Under Way and Moving toward Dei Filius
By John O’Malley
The enduring influence of the Catholic Church has many sources — its spiritual and intellectual appeal, missionary achievements, wealth, diplomatic effectiveness, and stable hierarchy. But in the first half of the nineteenth century, the foundations upon which the church had rested for centuries were shaken. In the eyes of many thoughtful people, liberalism in the guise of liberty, equality, and fraternity was the quintessence of the evils that shook those foundations. At the Vatican Council of 1869–1870, the church made a dramatic effort to set things right by defining the doctrine of papal infallibility. In Vatican I: The Council and the Making of the Ultramontane Church, John W. O’Malley draws us into the bitter controversies over papal infallibility that at one point seemed destined to rend the church in two. Here is a brief excerpt about the beginning of the first church-wide council in over 300 years.
Bishops and other prelates began arriving in Rome in the middle of November 1869. “We have flown here,” reported Bishop Ketteler to his brother, amazed that the trip from Mainz to Rome by rail had taken only thirty-two and a half hours. With stops along the way, Bishop Francis Blanchet of Portland, Oregon, took two months for the journey, a full month of which was required for the actual travel. Bishops from mission lands in Asia took at least as long, with several of them forced to travel part of the journey on foot. The French government offered to transport on its navy vessels missionaries of any nationality free of charge, which allowed some bishops to come who otherwise could not have afforded the journey.
The result was an international gathering like no other in the history of the Catholic Church and, indeed, in the history of modern Europe up to that time. From an episcopacy of some thousand members, over seven hundred showed up at the beginning of the council. Once the council was fully under way, attendance at the general congregations differed from day to day. Prelates absented themselves because they were not feeling well, or they did not want to trudge through a drenching rain, or they simply needed a day off from the wearying routine.
Attendance diminished as the months passed. On January 15, for instance, 37 cardinals were present, with 109 archbishops and 412 bishops, whereas by May 20 the number of archbishops had shrunk to 88, and bishops to 380. Then by July 1, the cardinals were down to 26, the archbishops to 69, and the bishops to 342. For the solemn proclamation of the doctrine of infallibility on July 18, the numbers sank even further.
The European episcopacies were disproportionately represented among themselves. That of Great Britain was surprisingly strong, with 34 members, of whom 20 were from Ireland. From German lands 18 came of an episcopacy of only 20, whereas from the Austro-Hungarian Empire 49 attended the council. Italy was outlandishly overrepresented with 117 prelates, to which must be added virtually all the 48 from the curia. France, with Algeria included, came next with 88, about the same number as all Spanish-speaking prelates put together.
About a third of the membership of the council came from outside Europe. For the first time the Americas were represented, and represented in force. From the United States came 49 prelates, from Canada 18, but only 50 from all of Latin America. Sixty-one bishops at the council were of an Eastern rite and came principally from Asia Minor, some 50 of whom were from the Ottoman Empire. Forty-one council fathers arrived from Asia, principally from China and British India. Out of 5 bishops in the Philippines, only the archbishop of Manila was at the council, but 10 bishops came from Australia. There were only 8 from all of Africa.
Despite the impressive number of non-Europeans, the council was, as mentioned, a European affair by virtue of its issues, by virtue of the overwhelming European membership in the council, and especially by virtue of the leaders who gave the council its direction. Although Italians constituted about 35 percent of the total membership of the council, it was northern Europeans who emerged as the leading personalities.
Once arrived, the council fathers had to seek lodging. Those from France, Germany, and especially the Austro-Hungarian Empire came with ample funds, which ensured not only comfortable quarters but carriages to carry them to and fro. Other bishops were not so fortunate. Some had to be satisfied with a cramped and unheated room in a seminary or religious house and make their way to the basilica on foot. For such bishops, a rainy day, of which there were many, might mean sitting through three or four hours of speeches in a cold basilica soaked to the skin. But even for the bishops who enjoyed better circumstances, the council was not a Roman holiday.
Nor were the hours spent in the north transept of Saint Peter’s a pleasure. On September 19, 1869, the Central Commission had decided that while the solemn sessions would be held in Saint Peter’s, the general congregation would take place in the church of Sant Apollinare, where the acoustics were better. Pius overruled the decision and insisted on the basilica, which resulted in one of the council participants’ greatest trials.
