Pope Pius the Tenth Part 8

And when in later days he opened it for the first time himself his childish dreams found their fulfilment. For the Breviary is the story of the Church and her saints, and the whole Psalter enwraps it like a glory. It was to the treasures of that great book that he went all his life for his morning meditation until he knew it as one knows the heart of a friend. And loving it with the love of a true friend, and seeing faults amidst its beauties, he would let it also share in "the restoring of all things in Christ." For over four hundred years a redistribution of the Psalter throughout the week had been sighed for, but every scheme had failed. Pius appointed a commission to deal with this problem, giving certain general lines on which to base the reform, and in a few years the new Breviary was issued. The rearrangement secured the recitation of the whole Psalter once a week, the length of the office on Sundays and ferias was reduced, while the complexities of the calendar were simplified.

"No one can fail," wrote the pope, "to be stirred by those numerous pa.s.sages of the Psalms which proclaim so loudly the immense majesty of G.o.d, His omnipotence, His unutterable justice, His goodness and clemency . . . . Who can fail to be inspired . . . by those thanksgivings for G.o.d's benefits, by those lowly and trustful prayers for benefits desired, by those cries of the penitent soul deploring its sins? Who is not kindled with love for the picture of Christ the Redeemer so lovingly shadowed forth, whose voice Augustine heard in all the Psalms, praising or mourning, rejoicing in hope or longing for accomplishment? With good reason was provision made in past ages by decrees of the Roman pontiffs, canons of councils, and monastic laws that both sections of the clergy should chant or recite the whole Psalter every week." The pope spoke of the many pleas that had reached him that the old custom might be restored, and of the work that had been done to this effect, which was but a prelude to a further emendation of the Breviary and the Missal.

The reform of the Roman Curia was another undertaking, which did much to simplify the government of the Church. The various Roman Congregations were founded by Sixtus V to study questions submitted to the decision of the pope and to deal with any legal questions that might arise; and as persons of experience and mature judgement alone should deal with these matters, various committees were formed, each of which attended to its own particular branch of business. But the organization of the different congregations needed to be adapted to the requirements of the present day. Pius X, with the practical spirit which distinguished all his undertakings, completely remodelled the curia, fixing the number of congregations at thirteen, and defining clearly the work of each. The const.i.tution "Sapienti consilio" on this matter inst.i.tuted also many other important reforms in the tribunals and offices of the curia.

The purchase of the Palazzo Mariscotti, a.s.signed to the Cardinal Vicar of Rome, enabled Pius X to carry out another long-cherished plan, for the thorough reform of his own diocese, inadequate in its organization to the needs of the present day. Want of s.p.a.ce, which had been the chief difficulty in the way of reorganization, having been thus supplied for, the necessary reforms were at once set on foot. In many other important matters the needs of modern times called for the simplification and amendment of methods that had become obsolete. The reform and codification of canon law was another laborious work carried on by the pope for eleven years, and brought to a conclusion under his successor Benedict XV.

With affectionate interest the pope watched the progress of Catholicism in England. "If there is any Church in the whole Christian world," he wrote in January 1912, on the occasion of the founding of the two new ecclesiastical provinces of Birmingham and Liverpool, "which merits the special care and forethought of the Apostolic See, it is certainly the Church of the English, which, happily founded among the Britons by St. Eleutherius[*] and still more happily established through apostolic men by Gregory the Great, was subsequently made famous by the numbers of its children distinguished by the holiness of their lives or by the martyr's death courageously suffered for Christ."

[*] History scholars seem now agreed that the story of a mission sent to Britain by Pope St. Eleutherius in the later second century rests on a misunderstanding. Christianity was certainly introduced into Britain during the Roman occupation, but the circ.u.mstances are not known.

"It is with the greatest pleasure that I greet you, my dear children of Great Britain," he said at an audience given to four hundred English pilgrims presented to him by Cardinal Bourne, Archbishop of Westminster, "worthy descendants of your Catholic forefathers who during ten centuries remained constantly faithful to the Church and the Holy See, and who by the purity of their faith and by personal holiness gave many saints to G.o.d. And although through the blind pa.s.sion of an unworthy king your country fell into schism, the Faith is still alive in her midst, for are you not the children of those valiant Christians . . . who gave their lives for the truth, and won for Great Britain her t.i.tle of the Island of Saints?"

The beatification of Joan of Arc in April 1909 was one more token of the pope's love of another country that had given so much for G.o.d, and the presence in Rome of forty thousand of her children was a further proof of her true spirit. And when, borne in the _sedia gestatoria_ through the crowd, the Holy Father, leaning forward, lifted the fold of the French flag that had been lowered at his pa.s.sage and reverently kissed it, the enthusiasm knew no bounds. That flag had stood for much that was not n.o.ble; the memory of its origin was still in the minds of many. But by that kiss it was consecrated for ever.

