The Catholic World Volume I Part 55

One of the most amusing and almost ludicrous instances of the Consul's ignorance in regard to religious matters took place on this occasion.

He bore a bitter hatred to the Jesuits, and was constantly harping on the subject. "I am quite astounded and scandalized (said he all of a sudden) that the Pope should be allied to a non-Catholic power like Russia, as is evident by the restoration of the Jesuits in that country. Such a union ought surely to wound and irritate a Catholic sovereign, since it contributes to please a schismatical monarch."

"I must answer candidly (resumed the cardinal) that your informations are incorrect on this matter. Doubtless the Pope has deemed it advisable not to refuse the request of the Russian emperor for the restoration of the Jesuits in his own states, but, at the same time, His Holiness has shown no less fatherly affection and deference for the King of Spain, since an interval of several months has elapsed between Paul's request and the bull, which was not sent before the court of Spain had expressly stated that it would in no way complain of the act."

When Bonaparte had fixed such a short term for the conclusion of the concordat, he fully intended that not a single jot of his own plan should be rejected by Rome. That plan, as we have already observed, was half schismatic, and would have bound over the French Church to the supreme will and power of the ruling government. But Consalvi showed himself equally firm as to essentials, whilst he gracefully yielded to every demand of minor importance. As to the wisdom of this conduct, the present circ.u.mstances bear ample testimony; for, had the cardinal been less firm, what might not be in 1865 the painful situation of the French episcopacy? But the negotiations, instead of ending in five days, were prolonged for more than three weeks, during which the Abbe Bernier, who represented his government, was constantly starting new difficulties, and threatening Consalvi with some new outbreak of violence on the part of the First Consul.

At last, toward the middle of July, every difficulty being overcome, and Bonaparte having formally promised to accept every article of the concordat as it had been agreed to at Rome, nothing remained but to copy and sign that famous treaty. The First Consul was to give a grand dinner on the 14th of July to foreigners of distinction, and to men of high standing in the country. His intention was to inform publicly his guests of this happy event, and on the 13th the _Moniteur_ published the following laconic piece of news: "Cardinal Consalvi has succeeded in the object which brought him to Paris." Bonaparte had selected his brother Joseph, a councillor of state, and Bernier to sign the deed, whilst on the other side were Consalvi, Monsignor Spina, and a theologian named Father Caselli. But at the last moment there occurred one of the most astounding incidents contained in the history of diplomacy. As it has never been mentioned in any memoirs or doc.u.ments of those times, we cannot do better than let the cardinal relate it in his own words:

"Toward four o'clock in the afternoon, Bernier arrived with a roll of paper, which he did not unfold, but stated to be a copy of the concordat that we were about to sign. We took our own with us, and set out all together for the house of citizen Joseph, as was the slang of the day, the brother to the First Consul. He received me with the utmost politeness. Though he had been amba.s.sador at Rome, I had not been introduced to him, being yet but {390} a prelate. During the few days I pa.s.sed in Paris, I had not met him on a formal visit which I paid him, for he often resided in the country. This was, therefore, the first time we saw each other. After the usual compliments, he bade us to sit down round a table, adding: 'We shall have soon done, having but to sign the compact, as all is concluded.'

"On being seated round the table, the question arose who should sign first. Joseph Bonaparte claimed the right as brother to the head of the government. I observed with great mildness and firmness, that both as a cardinal and a legate of the Holy See, I could not consent to a.s.sume the second rank in signing; beside, under the old _regime_ in France, as well as everywhere else, the cardinals enjoyed a right of precedence, which I could not give up, not indeed from any personal motive, but on account of the dignity with which I was invested. It is but due to Joseph to state, that after a momentary hesitation, he yielded with very good grace, and begged of me to sign first. He himself was to come after, followed by the prelate Spina, Councillor Cretet, Father Caselli, and the Abbe Bernier.

"We set to work at once, and I had taken up the pen, when to my great surprise the Abbe Bernier presented to me his copy, with the view of making me sign it without examining its contents. On casting my eyes upon it in order to ascertain its ident.i.ty with my own copy, I perceived that this ecclesiastical treaty was not the one agreed to by the respective commissioners, not the one adopted by the First Consul himself, but another totally different! The difference existing at the very first outset induced me to examine the whole with the most scrupulous attention, and I soon found out that this copy contained the draught which the Pope had refused to accept without his correction, the very refusal that had provoked an order to the French agent to leave Rome; nay more, that this self-same draught was modified in many respects by the insertion of certain clauses, previously declared to be inacceptable even before it had been sent to Rome.

