“We deny entirely that Prince Bismarck himself ever adopted this policy on its merits in the sense in which the Pall Mall admires it. On the contrary, we believe that, as a statesman, he distrusted it seriously, and has even now little confidence in its success. We believe that it will result in giving a new stimulus to Roman Catholicism, and that the fanatical vehemence with which the German people have adopted it is a sufficient evidence of the rash and ill-considered character of the policy itself.”[150]
“This rough-and-ready method of expelling ultramontane influences ‘by a fork’ can hardly fail to suggest to a looker-on the probability that, like similar methods of expelling nature, it may lead to a reaction. Downright persecution of this sort (we are speaking now simply of the Jesuit law), unless it is very thorough indeed—more thorough than is well possible in this XIXth century—usually defeats itself.”[151]
In this country, the secular press seems generally inclined to shirk the question, or devotes an occasional paragraph to it from time to time, as to a disagreeable subject which will force itself upon the sight, but which it is better to get out of the way as speedily as possible. The religious press among us has gone wild over it from the beginning as a death-blow to Rome. But even they begin to distrust it, and soften their jubilant notes to a mild piano, that they hope all good from this measure—they do not exactly see what good, but they live in hope, whilst one of their number, the New York Observer, a fine hater of “Popery,” actually declared the other day that, in its opinion, “Cæsar was going too far.”
In Germany itself, as may be gathered from some of the extracts already given, the state-god is not yet accepted as infallible and supreme even in this world. Prince Bismarck marches very fast; and he would make Germany march with him. Sedan was won by marching: but this moral Sedan, as he would consider it, laughs at the snail’s pace of the other. There is such a thing as “riding a gift horse to death”; and Prince Bismarck seems intent on accomplishing that foolish feat.
And here a word may be devoted to the false allegation, which is now beginning to be dropped, that the Catholics were foes to the consolidation of the empire. The Jesuits were banished as conspirators against the empire; the whole Catholic Church was in a conspiracy against it; the Pope had gone further, and, with the rashness characteristic of him, “openly declared war against Bismarck and his ideas” (New York Nation). We have looked in vain for the details of this mysterious conspiracy, which have not yet seen the light, though it was so “well known.” Not a single scrap of evidence appeared, not a single riot occurred, not a house was fired; there was no gun-powder discovered, not even the traditional slouched hat and dark-lantern; the supreme majesty of the law was never violated even in the sacred person of a solitary policeman.
As for the other allegation, that Catholics were opposed to the unity of the fatherland, they had ample opportunity to speak prior to the war with France. There was no necessity for the Catholic German states to join Prussia, and spend their wealth and the lives of their sons in a terrible war. Why did not the Catholic clergy and bishops and the Pope, who are nothing but a political power, use the vast political power which they are supposed to wield in preventing the fatal alliance between Protestant Prussia and the Catholic states? Then was the time to pronounce, and how did they pronounce?
There was no doubt or hesitation on the part of either clergy or people. Napoleon made the fatal mistake of endeavoring to throw a religious color over his campaign, to win Catholic Germany to his side. Catholic Germany stood by its homes and altars, and its bishops, priests, and Jesuits stood with it. The Prussian Catholics gloried in their country, and would yield the palm of religious freedom to no nation, not even to ourselves. Mgr. Ketteler had long ago pronounced for the unity of the German Empire. So let that allegation drop.
After the war, each state continued in full and free possession of the right to manage its own home affairs: Prussia was the centre of foreign policy alone. First the Prussian system of service in the army was forced upon all, contrary to the wishes of the states, particularly Bavaria. When Prince Bismarck made up his mind to force this ecclesiastical bill upon Prussia, he saw clearly that, if it remained law for Prussia only, and a dead letter for all the federal states outside, it could not stand: it must be German or nothing. In order to bring this about, he sounded the states for the transfer of the home policy also to the hands of Prussia.
The proposition was vigorously opposed by all, chiefly by Bavaria. Everybody understood the thing dead, when suddenly the announcement came one morning that all the states, with the exception of Bavaria, were in favor of placing the home policy also in the hands of Prussia. Bavaria was left to do as it pleased, and now Prussia is the centre of all power in Germany, so that the reins of absolute government over a number of federal states, which two years ago were free, rest now in the hands of a man whose chief doctrine is the natural preponderance of Prussia.
The measures of the Bismarck régime in Germany have been from first to last measures of violence, not simply as regards the Catholic Church, but as regards the whole of the federal states; and their effects begin to show themselves already in the disrespect shown the emperor on his birthday, in the various riots which have taken and are taking place. And be it marked, not one of these riots has been attributed to the Catholics; they are too obedient to the religion which Prince Bismarck would destroy to take this form of endeavoring to right their wrongs. The riots have been generally called beer riots; but they are following so fast one upon the other, and occurring in so many different cities, that, however exciting a topic beer may be, people begin to hint at something else as cause for them.