Monsignor Blanc, a Marist missionary in Oceania, wrote thus to his clergy after an audience with Pius X: "My attention was completely captivated by his expression and his eyes. I could not tell you what the room was like nor what the Holy Father wore; I could see nothing but those eyes, and the light of them I shall never forget. He made me sit beside him, and I spoke of our people, our natives, the country that I love. If the life of the missionary is sometimes hard, let us remember that the pope has said 'the missions are my great consolation.' He was full of interest in all I had to tell him of your work, your zeal and your devotedness. I spoke of our schools and he was delighted. 'Tell them to devote themselves there without counting the cost,' he said: 'it is the most important thing of all."

With touching graciousness and cordiality he gave his blessing to you, to our people, to all for whom I asked it."

"You cannot go near him without loving him," said another priest, "his kindness and sweetness are irresistible." Father Boevey Crawley, a South American priest and an ardent apostle of devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, went to Rome to obtain the pope's blessing on his mission. His story was a strange one. Attacked while quite young by a serious form of heart disease, he was sent to Paris to consult a specialist. The American doctors had told him that he had but a few months to live; the Paris specialist confirmed their verdict. Father Crawley had an overwhelming devotion to the Sacred Heart and to St.

Margaret Mary. He went straight to Paray-le-Monial to ask through her intercession the grace of a holy death. Scarcely had he knelt in the chapel when he felt himself shaken from head to foot. He was cured.

That night while kneeling in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament he received a divine intimation that he was to go forth and conquer the world, family by family, to love the Sacred Heart. To preach love was henceforward to be his mission, for what is devotion to the Sacred Heart but love of the love of Christ? The conversion of his father, who was a Protestant, was the first fruit of his apostolate.

Kneeling at the pope's feet, he told him the story of his life, asking permission to begin the work to which he was called. Pius listened with the deepest interest. Then, "No, my son," he said, "I do not give you permission."

Father Crawley looked up at him in consternation; the pope's eyes were shining, and there was a little smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. "But, Holy Father . . ." pleaded the priest.

"No," repeated the pope, "I do not give you permission."--"I do not give you permission," he said again. "I _order_ you to do it. You hear? I am the pope, and I command it. It is a splendid work; let your whole life be consecrated to it."

"He had the greatest heart that it was possible for a human being to have," was said of Pius X, not once but many times. Even for treachery he had no condemnation. A betrayal of trust which had affected him deeply came to his knowledge after the death of the culprit. Folding his hands he prayed silently for the departed soul.

"He is dead," he said gently, "may he rest in peace." He met with a sad smile an indignant accusation of treachery against one who was still living, an accusation which could not be denied. "Traitor is a hard word," he said, "let us say that he is a man of many skins--like an onion . . . ."

One more picture drawn from life. A young priest, tortured by doubts, knelt shaken with sobs at the pope's feet. The white figure bent compa.s.sionately over the kneeling man, the strong and gentle hands of the Holy Father held the head of the suppliant closely to his heart.

"Faith, faith, faith," repeated the ringing voice over and over again. "Faith, my son, must be your place of refuge."

XI

THE POPE OF THE SUFFERING

As a young parish priest at Salzano, Giuseppe Sarto during the cholera epidemic of 1873 had been the stay and comfort of his people.

Consoling the grief-stricken, nursing the sick, burying the dead, utterly regardless of his own safety, his one thought had been for his suffering parishioners. This compa.s.sion for every kind of pain or sorrow was characteristic of him throughout his life. Not without reason was it said that he had "the greatest heart of any man alive."

The very sight of suffering moved him to tears; there was no trouble of body or soul that failed to awaken his sympathy.

While patriarch of Venice he was walking one day through one of the poorest quarters of the city when suddenly from a house at the end of a mean street arose the piercing cries of a child who was being cruelly beaten by its mother. The cardinal strode down the street and pulled the bell vigorously. A window opened overhead and from it appeared the head of a. woman, a regular virago, crimson with fury "Stop beating that child at once!" was the indignant mandate. The woman, astounded at seeing the patriarch standing on her doorstep, shut the window in confusion. For some time there was no more beating.

Anything like tyranny roused his instant indignation. When reports too circ.u.mstantial to be doubted reached him about the condition of certain Indian tribes in South America and of the atrocious treatment to which they were forced to submit, the bishops of the country were exhorted to do their utmost to put an end to what was nothing less than a cruel slavery. "Every day I receive fresh news of the persecution in Asia Minor and in Macedonia," he said one day sorrowfully at a private audience. "How many poor Christians are ma.s.sacred! What cowardice and what barbarity are shown by this Sultan, who trembles with fright and begs that he may not be put to death, who is always whining 'I have never done anyone any harm!' He had in his palace a secret room in which he himself killed his victims, where only a week ago he put a young girl to death!" These were some of the sorrows that wrung the heart of him "who bore the care of all the churches."