"A proceeding of this character, so truly incredible, and yet so real, which I shall not venture to qualify--for the fact speaks sufficiently for itself--a proceeding of this kind literally paralyzed my hand. I expressed my astonishment, declaring positively that on no condition could I give my approval to such a deed. The First Consul's brother did not appear less surprised than myself, pretending not to understand the matter. The First Consul, he added, had a.s.sured him that, everything being agreed to, nothing remained but to sign. As for himself, he had just come up from the country, where he was busy with Count Cobenzel about the affairs of Austria, being called upon merely for the formality of signing the treaty. Concerning the matter itself, he absolutely knew nothing about it."

Cardinal Consalvi, even when writing the above lines, does not seem to doubt Joseph's sincerity, nor that of Councillor Cretet, who affirmed his own innocence in terms equally strong. The latter could hardly believe his own eyes, when the legate pointed out to him the glaring discrepancies between both copies. The Pope's minister then turning suddenly to Bernier: "n.o.body better than yourself," said he, "can attest the truth of what I affirm; I am highly astonished at the studied silence which you maintain, and I must therefore call upon you positively to communicate to us what you must know so pertinently."

"Then, with an air of confusion and an embarra.s.sed countenance, he faltered out that doubtless my language was but too true, and that he would not deny the difference of the doc.u.ments now proposed for our signatures. 'But the First Consul has so ordained,' continued he, 'telling me that as long as no signature has been given, one is always at liberty to make any alteration. So he requires these alterations, {391} after duly considering the whole matter, he is not satisfied with the previous stipulations.'"

The doctrine was so contrary to all precedents, that Consalvi had no difficulty in convincing his auditors of its futility. He moreover maintained his ground steadfastly, and refused to make any further concession contrary to his duties. They cajoled him, they threatened him with the violence and "fury" of the omnipotent Consul; he remained unshaken. Joseph entreated him at least to go over the same ground once more, following the Papal copy, and to this the cardinal consented, firmly resolved not to give up one single point of importance, but to modify such expressions as might induce Bonaparte to accept the original treaty. So these six men sat down again at five o'clock in the afternoon to discuss the whole question. The discussion was laborious, precise, searching, and heated on both sides. It lasted nineteen long hours, without interruption, without rest, without food, without even sending away the servants or the carriages, as will often happen when people hope to conclude at every minute some important business. On one article alone they could never agree, and it was specially reserved to the Pope's own decision. It was twelve o'clock the next day before they came to a conclusion. But would the First Consul adopt this plan? Would he not break all bounds, on finding his duplicity discovered, and himself balked by the cardinal's firmness?

Joseph hurried to the Tuileries, in order to lay the whole before his imperious brother, and in less than one hour came back, his features evidently showing the grief of his soul. Says Consalvi:

"He told us that the First Consul had broken forth into the greatest fury on being apprised of what had taken place. In his fit of anger he had torn to pieces the concordat we had drawn up among us; but at last, yielding to Joseph's entreaties and arguments, he had promised, though with the most extreme repugnance, to accept every article we had agreed to, except the one we had reserved, and about which he was no less inflexible than irritated. The First Consul, added Joseph, had closed the interview by telling him to inform me that he (Bonaparte) was decided upon maintaining this article as it was expressed in Bernier's copy:--consequently I had but two ways before me: either to adopt this article just as it was in the concordat, or to give up the negotiations. As for him, he had made up his mind to announce either the signature or the rupture of the affair at the grand dinner he was to give on that day.

"The reader will easily imagine our consternation at this message. We had yet three hours until five o'clock, the time appointed for the dinner, at which we were all to attend. I really am unable to repeat all the Consul's brother and the two other commissioners said, to conquer my resistance. The picture of the consequences likely to ensue upon the rupture was indeed of the darkest color; they gave me to understand that I alone should become responsible for those evils in the face of France and Europe, as well as to my own sovereign and Rome. I should be accused of an unreasonable stiffness, and of having brought on the results of such a refusal. I felt a death-like anguish, on conjuring up before my eyes the realization of these prophecies, and I was--if I may be allowed such words--like unto the man of sorrow. But my duty won the victory: thanks to heaven, I did not betray it. I persisted in my refusal during the two hours of this contest, and the negotiation was broken off.

