And now I must notice more particularly what Bishop Ketteler has published against me in some German newspapers. He says that in the telegram of February 13, published in the Allg. Zeitung of February 15, he has found the opportunity he had long desired for convicting the writer of the Letters from Rome of building up “a whole system of lying and deceit.”[60] It is “an indescribable dishonesty,” a “detestable untruth,” etc. His short letter bristles with such accusations. The untruths he complains of are the following:—
(1.) The telegram called the statement made by Bishop Ketteler and his ally, Bishop Melchers, a “proposal.” He replies that it was only a “communication.”
(2.) It treats the occurrence as a “negotiation,” whereas it was only a “short conference.”
(3.) There was no debate with “a serious opposition.” The Bishops indeed had expressed different views, and some had disapproved Döllinger's pronouncement, while the others thought only certain individual Bishops might have occasion to come forward against it. (They accordingly understood Ketteler's “communication” just as my informant did, and therefore spoke out against accepting it.)
(4.) Ketteler did not hear any Bishop say, as stated in the telegram, that Döllinger really had the majority of (German) Bishops with him.
And now let us compare Ketteler's account, deducting the abusive comments subjoined to every sentence, with the—of course extremely compressed—account in the telegram, and we shall find the two in substantial agreement. The Bishop is obliged to interpolate something into the telegram, in order to find fuel for the fire of holy indignation his delirious fancy has betrayed him [pg 316] into. He quarrels with me fiercely for saying there was a debate and a negotiation, whereas there was only a conference; but I never made use of those words. He says he made no motion, but he himself recounts statements of the Bishops which show clearly that they understood his “communication” as an invitation to do as he did. Only one somewhat important point of difference remains, viz., whether the Bishops named in the telegram said what they are there reported to have said or not. Bishop Ketteler can only say that he did not hear them say it. But considering that in an informal meeting of forty or forty-five persons, broken up into groups, a great deal is said which every one in the room does not hear, and that I received my information the same day from one who was present, I still adhere to my assertion that they did say it. For the rest, I am much indebted to Bishop Ketteler; he assures us that he has long desired an opportunity for saying all the evil he can of me and my Letters. He has now made a grand onset. If he had found anything in the eighteen long Letters before him better suited to his purpose, he would certainly not have taken refuge in such petty trivialities and, like a boy with snowballs, have flung what has turned into water in his hand. He has [pg 317] thus unwillingly given testimony to the truthfulness of my Letters. And for this I pardon him his exaggerated rhetoric, but will not suppress the remark made by an Englishman who knows mankind well: “There are certain women, says Fielding, always ready to raise a cry of ‘Murder, fire, rape’ and the like, but that means no more in their mouths than any one else means in going over the scale, Ut, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol,” etc.
Twenty-Seventh Letter.
Rome, March 8, 1870.—“Habemus Papam falli nescium!” The Bishops of the Manning and Deschamps party are in raptures; all Rome, say the Infallibilist devotees, is in the highest spirits. The great doctrine, on which, as all the Jesuits and their disciples assure us, hinges the salvation of humanity and the regeneration of science and literature, was published on March 6 in the form of a supplement to the Schema de Ecclesiâ. The Pope bears witness of himself that he is infallible as teacher of the Church, and the great majority of the Council will readily assent. Already they are exulting in that moment of triumph when the Pope from his throne in the Hall, “sacro Concilio approbante,” and amid the pealing of all the bells in Rome, will proclaim to the world that it is now fortunate enough to possess an infallible teacher and judge in all questions of faith and morals, guaranteed by God Himself. Day and hour for [pg 319] the proclamation will be chosen with the greatest deliberation and foresight, and here another ground for clinging so pertinaciously to the present Council Hall comes out. It was thought quite incomprehensible why “the master” insulted 750 aged men by compelling them, in spite of all wishes and representations and the evidence of his own senses, to hold their sittings in a Chamber so utterly unfit for the purpose. In a city so abounding in churches and halls as Rome this seemed an act rather of ill-tempered caprice than of hospitable care. It was known of course that the previous expectations of the Vatican had been disappointed, that it had been hoped the Schemata would be received by acclamation or by storm, as it were, without discussion, and that the Hall had been chosen on the very ground of its acoustic defects being adapted to that end. Now however a new recommendation of the Hall betrays itself. At a certain hour on a clear and cloudless day the rays of the sun fall exactly on the place where the Pope's throne stands, so that Pius may hope, by help of careful arrangements about the time, to stand in a glory of sunlight at the moment when he announces to the world the divine revelation of his own infallibility. It is on this wise, as we said before, that he has had himself represented [pg 320] in the memorial picture of the proclamation of the Immaculate Conception. At the Coronation of Charles x. of France doves were let fly into the church. And so in Rome also a dove might be trained, so as to make it hover above the Pope at the moment of his apotheosis being proclaimed by his own mouth, which would make the effect quite irresistible.