Upon this he left the desk, and Jacobini, the Sub-Secretary, ascending it, called out the name of Cardinal Mattei, who was absent from old age. He then called "Constantine, Bishop of Porto"; and Cardinal Patrizi, rising, and taking off his mitre, said, Placet. The voice near the throne made the darkening hall to echo Placet, and the voice near the door repeated the echo, Placet. Then the scrutineers recorded the vote. Cardinal Amat was next called, and his Placet and some five or six others sounded harmoniously in the deepening gloom. Jacobini then called Frederick Joseph, Archbishop of Prague. The princely priest who from the age of thirty-three had worn the purple, and who was to represent the house of Schwarzenberg and the Church of Bohemia,—that Church imposed by burnings and by blood,—responded not. There was a moment's pause and a sense of a want. Absent, cried the voice near the throne. Absent, replied the voice near the door; and the influences from without were seconded by a damping influence from within. The next name was that of Cardinal Corsi, a man of repute for piety, who was well known to be averse to the definition. According to Vitelleschi, he and the other dissentient Cardinals drew their scarlet hats over their eyes and remained silent. But they wore mitres, not hats. Of the rest, Quirinus asserts that, besides the Cardinal Vicar, Patrizi, only two put into their Placet spirit enough to stand up, and they were Bonaparte and Panebianco. Fourth after Corsi came the name of the senior French Cardinal. "James, Archbishop of Besançon," cried Jacobini; but Cardinal Mathieu did not respond. Absent, cried the official voice. Absent, echoed the fellow official. Even France seemed failing. Thrice had the tranquillizing Placet cheered the still deepening shadows, when Jacobini came to the notable name of "Joseph Othmar, Archbishop of Vienna." But Rauscher was far away, and once more did the thunderous air thrill with the depressing sound, Absent. Now followed a successive roll of more than twelve Placets, and then came the name of Philip, Archbishop of Bologna. All watched Cardinal Guidi, who pronounced a Placet. The Pope closely eyed him, and when the creature delivered his judgment before earth and heaven in favour of the dogma which just one month previously he had, in the same place, solemnly proposed to lay under an anathema, his royal master said, "Poor man!" or, as others report it, "Good man!" but Vitelleschi remarks that in Italian they might both mean the same thing. To Guidi succeeded two staunch Placets, from Bonnechose and Cullen, but next was called Gustavus of Santa Maria Traspontina. Eyes looked for another prince-priest who represented the house of Hohenlohe and the feelings of Bavaria, but there was no response. Hohenlohe, like Rauscher and Schwarzenberg, was absent.
After the list of Cardinals was exhausted, the patriarchal Sees were called. Two Sees were especially connected with the tradition of Peter. After men of genuine Italian name, Antici-Mattei and Ballerini, had, for Constantinople and for Alexandria, answered Placet, was called the name of Antioch. Its Patriarch was named Jusseff, and the call evoked no response; so Antioch, the See of Peter, and absent, the sign of disapprobation, were set in men's minds together. Of course the Roman Valerga said Placet for Jerusalem. Then came the other city connected with the life of Peter, and when Audu, whose secret experience after his first audacity in venturing to differ from Pius IX was known to all, was called to answer for Babylon, all expected that he would have been overcome like Guidi. But no. Oriental servility did not equal Rome, and so the reply made for Babylon was Absent. La Dernière Heure du Concile asserts that as Audu had been sent for by the Pope, so had Jusseff been sent for by the authorities of the Propaganda, "to know by what right he dared to bear testimony to the belief of the East without having previously submitted his speech to revision" (p. 4). Next came the primatial Sees. Where was the Primate of France? Where the Primate of Hungary? They, too, among the absent. And of the Archbishops, where were those of Paris, of Milan, and of Munich? Where the Nestor of the English-speaking group, John of Tuam? These were painful deficiencies. Still, in numbers if not in influence the roll of Placets from among the Archbishops presented a very large majority. Among the bishops, the first name called was that of the very aged Losanna, of Biella, one of the staunchest opponents. So the first reply, though for an Italian bishop, was Absent. Then a flow of Placets, frequently chequered by an Absent. In all, says Vitelleschi, nearly one hundred and fifty bishops were absent, many of them men who held the most illustrious Sees.