"Such was the ending of this sad debate, which had lasted four-and-twenty hours, having begun at four o'clock on the preceding day, and closed toward the same hour of this unfortunate one. Our bodily sufferings were doubtless very great, but they were nothing when compared to our moral anxiety, which rose to such a pitch that one must really have undergone {392} such tortures to form an idea of them.

"I was condemned--and this was indeed a most cruel circ.u.mstance at such a moment--to appear in an hour after at the famous banquet. I was bound to front in public the very first shock of that headstrong anger which the General Bonaparte would feel on being apprised by his brother of the rupture.

"We hastened back to our hotel, in order to make a few rapid preparations, and then hurried all three to the Tuileries. We had hardly entered the saloon where the First Consul was standing--a saloon filled with a crowd of magistrates, officers, state grandees, ministers, amba.s.sadors, and ill.u.s.trious foreigners, who had been invited to the dinner--when we were greeted in a way which may easily be imagined, as he had already seen his brother. As soon as he perceived me, he exclaimed, his face flushed with anger, and in a loud and indignant tone:

"'Well, Monsieur le Cardinal, you have had your fling; you have broken off: be it so! I don't stand in need of Rome. I will act for myself. I don't stand in need of the Pope. If Henry the Eighth, who had not one-twentieth part of my power, was enabled to change the religion of his country, and to succeed in his plans, far better shall I know how to do it, and to will it. By changing the religion in France, I shall change it throughout the best part of Europe--everywhere, in fact, where my power is felt. Rome will soon perceive her own faults; she will rue them, but it will then be too late. You may take your leave; it is the best thing you can do. You have willed a rupture: be it so!

When do you intend setting out?'

"'After dinner, general,' replied I, with the greatest calmness.

"These few words acted as an electric shock on the First Consul. He stared at me for a few minutes; and, taking advantage of his surprise, I replied to his vehement outbreak, that I neither could nor would go beyond my instructions on matters which were positively opposed to the maxims of the Holy See."

Here the Consul interrupted Consalvi, though in a milder tone, to tell him that he insisted upon having the concordat signed according to his own views, or not at all. "Well, then," retorted the cardinal, "in that form I neither shall nor will ever subscribe to it; no--never."

"And that is the very reason," cried out Bonaparte, "why I tell you that you are bent upon breaking off, and why Rome will shed tears of blood on this rupture."

What a scene! and how finely the bold, calm demeanor of the Pope's legate shows in strong relief against that dark, pa.s.sionate, and ominous, though intelligent face of Napoleon Bonaparte! What a splendid subject for a painter, and how it calls up at once to our mind those barbaric chieftains of old, fit enough to wield the sword--fit enough even to lay the snares of a savage, but unable to cope with the spiritual strength of a Christian bishop, and utterly cowed by the meek sedateness of some missionary monk, just wafted over from the sh.o.r.es of Ireland! Write the seventh, or the thirteenth, instead of the nineteenth century, and say if the incident would be clothed in different colors; for, in fact, what was Bonaparte himself but the Hohenstaufen of his age--a strange mixture of real grandeur, of seething pa.s.sions, and of mean, crafty, fox-like cunning?

The French editor of these memoirs very justly observes that some vestige of the above scene must still exist in the doc.u.ments of the Imperial archives, and expresses the wish that the charge of duplicity so terribly brought home to the first Bonaparte may be properly sifted and repelled. Of the existence of such information we have scarcely any doubt, but we hardly believe that the select committee, headed by Prince Napoleon, who have already so unscrupulously tampered with {393} the correspondence of the great founder of the present dynasty, will ever rebut the accusation, or even take notice of the narrative.

And yet it bears the stamp of truth in every line, so p.r.o.ne was Napoleon to those fits of anger, which he sometimes used, Thiers himself admits it, as tools for his policy, and to serve his end.

