THE POPE ON THE PAST AND PRESENT.
THE Pope, on January 28, was present in St. Peter's and delivered an address, read for him to twelve thousand persons by Monsignor Volpini. The Sun gives a translation of it:— The present occasion gives us fresh proof of the devotion of the Roman people, to whom we wish all blessings. In view of this, it is easy to understand our bitterness when we think of the trying conditions in Rome, which are aggravated by the general state of the peninsula. Let us hope, however, that the present disasters can be repaired, and order can be restored in those districts which are now troubled. We cannot on this occasion omit to recall the past, when the prescience of the popes gave Rome, not merely for years, but for centuries, glorious, tranquil prosperity. That prosperity was the outcome of neither chance nor the institutions of man. It was rational, and sure of the morrow. Life was then calm and well ordered. Nothing was wanting for the well-being of the people. The opposite is true of the present. If we would profit by bitter experience, let us trace the evils to their origin and seek an effectual remedy. The religious ruin, invoked and designed, has brought moral and material ruin. Not only justice, but also political expediency, must demand the return of the nation to the religion of its fathers, with mutual confidence and affection, and without suspicion of the pope, whose preaching of the life eternal renders even mortal life happy and prosperous. Notwithstanding the pope's alleged infallibility when fulminating doctrine, even a Roman Catholic might criticise this, for it is not doctrine. The sort of peace they had when the popes ruled was the peace of despotism. The population was divided into three sorts,—first, the hierarchy, including the pope; the cardinals, obsequious toward him, managing him, often unperceived by himself, so that his bulls were their opinions. Regularly in the descent the hierarchy succumbed to those above, and ruled those below, till the parish priest was reached, who ruled the laity, as the ordinary patrolman in the police force keeps order on his beat. This was the first class—who obeyed under promise of reward, and threat of excommunication if disobedient, the latter meaning eternal damnation if not removed. The second class consisted of those of wealth and position, who surrounded the hierarchy, shared in its honor, received its countenance, and constituted the stable lay nuclei of churches and institutions of learning and charity. They were also connected with the secular administration, including its civic and military departments. The third class included the common people, whether religious, mere nominalists, or blind devotees. When any man dared to think for himself, and made it known, he was at first ostracized, then forcibly suppressed, imprisoned, ejected, or executed. There was no crime so great as independence in religion or refusal to pay tithes to the priests. Peace indeed—the peace of rewarded or enforced silence and nominal acquiescence! All other than this was the peace of the chained and gagged. It is not necessary to cast into the faces of advocates of the pope's temporal power the atrocities of the medieval period. All this has been seen by many men now living. The wonder is that the pope does not remember—or thinks the world has forgotten—the history of Italy.6 A systematic and, in large measure, a successful effort is being made to delude American people concerning the aims of the papal hierarchy. Cardinal Gibbons, in speaking of the pope the other day, said: “He has no standing armies to enforce his mandates, like temporal sovereigns. He has no police nor civil magistrates to coerce refractory subjects. He has no prisons in which to confine the violators of the law. He has recourse only to moral sanctions and spiritual penalties for the maintenance of the gospel dispensation. The only weapon that he wields is the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” Compare this very smooth-tongued, ingratiating flatterer’s eulogy with the pope’s own words herewith printed. The cardinal speaks of the pope’s destitution of temporal power as though it were a virtue. If so, why does his holiness submit to this privation so reluctantly and ungraciously? How is it that these superior advantages had to be forced on the pope by temporal sovereigns who appear to have understood better what is proper for a spiritual leader than the holy father did? Let Americans understand that underneath the velvet gloves are the same talons; beneath the brilliant vestments is the same lust of domination; under the honeyed accents are the same chords whose vibrations filled the souls of men with terror; under the acquiescence to public sentiment, when the incomplete purpose is prematurely brought to light, is the never-weakening, ever-strengthening will to regain the temporal and spiritual power, which the souls of the Reformers threw off at a risk, and many of them at the sacrifice, of life itself. The boast of the Roman Church that it never changes is true. To draw a figure from its idea of transubstantiation in the reverse order—its accidents may change; its substance, never.—Christian Advocate.