellers.
Of this generous trio, so intrepid in breaking through
modern feeling in art, only one settled, and has reached his
maturity, in Rome — the honoured and venerated Overbeck.
Cornelius was another, who has left indelible proofs of his
genius at Miinich and Berlin. Veith, I think, was the
third, the father too of a Christian school at Frankfort. In
Rome, Overbeck's influence has been ever beneficial, espe
ciaUy among bis 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 theh encouragement from English patrons. And in Ger
many it wttl be found that every local school of similar prin
ciples 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 distmguished 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 Chevaher
Bunsen, and was under the auspices of the Prussian court
and government, which subsidised it liberally. It held its
meetings, and published its bulletins, or larger annual col
lection of essays, with valuable engravings, on every anti
quarian topic.
If foreigners from beyond the Alps thus came spon
taneously to Rome, to seek occupation for theh genius or
industry, we cannot be surprised if religion or ecclesiastical
tastes brought many from other parts of Italy, as weU as
from abroad, to settle there for life. Such, for instance, is
the learned F. Theiner of the Oratory, a Silesian by bhth,
now engaged on two gigantic works, each sufficient for the

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 295-
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 CouncU of
Trent. Tet 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 Pontificate, of
whom many readers wttl have heard, in one of what may be
catted two such extremes of hfe 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-sati
rical poems, mention of a person enjoying a celebrity similar
to that possessed more lately by a Erench 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 Thhd was king." But some
may possibly remember a higher renown gained by him, be
yond that of having his last bon-mot quoted in the morning
papers. Being an ahen, though neither a conspirator nor an
assassin, he was ordered to leave the country, and refused.
He barricaded his house, and placarded it with the words
"Every Enghshman'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 over
reached by Bow-street strategy, he either yielded at discretion
or was captured through want of it, and was forthwith trans
ferred to a foreign shore.
So ends the first chapter of the pubhc hfe of the gallant
and elegant Baron Geramb, the charm of good society, to
which by every title he belonged. 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,

296 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
encountering the " whiskers of Geramb " in one of his verses,
might be at a loss to trace the history of theh wearer.
Certainly those ornaments of his countenance would have
lent but slight assistance in tracing him in after-hfe.
Many years later, in the reign of Gregory XVI., let the
reader suppose himself to be standing on the small plateau
shaded with ilex, which fronts the Franciscan convent above
Castel- Gandolfo. 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 after
noon. He may see, issuing from the convent gate, a monk,
not of its fraternity, but clothed in the white Cistercian
habit ; a man of portly dimensions, bestriding the humblest
but most patriarchal of man-bearing animals, selected out of
hundreds, his rider used to say, to be in just proportion to
the burthen. If the stranger examines him, he wUl easily
discern through the gravity of his look, not only a nobleness
of countenance ; and through the simplicity of his habit, not
merely a gracefulness of demeanour, which speak the highly-
bred gentleman, but even visible remains of the good-hu
moured, kind-hearted, and soldierly courtier. There lurks
still in his eye a sparkling gleam of wit suppressed, or dis
ciplined into harmless coruscations. 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, announcing 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.
Tet 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 paUet, occupied in writing,
reading, meditating on holy things, devout in prayer, edify
ing in conversation. Among other works of his, overflowing
with piety, is one peculiarly tender, entitled " My Saviour's
Tomb.'' The good old monk had been to Jerusalem, and

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 297
had manifested his affections by a novel and exquisite pro
digality, 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
expeUed, 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 was
first struck by the patience and virtues of his fellow-captive,
and gradually entered into conversation with him. The re
sult 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 hfe 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 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 Cardinahtial
dignity. The name of this eminent man is too weU known
throughout Europe, to require any eulogium here. More-

298 THE LAST FOUR POPES
over, a most accurate and fuU Ufe 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 Uttle stock of anecdotes and information
concerning my good and ghted friend. Having made this
sacrifice to the desire of another, whom I may describe by
the very same terms, I witt not anticipate here what will be
adorned by the graceful pen of this biographer.1 I will
only say, that I can attest Mezzofanti's 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 Cali
fornia, who have borne witness in my presence to his perfec
tion in accent and phrase, when speaking theh 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 habitually employed in good ; in
instructing and assisting spiritually man} who, without him,
might have remained ignorant or helpless. Though it was
natural that he should be fond of conversing in his many
languages, I should. doubt if over 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 inteUectual mark ; for his learning on all subjects-
was accurate, extensive, and solid. The countenance, which
was the dial to the busy and compttcated works above it, was
not ample, or noble in its traits. His brow was a problem
to phrenologists : though his eyes were heavtty pressed out
wards by what they may have considered Ungual faculties.
One of this order once told him gravely that he had great
facility in learning languages. "But then," Mezzofanti
archly added in telhng me this wise discovery, " he knew
1 Since published.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 299
that I was already acquainted with fifty." Most amiable
too he was, simple and chttdhke, charitable to excess, and
ready to help any one with head or hand.
At the period of the late repubhc, he remained in Rome
when most of his coUeagues rethed ; his constitution, shaken
by age and infirmities, was probably further enfeebled by
mental sufferings proceeding from the events of the times :
he sank and died March 12th, 1849. In the brief record of
his hfe given in what may be caUed the Roman " Court
Guide," though it does not extend to ten lines, there is a
word wanting, the omission of whieh does not occur in any
other such summary for thirty years. Wherever a cardinal
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 "title." Of Mezzofanti alone this is not said. Tet 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 professions.
When Cardinal Weld passed to a better life, his suc
cessor was in everybody'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 Enghshman who, in our times, has gone through
that regular course of preparation which leads most naturaUy
to the purple. Eor though his was an Enghsh famUy, it was
one weU known for a long connection with Naples ; where
the future cardinal was born, March 6th, 1803. His educa
tion, 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,

