Statements of mine will frequently be found to conflict with statements made in the True Story. In most of those cases—I hope in all—the materials from known sources furnished to the general reader will suffice for a not unsatisfactory comparison, while the authorities indicated will enable the scholar to form a judgment. In very many of these cases statements of Cardinal Manning, made in previous works and virtually amounting to the same as the most material of those made in the True Story, will be found side by side with the statements of other authorities, with official documents, or with facts no longer disputable. Of these statements, one to which the Cardinal seems to attach much importance is his assertion that none of the prelates, or at most a number under five, disbelieved or denied the dogma of Papal infallibility, and that all their objections turned on questions of prudence. This is not a slip, nor a hasty assertion, and it is very far from being peculiar to Cardinal Manning. It is now the harmonious refrain of all that hierarchy of strange witnesses of which he has made himself a part. The point is one on which illustrations will occur again and again, in events, in words, and in those documents which, in spite of all precautions, have been gained to publicity.
Notwithstanding the method adopted in the True Story, the fact crops out at every turn that the modern strife of the Papacy is not to make men and women, as such, godly and peaceable, but to bring kings as kings, and legislatures as legislatures, and nations as nations, into subjection to the Pope. It crops out sufficiently, at least, to be obvious to all who know the difference, in the Cardinal's phraseology, between the two sets of terms employed to indicate those two distinct objects. For instance, what an excellent description of that Catholic Civilization which, in the great contest of the Vatican, is ever signalized as the goal, does the Cardinal give when, picturing the "public life and laws and living organization of Christendom" in the times when all these, according to his ideas, were "Christian," he says, "Princes and legislatures and society professed the Catholic faith, and were subject to the head of the Catholic Church." Cardinal Manning does not here use the word "society" in the domestic but in the political sense. He means, not families or social parties, but nations—as the Jesuit writers almost always do. Any one may, therefore, possess himself of a key to the true meaning of many pious phrases which occur in the following pages, if he will first of all clearly realize in his own thoughts just what it would involve for England; and for us were the conditions stated by the Cardinal fulfilled by our princes, our legislature, and our "society." One seeking to do this must realize the fact that the prince and the legislature not as individuals, and the "society" not in its separate members, but the prince as a prince, the legislature as a legislature, and the nation as a society, shall profess the Catholic faith. Ordinary Englishmen do not realize all that is meant by that formula. But beyond that, the prince as a prince, the legislature as a legislature, the nation as a society, are not only to believe in the Pope, but to be subject to him. What fulness of meaning that formula possesses will gradually open up to the reader as the narrative unfolds. He will often hear ecclesiastical politicians of the school to which Cardinal Manning belongs, talking in their native dialect, not modulating their voice to win the are of Protestants. This national profession of the faith, and this subjection of kings, lawgivers, and nations to the Pope, constitute in one word the Civiltá Cattolica (the Catholic civilization); or, in plain English, the Catholic civil system; or, in other terms, the true Catholic constitution, the reign of Christ over the world, to establish which in all nations the Vatican is to move heaven and earth.
In his first paper Cardinal Manning seeks to impress us with the belief that the raising of Papal infallibility to the rank of a dogma was not a chief object of the Pontiff, much less his only one, in convoking the Vatican Council. On that point the narrative will often incidentally present the expressions of prelates, official writers, and others, so that the reader will be able to form an opinion of his own. In his second paper the Cardinal shows that throughout the whole of the present pontificate the dogma has been kept in view as an essential object. Of that position illustrations will frequently occur. In the second paper, also, the Cardinal repeats his old allegation that it was Janus who invented "the fable of an acclamation." The course of the tale will tell whether it was or was not Janus who originated the talk of a design to get up an acclamation, and whether that talk was or was not a fable.
The Cardinal, while attempting to justify, though for the most part keeping out of sight, the disabilities imposed upon the bishops by the Pope, disabilities of which they loudly complained, glances at one out of many of the real ones. He says that the Commission which was empowered to say whether any proposal emanating from a bishop was worthy to be recommended to the Pope for consideration, without which recommendation it could not come before the Council, was "a representative commission." The fact is that it was a selection of prelates made by the Pope, who excluded from it all who had avowed themselves opponents of his infallibility, and included in it creatures of his own, who had nothing of the bishop but the orders and the pay which the favour of the Court had given to them.
