They suppressed the subsidies and allowances which the State, until that time, paid to the diocesan establishments and the clergy generally, notwithstanding that such subsidies were not gratuitously bestowed by the government, but were nothing else than, as in France and Belgium, the restitution, in part, of the debt due by the State to the Church. It was provided, however, that such members of the clergy as should make their submission should at once have their salaries restored. By a refinement of cruelty, all collections and subscriptions, whether public or private, for the requirements of public worship [pg 379] and the support of the clergy were forbidden, and elective lay commissions were charged with the management of all ecclesiastical property. Finally, all religious orders, as well of men as of women, were suppressed, with the exception, and that provisionally only, of such as were devoted to the care of the sick.
If Chancellor Bismarck really believed, at any time, that the Catholic clergy were without faith and conscience, ready to submit to any terms the State might impose, in order to save their incomes and the institutions of the Church, he must have been greatly surprised when he found them all, without exception, prepared to welcome poverty, imprisonment and exile, rather than abandon the inalienable rights of conscience. On the 26th May, 1873, the Bishops of Prussia signed a collective declaration, in which they stated, with regret, that it was impossible for them to obey. “The Church,” said they, “cannot acknowledge the heathen state principle, according to which the laws of the State are the source of all right, and the Church possesses only such rights as it pleases the State to grant. By so doing, it would deny its own Divine origin, and would make Christianity wholly dependent on the arbitrary will of men.” In regard to temporal matters connected with the Church they could afford to be less strict: and so they authorized their people to take part in the election of the new lay managers of the properties of the churches. This wise policy was attended with the most happy results. The chancellor's plans were everywhere completely marred. He had reckoned that the Catholics would abstain from voting, and so allow a “liberal” (infidel) minority, however small, to dispose of the churches and presbyteries.
In reviewing the news of the day, we have been accustomed to think of only one or two more eminent prelates suffering under the lash of persecution. The truth is, that the whole Church suffered. The persecution was as cruel as an age which does not permit the shedding of blood would tolerate. The bishops were crushed with fines on account of each act [pg 380] which they performed of their spiritual office. Such fines they refused to pay, lest they should acknowledge the justice of their condemnation. Their movable property, accordingly, was seized and sold at auction, and they themselves were immured in the prisons, where they were mixed up with felons condemned to the same labors, and designated, like them, by numbers. It was all in vain. Nothing could shake their constancy. At Berlin was erected a sort of ecclesiastical tribunal, which arrogated to itself the power of deposing from sees, and which actually pretended to depose the Archbishop of Posen, the Bishop of Paderborn, the Prince-Bishop of Breslau, and several other prelates. The fortresses of Germany were filled with priests, whose only crime was that they obeyed God rather than men. The public ways were crowded with priests who had been deprived, afterwards interned, and finally banished. Numerous religious people, both men and women, were in the like sad position, thronging the road of exile. The people, in tears, escorted these victims of heathenish rage. They chanted, as they went, the psalm, “Miserere,” and the canticle, “Wir sind ini waren Christenthum” (“we are in true Christianity”), until they reached the railway depots. The Prussian gensd'armes, who were often no more than two or three in number, were astonished to find that they could so easily conduct their prisoners, whom thousands and tens of thousands of other men, the greater number of whom were veteran soldiers, accompanied, as they passed, expressing their regrets and good wishes.
Persecution is impolitic no less than it is cruel and immoral. The German people, to say the least, were shocked by the tyranny of their government. Nothing could prevent them from showing what they felt and thought, on occasion of the release of the prisoners at the end of their two years' term of imprisonment. They took every possible means of expressing their satisfaction. Thus, at Munster, when Bishop Warendorf returned, the inhabitants paid no attention to the prohibition of the burgomaster, who, by order of the government, [pg 381] intimated that he would repress, by force, every external and public demonstration. The whole city rushed to the gate, St. Mauritius, by which the released prisoner was to enter. Count Droste-Erhdroste proceeded to receive him in a magnificent carriage, drawn by four horses, which was followed by four more carriages in charge of his servants, who were in complete gala dress. An immense crowd strewed flowers along the route as the bishop advanced, and ceased not to hail him with joyous acclamations until he reached his residence, where the first families of the country were in attendance to receive him. In the evening, the whole town, with the exception of the public buildings, was illuminated. The citizens of Posen were preparing a like triumphal reception for their archbishop, Cardinal Ledochowski, on occasion of his release in February, 1876, from the fortress of Ostrowo, where he had been incarcerated for two years, when he was carried off in the nighttime and transported beyond the limits of his diocese, in which he is forbidden ever again to set foot. Two suffragan bishops were left behind. They also were imprisoned at Gnesten, one for having administered the Sacrament of Confirmation without special leave from the government, the other for having consecrated the holy oils on Maunday Thursday, 1875. By such acts, which evidently belonged to the spiritual order, they were held to be guilty of sedition and a violation of the rights of the State.
