A Priest Chosen to be Pope

How many of you knew that Gregory XVI was the last pontiff to come from a religious order? In fact, he was a monk of the Camaldolese, a branch of the Benedictine family. On account of his talents and learning, he had been transferred to the Roman monastery of the Camaldolese, early in his life, and, just before the time of his election, he had risen as high as the prefect of the Congregation de Propaganda Fide. It was as the former head of this dicastery that he addressed these words to Nicholas Wiseman, at that time, still the Rector of the English College at Rome:

"You must now revise your own proofs. I fear I shall not have much time in future to correct them."

Such were the first words which I heard from the mouth of Gregory XVI. They were preceded by a kind exclamation of recognition, and followed by a hearty blessing, as I knelt before him in the narrow passage leading from the private papal apartments. It was only a few days after his accession. The new Pope alluded to an act of singular kindness on his part. He had desired me to expand an essay and publish it as a little work in Italian; on a subject in which, as Prefect of Propaganda, he took an interest. . . . At any rate, that short interview proved to me that Gregory's elevation to the Sovereign Pontificate had not altered that amiability and simplicity of character which I had already so often experienced.

Too often, I'm afraid, one hears bad things said of Gregory XVI, that he was backward, that he bungled the affairs of the State, and so on. But before you listen to these opinions, which I'm beginning to suspect were disseminated by rather interested scholars than not, you should consider the words of Cardinal Wiseman, who was there in Rome at the time, who speaks as a Catholilc, and not as a liberal gleeful applauding the diminution of the Pope's God-given temporal sovereignty.

But I had had no idea that Gregory was a religious; Wiseman writes: "On becoming a Cardinal, a religious preserves the color of his habit. That of the Camaldolese being white, Gregory XVI never changed the color of his robes, but wore the same as a monk, a cardinal, and pope." This is most interesting; of course we know that this is how the Pope has the white cassock today, on account of a certain religious, Michele Ghisleri, of sainted memory, never having surrendered his Dominican habit. But we'd know more about this business of habits and dress, I imagine, if Cardinal Cappellari had been a Benedictine, say, with a black habit.

Though this conjecture of mine is somewhat belied by the fact that Pius VII, with whom Wiseman begins his book of reflections, was a Benedictine. Yet Wiseman says nothing about Pius VII wearing black, if he did at all. Perhaps Pius VII did, though in the paintings we have, he appears in some kind of choir dress. Shown here is a painting which Wiseman praises greatly as being a faithful representation of Barnabas Chiaramonti; more famous still is Jacques Louis David's portrait of Pius VII - I'm sure you'd recognize it right away - but it is this painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence which Wiseman notes for our especial attention. It was one a series of portraits which Sir Thomas did all over Europe to document the principle characters and the state actors at the Congress of Vienna.

Is this custom preserved today - obviously, the pope could do what he wants - but I mean, among cardinals, do they always retain their religious habit? We don't see Cardinal Bertone in the habit of a Salesian, do we? I know that I've seen pictures of Cardinal O'Malley in a Franciscan habit, though I also believe that I've seen him in the regular choir dress of a cardinal.

Even more interesting, perhaps, is that Cardinal Cappellari was not a bishop when he was chosen to be pope by his fellow cardinals! That is very cool, I think. He was but a priest, and he was chosen to be pope. Sadly, I believe that current canon law requires one to be at least a bishop before they can be made cardinal; though, of course, as usual, the Holy Father could reverse this law, even in but one instance, whenever he wanted.

Wiseman relates:

On the Feast of the Purification, February 2nd, 1831, an end was put to the conclave by [Cappellari's] election to the Supreme Pontificate, by the name of Gregory. The ceremony of his coronation, which took place on the 6th, was enhanced by his consecration as Bishop, at the High Altar of St. Peter's. This function served clearly to exhibit the concurrence in his person of two different orders of ecclesiastical power. From the moment of his acceptance of the Papal dignity, he was Supreme Head of the Church, could decree, rule, name or depose bishops, and exercise every duty of pontifical jurisdiction. But he could not ordain, nor consecrate, till he had himself received the imposition of hands from other bishops, inferior to himself, and holding under and from him their Sees and jurisdiction.

On a previous occasion, when Clement XIV was named Pope, he received episcopal consecration separately from his coronation. Gregory united the two functions; but following a still older precedent, departed from ordinary forms.

In the Roman Pontifical, the rite prescribed for episcopal consecration is interwoven with the Mass, during which the new Bishop occupies a very subordinate place till the end, when he is enthroned, and pronounces his first episcopal benediction. Here the entire rite preceded the Mass, which was sung in the usual form by the new Pope. Like every other bishop, he recited, kneeling before the altar, and in presence of his clergy, the Profession of Faith, the bond here which united the Head with the Body, instead of being, as ordinarily, the link which binds a member to the Head.

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