At midnight on July 19, Von Scherr, Archbishop of Munich, who had throughout the Council acted with the Opposition, re-entered his city. He came, as the Germans say, without song or chime—that is, in strict privacy. At first many thought—and Friedrich was one of the number—that this demeanour was adopted, on the part of his Grace, to shun any public demonstration which the people might have made in honour of his attitude in Rome. But the whisper soon crept round, "Gregory has submitted."
Presently the Faculty of Theology, with Döllinger at its head, came in all form to present the Archbishop with an address of congratulation on his happy return. After the formal reply to the address, his Grace said, "Rome has spoken: you gentlemen know the rest. We could do nothing but give in." Friedrich says that he saw how Döllinger was boiling, while the rest were also moved. "We struggled long," continued the Archbishop, "and gained much, and we also averted a deal of evil." This remark, says Friedrich, evidently encountered general incredulity. The Archbishop then told of the deputation to the Pope—of which he was a member—on July 15; of the hopes raised by the reply it received; of how those hopes were dashed by the influence of Senestrey—for he does not seem to have named Manning; and finally, of the sad disappointment of Cardinal Rauscher on going the next day to thank his Holiness for yielding, and on hearing from those lips which to the "Catholic" world are the fount of truth, that the formula which, on the previous evening, the Pope denied having seen, was actually distributed among the prelates, and was declared to be irrevocable.
At the close of the conversation, Scherr, turning to Döllinger, said, "Shall we start afresh to work for the Holy Church?" The aged Probst replied, "Yes, for the old one." It was evident that, if Scherr had just then had any other man before him, his anger would have waxed hot. He suppressed it, however, and replied, "There is only one Church, not a new one and an old." Then were the words pronounced by Döllinger, "They have made a new one." The note was sounded. The Archbishop could only say, "There have always been alterations in the Church and in the doctrines." This speech played upon the countenances of the Professors, calling up in each case a look characteristic of the man. "Never shall I forget," says Friedrich, "the respective bearing of Döllinger and Haneberg." Döllinger was soon excommunicated; Haneberg was soon in a bishop's palace, but ere long he died. No one took up the conversation, and as the Archbishop turned from Döllinger to address some one else, Friedrich saw tears in his eyes.
In the hall of the university where the Professors had robed, and where they now unrobed, they spent a quarter of an hour in talking over the scene. Döllinger, however, did not stay. Rather early the next morning, the Archbishop deigned to visit the plain house in Von der Tann Street. Döllinger plainly told him that he could not receive the dogma of July 18, being, as it was, in open contradiction to the past teaching and history of the Church. In that dogma the worst thing of all was the addition made after the discussion, "not by the consent of the Church." Here was a surprise for the Archbishop. He knew nothing of that addition. He had left the field before the last gun was fired. He had now to learn the shape which his new faith had actually taken, and to learn it from the lips of Döllinger. The venerable Provost who was to be excommunicated had to tell the Archbishop who was to do the deed what the change of creed actually was for not conforming to which he was to be given over to Satan. That scene might have afforded Kaulbach another picture.
Von Scherr at first spoke in Munich of the promise made by the bishops of the minority to one another not to act separately. By the end of August he had forgotten all about it. A "highly placed" layman was informed by the Archbishop that he need not trouble himself with infallibility, as the Decree would not be promulged in the diocese, and what was not promulged was not binding. Almost immediately afterwards it was printed in his own paper. Ere long, Scherr was as hot for infallibility as if his object had been to make the Curia forget in his present zeal any unpleasant impressions made by his former opposition. He was exemplary in protesting, threatening, and excommunicating. Friedrich gives particulars to prove, in the case of Scherr, that disregard of truth which is so freely alleged against the bishops generally, into which we will not enter.
As we have said, from one of the minority we may judge of all. Neither Hefele nor Kenrick, neither Dupanloup nor Strossmayer, displayed any Christian fortitude sufficient to arrest their Church in her downward course, or indeed displayed anything to give the Curia aught but food for scorn of the Opposition. Their convictions had been solemnly stated and ably argued. Those convictions did suffice to cause hesitation. But the force of conviction only tested the force of habit, and did not break it. The new submission made them tenfold more than ever the creatures of that overweening power which they had spent their lives in exalting, which for a moment they had attempted to moderate, but to which they now succumbed in its most heinous assumptions.
The lower clergy have followed the bishops in submission. At one time it seemed as if many of them would withstand. Except, however, in the two countries nearest to Italy—Switzerland and Germany—no appreciable resistance has been offered. In Germany the men in whom the force of belief overcame the habit of submission were almost exclusively those whom the elevating influence of university life had lifted above the ordinary level of the clergy. Their number is not large; but the valuable writings which they have already produced show that they have no mean power of influencing the future currents of theological thought. Spirited France, in spite of its Gallican traditions, was a pattern of tameness. The striking examples of Loyson and Michaud found exceedingly few to follow. Gratry "submitted." Throughout the rest of the world the exceptions have been isolated and without influence.