300 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
how it was on that happy day, by" the banks of the Thames,
that he formed the decided resolution of embracing the
ecclesiastical state. He was then at a Protestant school in
Isleworth. Erom this he was sent to Westminster School,
which he was obliged soon to quit on rehgious 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 unusual
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 distmguished himself by his piety and assiduity,
having, besides the common lectures, the assistance of a
private tutor, in Professor, afterwards Cardinal, Eornari.
One of his probational 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 attach^
to the Nunciature of Paris. Here he had the best possible
opportunity of becoming thoroughly acquainted with diplo
macy. 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 presided. This was quite a new office,
and Monsignor Acton selected Bologna, as affording him
the best opportunities for improvement. Here he became
acquainted with the whole system of provincial administra
tion, 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
Ehzabeth 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 con
gregation, or council, for the maintenance of religious dis-

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 301
cipUne. But in January, 1837, to his own astonishment
and dismay, he was appointed to the highest dignity in
Eome, after the cardinalate, that of Auditor of the Apostohc
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 CoUege ; 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, Sh 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
before. 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 ex
pired there, June 23, 1847.
Many who saw him knew httle of his sterling worth. So-
gentle, so modest, so humble was he, so little in his own
esteem, that his solid judgment, extensive acquhements, and
even more ornamental accomphshments, were not easily elicit
ed 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 counte
nance 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 occupa
tion, and the adoption of a more sphitual hfe. The sound
ness of his judgment and his legal knowledge were fully
recognised by the bar ; for it was familiarly said by advo
cates of the first rank, that if they could only know M.

302 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
Acton's view of a case, they could make sure of what would
be its ultimate decision. In like manner, when he was offi
ciaUy consulted on important ecclesiastical business, and
gave his opinion in writing, this was so expUcit, 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 weU have given hhn of his con
fidence 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 Russia. Of what took place at it, not
a word was ever breathed by the Cardinal beyond this, that,
when he had interpreted the Pope's first sentence, the Em
peror turned to him in the most respectful and finished
manner, and said, " It wttl be agreeable to me if your Emi
nence wttl act as my interpreter also." Immedia.tely after
the conference, to which aUusion wiU have to be made. later,
Cardinal Acton wrote down, at the Pope's request, a minute
account of it ; but he never allowed it to be seen.
The King of Naples came to Rome principally to pro
vide a good bishop for his metropolis, 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 weU remember
that the bereaved mother wrote to hhn as a friend in whom
she could confide, to teU 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. 303

CHAPTER V.
CARDINAL ANGELO MAL
Among the worthies of this Pontificate is one who de
serves 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
transcriber of more ancient manuscripts, sacred and profane,
"than it has fatten to the share of any other, in modern times,
to pubUsh. It may be premised that his real biography has
yet to be written.
In the province of Bergamo, part of the Lombardo- Vene
tian kingdom, is a httle mountain village named Schttpario.
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 Berga
mo, he made rapid progress in classical and modern letters.
Suddenly, with four school-fellows, he left his native coun
try and repahed to Colorno, in the Duchy of Parma, where
Ferdinand of Bourbon, with the consent of Pius VI., had
permitted that Society to establish themselves. He joined
the order in 1799, and continued his studies with such suc
cess that, in 1804, he was sent to Naples as Professor of
Belles-Lettres. From Naples he went to Rome 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 received the priesthood. Under the tuition
of Fathers Manero and Monchaca, Spanish ex-Jesuits, he
made great progress, not only in the ancient languages, He-

304 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
brew included, but likewise in that art of palaeography,
which was to win him his highest honours. But, as of old
under Augustus Caesar, there went forth an imperial and
imperious edict, that every subject of the " ItaUan kingdom"
should betake himself to his native province. In obedience
to it Mai, accompanied by his Mentor, Mozzi, proceeded to
Milan.1 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 aU despotic commands. Mozzi, fully acquainted
with the powers and acquirements of his pupU, had him
named a doctor of the Ambrosian library. The magnificent
collection of manuscripts, which form its chief treasure, is
mainly due to the munificence of Cardinal Frederick Bor
romeo, nephew and almost rival of the great St. Charles.
He sent learned men all over the world to purchase manu
scripts, or have them dittgently copied. Among other sources
of additional literary wealth had been the famous monastery
of Bobbio, founded by the Irish St. Columbanus in the
seventh century, the manuscripts 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 Demostheneses, or the two hundred
Testaments, which a great library was known to possess,
might be looked through twice in a century for a new
edition, " coll. Cod.," or " Cum variantibus Leetionibus ex
Codd. MSS." 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
1 He had quitted the Society, which was scarcely established anywhere,
with the full consent and approbation of its superiors ; especially of the-
venerable and saintly F. Pignatelli.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 305
Milanese library an unexplored mine. No doubt its manu
scripts had been catalogued, perhaps described, and that
accurately. But those who had preceded him had only cul
tivated the upper soil in this literary field. They had not
discovered the exuberantly precious " royalties " which lay
hidden beneath the surface. Under the letter ofthe writing
there slumbered a sphit 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 phUosophy, a sprite of merest uusubstantial ele
gance. To drop figures, the peculiarity of Mai's wonderful dis
covery 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 catalogued
as containing the commentaries or sermons of some abbot of
the eleventh or tweUth century, works of which there may
be several other transcripts in the library. Edited or not, it
is improbable that the volume has been, or wttl 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 smaU value — perhaps there
were duplicates of it — some letters, for instance, of a hea
then emperor to his tutor; and had scrubbed, as he thought,
the parchment clean both of its inky and of its moral denigra
tion ; 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 come 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 scourging had been
1 From the vellum having been scraped again, to prepare it for a second
writing. fi 20

