Rome in 1860

by Edward Dicey

But, as a matter of policy, if he has got so very little to say for himself, it would be perhaps wiser if he held his tongue. Be that as it may, the Vatican has thought fit to bring out a small brown paper tract, in answer to the celebrated, too-celebrated, pamphlet, Le Pape et le Congrès. The tract is of the smallest bulk, the clearest type, the best paper, and the cheapest price. Mindful of the Horatian dictum, it plunges at once “in medias res,” and starts, out of breath, with the following interjections: “The end of the world has come. Some want a Pope and not a King; others half a Pope and half a King; and others again, no Pope and no King. And who are these persons—Catholics or Protestants, Jews or Phalansterians, believers or unbelievers? Men who have once believed,

and believe no longer, or men who have never believed at all? Which are the most sincere of these classes? The last, who say, ‘God and the people,’ and who mean to say, ‘No more Popes, and no more Kings.’ Which are the most hypocritical? The second, the men of half measures, who wish for half a Pope and half a King, trusting the while, that either Pope or King may die of inanition, or at any rate that the King will. Which are the greatest dupes? The first, who, Pharisee-like, offering up their prayers, and going to church once a year, deceive themselves with the idea, that the Pope will be more powerful and more free in the vestry of St Peter’s than in the palace of the Vatican.”

The above view of the devotional habits prevalent amongst the Pharisees may appear somewhat novel, but let that pass. Meanwhile, any one experienced in tract lore will feel certain that this outburst will be followed by the appearance of the “candid inquirer,” who comes upon the boards at once, in obedience to the call, and addresses the eloquent controversialist with the stereotyped phrases.

“These three classes of persons, who raise an outcry against the temporal power of the Pope,

are of different stamps; for I understand well whom you allude to; you mean the sincere, the moderate and the devout opponents of the Papacy. I have, however, one or two questions, I should like to ask you; would you be kind enough to answer me?”

X of course replies, that nothing in the world would give him so much pleasure; and during the first dialogue the candid inquirer appears in the character of D, the devout opponent. The pamphlet is much too long and too tedious to give in full. Happily the arguments are few in number; and such as they are, I shall be able to pick them out without much difficulty, quoting the exact words of the dialogue, wherever it rises to peculiar grandeur. X opens the discussion by carrying an assault at once into the enemy’s weak places: “You devout believers say that a Court is not fitting for a priest. Everybody, however, knows that, at the Papal Court, the time and money of the public are not frittered away in parties and fetês and dances. Everybody knows too that women are not admitted to the Vatican, and therefore the habits of the court are not effeminate, while the whole of its time is spent in transacting state affairs; and the due

course of justice is not disturbed by certain feminine passions.” After this statement, startling to any one with a knowledge of the past, and still more to an inhabitant of Rome at the present day, the devout inquirer wisely deserts the domain of stern facts, and betakes himself to abstract considerations. His first position, that the Vicar of Christ ought to follow the example of his master, who had neither court nor kingdom, nor where to lay his head, is upset at once by the argumentum ad hominem, that, according to the same rule, every believer ought to get crucified. No escape from this dilemma presenting itself to our friend D’s devout but feeble mind, X follows up the assault, by asking him, as a deductio ad absurdum, whether he should like to see the Pope in sandals like St Peter. The catechumen falls into the trap at once; flares up at the idea of such degradation being inflicted on the “Master of kings and Father of the faithful;” and asks indignantly if, for a “touch of Italianita,” he is to be suspected of having “washed away his baptism from his brow.” Henceforth great D, after “Charles Reade’s” style, becomes little d. Logically speaking, it is all over with him. If the Pope be the master of

kings, he must by analogy have the rights of a master, liberty to instruct and power to correct. The old parallel of a schoolmaster and his scholars is adduced. D feels he is caught; states, in the stock formula, “that this parallel between the master of kings and the master of scholars puzzles me, because it is unimpeachable; and yet I don’t want to concede everything, and cannot deny everything.” As a last effort, he suggests with hesitation, that “after all, a law which secured the Pope perfect liberty of speech, action and judgment, would fulfil all the necessities of the case; and that in other respects the Pope might be a subject like anybody else.” On this suggestion X tramples brutally. D is asked, how the observance of this law is to be enforced, and can give no answer, on which X bursts into the most virulent abuse of all liberal governments in terms commensurate with the offence. “Praised be God, the days of Henry the VIIIth are passed, and Catholics and Bishops, and all men of great and free intellects need no longer lose their heads beneath the British axe. But are you ignorant that the ‘most catholic France’ has had proclaimed from her tribunes, that the law is of no creed? Are you ignorant of the Josephian laws

of Austria? Glory be now to her young and most devout of catholic sovereigns! but are you not aware, that in the reign of Joseph the bishops in that empire were not allowed to write to, or correspond freely with, the Pope? . . . I suppose, forsooth, you expect observance of the law from those liberal governments of yours, which make the first use of their liberty to destroy liberty itself; who exile bishops, and who, in the face of all the world, break the plighted faith of treaties and concordats—oh yes, those governments, who spy into the most secret recesses of family life, and create the monstrous and tyrannical Loi des suspects, oh yes, they are sure to respect the liberty and the independence of the Bishop of Rome! and are you baby enough to believe or imagine it?” D cowers beneath the moral lash; and hints rather than proposes, that if one country did not respect the Pope’s freedom, he could move into another, though he admits at the same time, he can see grave difficulties in the project. Even this admission is unavailing to protect him from X’s savage onslaught, who winds up another torrent of vituperation with these words: “Yes! This is no question of the Pope and the Pope’s person, but

of the liberty of all the Church, and of all the Episcopate, of your liberty and mine, of the liberty of princes, peoples, and all Christian souls. Miserable man, have you lost all common sense, all catholic sense, even the ordinary sense of language?” In vain D confesses his errors, owns that he is converted, and implores mercy. “No,” X replies in conclusion, “this is not enough; your tongue has spread scandal; and even, if innocent itself, has sown discord. The good seed is obedience and reverence to the Pope our father and the Church our mother. Woe to the tares of the new creed! Woe to the proud and impious men, who under the cloak of piety raise their hands and tongues against their father and mother! The crows and birds of prey shall feed upon their tongues, and the wrath of God shall wither up their hands.”