All the calamities that befell the world awakened his sympathy, earthquakes, floods, fires, railway accidents . . . . The sufferers were comforted not only with kind words but with material help. Even the papers least favourable to the Church noticed his personal fatherly interest in the joys and sorrows of his people. His appeal to the charity of Catholics on the occasion of the Calabrian earthquake in 1908, which in a few moments totally destroyed Messina, Reggio, Sille and the surrounding villages, burying more than 100,000 people in the ruins, met with a magnificent response. The sum of 7 million francs which was generously offered served to supply the immediate needs of the survivors, who in many cases were left totally dest.i.tute.

But it was not only to make others give that Pius exerted himself; he gave himself to the utmost of his power. The day after the Messina disaster he sent people to investigate and report, to search out the victims most urgently in need of help and care and to bring them to Rome. Trainloads of sufferers arrived daily and were taken to the papal hospice of Santa Marta, the pope making himself responsible for over five hundred orphans. His Christlike compa.s.sion, his grand initiative and masterly organization of relief won a burst of praise in which even the anti-clerical syndic of Rome joined, while the nations of Europe expressed their admiration. "This pope, of whom it was said that his sole policy was the Gospel and the Creed, and his sole diplomacy the Ten Commandments, fired the imagination of the world by his apostolic fearlessness, his humility, his simplicity and single-minded faith."

"Who that has seen him," wrote Monsignor Benson, "can ever forget the extraordinary impression of his face and bearing, the kindness of his eyes, the quick sympathy of his voice, the overwhelming fatherliness that enabled him to bear not only his own supreme sorrows, but all the personal sorrow which his children laid on him in such abundance?" An irresistible impulse seemed to drive the suffering to seek his presence and to ask his prayers, and they seldom failed to find the help that they sought.

Perhaps it was his ardent desire to help and comfort pain of any kind, united with personal holiness and fervent prayer, that made the touch of his hand or even his blessing so strangely efficacious for healing. The wonderful graces obtained through the prayers and the touch of _Il santo_ were the talk of Rome; men and women who had seen the marvels with their own eyes bore witness to the facts.

Rumours of what was happening came to the ears of Catholics in other countries, and a young girl in England who had been reading the Acts of the Apostles was seized with a great desire to go to Rome. Her head and neck were covered with running sores which would not heal.

The shadow of St. Peter falling on the sick, she said, had cured them; the shadow of his successor would cure her. Her mother took her to Rome, where both were present at a public audience. The pope pa.s.sed slowly through the crowd, speaking a few words here and there as he went. To the kneeling girl he said nothing, but as he blessed her she felt that she was cured; and indeed, when on their return to the hotel her mother removed the bandages she found that the sores were completely healed.

More remarkable still because more public was the case of two Florentine nuns, both suffering from an incurable disease. They made the journey to Rome with great difficulty, and admitted to a private audience, they begged the pope to cure them. "Why do you want to be cured?" he asked.

"That we may work for G.o.d's glory," was the answer.

The pope laid his hands upon their heads and blessed them. "Have confidence," he said, "you will get well and will do much work for G.o.d's glory," and at the same moment they were restored to health.

Pius bade them keep silence as to what had happened, but the facts spoke for themselves. At their entrance, the two nuns had hardly had strength to drag themselves along; at their exit they walked like strong and healthy women. Their cab driver, an unimaginative man of st.u.r.dy common sense, refused to take them back to their convent.

"No," he said, "I will take back the two I brought or their dead bodies."

"But we are the two you brought," they insisted.

"No," repeated the vetturino, "the two I brought were half dead; you are not in the least like them."

At another public audience was a man who carried his little son, paralysed from birth and unable to stand. "Give him to me," said Pius; and taking the child on his knee, he began to talk to another group of pilgrims. A few minutes later the child slipped down from the pope's knee and began to run about the room.

That the touch of a holy man, or the garments he has worn, or even his shadow falling on the sick should have power to cure them, is vouched for by Holy Scripture.[*] "Perhaps so," say some, "but the age of miracles has pa.s.sed." The age of miracles has not pa.s.sed, nor will it ever while there is faith on the earth; for faith, as Jesus Christ Himself said, alone makes miracles possible. At Nazareth even His almighty power could not work them, because of the unbelief of the people. Where the age of faith has pa.s.sed, the age of miracles has pa.s.sed with it, but in the Church of Christ they both endure.