800 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
more thoroughly done ; and then a wash of galhc acid revived
the pallid reed-strokes of the earher scribe.
Ingenuity, patience, learning, and immense perseverance
were requisite for the process. Often only unconnected pas
sages were found ; half a sentence in one page, which the
next did not 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 production, upside down, back to back, like
shuffled cards ; whtte, perhaps, not one page contained the
"Incipit," or the "Explicit feliciter Uber 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 fortunately embalmed or
petrified, by quotation in some later author.
In this way did Mai labour on, looking through the tan
gled mass of confused materials, catching up the ends of dif
ferent threads, and pursuing them with patient diligence, tttl
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, containing works or portions of works,
lost as it was supposed irrecoverably. Various orations of
Cicero; the lost writings of Julius Fronto ; unpublished let
ters of Marcus Aurelius, Antoninus Pius, Lucius Verus, aud
Appian ; fragments of speeches by Aurelius Symmachus ; the
History of Dionysius of Hahcarnassus from the 12th to the
20th book ; inedited fragments of Phtto ; ancient commenta
ries on Vhgil ; two books of Eusebius's Chronicles ; the Itin
eraries of Alexander, and of Constantius Augustus, son ofthe
Emperor Constantine ; three books of Julius Valerius on the
Actions of Alexander the Great ; the 6th and 14th Sibylline
books ; finaUy, the celebrated Gothic version, by Ulphilas, of
St. Paul and other parts of Scripture ; such were the prin
cipal works recovered and published, with notes, prefaces,
and translations, by this indefatigable scholar, in the period

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 307
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 hbrary,
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 Rome he lost no time in
exploring 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, singu
larly 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 ; con
taining consequently the wanting parts of authors aheady
partially recovered. This was the case with Eronto and his
imperial pupils and friends, one of the most charming epis
tolary collections ever pubUshed. By adding what was in
Rome to what had been given at MUan, Mai was able to
present a much more complete edition of it. He also pub
lished valuable fragments of civil law, anterior to the Jus
tinian code, and of works on orthography by comparatively
obscure authors.
But what he had tiU now performed was eclipsed by
the most fortunate and brilliant of his discoveries ; — that of
Cicero's long-coveted treatise " De Republiea." 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 had discovered it, in large
bold characters, with its title legible. I can well re
member the commotion which the announcement of this
success excited through the hterary world in Rome. Of

308 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
course it took some time to prepare the work for publica
tion. Indeed I have heard from the learned discoverer him
self, that, while new types were being cast, and arrangements
made for publishing it through aU Europe, he was busily
engaged in hunting out aU the quotations of Cicero's work
dispersed through the ponderous tomes of subsequent writers,
especiaUy Fathers. The very one whose own lucubrations
had shielded it from destruction, and covered it with a pa
tina or antiquarian crust such as often saves a valuable
medal, yielded no smaU number of extracts, which either were
found in the discovered portions and so verified theh ge
nuineness, 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 enthe 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 hbrary, whtte Monsignor Mai was librarian,
without his leaving his own pursuit, to show us its trea
sures, aud, not the least valuable of them, himseU.
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 extra
ordinary abUities in the service of religion, named him Se
cretary of the Congregation of Propaganda. This was in
1833 ; but, though this office took him away from his dear
manuscripts and gave him occupation enough for any other
man, it did not interrupt his studies. He was aUowed to
have the codices at his house, and went on transcribing and
printing as much as before. At length on 12th of February,
1838, Pope Gregory named him Cardinal, together with his
iUustrious friend, and successor in the librarianship, Mezzo
fanti. Even now, he was appointed to offices that required
great attention and assiduity : still there was no intermission
in his favourite pursuits. He did not confine his industrv

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 309
to palimpsests ; but drew from the shelves of the Vatican,
histories, poems, medical and mathematical treatises, acts of
•councUs, bibttcal commentaries ; in fine, works of every age
and of eyery class, classical, patristic, medieval, and even
modern ; not only in Greek and Latin, but in Arabic, Syro-
Chaldaic, and Armenian. He re-established, under the au
spices of Gregory, the celebrated Vatican press, which had
formerly published the splendid St. Ephrem ; he had new
sets of types cast for it in various alphabets, from the best
models in old manuscripts ; and especiaUy employed it in
the printing of the great Codex Vaticanus, which he tran
scribed.1 The fruit of this unceasing industry may be summarily
described as foUows : —
1. " Scriptorum veterum nova collectio." A collection,
in ten huge quarto volumes, of writers sacred and profane,
of every age.
2. " Classiei scriptores ex codicibus Vaticanis editi ; " in
ten volumes of smaUer dimensions. These two series closely
foUowed 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 apphcation of this great man.
The Royal Society of Literature awarded to him its gold
medal in 1824, with this inscription on the reverse : — An
gelo Maio palimpsestorttm inventoei et restattratori.
Literary distinctions showered on him from every side, and
his bust was erected in the haUs of learned societies. His
labours, however, did not end here. Finding abundant
materials yet remaining at hand, worthy of pubhcation, he
undertook and completed :
3. " Spicilegium Romanum," another series in ten
volumes, which he finished in 1844.
In 1853, on the death of Cardinal Lambruschini, he was
named Cardinal-Librarian, though it can hardly be said that
this appointment changed his habits, or increased his advan-
1 Recently published.

