The polemics engendered by the beatification of Pope Pius IX are unlikely to go away. When all the false charges of antisemitism are set aside, the fact remains that this one man may have done more to stem the tide of liberalism than all the great English and American conservatives of the past two centuries put together, and the new biography (more of an apologia, really) by Prof. Roberto de Mattel has had the remarkable effect of establishing the context for this great man’s career.

And he was a great man, who stood like the archangel Michael before the gates of hell, saving “no” to the social and political heresies of the 19th century (they were also the heresies of the 20th) and smiting hip and thigh all the domestic enemies of Christendom: modernists and liberals, laicizing Catholic nationalists and Christian socialists, and all the weaklings who even then were willing to compromise with the enemy.

By one of the quirks of history, the Pope who stood in the way of Italian units’ was also one of the most unusual geniuses of the 19th century. Born into an aristocratic family in 1792, Giovanni Mastai Ferretti was, despite his epilepsy, a brilliant student of the classics. He was encouraged by his mother to study for the priesthood, but he was ordained with the provision that, because of his condition, he was not allowed to say Mass without an assistant. Once he became a priest, the malady went away.

As archbishop of Spoleto, he became known for his humane sentiments and interceded, during the uprising of 1831, between Italian rebels and the Austrian commander. Despite a few minor adventures (such as a stint in Chile), he led a comparatively uneventful life until 1846, when the College of Cardinals quickly (on the fourth scrutiny) settled on him as the successor to the uncompromising reactionary. Pope Gregory XVI. The election of Pius IX was regarded as a liberal victory, especially after Cardinal Gaysbruch arrived too late from Milan to convey the Austrian veto.

As Prof. de Mattei makes clear in this lucid account of Pio Nono’s contributions to the Church, many Italian liberals (such as Vincenzo Gioberti) believed that their movement would only triumph if they succeeded in putting a liberal onto the throne of St. Peter. In Pius IX, they believed they had their man.

A kind and humane man, Pius IX had expressed sympathy for the sufferings endured by Italian liberals and rebels, and in his first years in the papal chair, he made careful steps toward reform: He amnestied political prisoners, took laymen into his cabinet, and even gave some support to the Milanese rebels in 1848. Liberals were already disturbed, however, by his encyclical of 1846 in which he complains of the persecution of Catholic interests and expresses clear opposition to liberal principles and to the plots of the secret societies.

Today in America, the phrase “secret societies” is an invitation to mockery, but in the 19th century, the Freemasons and Illuminists were no laughing matter, as the sober Librarian of Congress, James Billington, made clear in Fire in the Minds of Men. These secret societies represented a virulent strain of liberalism that defined itself largely by what it hated: the moral, social, and cultural traditions of Christianity. Even before the French Revolution, they had formed secret societies to undermine society and morality. One key figure (cited by Prof .de Mattei) was Filippo Buonarotti, a disciple of the savage Robespierre who returned to Italy to organize a conspiracy he named Sublmi Maestri Perfetti.

The young Pope believed that he could embrace the best tendencies of liberalism without compromising the Church’s inheritance. Austria’s cynical prime minister was, perhaps, wiser. Prince Metternich opposed the Pope’s political amnesty; hearing of Pius’s reforms, he declared: “A liberal pope is not a possible being.” Metternich was aghast when he learned that the Vatican’s prudent secretary of state (Cardinal Gizzi) had resigned in protest over the Pope’s willingness to set up a civil guard of armed citizens. Commenting on the situation, Metternich said that the events were nothing less than “a revolution under the disguise of reforms.”

Although the Pope was hailed throughout Italy as a savior and contrasted everywhere with the kings of Piedmont and Naples, the collision was inevitable. As de Mattei demonstrates in his refutation of “the myth of the liberal Pio Nono,” Pius IX was no liberal of any kind. In fact, the Pope understood better than anyone in the 19th century what the theological and moral inheritance of the Church meant to mankind, and however much he might wish to reform his government, he had no illusions about democracy or about the religion of liberalism that was being created in France, England, and the United States.

After considering an expedition in 1848 to protect the Milanesi from Austrian troops, he refused to join the war, alleging both the very’ real threat of a German schism if die Church took a national side in the war and arguing the Church’s commitment to peace. The foreseeable result was an immediate reversal of “public opinion” (which meant then what it means now, the support of indoctrinated liberals) and a virtual rebellion against the Pope.

When the Pope sent a message to the emperor, asking him to grant the Italians their freedom, the emperor responded with contempt. In one brief period, the Pope lost the support of Austria and alienated the Italian nationalists. The moderate-liberal government he had allowed to form in Rome—under attack from secret societies and rabble-rousers—collapsed in bickerings and rhetorical frenzy. When Pius appointed a responsible and energetic moderate-liberal—Pellegrino Rossi—to head the government, the poor man was assassinated and the Roman rabble treated this despicable murder as an act of patriotism.

The only question for Pius IX was not if or when to flee, but where. Although he took refuge in the reactionary Kingdom of Naples, he preserved his independence by refusing to accept the king’s hospitality. Back in Rome, Garibaldi showed up to lead the military campaign against the inevitable attack, and Mazzini arrived and made himself a virtual dictator. Mazzini’s real character was revealed in those day’s, as he attempted to coopt Catholic rituals. On Easter, a renegade priest served “Mass” in a mock Catholic ceremony in St. Peter’s, complete with republican symbols. Instead of the Pope, Mazzini appeared on the balcony beside the priest. Mazzini’s government fined the canons of the cathedral who refused to take part in the blasphemy.

In later years, Pope Pius IX—still an humane reformer—watched as the Piedmontese Kingdom of Italy swallowed up the Papal States. In response to this spoliation and vandalism—which put Victor Emmanuel’s ministers in the same category with Thomas Cromwell and Robespierre—most good Italian Catholics acquiesced, but they refused to participate in politics until Mussolini signed a concordat with the Church (an arrangement now under attack by Italian leftists), giving independence to the Vatican.

Although Pius IX has been severely criticized both for his political mistakes and for his reactionary principles, his intransigence may have saved the Catholic Church. On his election, many European liberals were confidently predicting that he would be the last Pope, because the Church was on the point of extinction. While it might be an exaggeration to say that Pius IX single handedly rescued the Church, it is only fair to acknowledge that he was the instrument. It is to be hoped that this and other works of Roberto de Mattei will soon be put into print by an American publisher.

 

[Pio IX, by Roberto de Mattel (Casale Monferrato: Piemme) 253 pp., £30