[*] Acts v 15 and vi 12; Matt. xiii 58.

More marvellous still than the graces obtained by the touch of Pius X were those obtained--sometimes at a great distance--by his blessing and his prayers.

In one of the convents of the Sacred Heart in Ireland was a young nun suffering from disease of the hip-bone. For eight months she had not put her left foot to the ground, as any weight on it caused acute pain. The disease was making rapid progress. In the October of 1912 the superioress of the convent, having heard of a cure obtained through the prayers and blessing of the Holy Father, determined to have recourse to him. She told a little girl of six, the daughter of the convent carpenter, to write to the pope, asking him to bless the dear Mother who was ill, and to pray for her. During the night of the 29th October the sick nun suddenly realized that the pain had entirely left the injured hip--so entirely that she was able to turn and lie on it. The next morning she sat up in bed and asked to be allowed to try to walk. She got up, made her bed and walked to the church, where she knelt for some time in prayer. It was then that she was told of the letter to the pope. "I did not know what had happened," she said, "all that I knew was that the pain was gone and that I could walk."

A railway worker had a boy of two who lay dangerously ill of meningitis. The doctor, who had given up all hope, asked the priest to break the news to the young parents, who at once cried out, "We will write to the pope! We used to go to confession to him at Mantua when we were children; bishop as he was, he used to hear the confessions of the poor." A letter was written and posted, and Pius wrote with his own hand several lines in reply, bidding the young couple pray and hope. On the following day the child had completely recovered.

These are only a few of the many graces obtained in the same way. The cure of a Redemptoristine nun in the acute stages of cancer by the application of a piece of stuff that had been worn by Pius X was borne witness to by Cardinal Vives y Tuto. The sudden return to life and speech of Don Rafael Merry del Val, father of the Cardinal Secretary of State, at the prayer of his wife who, when death was declared imminent, tried the same remedy; a French woman dying of heart disease, who denied the very existence of G.o.d, was not only healed by the pope's blessing, but reconciled to the Church and was henceforward a fervent Catholic: these are only a few more of the marvels wrought. Pope Pius did his best to hush the matter up. "I have nothing to do with it," he continually exclaimed; "it is the power of the keys."

"I hear that you are a _santo_ and work miracles," said a lady one day, with more enthusiasm than tact.

"You have made a mistake in a consonant," replied the pope, laughing, "it is a 'Sarto' that I am." No less witty was his reply to a man who came to solicit a cardinal's hat for one of his friends. "But I cannot give your friend a cardinal's hat," said the Holy Father. "I am not a hatter, only a tailor" (_sarto_).

The Portuguese revolution in 1911 was a fresh heartbreak to the pope, for the Portuguese Republic was bitterly anti-Catholic and anti-clerical. The first action of its representatives was to expel the religious orders and to confiscate their buildings and belongings. This was done in the most brutal manner, nuns being driven off to prison after their convents had been looted and some of the inhabitants put to death. Many died of the privations endured, while others testified to the humanity of their gaolers by going mad.

Religious instruction of any kind was prohibited in the government schools; priests were arrested and imprisoned; the Bishop of Oporto was driven from his diocese. The separation law of church and state fell more heavily on the Church in Portugal than even that of France, and its object was the elimination of the Christian faith from Portuguese society.

These things fell heavily on the heart of the Father of Christendom, who sorrowed with his sorrowing children, He protested against the injustice in his encyclical "Jamdudum in Lusitania," in which he set forth and condemned the oppressive measures of the republic. A touching letter of thanks expressed the grat.i.tude of the persecuted clergy of Portugal for the pope's courageous protest. That some of the harshest features of the law seemed in a fair way to be relaxed during the years that followed was some small consolation to him.

In the spring of 1913 the health of the pope gave cause for anxiety, an attack of influenza which had greatly weakened him being followed by a relapse, with symptoms of bronchitis. From every part of the world came a.s.surances of prayers and sympathy, while in Rome the anxiety felt by all lay like a weight on the city. But he made a quick recovery. He was not a good patient, and his doctors had the greatest difficulty in keeping him quiet. No sooner was he convalescent than he accused them of being tyrants, whose only idea was to make him waste the time that belonged to the Church. Over and over again they would find that in their absence he had disobeyed orders and received somebody or settled an urgent piece of business.

"Just think of our responsibility before the world!" said Dr. Amici one day to his recalcitrant patient. "Just think of mine before G.o.d,"

was the energetic answer, "if I do not take care of His Church!" They began to talk to him seriously, trying to make him promise to do as he was told. "Come, come," said he with his irresistible smile, "don't be cross; surely it is my interest to get well quite as much as it is yours to make me so."