310 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
tages. Stttl he continued his work, and commenced the pub
hcation 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 retired for change of ah. His end
was calm, resigned, 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 cen
tury 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
aU with his own hand ; translated, if Greek ; and added
notes and prefaces (generaUy full of learning), enthely by
himseU. This, however, was at an earlier period; for in
the preface to the second volume of his last work, he men
tions 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 published, nobody but himseU seemed to
know. A couple of years before his decease, he asked me U
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
the publication was delayed : for in a copy of such a manu
script the most rigorous exactness is the first requisite.
Not only a word, but a letter, a sign, a jot or tittle that de
viates from it, impahs its value as a representative to a re
feree 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 manu
script, and it is found to have been unfaithfully transcribed

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 311
in one place, all trust is at an end. Now, that in copying
so huge and inconvenient a book some slight errors should
have been committed, especiaUy when it is done by a person
distracted by numerous other undertakings, is only in con
formity with a trite axiom, about the most natural prone
ness of humanity.
The work has therefore been minutely collated with the
original, by a commission of able scholars ; and a list of mis
takes has been made extending to fourteen pages. With
this accurate correction, the work is offered for immediate
pubhcation. The wttl of this no less estimable than learned man was
in his own hand- writing, and was remarkable for the kind
ness of its provisions. All his household were secured their
full pay for Ufe 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 provided an endowment of 12,000 dollars, besides making
them his residuary legatees. To its parish church he be
queathed all his ecclesiastical plate and furniture.
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,
or sufficient officers to guard it. He therefore desires it to
be valued, aud sold ; yet so that, should the Papal Govern
ment be disposed ,;kTpur chase it, the price should be only
haU 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 imme
diately gave orders for the purchase of the hbrary ; 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 the President of the R.S.L. in 1855 (p. 20),

312 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
A little anecdote is connected with this portion of k.
wiU. A few days before his death, while apparently in fuU
possession of his ordinary health, he stopped his carriage at
the door of a well-known bookseller, whom he much em
ployed in his book transactions, and asked him if there was
any news in his line of business. The tradesman, with sur
prise, replied that tiU 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  ," rephed Mai, with tears in his eyes, and
pressing the hand of his attached client, " you will soon
have to value my library. FareweU ! " 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, naturaUy led all to suppose that premoni
tory symptoms, unseen by others, forewarned him of his
approaching dissolution.
His marble monument, which was commenced in his
hfetime, 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 sarco
phagus, on which reposes the effigy of the Cardinal, offering
it was stated that, " owing to the scanty hnances, or the stinginess, of the
Pontifical Government," the library had been sold. This was corrected as
sn " 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. ; Gregory 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 to his Government. Yet England
may refuse to purchase the Soulage collection without such reproofs being
administered !

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 313
up his works, towards which he points, to the Incarnate
Wisdom, who is represented in relief on the upper portion
of the recess. On each of its walls are medallions represent
ing Mai's nomination to the Ambrosian and Vatican libra
ries. 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 engraven on the base of this
monument, now erecting in his titular church of St. Anas-
tasia. 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, hic jaceo,
Purpureum mihi syrma dedit rubrumque galerum
Roma ; sed empyTeum das mihi, Chbistb, polum.
Te expectans, longos potui tolerare labores ;
Nunc mihi sit tecum dulcis et alta quies ! "
The indulgent reader wttl, 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 ! the empyreal sky.
Awaiting Thee, long toil I could endure :
So that with Thee my rest be sweet, secure ! "
This epitaph makes known the man, not unconscious,
indeed, of his great parts, nor of their noble devotion ; not
bhnd to his life-long assiduity and its well-earned success ;
but stttl consistent, in all and throuhgout att, with the" prin-

314 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
ciples, the thoughts, and the conduct of a true ecclesiastic.
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 morn
ing, with the interruption 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 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 translated from the open manuscript on the table. He
rarely went into society, except for a few minutes, where
courteous duty imperatively demanded it. A solitary drive,
which I have sometimes counted it an honour to deprive of
that epithet, perhaps a short walk, was almost aU the rob
bery 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, protract
ing 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
with some that misinterpretation of his character. A most
noble forehead, equal to containing, piled up but orderly

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 315
within, any amount of knowledge, caught the eye of the
visitor to a Papal function, and generally inspired the de
she 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, tttl he has
rendered habitual the expression of that strain. His fea
tures were dignified, modelled on a firm intellectual type.
And undoubtedly his conversation was serious ; to a be
holder severe, but not to a hstener. One naturaUy spoke
with him on grave subjects, loved to learn from his conversa
tion, hstened with respect — with reverence rather — and felt
in the presence of a vhtuous and a wise man, with whom it
would be a pride one day to have been famUiar. But there
was not a particle of superciliousness, or overbearing, or
sarcastic manners about him ; none of the oppressiveness of
genius, or the ponderousness of rare learning. Tet both
the learning and the genius were discernible in everything
he wrote. His manner was calm and earnest, but unim-
passioned ; persuasive and eloquent,, without clamour. His
published discourses are specimens of beautiful diction and
noble thoughts.
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 to those from foreign coun
tries, who wished to collate manuscripts for some particular
work. Speaking from personal experience, I can only say
that I never either felt or observed this faihng. I found
him at aU times, not merely obliging, but extremely kind ;
and was permitted to examine, to collate, and to copy or
trace any manuscripts that I required, or wished to study.1
1 As early as 1827 these feelings were openly expressed by me in the
following passage: — "Neque pariter silentio praetermittendus Vir toto
literario orbi clarus, 111. Angelus Mai, sub cujus auspiciis Bibliotheose Va-
ticanae Kit/itiXca Syriaca evolvi ; quique, quum nihil a se alienum putet
quod Uteris sacris profanisque, quas omnes dum colit, exornat, possit bene-

316 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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
that any great classical work has been pubhshed in our
time, which is deprived of the advantages derivable from
Roman manuscripts, in consequence of such a refusal to
examine them ; or that any scholar properly recommended
ever experienced a rebuff. Like most persons, who, working
hard themselves, exact fuU 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 pur
suits, by an amalgamation and adaptation of two eulogies
hy an old poet : —
Angele Mai, " studiose, memor, celer, ignoratis
Assidue in libris, nee nisi operta legens ;
Exesas tineis opicasque evolvere cbartas
Major quam promptis cura tibi in studiis.
Aurea mens, vox suada tibi, tum sermo quietus :
Nee cunctator eras, nee properante sono.
Pulchra senecta, nitens habitus, procul ira dolusque,
Et placidse vita? congrua meta tibi." '
vertere, me in his studiis aliquid proficere conantem, jam non dicam
humanitate, sed et benevolentia est prosecutus." — Horce Syriacce, Prcef.
p. xiii.
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."
Atjsonids, Prof, de Victoria et Staphylio.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 317
WeU 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, — wttl be able to re
pay the fruit of his labours."1 1 In Vita" Agathia?