After all, the First Consul was glad to escape from the consequences of his own violence, since, on the personal interference of the Austrian amba.s.sador, he again consented that the conferences should be renewed. The two cardinal points on which, in the eyes of Rome, the whole fabric of the concordat rested, were the freedom and publicity of the Catholic worship. Without these two essential conditions, the Pope and his ministers deemed that the Church obtained no compensation for the numerous sacrifices which she consented to undergo in other respects. The French government, on the contrary, admitted that freedom and publicity, only so far as they were allowed to other forms of worship, and saddled the article with the following rider: "The public worship shall be free, as long as it conforms to the police regulations." Such was the final difficulty against which Consalvi maintained a most obstinate opposition, and it must be admitted that his grounds were of a very serious nature. Taught by the experience of other times and countries, he considered the obnoxious condition as a bold attempt to enslave the Church by subjecting her to the secular power. On the flimsy pretext of acting as the protector and defender of the Church, a government was enabled to lord it over her, and cripple her best endeavors for the fulfilment of her divine mission.

If such had been the case, even under the old French monarchy, notwithstanding the strong Catholic dispositions of the Bourbon sovereigns in general, as well as in the times of a Joseph II. and a Leopold of Tuscany, what greater changes were to be feared on the part of the revolutionary powers, which now swayed over France? The cardinal readily admitted that, in the present state of the country, it might be proper for the government to restrict on certain occasions the publicity of the Catholic worship, for the very sake of protecting its followers against the outbreaks of popular frenzy; but why lay down such a sweeping and such an elastic rule? "With a clause of this kind," said the legate, "the police, or rather the government, will be enabled to lay their hands on everything, and may subject all to their own will and discretion, whilst the Church, constantly fettered by the words, 'As long as it conforms,' will have no right even to complain."

To these arguments the Consul constantly replied, "Well, if the Pope can't accept such an indefinite and mild restriction, let him omit the article, and give up publicity of worship altogether." As a curious specimen of sincerity and candor, we must observe that Consalvi was not even allowed to consult with his own court, nor to send a courier, the French government refusing to supply him with the necessary pa.s.sports. So much for the international privileges of amba.s.sadors.

Who can be astonished that the Papal minister should feel but little confidence in the good faith of those he had to deal with?

Their att.i.tude, indeed, seems to have strengthened his own unbending firmness. In the course of these everlasting debates, he clenched the subject in the following terms: "Either you are sincere in maintaining that the government is obliged to impose a restriction upon the publicity of the religious worship, being impelled thereunto by the necessity of upholding the public peace and order, and in that case the government cannot and ought not to hesitate as to a.s.serting the fact in the article itself; or the government does not wish it to be so expressed; and in that case they show their bad faith, as also that the only object of the aforesaid restriction is {394} the enslavement of the Church to their own will."

The commissioners found nothing to reply to this dilemma; for, in fact, Consalvi only asked that the reserve itself should be laid down as a temporary restriction. At last they yielded, despairing of ever overcoming, on this subject, their unflinching and powerful antagonist. The concordat, duly signed and authenticated, was sent up for approval to the First Consul, who, after another fit of anger, gave his consent; but, as Consalvi himself presumes, from that hour he resolved to annul the intrinsic and most beneficial effects of the concordat by those celebrated organic articles which are even at this moment a bone of contention between the French clergy and the Imperial government.

It is, indeed, a most remarkable fact that the same man who imperiously prescribed that the concordat should be drawn up and signed in the course of five days, allowed a full year to elapse before he published it and sent the official ratifications to Rome.

When he did fulfil these formalities, he coupled them with the promulgation of those famous laws which, in reality, tended to cut off all free communication between the Holy See and the Gallican clergy, and to spread throughout Europe the false belief that the Pope himself had concurred in the adoption of these obnoxious measures. In vain did Pius VII. protest against them--in vain, at a later period, was he induced to crown the emperor in Paris, in hopes of obtaining the fulfilment of his own promises. Napoleon turned a deaf ear to the most touching importunities. On considering the whole of his conduct, it is hardly possible to refrain from concluding that Bonaparte ever looked upon the Pope's supremacy and power as an appendage and satellite of his own paramount omnipotence. Viewed by this light, many of his acts in latter years will appear at least consistent, though by no means justifiable on any principle whatsoever. Is there not often a certain consistency in madness? And if so in ordinary life, why not in the freaks and starts of despotism? And again, is not despotism itself madness in disguise?

