I heard that the titular Abbot of Westminster, the head of the Benedictine Order in England, called to report his arrival on some high dignitary, dressed not in his habit but in the get-up of an elderly English clergyman. He was told that if he wanted to process with the abbots he must attire himself accordingly, and was asked if he possessed the insignia of his office. "Certainly," he replied. "I have the ring of the Abbots of Westminster," pulling out of his waistcoat pocket the identical ring worn by Feckenham, the last abbot in the reign of Queen Mary! The lamentable sequel to the story is that as he was mounting the steps into St. Peter's on the opening day of the Council, the precious ring, which he had not taken the trouble to get fitted to his finger, fell off, rolled down the steps, and was never heard of again. If this is true it seems very deplorable.
During his sojourn in Rome Bute had opportunities, which he was not likely to neglect, of meeting many interesting people, and hearing much at first hand, and from both sides, of the weighty matters under discussion at the Council. The prelate of whom he saw most, and to whom he was very sincerely attached, was Mgr. Clifford, Bishop of Clifton, who with the Archbishops of Paris, Vienna, and St. Louis, and Bishop Dupanloup of Orleans, were prominent among the opponents of the definition of Papal Infallibility. With the leaders of the opposite party also he had from time to time considerable intercourse, and in a letter addressed to him nearly thirty years later by the venerable Cardinal Gibbons, now (1920) the sole survivor of the Fathers of the Council, his Eminence reminded Bute of a long drive he had taken with himself and Archbishop Spalding of Baltimore, a very strong pro-definitionist, and of their interesting talk on that occasion about the great subject of the day. Bute's own habit of mind, and the influence exercised on his judgment by Bishop Clifford, undoubtedly predisposed him to sympathise with those opposed to the definition; and he shared the apprehensions of many of his friends among that party—apprehensions not justified in the event—that the step if carried through might result in a serious defection from the Church. A subsequent letter from him, however, will show what with instant and edifying submission of heart and mind he accepted the decree when once it had been promulgated by the supreme authority which he never for a moment questioned.
1870, Society in Rome
Bute was not so preoccupied with these grave matters but that he found time for a certain amount of social intercourse with the distinguished and cosmopolitan society gathered that winter in the Eternal City. He made friends with the Papal Zouaves, and often accepted the hospitality of the officers of that pleasant international corps, with one of whom, Captain the Hon. Walter Maxwell, he became very intimate. He liked to watch the Zouaves at rifle-practice in the Borghese Gardens, visited the officers on guard at the Colosseum and elsewhere, and entertained them once at a famous supper of which the recollection long survived in the corps. About Christmas time he was present at a great reception given at the Palazzo Bonimi by Mr. and Mrs. Delabarre Bodenham, and records a "twenty minutes' conversation with Archbishop Manning, in a quite empty little room opening out of the reception hall." Soon after New Year he attended a dinner given in a café in the Corso by the British Committee of the Sovereign Order of the Knights of Malta, and made a speech reported by one of those present to be "the best speech of the evening and very well received." His name is also recorded as having been present at many notable religious functions—among others the imposing funeral service, in the church of the Holy Apostles, of the Grand Duke Leopold of Tuscany, at which the Pope assisted and gave the final absolution. Bute saw much, during these weeks in Rome, of the savants and scholars—by no means all sympathisers with the Papal regime—then resident in the city, and his modesty of demeanour, earnestness, and intelligence made a very favourable impression on the varied society with which he was brought into contact. In those days he liked to be amused as well as interested; and there was plenty of amusement to be found at that time in the kaleidoscopic throngs of visitors which the unique and unrivalled charms of Rome attracted within her gates. One of his most agreeable acquaintances—quite outside ecclesiastical and antiquarian circles—was Olivia Lady Sebright, the clever and charming sister of an Irish peer who had been his contemporary at Oxford. Her lively persiflage was doubtless a pleasant and piquant contrast to the discourses of Bute's learned acquaintances; and it was often jestingly remarked in Anglo-Roman society that Lady Sebright seemed to do all the talking and Lord Bute all the listening. He alludes to her in one of his letters as "a very vivacious lady, who would have her joke even in the Catacombs." Lady Sebright was included in the party which Bute invited to join him in the yachting cruise in the Mediterranean which he made after leaving Italy in the summer of 1870.
Bute did not remain in Rome for the final Congregation of the Council on July 18, 1870, when 533 bishops voted in favour of the schema "De Ecclesia," with the added clauses on Papal Infallibility. Two only voted "Non placet," the Bishops of Ajaccio and of Little Rock, U.S.A.[[3]] The decree was immediately confirmed by the Pope in the midst of a terrific thunderstorm; and on the same day Napoleon III. declared war against Prussia. In a letter to H. D. Grissell, dated five days before the occupation of Rome by the troops of Victor Emmanuel, Bute tells how he first heard of the momentous event:
Cardiff Castle,
September 15, 1870.
How can I tell in what a state this may find you at Rome? the Pope perhaps gone to Malta, and the whole place in revolution, tempered only by the presence of Italian troops.
My first act on returning to England was to go to Clifton to see [Bishop] Clifford. He was away, but two of his chaplains received me and told me of the definition, of which I have now received from you the awful description. My mind bowed itself at once before the definition, and I believed the doctrine ex animo. I have since found that many most pious Catholics, most heartily willing to believe anything on the Church's authority, do not see that that authority exists in this case. They argue in this way: I. It is admitted that an OEcumenical Council approved by the Pope can bind the soul. II. To be OEcumenical it is necessary for the Council to be closed, the decrees signed by a majority of the Fathers, then published and received in the whole world. III. This is not at present the case with the Vatican Council.[[4]]—Ergo.
Whether there is anything in all this I am not personally concerned to enquire. There seems to me no doubt that external disobedience and denial of the doctrine are, as things now are, sinful; though some may, and doubtless do, hold a hope that God will some day teach us by His Church that this definition of the Vatican Council is not, after all, part of the revealed truth. Such thoughts sometimes make me unhappy, and I endeavour (which is what our confessors advise) to drown them by practical Catholic work and such attempts at piety as I am capable of. I repeat—from the moment of the definition I had not one doubt of the truth of the doctrine in the bottom of my soul. The conviction that the doctrine is truly part of God's Eternal Truth—even though it may not yet be officially made known to us as part of that "faith" of which St. Paul speaks when he says, "Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord JESUS Christ"—still remains in me; and it seems to me that I could never cease to hold it until, or unless, the Church laid down the contrary. Let us leave the matter here: I shall write no more of it.
Our voyage home was very happy and successful. We travelled across Corsica by carriage, after a week in a quiet Sardinian bay, in sight of Garibaldi's home at Caprera. We were nearly three weeks between Nice and Cannes, where Lady Sebright left us; then about a fortnight at the Balearic Isles—Palma is charming. We touched at some Spanish ports, passed ten days at Gibraltar, and ran up from Cadiz for a week at Seville; then eight days at Lisbon and Cintra. Never in England or out of it have I seen cathedrals worked so splendidly as the few Spanish I saw. I could not have conceived the grandeur of the fabric, establishment, and functions of Seville—infinitely better than St. Peter's. Not having witnessed any great solemnity, I fail to imagine what they must be like. Some of the Peninsular practices are very interesting, such as the use of the double ambon, and the Portuguese practice of administering a glass chalice with wine to communicants.[[5]]