318 THE LAST FOUR POPES.

CHAPTER VI.
CHARACTER OE GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH.
There is yet living at least one EngUsh nobleman, cele
brated 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 hundreds, however,
if not thousands, who remember Gregory XVI. ; 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 performed dur
ing 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 famUy.
The remarks one heard from such outside observers were,
that at first sight his features did 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 geuius or dettcate 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 com
municate with him through an interpreter, and to have each
sentence twice repeated, such, for example, as the late Baron
Kestner, could form a very imperfect opinion of his conver
sational powers. But those who could speak Itahan 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 discoursing on

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 319
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 subject of poetry in his au
dience, and came away much struck by the Pope's judicious
•observations, as weU as extensive and familiar acquaintance
with his theme.
In health he was robust, and his powers of exertion,
physical and mental, were very great. He could the most
of his attendants in his daily walks. His favourite one was
beyond Pontemolle along the old Elaminian Way to Torre
di Quinta, a considerable distance ; and he enjoyed seeing
much younger men glad to remount theh horses or theh
carriages to return home. His health was, indeed, so hale
-and sound, on his accession, that he declined naming any
physician 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 superannu
ation 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 physican, Dr. Alertz of Aix-la- Chapelle, with
whom I happened to travel 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 Itahan physician to the palace, arrested the
progress of the disease, so that it does not seem to have acted
on Gregory's constitution or shortened the fulness of his
days. This strength of frame and soundness of organs enabled
the Pope, throughout, his reign, to attend to business, tem
poral and ecclesiastical, with unwearying assiduity and un
varying cheerfulness. The severer habits of his claustral Ufe
had inured him to the regularity and even monotony of the

320 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
Papal, its early hours, its seclusion from social enjoyment, its
silent meals, its many solitary hours, and theh unrelaxed
occupation. He commenced his morning so truly matuti-
natty that he dispensed with the attendance of a chaplain at
his own Mass, saying that it was unreasonable to expect
other persons to accommodate themselves to his unseasonable
hours. His own servant alone assisted him. A peculiar
simphcity of habits was remarkable in him. When he was
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, whtte 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, seemed to
shrink from no amount of application to business of every
class. It was no idle life, indeed, that he led. In the man
agement of ecclesiastical affairs business is divided among
congregations, or boards as we should caU them ; but the
ultimate result, in every important case, depends on the Pa
pal approbation. It was not uncomon for Gregory to hesi
tate in giving his assent to have the papers in the cause
brought to himseU, and finaUy to come to a different decision
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 whieh
had been overlooked by the many learned persons previously
engaged in its discussion. 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
information arrived which fully justified the correctness of
the sovereign judgment. A similar instance referred to
Germany. 1 Such as shoes richly embroidered, in accordance with the practice of
the Pope's wearing the cross upon his.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 321
I remember that on one occasion being admitted on a
day of privacy, I found he was writing 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 it
involved one of the rarest exercises of Pontifical authority.
In like manner he wrote, himself, an answer of several sheets,
and sent his own autograph copy, to one of the bishops in
England, on a matter which related to an ecclesiastical 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 generous sentiments, which, I beheve, were con
sidered as the productions of his own pen. In cases of life
and death, the sUence of the Pope, on the report of the trial
being submitted to hhn by the chief judge, is equivalent to a
ratification ofthe sentence, which then takes its course. But
Gregory always deshed the entire pleadings and depositions
to be brought to him, and went carefuUy through them him
self: 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 execu
tions were rare and only for atrocious crimes. I am not
aware that there was a single execution for political causes
in his Pontificate.
In the discharge of his high duties he respected not the
person of man, and cared nothing for the pride or strength of
those whom he had to encounter. To one great contest which
he sustained, aUusion has been made under the last Ponti
ficate, and it is not intended to take up the thread of its nar
rative 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 subhme office. Indeed
scarcely a year of his Pontificate passed by, without his hav
ing to pronounce an allocution on the oppression of the
Church in some country or other, north or south of Europe,
21

322 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
east or west of the world. He spoke the truth plainly and
publicly ; and generally reaped the fruit of his straightfor
wardness and courage.
The most painful of his conflicts, however, was one, face
to face, with the greatest of Europe's sovereigns, a man ac
customed to command 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 a rebuke to him. It may
be proper to premise that the present Emperor of Russia,
while Czarowich, visited Rome, and was received with the
utmost respect by aU ranks, and with extreme kindness by
the Pope. The young prince expressed himseU highly gra
tified 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 Em
peror, his father, had sent very splendid presents to the Pope,
a vase of malachite, now in the Vatican hbrary, and a large
supply of the same precious material for the Basilica of St.
Paul. Stttl he had not ceased to deal harshly, not to say
cruelly, with his CathoUc subjects, especially the Poles. They
were driven into the Greek communion by putting it out of
theh power to follow theh own worship ; they were deprived
of theh own bishops and priests, and even persecuted by
most violent inflictions and personal suffering. On this sub
ject the Holy See had both publicly and privately complained ;
but no redress, and but httle, if any, alleviation, had been
obtained. At length, in December, 1845, the Emperor
Nicholas I. came himseU to Rome. It was observed, both
in Italy and, I beheve, in England, how minute and unrelaxed
were the precautions taken to secure him against any dan
ger 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,