But why indulge in our own speculations and surmises, when we have before us positive evidence that in 1801, as well as ten years afterward, Napoleon entertained and maintained a plan for arrogating to himself both the spiritual and temporal power? The examples set by Henry VIII., Albert of Brandenburg, and Peter I. of Russia, were ever before his eyes, blinding his own innate good sense, and exerting a sort of ominous fascination over his best impulses. The reader has doubtless heard of, if not perused, those wonderful pages in which the fallen giant whiled away his tedious hours at St. Helena, pretending to write his own history, but in reality veiling truth under fiction, and endeavoring to palm upon the world certain far-fetched views of benevolence or civilization, which he never dreamt of whilst he was on the throne. Still, that strange _Memorial of St. Helena_ often contains many a startling proof of candor, as if the mask suddenly fell, and revealed to our astonished gaze the inner man. Among such pa.s.sages, none perhaps are so remarkable as those referring to the concordat and to the religious difficulties of later years. One day Napoleon dictated to General Montholon these lines, which so strongly justify Consalvi's fears and opposition:

"When I seized the helm, I already held the most precise and definite ideas on all those principles which cement together the social body. I fully weighed the importance of religion--on that head I was convinced--and had resolved to restore it. But one can hardly realize the difficulties I had to contend with when about to bring back Catholicism. I should have been readily supported had I unfurled the Protestant standard. This feeling went so far that, in the {395} council of state, where I met with the strongest opposition against the concordat, many a man tacitly determined to plot its destruction.

'Well,' used they to say, 'let us turn Protestants at once, and then we may wash our hands of the business.' It is, indeed, quite true that, in the midst of so much confusion and so many errors, I was at liberty to choose between Catholicism and Protestantism; and still truer that everything favored the latter. But, _beside_ my own personal bias inclining toward my national religion, I had most weighty reasons to decide otherwise. I should thus have created in France two great parties of equal strength, though I was determined to do away with every party whatsoever; I should have conjured up all the frenzy of religious warfare, whilst the enlightenment of the age and my own will aimed at crushing it altogether. By their mutual strife these two parties would have torn France asunder, and made her a slave to Europe, whilst my ambition was to make her its mistress. Through Catholicism I was far surer of attaining all my great objects. At home, the majority absorbed the minority, which I was disposed to treat with so much equity that any difference between both would soon disappear; abroad, Catholicism kept me on good terms with the Pope.

Beside, thanks to my own influence and to our forces in Italy, I did not despair, sooner or later, by some means or other, _to obtain the direction and guidance of the Pope; and then what a new source of influence! what a lever to act upon public opinion, and to govern the world!"_

A few moments after the emperor resumed:

"Francis I. had a capital opportunity to embrace Protestantism, and to become its acknowledged head throughout Europe. His rival, Charles V., resolutely sided with Rome, because he considered this the best way to subject Europe. This alone should have induced Francis to defend European independence. Instead of that, he left a reality to run after a shadow, following up his pitiful quarrels in Italy, allying himself with the Pope, and burning the reformers in Paris.

"Had Francis I. embraced Lutheranism, which is so favorable to the royal supremacy, he would have spared France those dreadful convulsions which were afterward brought on by the Calvinists, whose republican organization was so near ruining both the throne and our fine monarchy. Unfortunately, Francis was unable to understand anything of the kind. As to his scruples, they are quite out of the question, since this self-same man made an alliance with the Turks, whom he introduced among us. Oh, those stupid times! Oh, that feudal intellect! After all, Francis I. was but a tilting king--a drawing-room dandy--a would-be giant, but a real pigmy."