The whole Catholic world was deeply moved by this modern and unprovoked persecution. All could not speak, indeed; but all were in sympathy with the clergy and faithful people of Germany. The bishops of France would have brought war upon their country by uttering a word of disapproval. The irascible chancellor actually sought to raise a quarrel with that country on account of a slight and inoffensive allusion which fell from the lips of two of the bishops. Could he not see that he will be branded throughout the ages as a persecutor and a short-sighted politician? Great Britain and America could speak without fear or hindrance. And they were not slow to [pg 382] send their words of consolation and encouragement to their suffering brethren of Germany. The Cardinal-Archbishop of Westminster wrote in a strain which may be described as apostolical, to the Archbishop of Cologne, the Primate of Germany, greeting “with the greatest affection both himself and his brethren, the other bishops who are in prison for having defended the authority and liberty of the Church.” This letter was reproduced by all the newspapers, and could not have escaped the notice of the Prussian minister. Nevertheless, he was silent. Although sensitive in the extreme, as regarded France and Belgium, his knowledge of geography and naval statistics, no doubt, enabled him to possess his soul in patience.
Pius IX. could not but feel for his afflicted children of Germany. He was moved, accordingly, to address a very earnest remonstrance to the Emperor, William I. This was done so early as August, 1873. He could not believe that such cruel measures proceeded from a prince who had so often given proof of his Christian sentiments. He had even been informed that his Majesty did not approve of the conduct of his government, and condemned the laws which were enacted against the Catholic religion. “But, if it be true that your Majesty does not approve of these measures (and the letters which you formerly addressed to me appear to me to prove sufficiently that you do not think well of what is actually taking place),—if, I say, it is not with your sanction that your government continues to extend more and more those repressive measures against the Christian religion which so grievously injure that religion, must you not come to the conclusion that such measures can have no other effect than to undermine your throne?” He may possibly have thought so, when, a little later, his life was attempted by parties who are known to seek the destruction of religion and civil government at the same time. Be this as it may, his reply to Pius IX. was not in his usual kindly style. It was scarcely polite, and appeared to be the work of the savage chancellor rather than of the good-natured monarch.
The appeal of Pius IX. produced no result. The Emperor's government added to the harshness of his refusal by advising him to address a letter of congratulation to the new bishop of the alt-Catholics. This was done, as was expressed, “on account of his complete deference to the State and his acknowledgment of its rights.” In another letter, which was also made public, William I. recalled to mind those ancient Emperors of Germany who were the irreconcilable enemies of the spiritual supremacy of the Popes, and intimated that he was resuming the work of Frederick Barbarossa and Henry IV. The association was unfortunate. The chancellor's commentary was more so. “We shall never,” he boasted, “go to Canossa!” These words, spoken before the assembled parliament, were a defiance of Divine Providence. Was it forgotten that there were other snows than those of Canossa, in which Emperors could perish? The first Napoleon pursued, in regard to the Church, the same policy that Germany was now pursuing. He defied the religious power, and contemptuously asked whether the arms could be made to fall from the hands of his soldiers! They did so fall, nevertheless, when the demented Emperor led his legions into the snows of Russia.
Pius IX. could not behold without concern the deep distress of his brethren in Germany. He addressed an Encyclical letter, under date of 5th February, 1875, to the Bishops of Prussia, lamenting the persecution which tried them so severely, dwelling at great length on the evils of the May laws, praising the constancy of the clergy, and exhorting them to continued patience and perseverance. The whole doctrine of the Encyclical may be said to be expressed in the following words:
“Let those who are your enemies know that you do no injury to the royal authority, and that you have no prejudice against it when you refuse to give to Cæsar what belongs to God; for it is written, ‘We must obey God rather than men.’ ”
This eloquent letter, like everything else that was done in order to mitigate the most trying persecution of modern times, [pg 384] remained without any other result than to afford some comfort to the clergy of the afflicted Church of Germany.