We propose, therefore, to confine our remarks to the condition of the Sovereign Pontiff at the present moment; to the consequent necessary examination of the relation of the state with the church; and to a look into the future, as far as events will justify us.
What is the condition of the Pope? Is he a prisoner or is he not? We had better start out with establishing what the word prisoner means; otherwise some misunderstanding
may arise. Webster gives us a triple meaning of it. According to him, it means “a person confined in prison; one taken by an enemy; or a person under arrest.” Ogilvie, besides the above, adds as a meaning “one whose liberty is restrained, as a bird in a cage.” Let us see if any of these meanings apply to the condition of the Pope; for if any one of them do, then the Pope is a prisoner.
The Holy Father, in his letter to the bishops immediately after Rome was taken by the Italian army, declared himself to be sub hostili dominatione constitutus—that is, subjected to a power hostile to him. And this is the fact; for friendly powers do not come with an army and cannon to batter down one’s gates and slay one’s faithful defenders. Any one who is taken by a power that, like the Italian government, did batter down walls and kill his defenders, it seems to us, looking at the matter calmly, would be declared by thinking people everywhere sub hostili dominatione constitutus—subjected to a hostile power. After a course like this one might as well say that Abdul Aziz was made to abdicate his throne, and put out of the way—suicided, as the phrase goes—to farther his own interests, as to assert that Pius IX. was dethroned and deprived of the free exercise of the prerogatives he lays claim to in order to secure his independence and protect his freedom of action. Under this title, then, of “having been taken by an enemy,” Pius IX. is a prisoner.
But it is said Pius IX. is not in a prison; he is in the splendid palace of the Vatican, with full liberty to come out when he will. With due respect to the sincerity of many who say this, we beg leave
to remark, first, that there are prisoners who are not necessarily confined in jail; and, secondly, that there are excellent reasons for styling the residence of Pius IX. his prison. To illustrate the first point, there are prisoners on parole; there are, or were under the Crispi law, in Italy, men condemned to the domicilio coatto—to a forced sojourn in some place other than that in which they habitually dwelt before, just as the venerable Cardinal de Angelis was compelled to leave his see, Fermo, and reside for years at Turin. It is plainly not necessary, then, that, in order to be a prisoner, a man should be obliged to live in a building erected for penal purposes. It is enough that there should be powerful motives, such as honor, or conscientious duties, or just fear of consequences, to prevent the free use of his physical power of going from one place to another, to render him really a prisoner. In the case of Pius IX. there do exist such powerful motives in the highest degree. There exist powerful motives of honor. Pius IX. is under oath not to give up, or do any detriment to, the rights of the Roman Church and of the universal church. He inherited vested rights from his predecessors, and, as far as depends on him, he is bound to transmit them unimpaired to his successor. He is a man of honor, pre-eminently so, and will not, cannot prove false to his oath or fail in protecting the rights entrusted to his keeping. The effect of Pius IX.’s leaving the Vatican and going about Rome, as he did in former times, would be a persuasion in the minds of all that he had accepted the situation created for him by the act of the Italian government; that he was, in fact, coming to terms with the
revolution; that he no longer protested against the violations of the divine and natural law embodied in the Italian code, which one of Italy’s public men declared, a short time ago, to be made up of the propositions condemned in the Syllabus. Talk about parole after such a picture! Parole regards the personal honor only; but the motives of Pius IX. not only regard honor, but the highest interests of mankind.
Again, a further effect of Pius IX.’s leaving the Vatican would be trouble in the city. Had we not facts to prove this, there might be many who would doubt it. On occasion of the Te Deum, on the recurrence of the anniversary of his elevation and coronation, in June, 1874, the Sovereign Pontiff, who had been present, unseen, in the gallery above the portico of St. Peter’s, on reaching his apartments chanced momentarily to look from the window at the immense crowd in the piazza. His figure, clad in white, against the dark ground of the room behind him, attracted the attention of some one below and excited his enthusiasm. His cry of Viva Pio Nono, Pontifice e Re! had a magical effect. It was taken up by the thousands present, whose waving handkerchiefs produced the effect, to use the words of a young American poet present, of a foaming sea. In vain the agents of the government scattered through the mass of people—gend’armes and questurini—did their best to stop the demonstration and silence a cry guaranteed by law, but discordant to the liberal ear, and significant of opposition to their views. They could not succeed. They had recourse to the soldiery. A company of Bersaglieri was called from the barracks near by, who, after giving with their trumpets the triple intimation to
disperse, charged with fixed bayonets, and drove the people out of the piazza. The arrests of men and of ladies, and the resulting trials, with condemnation of the former, but release of the latter, are fresh in our memories. How, in the face of a fact like this, could the Pope come out into the city?—especially when we consider his position, the delicate regard due it, the danger, not only of harm to those who favor him, but of injury to the respect in which people of all classes hold him. Even those who would be the first to turn such an act to their account at his expense cannot withhold the respect his virtues, consistency, and courage exact. These, however, are prepared for the first mistake; they are ready to give him a mock triumph at the very first opportunity. But they have to do with a man who knows them; who, being in good faith himself, learnt his lesson in 1848, and understood what reliance is to be placed on European revolutionists. We conclude, then, this portion of our paper by saying that the condition created for the Pope by the taking of Rome, added to considerations of the highest order, has kept Pius IX. from putting his foot outside the Vatican since September 19, 1870, and that consequently “his liberty is restrained” and he is a prisoner.
Having thus shown that Pius IX. is a prisoner, we can safely draw the inference that the place in which circumstances oblige him to remain is his prison—prisoner and prison being correlative terms. He is “a prisoner in his own house,” though certainly we know that house was not built for penal purposes. But we have more than inference, logical as it is. We have facts to show that the same precautions