It is scarce necessary to add, that at the time Napoleon is speaking of he was an unbeliever, though a lurking respect for his national religion still lingered at the bottom of his heart. But then, how fully does he admit that religion was but a tool of his ambition! How openly does he confess his plan to get hold of the Pope _by some means or other!_ How glaringly true must now appear in our eyes that narrative of Consalvi's in which he exposes the mean trick that Napoleon endeavored to play upon his vigilance! Lastly, how faithfully does the emperor adhere to the plans secretly laid within the dark mind of the First Consul! For, as if to leave no doubt as to the fulfilment of those plans, he related to Montholon the most minute details of what took place during the Pope's captivity at Fontainebleau:

"The English," said Napoleon, "plotted an escape for him from Savona; the very thing I could have wished for. I had him brought to Fontainebleau, where his misfortunes were to end, and his splendor to be restored. All my grand views had been thus fulfilled under disguise and in secrecy. I had so managed that {396} success was infallible, even without an effort. Indeed, the Pope adopted the famous concordat of Fontainebleau, notwithstanding my reverses in Russia. But how far different had I returned triumphant and victorious! So at last I had obtained the long-wished-for separation of the spiritual and temporal powers; whilst their confusion is so fatal to the former, by causing trouble and disorder within society in the name of him who ought to become a centre of union and harmony. Henceforward I intended to place the Pope on a pinnacle; we would not even have regretted his temporal power, for I would have made an idol of him, and he would have dwelt close to me. Paris should have become the capital of the Christian world, and _I would have governed the spiritual as well as the political world._ By this means I should have been enabled to strengthen the federative portions of the empire, and to maintain peace in such parts as were beyond its limits. I should have had my religious sessions, just the same as my legislative sessions: my councils would have represented, all Christendom, and the popes would have merely acted as their presidents. I should myself have opened their a.s.semblies, approved and promulgated their decrees, as was the case under Constantine and Charlemagne. In fact, if the emperors lost this kind of supremacy, it was because they allowed the spiritual ruler to reside at a distance from them; and those rulers took advantage of this act of weakness, or this result of the times, to escape from the prince's government, and even to overrule it."

What words of ours could add to the bold significance of these? How the proud spirit of the despot towers even within his prison! and how little had he profited by the bitter lessons of experience! Never before, do we believe, since the advent of Christianity, did any king or conqueror profess such a barefaced contempt for the deepest feelings of a Christian soul--the freedom of his spiritual being!

This pretended liberation from the court of Rome, this religious government concentrated within the hands of the sovereign, became, indeed, at one time, the constant object of Napoleon's thoughts and meditations:

"England, Russia, Sweden, a large part of Germany (was he wont to say), are in possession of it; Venice and Naples enjoyed it in former times. Indeed, there is no doing without it, for otherwise a nation is ever and anon wounded in its peace, in its dignity, in its independence. But then such an undertaking is most arduous; at every attempt I was beset with new dangers; and, once thoroughly embarked in it, the nation would have abandoned me. More than once I tried to awaken public opinion; but all was in vain, and I was obliged to acknowledge that the people would not follow me."

On reading these last words, who will not remember Cacault's apothegm, uttered in 1801: "Nations now-a-days will not allow their rulers to dispose of them in regard to religious matters."

We hope that the reader will not accuse us of prolixity for having related rather fully the negotiations which proceeded the concordat of 1801. Hitherto the main facts of this important event have been gleaned from French sources of information. No voice had been raised, we believe, on the part of Rome, and no one, it must be admitted, had a better right to speak of that celebrated treaty than the man who contributed so largely, so exclusively, we might almost say, to its final adoption. And then, throughout the whole of his simple and unpretending, yet clear and spirited memoirs, the great cardinal reads us a grand lesson, which may be felt and understood by every human soul. During the perusal of these two volumes, we have ever before our eyes the struggle of right against might, of duty against tyranny, of a true Christian soul against the truckling, shuffling, intriguing spirit of the world. Ever {397} and anon, this able, firm, and yet amiable diplomatist allows some expression to escape him which shows that his heart and soul are elsewhere, that his beacon is on high, and that he views everything and all things in this nether world from the light of the gospel. And this, perhaps, is the very reason why, throughout a long career of such numerous difficulties and dangers, he moved serene, undaunted, unblemished in his honor, proclaimed wisest amongst the wise, until kings, princes, warriors, and statesmen, Protestants and Catholics, counted his friendship and esteem of priceless value.

From Once a Week.

HYMN BY MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.

O Domine Deus, speravi in te!

O care mi Jesu, nunc libera me!

In dura catena, in misera pcena, Desidero te; Languendo, gemendo et genuflectendo, Adoro, imploro, ut liberes me!