[470] The Acta Sanctæ Sedis confesses to one hundred and twelve absentees from among those called; which number did not, of course, include men who had already obtained leave of absence. The number who were present was five hundred and thirty-five. In this whole list the uniform responses were either Placet or Absent till the name of the Bishop of Caizzo, a Neapolitan, was called. The official reported his vote as Placet. Caizzo raised his voice and loudly uttered Non placet. Then, again, to the end, Placet followed Placet, alternating with the voice of the rolling thunder. Finally was called Fitzgerald of little Rock in America. Thinking that he alone of the Fallibilists was present, he had begged not to be brought forward; but now that another bishop had given a negative vote he responded, Non placet.[471] This set tongues agoing. It was roundly asserted that the appearance of the Neapolitan and the American had been arranged for, in order to give an air of freedom. Vitelleschi naturally thinks that it is needless to search so far for motives. Yet, the Civiltá makes a display of these two votes, saying that without them it would have been alleged that the Fathers were not free. It tells of a correspondent of some of the "bad" papers who on hearing the first Non placet was evidently annoyed, and being asked by a friend the cause of that annoyance said, "This negative vote spoils all for us."[472] The Civiltá quotes a description of how Riccio, the Neapolitan, after the definition, went down on his knees and said, Credo, I believe; and how Fitzgerald pressed his episcopal cross to his breast and said, "Now I believe. Now do I also firmly believe."[473] When all the votes had been delivered, the scrutineers and notaries brought to the Secretary of the Council a statement of the result. The Secretary, followed by the scrutineers and notaries, advanced to the steps of the throne. There they all knelt down. The Secretary ascended the steps and read, "Blessed Father, the Decrees and Canons are agreed to by all the Fathers, two excepted."
All this time the gloom was deep. "The voice of the Lord" again and again pealed over the city. Thunderbolts more than once struck close to the Cathedral. Some glass in the windows of the apse just behind the throne was broken. Some, according to Jesuit writers, said, Providence is proclaiming the downfall of Gallicanism. Some, according to the Acta Sanctæ Sedis, said, The demon is disturbed, the storm shows that this does not please him. This interpretation would seem to have been that of the learned editor, for he adds, "The thunderbolts which Jupiter of the Pagans forged did the city no harm." Many said, God is installing the new Moses upon the new Sinai. This, at least with those who wrote, was evidently the prevailing interpretation.
The moment had come. Now was to be spoken the word so oft invoked in apostrophe, apologue, and prayer,—the word for which many had pictured a universe in chaos as waiting in blind but agonizing throes,—the word which so-called Christian journals and Christian ministers had, times unnumbered, described as the voice of God pronouncing the creative fiat, Let there be light. But where was the sun? According to many promises and to careful arrangements, he was at this moment to pour down upon the Lawgiver while announcing to all people, nations, and languages, the new law that changeth not, a radiance which would be as if angels were unfolding their wings above him and around. But the sun would not! The priest, in his conflict with chaos, was, at the supreme moment, left to the light of his own beloved wax candles. That light which his taste tells him adorns the house of God in the eye of day, and teaches celestial truths to immortal men, became at last of real use.