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 323
with him whose rival he considered himself, as the real auto
cratic Head of a large proportion of what he called the
" Orthodox Church," and as recognised protector of its enthe
communion. It was arranged that the Emperor should be
attended by M. de Bouteneff, his minister at Rome, and that
the Pope should have a Cardinal at his side. He selected, as
has been said, the Enghsh Cardinal Acton. This was not a
usual provision for a royal visit, hut gave it rather the ah 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 perse
cutor of his flock to approach hhn, 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 unmeaning topics of the hour, or of the cold pohtics of
the world H impossible ! It would have been at variance, not
merely with his personal disposition, but with the spiritual
character which he held of Father of the Faithful; Defender
of the weak ; Shepherd of the ravened flock ; Protector of
the persecuted ; Representative of fearless, uncompromising,
martyred Pontiffs ; Vicar of Him who feared not the stalk
ing, any more than the prowhng, woU. It would have been
to his conscience a gnawing and undying reproach, if he had
lost the opportunity of saying face to face what he had writ
ten and spoken of one absent, or if he had employed his privi
lege 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 gen
tleness 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 de
liberation, how he should act. That meekest of men, Pius
VIL, had not neglected the opportunity of his captivity, to
enumerate, with fervid gentleness, to his powerful oppressor
the evils which the Church had suffered at his hands. Gre
gory never undertook any grave work without much prayer ;

324 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
and one so momentous as this was assuredly not determined
on, except after long and earnest supphcation. What were
the Emperor's intentions, what his ideas, what his deshes in
coming to Rome, and having necessarily a personal meeting
with the Pope, it is impossible 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 sooth
ing speeches and insincere promises ? Or to gain the inter
pretative approval of sUence and forbearance? One must
conjecture in vain. Certain it is, that he came, he saw, and
conquered not. It has been aheady 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
aU that the Holy Ghost dictated to me."
And that he had not spoken vainly, with words that had
beaten the ah, but that theh strokes had been well placed
and driven home, there was evidence otherwise recorded. An
Enghsh 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,
with 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
unruffled, and with eye un quenched," 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 hah, if it can be said of man, dishevelled ;
haggard and pale ; looking as though in an hour he had passed
through the condensation of a protracted 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

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 325
eagle dragged from his eyrie among the clefts of the rocks,
"from his nest among the stars," his feathers crumpled, and
his eye queUed,1 by a power tttl 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 sphit of those on the High Priest's
breast-plate — " doctrine and truth ; " sound in principle
and true in fact. They convinced and persuaded. Facts
with theh 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 on this. Often in prayer has every beholder
seen the tears running down his glowing countenance;
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.2 This sensi
biUty cannot have been stemmed, even by the coldness of
an interpreted discourse, but must have accompanied 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 natural feehngs, had no doubt influenced
the conduct of the Czar towards his Cathohc subjects, against
the better impulses of his. own nature, which Russians al
ways onsidered just, generous, and even parental. No one
had before possessed the opportunity, or the courage, to
appeal to the inward tribunal of this better sense. When
well made such a caU could hardly fail.
" Prima est haec ultio, quod, se
Judice, nemo nocens absolvitur, improba quamvis
Gratia fallaci prsetoris vicerit urna." Juvenal.
i Abdias (Obadiah), i. 8, 9. 2 2 Cor. xi. 29.

326 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
From that interview the Catholics of Russia may 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
aheady mentioned as giving promise at one time of being
leader, as he had been founder, of a magnificent pohtico-
religious school in France, the Abbe de la Mennais. By the
Encyclical of June 25, 1834 (Singulari Nos), he condemned
the " Paroles d'un Croyant," and thereby tore off the mask
from him who soon exhibited himself to wondering and
weeping thousands in his true aspect. Similarly did he deal
with a different 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 unim
peachable conduct, and mainly sound doctrine. The creep
ing error was crushed in its infancy, after much discussion
and much forbearance.
Kindness and considerateness were indeed discernible in
all the Pope's actions. His charities were in full conformity
with the traditions and instincts of his See. Scarcely, if
ever, is a year of his Pontificate unmarked by some private
contribution 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 elee
mosynary, 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 industry, from the painter, sculptor, and en
graver, to the weaver, the shoemaker, and the carpenter.
Under the Uberal management of Cardinal Tosti, and the
special patronage of Gregory, who annually visited the
estabttshment to inspect its productions in art and in manu
factures, and gave it large orders, this has become one of
the happiest combinations of charity's weU-organised func-

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 327
tions. And the same is to be said of another equaUy im
portant receptacle for poor chUdren of a lower order, at the
Termini, that is, Thermal of Diocletian. This had fallen
much into decay ; but partly through the munificence, more
stttl 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 highest attainable complete
ness. The prolonged reign of this Pontiff, from 1831 to 1846,
presented sufficient opportunities for exercising that charity
which the right hand cannot conceal from the left. Thus from
October 26th, 183.1, to the beginning of 1832, successive
shocks of earthquakes destroyed many houses and villages in
Umbria, and shook almost to pieces cities with theh sumptu
ous buildings. I remember traveUing through the province
not long after, and witnessing theh frightful effects. Some vil
lages through whieh the road passed — and many more among
the hills — were utterly destroyed ; though providentially
the loss of life was not in proportion to material demolition.
Foligno was so shattered, that, excepting the sohd cathedral
and a few other pubhc buildings, there was not an edifice
which was not 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 wttl see wall-plates aU along,
to which interior iron tie-rods are attached ; binding every
house within. But the most signal and afflictive overthrow
was that of the noble sanctuary of Sta. Maria degli Angioli,
the dome of which, towering in the plain or vaUey of Peru
gia just below Asisi, was a beautiful object. This dome
covered the celebrated Portiuncula, or Chapel of St. Francis,
the small rural oratory in which he began the work of his
stupendous Institute. The enthe nave feU in, leaving the
cupola marvellously suspended over the little sanctuary, not
a brick of which was displaced.1
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

