Pope Pius the Tenth

by F. A. Forbes

The blow fell crushingly on the pope, whose heart was heavy with the thought of all the sufferings that war would bring in its train. The representative of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy asked him in the emperor's name to bless the armies of the dual empire. "I bless peace, not war," was the stern reply.[*]

[*] This story is quite in keeping with Pius X's character, but the evidence for its factual truth is not altogether satisfactory.

The exhortation to the Catholics of the world, published in the Osservatore Romano of the 2nd of August, was a touching expression of the Holy Father's sorrow: "While nearly all Europe is being dragged into the whirlpool of a most deadly war, of whose dangers, bloodshed and consequences no one can think without grief and alarm, we too cannot but be anxious and feel our soul rent by the most bitter grief for the safety and lives of so many citizens and so many peoples for whose welfare we are supremely solicitous. Amid this tremendous upheaval and danger we deeply feel and realize that our fatherly charity and our apostolic ministry demand that we direct men's minds to Him from whom alone help can come, to Christ, the Prince of Peace, and man's all-powerful Mediator with God. Therefore we exhort the Catholics of the whole world to turn confidently to His throne of grace and mercy; let the clergy lead the way by their example and by appointing special prayer in their parishes, under the order of the bishops, that God may be moved to pity, and may remove as soon as possible the disastrous torch of war and inspire the rulers of the nations with thoughts of peace and not of affliction."

When the pope appeared to bless the crowds gathered in the Cortile di San Damaso on the same day, it was noticed that an expression of the deepest sadness replaced the usual kind smile of welcome. "My poor children! My poor children!" he exclaimed sorrowfully as despatch after despatch confirmed the rumours of fresh mobilizations. All the bishops who visited him during those sad days were urged to start a crusade of prayer in their dioceses to avert the impending disaster. Groups of pilgrims were received during the week, but blessed in silence; no public address was given by the pope: the awful burden of the world's tragedy weighed too heavily on his heart. Night and day he prayed and suffered, trying to think of some way of bringing peace out of the conflict.

The rumour that the pope was ill was spread about on the feast of the Assumption. As a matter of fact, he was merely feeling indisposed, and had suspended his usual audiences. His doctor, usually inclined to be over-careful, and his sisters, always over-anxious, looked on his illness as of no importance, and evinced not the slightest anxiety.

On Tuesday, the 17th of August, as the Cardinal Secretary of State, himself unwell, was unable to go to his usual daily audience, the pope sent him a message assuring him that he was all right. "Dica al Cardinale," he said, "che stia bene, perche quando sta male lui, sto male io!"[*] His sisters saw him on the Tuesday evening, and went home after leaving a message for the cardinal that the Holy Father was doing well, and would be all right in the morning. He had been at his writing-table as usual, and had received a Franciscan friar, who left him without any idea that he was ill. During the night of Wednesday, the 18th, he became very much worse, and at eight o'clock in the morning was declared to be seriously ill, though the doctor had not given up all hope. A few hours later it was announced that the pope was dying.

[*] "Tell the cardinal to get well, for when he is ill I am ill too."

Those of the cardinals who could be present, hastily summoned, knelt around him, unable to restrain their tears. The pope lay, or rather sat, propped up with pillows and breathing with difficulty; his sisters were by his side, a Brother of St. John of God in attendance as nurse. The last consecutive words he had spoken were to his confessor; "I resign myself completely," he said, after which his answers to the prayers grew fainter and fainter until they ceased altogether.

"One was not conscious of time and it was all unreal," wrote one who was present. "Suddenly the deep notes of St. Peter's great bell boomed out, tolling 'pro pontifice agonizzante,' and at that signal Exposition began in all the patriarchal basilicas, with special prayers. The hot scirocco, the buzz from the Piazza San Pietro far below, whispering prelates and attendants, the boom of the bell—how strange it all seemed; and behind everything the catastrophe of the present public situation and war."

So the hours of the afternoon wore on into the night. The pope could not speak, but he recognized those who approached him, received the clasp of their hands with an answering pressure, raised his own to bless them, and from time to time made slowly on his brow and breast a long sign of the cross. At a little after 1.15 a.m., in deepest peace and calm, Pius X passed away.