The High Priest arose from his throne. All hearts stood still. He thought, and they thought, that he was about to proclaim himself unerring. But had not the wine been spirited away between the cup and the lip? The faults incident to composing in a committee, and those incident to amending in a hurry, were both embedded in the Decree. All it said of the infallibility of the Pope was derived and comparative; he is possessed of that infallibility with which the divine Redeemer willed that His Church should be endowed in defining doctrine regarding faith and morals. History had conquered dogma here as it had done in the chapter on authority. The declaration was not that the Church was as infallible as the Pope, which would have been the order had the historical consciousness traced the infallibility of the Church as derived from that of the Pope. The declaration was that the Pope was as infallible as the Church,—a proof that his infallibility was derived from hers, and that historical consciousness dictated that order. This comparative infallibility was all that was ascribed to the Pope in this artful but unskilful composition. But to what, according to the same article, did the infallibility of the Church amount? This was rendered by the wording the point all essential, and the standard beyond which infallibility could not extend. The Church was in the same article, and in words the most positive, dealt with as a body the consent of which was not to be taken into account. All, therefore, which the great Word had brought forth, was a declaration that the Pope was as infallible as a body whose consent was not to be taken into account. The world may be well content. The crafty were caught in their own gin when they renounced the consent of the Church. When men have long and successfully argued in a circle, it is a delicate thing all at once, in the heat of a July day, to break one half of the circle, and then to declare that the other half is perfectly round, quite as round as the whole. Historically, the infallibility of the Church was first of all made the base and measure of that of the Pope. Then, diplomatically, the infallibility of the Church was reduced to a nullity. This nullity, by inexorable logic, falls back on all the infallibilities grown out of it, or measured by it. So the Decree is chaos in spite of all the candles. But on one point it speaks not comparatively but positively. Without comparison with anything on earth or above the earth, the Decrees of the Pope are pronounced irreformable. That is the one and the only indisputable result.
The aspirant after infallibility stood, about, as he imagined, to pronounce the word. He opened his lips, and by the candlelight read: "The Decrees and Canons contained in the constitution just read are agreed to by all the Fathers, two excepted. We, therefore, with the approval of the Sacred Council, confirm these and those as now read, and define them by apostolic authority."
The anathema attached to the definition of infallibility strikes below the feet of Protestants. It only anathematizes those who contradict the definition. Protestants do not stoop to do so. They may freely admit that the Pope is as infallible as the Church which made him irreformable, and for once they may believe more than the Pope, by admitting that the Church is as infallible as he. They certainly are not tempted to deny that the Pope, whether in his Decrees or out of them, is irreformable. Here, again, they believe more than the Pope.
The Civiltá states that now burst out a loud acclamation among the Fathers, accompanied with salvos of artillery. The small crowd of priests and nuns, and such like, as Vitelleschi says, about the door of the Hall raised a shout. Quirinus says that the nuns cried "Papa mio"—My Pope. According to the Acta Sanctæ Sedis, St. Peter's was very full of people, who broke forth in such applause that you would scarcely have believed that you were in the temple of the Prince of the Apostles, hearing it echo again and again with these unwonted sounds.
The Irreformable then addressed his Bishops in the following allocution. In order to do so, according to the Stimmen, he had to make several vain attempts, owing to the repeated applause of the Fathers; an applause which recalls a sad word of Vitelleschi, that some are never so jubilant as when they have placed a new yoke on their necks. At length the thunders of applause were still, and the waiting world was ready to hear the first utterance of the first human being ever set up on a throne in a temple, by hundreds of men of full age and of sound reason, to utter to all the earth words never to be questioned or amended, much less recalled. Hush! The Infallible gives forth the first oracle in his now acknowledged plenitude of power. Does it sound like "the word of God," at whose potent spell a disordered world will rise to new order and repose, or like that of an old man chiding the absent bishops who had not adorned the triumph of the day?
This exalted authority of the Roman Pontiff, venerable brethren, does not oppress, but assists; does not destroy, but builds up and often confirms in dignity, unites in affection, and strengthens and protects the rights of brethren—that is, of the bishops. Let those who now judge in the earthquake know that the Lord is not in the earthquake. Let them remember that, a few years ago, holding different views, they copiously expressed themselves as of our own opinion, and that of the majority of this great assembly; but they then judged in the calm. In judging of the same case, can we have two opposing consciences? God forbid! May God, therefore, enlighten their minds and their hearts; and as He alone works great marvels, may He illuminate their minds and hearts, so that all may come to the breast of their Father, that of the unworthy Vicar of Jesus Christ on earth, who loves them, who esteems them, and who longs to be one with them. And so, bound together in the bond of charity, may we be able to fight the battle of the Lord, so that our enemies may not deride us, but may rather fear us, and may in time lay down the weapons of wickedness before the truth; and may we all be enabled to say with St. Augustine, "Thou hast called me into Thy wonderful light, and lo, I see!"[474]