328 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 country to country begging contributions,
in place of which he often received, and patiently endured,
rebuffs and insults, and occasionally the impostor's meed in
prison 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 hostile to him, Gregory
sent, from his own resources, considerable rehef.
His more private charities are known to have been pro
fuse : but there was one form, though a more spiritual one,
which was peculiarly exhibited. On one occasion a Spanish
lady, perplexed in conscience, deshed to unburthen its'
anxieties to him as chief pastor ; and Gregory descended
into the confessional for her, to discharge the functions of a
simple priest. And a German lady of great information and
ability, the Baroness K  , informed me, how, being stitt
a Lutheran, but drawn singularly towards the Catholic
Church, she asked for an opportunity of placing her diffi
culties for solution before the Sovereign Pontiff, as its
highest authority : and it was instantly granted. He re
ceived her in his garden ; and, ordering his attendants to
remain in one place,- walked up and down with her in theh
presence tttl he had solved her doubts, and given her his
blessing. She was afterwards one of the most zealous co-
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 some years like one of its
members in the convent attached, while he finished his work, refusing all
other remuneration. See " Dublin Review," vol. i. p. 458. He had begun
his work in 1830.

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 329
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 represented our country in
Rome. Having been Prefect of Propaganda for so many
years he had 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 Apostohc Vicariates in England, but spontane
ously, without being led to it, he told the writer that the
hierarchy would have to be estabhshed here, upon the re
moval of one obstacle, which he speciaUy described, and em
phaticaUy 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 intro
duced 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 fore
thought, almost at once executed what Gregory had intended
under similar conditions.
The Irish College had special motives of gratitude to
this Pontiff. The late venerable Bishop of Dromore, then
the Rev. Dr. Michael Blake, parish priest in Dublin, came
to restore this establishment, which had been first suppress
ed under the Erench occupation, and then incorporated with
the CoUege of Propaganda. The old building on the Quiri
nal Httl was considered unsuitable, or probably was unavail
able for the purpose ; and Pope Leo XII. by his Brief
" Plura inter collegia," of February 14th, 1826, assigned for
the new college a smaU house, formerly the Umbrian Col
lege, situated in the street Delle botteghe oseure, with a very
small church annexed. Dr. Blake governed the college tttl
he resigned it into the hands of the Rev. Dr. Boylan, who
in his turn was succeeded by the present Archbishop Cullen.

330 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 edUy my readers. When a student at Rome,
he was remarkably slow and considered dull. This was
owing, perhaps enthely, to considerable indistinctness in his
speech, accompanied by hesitation. On one occasion, ven
turing to interpose his opinion in some discussion among
his comrades, one of them rudely interrupted him by say
ing : " 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 rethed heart-sore into solitude.
He reflected on what had been said publicly to him, without
rebuke from any one, with sUent concurrence of all. Tes,
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-ttfe ; he must never forget it.
He took immediate steps for this purpose. He accord
ingly wrote on a shp of paper " The Dunce of the CoUege,"
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 recreation, this
stinging goad was at his side. He adopted a slow, deliberate
utterance, which accompanied hhn through Ufe, but which
perfectly remedied his original defect. He soon rose honour
ably both in his class, and in the estimation 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. And so he passed through all the honoured

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 331
degrees of his sacred profession, to its highest attainable
dignity. Often have I found this anecdote useful to en
courage a down-hearted student : though, of course, I have
concealed the name.
In the year 1836 Gregory XVI. bestowed on the Irish
CoUege a much more spacious house, with a considerable
garden. But what forms its chief prize is the church attach
ed to it, being the old basttica of St. Agatha in Suburra,
which St. Gregory the Great himseU teUs us, in his Dia
logues, he cleansed from the taint of Arianism, amidst pecu
liar and portentous occurrences. It is the diaconal church
of Cardinal Antonelli, who has been liberal in repairing and
greatly embellishing it.
As to the Enghsh CoUege, Gregory XVI. never fatted
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 chamberlains, first honorary,
and then in full degree. In neither instance was the act of
grace heard of tttl accomphshed, nor in either was any fee
permitted to be paid. This office, to which no emoluments
are attached, gave a place in att pubhc functions, the most
favourable perhaps for witnessing them. On the 2nd of
February, 1827, 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 Hohness
intended visiting our house. It was one of his more imme
diate attendants, who not wishing us to be taken by surprise,
gave the timely warning ; otherwise we should have re
ceived notice in the evening, without time to make suitable
preparations. Accordingly everything was got ready in
time. The CoUege, which is a noble edifice, has a suite of
large haUs, weU fitted for even a Papal reception. The first
had just been adorned with what was tiU then unseen in
Rome, a collection of large maps hung on rollers, brought
from England ; the second contained a number of valuable
paintings ; the thhd was the hbrary. In the first a throne