Among the laity, again, it is only in Switzerland and Germany that success has been even chequered. The otherwise uniform submission has there been broken by numbers considerable to-day, but more considerable for the future. Yet compared with the mass in submission, those numbers are soon told. But, on the other hand, that mass in submission is not of uniform value to the future theocracy. It contains the cordial adherents who already believed; the dutiful adherents who doubted, but at the word of the Council said, It is decided, and I now, as in duty bound, believe; the reckless adherents, who, like most in Italy and many in France, would as cheerfully have submitted to a dogma declaring the Popes imponderable, as to one declaring them infallible, and who do really believe that they are irreformable. Differing from all these are men who had an intelligent conviction against the new dogma, or against the new constitution, or against both. These, brought face to face with the alternative—submit, or bear the curse of the Church; submit, or survive the rending in twain of every life-tie—did sadly and slowly submit—submit without attempting to reconcile things to their reason, as it is said that Montalembert declared he would do. These men may never make apt instruments of the priests, but they do make their proud trophies. One strong man silently submitting is a statuesque monition to many others not to think. A still further element of unknown extent mingles with the mass. It consists of those who, without either formal submission or open breach, do not believe the new dogma, and do not approve of the new constitution. This now inert bulk may turn to a force bearing in either direction, or may divide into two portions; one giving the priests control over profession and appearance, without any corresponding control over belief—which is, perhaps, of all their triumphs the most practical; and another in which conviction, growing at last too strong for the habit of submission, breaks by its divine force the human bond, and throws men upon their conscience, their Bible, and their God. But when men have once really believed in a God who leaves the rule over His redeemed offspring to a Vicar, and have believed in man as a creature whose conscience another man is to keep, it is hard to find in them foothold for solid Christian convictions. They are kneaded to the hand of the priest. If they leave him, they become infidels, who though in feeling his opponents, perhaps his persecutors, become in argument and action his practical allies. Joining him in rooting out faith in the Bible and in primitive Christianity, they urge men to his two extremes of doctrine, the authority of the Church or Atheism, and consequently to his two extremes of government, the Papacy or the International. One Auguste Comte is worth many a monastery.
It is this "sublime" spectacle of success with hierarchy, clergy, and laity, which makes the recent past, to the augurs of reconstruction, a certain presage of a triumph, perhaps distant, but complete, in the future. No recalcitrating bishop now; or if a few worn-out men are still secretly of the old inclining, they are rapidly dying off. The list of the eighty-eight is already a short one. No bishop is now installed who to the old oath which already made him a vassal of the Pope does not add the new articles of the Vatican Decrees. No seminaries are now training priests to deny the infallibility of the Pope, or his ordinary, immediate, and omnipresent authority. In most the Jesuit text-books are adopted. No catechisms are now teaching against Papal infallibility, or teaching ambiguously. The new doctrine will be couched in terms clearer or less clear, according to political and theological necessities; but, whether in Prague or Sydney, in Florence or Liverpool, in Boston or Warsaw, in Berlin or Lima, the catechism will contain a text from which the friar or priest will put the same principles of social reconstruction into the minds of boys and girls. To the view of the Jesuits, the future unfolds like a peacock's tail, all sparkling with the eyes of the young. The outward loss to the Church which has been sustained was reckoned upon before hand. They hold that it is more than compensated by the perfect internal compactness gained. When once the preparations are complete—and a few score years are of no account—a generation well trained will be ready at the call of him who holds among men the place of God, to take up the cross of St. Peter, to cry, "God wills it," and to march till all high things that exalt themselves against Christ shall be pulled down, and the Church alone shall stand, the one all-perfect society embracing the human species.
The loss of the temporal power affected all the calculations of the foregoing period. It came with appalling suddenness. It startled all men to see the Emperor who had been the sole prop of the temporal power fall, not like a prince put to the worst amid a loyal people, but with an unheard-of crash like a log upon ice, while his empire instantly went under; and to see in another moment the Italian sentries standing round the Vatican. All efforts had first to be turned to a restoration. As if to illustrate the weakness which the subjects of the Pope form for any State, while yet the war was raging King William had to negotiate with Ledochowsky,[485] and ere yet the blood was dry, a petition signed by fifty-six members of the Prussian Parliament prayed the new Emperor of Germany to restore the Pope—which meant to declare war on Italy. While the Emperor still lay at Versailles a deputation, headed by three counts, passed through bleeding France to pray the victor to flesh his sword anew. Emperor William well knew that if all the powers of the Papacy sufficed for the task, the new empire would be rent to shivers in a day. The army which had taken Paris did not march on Rome. France had next to exhibit herself as a suppliant at the feet of the Holy Father—a Holy Father who wanted her with her right arm broken to draw with her left and cut down the Italians. She met this wicked suggestion with humble requests that the Holy Father would show forbearance and not demand services for which she was not prepared. Incredible as it may seem, Father Hyacinth Loyson stated, in the Journal des Débats, that French bishops, before thus attempting to entangle their own government, had actually applied to the invading Germans.[486] Refused by the invader, refused by their country, they hated where they could not smite. Germany was marked for destruction; and France was held to future service when the time should come. Meantime, every effort was put forth to check and disunite Italy, but in vain. She has strained the religious toleration which the Pope abhors so as even to cover overt political hostilities. She has allowed him to issue all manner of incentives to undo the Italian kingdom by either domestic revolt or foreign intervention, or if possible by both. She has allowed him to gather together crowds of hostile foreigners and to excite them to affront and revile the nation. She has grown stronger and more solid during the process, laughing equally at the Napoleonic idea that the Pope was to be treated as if he had two hundred thousand bayonets, and at the Bonaparte violence which inflicted personal insult, prison, and exile. At this moment, after six years have passed, the Vatican as unblushingly asserts that Italy—the real Italy—is on its side as it did in the years preceding Solferino.[487] Victor Emmanuel has tried the experiment of letting the Pope play the prisoner or the freeman, the prophet, priest, or Caesar, the tribune or the medicine-man, just at his wayward will. The enmity of the Pope has been good for Italy as for England, Germany, America, and all countries favoured with it; but if the day comes when the Pope meets the bow of any future Prime Minister of Italy with a responsive bow, then may we begin to look for fresh cycles of conspiracy and convulsion.