The Cardinal, after ample time for correction, repeats his old declaration that in the Vatican Council "the liberty of speech was as perfectly secured as in our Parliament." That assertion has the merit of being free from all ambiguity, and moreover is one on which plain men can judge. As I have told the story, the readers will over and over again meet with facts, equally free from ambiguity and equally patent to plain men, which will show whether the assertion is true or not.
On the great question of secrecy the Cardinal risks a statement which exceeds what Italian Jesuits, if writing for a periodical of the rank of the Nineteenth Century, would be likely to hazard. He says: "At the beginning of the Council of Trent this precaution (of secrecy) was omitted; wherefore, on February 17, 1562, the legates were compelled to impose the secret upon the bishops." The Cardinal would seem to imagine that there was at least a substantial agreement, if not an actual identity, between the acts by which silence was enjoined, and also between the extent of the silence demanded in Trent and at the Vatican; and that indeed from February 17, 1562, forwards, the Council of Trent was laid under a bond something like that by which the Vatican Council was from the beginning fettered. Was it so? Was there a substantial agreement in the two acts by which silence was enjoined? Was there a substantial agreement in the extent of silence imposed? Was there at Trent a formal decree? Was there an oath imposed on the officers? Was there an exclusion of the theologians from debates, and of the public from the debates of the theologians? Was there any vow required, any threat held out? And does even Cardinal Manning fancy that there was at Trent a new mortal sin made on purpose for the benefit of the bishops? Of all this there was nothing. The act of the legates was simply what it is described as having been by Massarellus, the Secretary of the Council, who says: "The Fathers were admonished not to divulge things proposed for examination, and in particular Decrees, before they were published in open session."[4]
The Cardinal is apparently also under an impression that the extent of silence imposed in the two cases was at least substantially the same. Was that so? Did the legates censure the admission of laymen to hear the theologians argue? Did they censure the permission given to theologians who were not bishops even by the fiction of a see in partibus, to dispute in presence of the Council? Did they censure any remarks made out of doors on speeches, opinions or projects? Did they censure anything but the one indiscretion of circulating proposed Decrees, or other things proposed, while yet the formulae were, "so to speak, unshaped," but were in their inchoate condition made public as if they had been passed? Did the legates suggest that the duty of secrecy extended further than that of not publishing such tentative formulae, of not sending them out of the city, and of forbidding persons attached to the households of bishops to commit those indiscretions? At Trent there were faults and causes of complaint in no small number. But what Cardinal Manning calls "the secret" which would shut up every mouth as to all subjects proposed, as to all opinions expressed, as to all speeches made, as to all designs mooted—"the secret" which forbade men to print their own speeches, to read the official reports taken of them, to read those of their brother bishops, and other extravagances besides, of which the True Story has not one syllable to tell—that "secret," or any such, is not hinted at in the a monition of the legates at Trent. The extent of silence imposed at the Vatican would seem to have been as original as the mortal sin there invented.
Still further, the Cardinal would appear to be under an impression that the reason why at Trent certain inconvenient publications occurred was because that, at the outset, the strict precautions had been there omitted which at the Vatican were not only taken in time, but, with manifold forethought, were, before the time, as our story will tell, tied and bound by edict and by oath. As to disclosures, however, that occurred at the Vatican, which most Romans would tell any Englishman, except a priest or a convert, would be certain to occur, namely, that the "pontifical secret" would be dealt in as a thing to be sold. Did the precautions omitted at Trent, but adopted at the Vatican, prevent so much from transpiring as compelled the Pope to loose from the bond four selected prelates, including the eminent author of the True Story, in order that they might disabuse the outside world? Did it prevent the famous canons which opened the eyes of Austrian and French statesmen from making a quick passage to Augsburg and to Printing House Square?—of which canons, by the way, as of most essential matters, the True Story tells not a word.
It would be very tempting to select for remark other assertions of the Cardinal, but this may suffice to do all that I here wish to do; that is, to set the reader upon intelligently watching and sifting statements of my own; for what is to be desired on this subject is that the public shall cease to be easily contented with what is said on one side or the other. My statements, like those of others, are sure to contain a fair proportion of mistakes, but when all these are winnowed away, there will remain a considerable peck of corn.