The Eve of the Council—Rejoicings—Rome the Universal Fatherland—Veuillot's Joy—Processions—Symbolic Sunbeams—the Joybells—The Vision of St. Ambrose—The Disfranchisement of Kings.
The Civiltá described how, in beholding prelates daily arrive, the joy of Rome rose higher and higher; joy resembling but surpassing that of the great events of 1854, 1862, and 1867. Not only prelates came, but champions of the sword, the pen, and the tribune, ready to face the world in the cause of the Pope-King. Count Henri de Riancey begs pardon of Rome for indulging, at such a moment, in a word for France. Yet his heart does not turn to France, except on account of what she has done for the Pope.
Let Rome, the fatherland of all fatherlands, permit to us this flash of patriotism. It is France which has the honour of guarding the last fragments of the pontifical dominions ... She has loved righteousness; and that is the reason why she is anointed with the oil of gladness above her fellows (Frond, vol. i. p. xix.).
Poor France! that love of righteousness, which had made her slay so many Italians to keep up the temporal power, was not to avert from her, "in the year of the Council," a baptism other than that of the oil of gladness.
Ordinary Christians would not catch the reference in the above quotation. To them, "loving righteousness," especially when connected with the person of the Messiah, is not identified with, but in holy opposition to, the idea of setting Christian ministers in rank before secular princes, and in power above kings. But "He loved righteousness and hated iniquity" stands upon the tomb of Hildebrand, who sought to establish the "dominion of Christ," the "kingdom of God," the "reign of righteousness," or as many similar expressions as you please, by subjecting all the kings of the earth to the Priest of God. Pius IX is frequently spoken of as the founder of the lordship of the Pope over the whole earth in the future, as Hildebrand was the founder of his lordship over it in the past. Therefore the sweetness felt by a good Ultramontane in connecting the two together.
I am bewildered with joy, cried M. Veuillot. I try to depict that joy, to swim in life. There is an unspeakable gladness in men's souls. People feel an aurora. I picked up a number of journals, and was going to answer a lively article against myself, in the Gazette de France; but the author has no idea how all his eloquence falls short of a man who, in one and the same day, has seen Pius IX, Rome, and the Sun.
Pius IX had not admitted M. Veuillot to kiss the sacred foot for merely literary service. The devoted advocate laid at the feet he kissed three thousand pounds in money, collected, through his paper, for the expenses of the Council. M. Veuillot scolds M. Taine grandly, for having made some comparison between Rome and Paris—Paris, stretching from the field of Pantin on one side, to the Follies Belleville on the other; and Rome, which has no limits but those of the world, and does not accept those—Paris, which gives birth to M. Rochefort; and Rome, which directs the nineteenth Œcumenical Council! Had M. Taine seen Rome yesterday, full of processions of all colours, and bishops of all countries, he would have said it was more lovely than Paris.
The processions of all colours were no fancy stroke. Nine days of solemn service in honour of the approaching anniversary of the Immaculate, and at the same time of the Council, gave an opportunity of showing to strangers all the confraternities of Rome. They marched to the various basilicas, especially to St. Peter's; the ostensible object being to worship the sacred relics which, with uncommon magnificence, were exposed to their veneration.
The clergy of all lands saw and were seen with wonder and delight. "When therefore," said Eusebius, speaking of Nicaea, "the Emperor's order was brought into all the provinces, persons set out as if for some goal, and ran with all imaginable alacrity, for the hope of good things drew them, and the participation of peace, and lastly a new miracle, to wit, the sight of so great an Emperor."[192] Dr. Friedrich does not express himself so prettily as Eusebius on the appearance of the assembled clergy. The Asiatic cries, "And one city received them all, as it were some vast garland of priests, made up of a variety of beautiful flowers." The Bavarian says, "The clergy of every country have sent a strong contingent, from the proud monsignore to the dirtiest village priest."
The importance of sunny weather for public events, great everywhere, is perhaps exaggerated in Rome. Pius IX is believed to be peculiarly susceptible to sunbeams. Three of his most memorable days are, by his adorers, connected with a sunburst which shone for him especially. Professor Massi relates how, on the day of his taking "possession," the apostolic cortège followed the "brilliant carriage" of the new Pope from the Via Sacra up the Coelian Hill, the Cardinals being mounted on "steeds richly adorned"—doubtless worthy to be compared with those Sicilian steeds which bore Gregory the Great, of whose stud Gregorovius soberly says, "We scarcely doubt but that Pindar would have thought the apostolic horses worthy of an ode."[193] The day was overcast—which omen had a damping effect—but just as the new Pope approached the Lateran, a glorious rainbow spanned the east, gladdening all with the certainty of a reign of peace. In like manner, Professor Massi tells of that proud April evening when the Pontiff, after a long exile, once more looked down upon the earth from his own Olympus. The clerical writers do not exactly call it heaven, but content themselves with speaking of the figure of the Pope so exalted, as "standing between earth and heaven," or as a spectacle which reminds us of the Divinity (Frond, p. 16). The secularizing of sacred terms, till we come down to "apostolic cortèges" and "apostolic horses," and the materializing of spiritual terms, till "the kingdom of Christ," sometimes means the temporal power, is a process which must go on until the heaven of the materialized imagination will be levelled to the height of the noblest dome, and to the beauties of the best decorator. The peerless piazza of St. Peter's was, on the day in question, filled with French uniforms. At the foot of the great staircase rose a platform covered with purple, and decked with flying banners. The heavens, all day covered with clouds, suddenly turned azure, and the setting sun poured his beams on the dome of Michael Angelo, on the cross of the Obelisk, and on the statues which adorn the Colonnade, just as Pius IX "raised his paternal hand to bless the arms which had avenged his throne." The third day on which the sun shone expressly for Pius IX has been already mentioned, that of the Immaculate Conception.