The important Roman architect Virginio Vespignani was in charge of transforming the transept into a suitable meeting space, and he made every effort to outfit it with elegance and dignity. He walled it off from the rest of the basilica with a handsome screen of wood well over sixty feet high painted to look like marble. Inscribed on it in large gold letters were words taken from the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel, Docete omnes gentes, et ecce ego vobiscum sum usque ad consummationem saeculi (Teach all nations, and, behold, I am with you all days until the end of the world). Remarkable though it seems, this immense and heavy partition could be partly opened for full visual access to the basilica when occasion warranted, as for the solemn public sessions.
But Vespignani had a daunting task. Despite his best efforts, he could not make the cavernous and unheated space fully suitable for a meeting. The major problem was the acoustics. Rare were the bishops who did not have trouble hearing and following the argument. Bishops seated where the acoustics were especially bad complained that for hours on end they could catch only a word or phrase here and there, a daily torture. Plans were proposed to move the general congregations to a more suitable location in Rome, but they went nowhere. To ease the bishops’ discomfort, a chapel adjoining the transept had been carpeted and fitted with chairs. In good Italian fashion, it served as a bar where a bishop could always get a cup of warm broth or a glass of wine.
In late December the meeting hall was shortened by about a third and a huge awning stretched over the pulpit from which the bishops spoke. This adjustment slightly improved the situation but certainly did not solve it. Nor did further adjustments made later. The ongoing problem with the acoustics and the grueling tedium of the general congregations wore down bishops’ spirits and their patience with one another.
There were psychological as well as physical problems. With no predetermined terminal date, the fathers lived in uncertainty as to when they might return home — in two months, in six, in a year, even longer? Bernard McQuaid, bishop of Rochester, New York, wrote home after only a few weeks: “Unless an escape is found from the present way of getting on, the council will not be over for years. I would not like to say how many.”
The uncertainty devolved into anxiety if pressing business awaited bishops at home, which was more often the case than not. Bishops worried, at least in the beginning, whether they would be pressured into rubber-stamping the documents prepared for them or whether they might by force of acclamations be swept into premature and dangerous decisions. Bishops from the Continent especially lived in anxiety about the prospect of war between France and Prussia and therefore about the safety and political stability of the city of Rome.
Many were most particularly unsettled by the polarization over infallibility that, despite the goodwill on all sides, lurked beneath the surface from the very first moment of the council. At that time the vast majority of bishops were certainly in favor of “strengthening the principle of authority,” which did not automatically translate into a definition of papal infallibility. But the bishops soon realized that infallibility was going to be the question at the council and that the debate on it would be fierce.
Nonetheless, the bishops had come to Rome resolved to do their duty and to take in stride any problems they encountered. By December 8 they were ready for the council to begin, which it did that day promptly at 9:00 a.m. At that hour, as all the church bells in Rome began to ring amid a torrential rainfall, the procession made its way down the scala regia of the apostolic palace and into the basilica, which was filled with pilgrims and dignitaries. Empress Elizabeth of Austria, Queen Olga of Württemberg, the ex-king of Naples, and other royalty were there, as was the full diplomatic corps. The procession itself was made up of 49 cardinals, 11 patriarchs, 6 prince-bishops, 680 archbishops and bishops, 28 abbots, 29 superiors general of male religious orders and vicars general, and well over 250 clergy resident in Rome. Noble Guards and Knights of Malta stood at the main entrance to the basilica, and Swiss Guards were posted at the other entrances. The procession passed down the main aisle of the nave and then turned right into the transept, the council hall. Bringing up the rear was Pius IX on the sedia gestatoria, the portable throne carried by attendants. At the door of the church he dismounted and walked the length of the basilica, to the hall.
Once all were assembled, the dean of the college of cardinals presided at a solemn High Mass. After the Mass, which toward the end included a long sermon, the pope received the obedience of the council fathers, each in turn. Pius, obviously deeply moved by the occasion, then delivered a relatively brief allocution. In it he deplored the evils of the times and the attacks on the church but reminded the fathers that the church would triumph, as Jesus promised: “Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt. 16:16). In another time and in another context the strong implication that the successor of Peter would prevail against the evils of the times might be bypassed as a commonplace, but at this time and in this context it sounded in some ears like an echo of ultramontane ideas.
After the pope spoke the Fathers were asked: “Most Reverend Fathers, does it please you, for the praise and glory of the Holy and Undivided Trinity — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit — for the increase and exaltation of the Catholic faith and religion, for the uprooting of current errors, for the reform of the clergy and Christian people, for the common peace and concord of all, that the sacred ecumenical Vatican Council begin and be declared already to have begun?” The response was a resounding placet. With that the council was officially constituted and entered history. The occasion became the first of the four public sessions of Vatican I. The ceremony ended at about 3:00 p.m. with the Te Deum.