332 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
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 common-place, and no study
to say as much as possible on the one side and as httle as
possible on the other. An easy famiUarity 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 att around him. Somehow or other he
had received notice of many other importations from England,
which had been made by me in a visit to this country in
1836, and he expressed his intention 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 uphfting 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 manufac
tured, the next having been one for the Emperor of Morocco.
The bottles containing the inscrutable compounds of the
London pharmacopoeia, with theh inviting golden labels, the
bright finish of every part, the neatness of fit, and the ac
curacy of packing, almost overcame that involuntary shudder
and creeping of the flesh, with which an ordinary mind con
templates a large coUection of what in that State, and by
those in health, is invariably called physic. It becomes medi
cine in a small phial by the bed-side.
So passed pleasantly the morning hours, in a loitering
cheerful visit, without etiquette or formalities, tttl 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

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 333
day was not aUowed to fade from memory ; but was, as usual,
commemorated and perpetuated by an inscription, as fol
lows : — GREGORI . XVI. PONT. MAX.
CATHOLICS . RELIGIONIS . PEOPAGATOBI

QVOD . m. NONAS . FEBBVAEIAS . AN. M.D.CCC.XXXVII.
COLLEGrVM . ANGLOEVM . INVISENS
ALVMNOSQVE . ADLOQVIO . ET . OMNI . BENIGNITATE . SOLATVS
STVDIOSISSIMAM . ANIMI . VOLUNTATEM
IN . CATHOLICOS . ANGLOS . VNIVEESOS
PVBLICO . HOC . TESTIMONIO . DECLAEAYIT.
NICOLAVS . WISEMAN . COLLEGII . EECTOK
IIDEMQUE . ALVMNI
AD . MEMOBIAM . AVSPICATISSIMI . DIEI
IN . ANGLOEVM . CATHOLICOEVM . ANIMIS . ALTE . DEFIXAM
rOSTEBITATI . COMMENDANDAM
THOMA . WELD. PEESB. CABD. PATBONO . SUFEKAGANTE
DEVOTI . SANCTITATI . MAJESTATIQVE . EJVS.
Another marble slab records a second visit to the CoUege
in 1843 ; but that is beyond the boundaries of personal re
collection. 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 more personal impressions
of this Pontiff's character, distinct from merely official remi
niscences. It must be by general observations only that
this can be done. Let me then repeat that my acquaintance
with this Pope commenced, as it had done with no other be
fore him, whtte he occupied a subordinate position, and no
body thought of him as a future sovereign. As Prefect of
Propaganda, I had frequently 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 quickness of his per
ception, made it both easy and agreeable to transact business
with him. His confidence, once gained upon such subjects as

334 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
belonged more particularly to one's own sphere, was easily ex
tended to other matters. I could give several instances of
this facility; and it was extended to the time of his Pontifi
cate. Not only was an audience easily obtained oti ordmary
days, and at usual hours, but it was graciously granted almost
at any time, when the ante-chamber was closed, and on days
otherwise reserved for private occupation. Indeed it was not
uncommon to receive a summons on such days, with an or
der to proceed at once to the palace in ordinary dress. Once
I well remember how this familiar kindness served me in
great stead. I was engaged in dehvering a course of Lec
tures, aheady alluded to, in the apartments of Cardinal Weld,
in 1835. They were attended by very large and highly cul
tivated audiences. On one of the days of dehvery I had been
prevented from writing the Lecture in time, and was labour
ing 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
important 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 directing that I should step into it
at once, as His Holiness wished to speak to me. This was
indeed a " Deus ex machina; " almost 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 a necessary
adjournment of our sitting tttl the next day. The object of
my summons was one of very trifling importance; and
Gregory little knew what a service he had unintentionally
rendered me. " Sic me servavit Apollo."
But h^re I must pause. The reception on all such occasions
was cordial and most paternal. An embrace would supply the
place of ceremonious forms on entrance : at one time a long
famUiar conversation, seated side by side ; at another a visit

GREGORY THE SIXTEENTH. 335
to the penetralia of the Pontifical apartment — a smaU suite
of entresols communicating by an internal staircase — occu
pied the time. Here Gregory had his most choice coUection
of books, from every part of the world, beautifully bound,
and many exquisite gems of art, miniatures and copies, as
well as original paintings; and here he would ask many
questions about Enghsh works. What it has been my hap
piness 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 aU the brighter in their re
flection from the darkness of theh mirror. They have been
words of mastery and spell over after-events, promises and
prognostics which have not fatted, assurances and supports
that have never come to nought. Innumerable favours and
gracious acts, so many unexpected and unmerited mamfesta-
tions of goodness, so continued a freedom, or rather familiar
ity, of communication as I have enjoyed from the condescend
ing kindness of this Pontiff, leave his memory impressed on
mine as that of a father rather than a sovereign. Encourage
ment, most unrestrained and warm-hearted, in my pursuits,
hterary or ecclesiastical, however valueless in themselves ;
proofs of rehance on my fidettty at least, in affahs of greater
moment than my own could ever be ; — such other marks of
favourable sentiments as have been described, painful to me
as was the separation from him to whieh they necessarily
led ; — aU these conspire to make me remember Gregory
with a feeling distinct from that which is associated in my
mind with any of his predecessors ; not with deeper venera
tion than I entertain for Pius VII. ; not with warmer gra
titude than for Leo XII. ; not with sincerer respect than for
Pius VIIL ; but with a feeling more akin to affection, such
as does not often pass the narrow chcle that bounds domes
tic relations. Another sentiment of devotedness and attach
ment stiU remains reserved for one whose eulogium cannot
now, and sincerely do I pray may never, enter for me within
the compass of a mere recollection of the past.

336 THE LAST FOUR POPES.
Even the close of Gregory's Pontificate, his last years
and edUying 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 theh Fa
thers. " Hactenus arinorum, Comites, elements meorum
Et memini, et meminisse juvat ; — scit caetera Mater." Stattds.

THE EXD.

CLAY ADD TAYLOB, PEIHIEK3, BDHGAY.

YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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