Chapter II - The Priestly Student

Training for the Priesthood - Librarian of the Ambrosiana - Cardinal Ferrari's Lieutenant

During the summer holidays at Don Damiano Ratti’s home at Asso, the young nephew of that superior man met many priests and youthful students. One can imagine the stimulating discussions that took place concerning the condition of the Church and the troubled times through which Italy was passing. The worthy priest’s house assumed something of the character of a seminary; for Achille’s uncle, Don Damiano, attracted to himself the intellectually elite, since he was the type of man who would have filled any position he held with distinction. Even in the comparatively restricted post he occupied at Asso, he built a hospital and day-nursery; and later gave of himself without stint to the cholera sufferers in 1886, for which service he received the Cross of the Order of the Crown of Italy. Among those who enjoyed the hospitality of this truly remarkable man was the Archbishop of Milan, Monsignor Calabiana, whose observant eyes had watched the youthful student. He was much impressed by Achille’s quiet composure and maturity.

After completing the course of study at the Ginnasio di San Martire, young Ratti, due to Monsignor Calabiana’s guidance, was entered at the Seminary of Monza in the same diocese, where he remained for two years. Here he confirmed the judgment of his uncle and the Archbishop so gratifyingly that he went on to the Collegio di San Carlo Borromeo in Milan.

The saintly influence of Saint Charles Borromeo permeates the Milanese seminaries and his wise rule still regulates the institutions of the archdiocese. These schools are noted for the methods used to prepare young students for the priesthood. Those who know say they combine secular studies and religious subjects; these, together with the spiritual discipline they impose, result in forming exceptional pastors of souls. “They do not suppress,” says the Reverend Angelo Novelli, “but develop and direct the characteristic traits of their students.” A genuine fraternity among the pupils from all classes of society creates a spirit of real democracy.

Many of Don Ratti’s fellow students at San Carlo’s were of the aristocracy and consequently better acquainted with the ways of the world than he. Their culture impressed the son of the bourgeois silk merchant. Without imitating their polished suavity he learned ease of manner. His sensitive adaptability took from them what he needed and made it his own. A rare, almost intuitive sympathy that can put the self-conscious at their ease, due to native kindness and goodness of heart, combined with a cultivated urbanity, have created a personality that knows how to soothe and charm.

Monsignor Luigi Talamoni, later professor of history at the Monza seminary, was young Ratti’s teacher of philosophy at San Carlo’s. “He was an exceptional student,” says the Monsignor, “both in his learning and in his influence on all of his companions. I was obliged to come well prepared to classes where I had such a wonderful pupil.”

Ratti and his friend, Alessandro Lualdi, (later Archbishop of Palermo) were conspicuous for their application at the Collegio. Though they did not take vows, they assisted the Archbishop in religious duties and in clerical work.

Young Ratti’s memory was so remarkable that he did not rely upon notes during lectures and could easily discourse on theology, philosophy and canon law from the material he had stored away in his mind. In mathematics, too, he outshone all the others so much so that for a time his superiors thought seriously of sending him to Turin to specialize in that department of science. But Providence and his own inclination led elsewhere!

During all his years of preparation Don Ratti had been blessed with perfect health. He was, and has remained, an outdoor man. His robust constitution made it easy for him to devote himself to his studies with closer and more sustained application than was possible, or perhaps advisable, for the average youth of his age. His companions used to come to him at San Carlo’s and protest against his prolonged absorption in his books. But he would only smile and declare that he did not know fatigue, and that if he needed relaxation he had only to turn to a mathematical problem, having discovered for himself that a change of mental activity was as soothing and beneficial as loafing and chatting.

This independence was characteristic of all his actions. His was not a gregarious nature. Yet his capacity for friendship was deep and genuine. The few choice spirits that gravitated to him have held a warm place in his memory. His nature, even as a youth, was not what is called “expansive.” His personality from his boyhood days has remained deep and quiet like a pool of still water more like a steady stream that flows slowly on its destined, course; widening and deepening as it nears the ocean. The years have brought confidence and power. So he was singularly free during adolescence from what is now called “mass-psychology.” There seemed to be an inner spring back of all his actions and decisions. He managed to keep his individuality intact and to preserve the integrity of his personality; this in spite of a community life that too often breeds uniformity, sort of common denominator of conduct and mentality.

But we have said that San Carlo’s was no ordinary college. When his school companions would chide him on his aloofness, his winning smile would dispel resentment and his unaffected sigh, “There is so much to learn and some appear to learn it quicker than others!” would completely disarm them. Such a comment, they knew, was only in self-defense. Never did he consciously try to dictate to others. There was no sting in his words.

So we can picture the young student’s days filled to the brim with lectures, serious studies, and regular hours of hard-earned rest in the cell-like room of the dormitory. Or we can see his erect and elastic figure well-built, but not tall starting off for the countryside, alone, or with Lualdi by his side, walking with the easy stride of an accomplished climber, his head held high as he inhaled deep breaths of the sweet Lombardy air.

Already the qualities of independence and stability that have characterized Pius XI were apparent to his friends and the good Archbishop. There were reserves of power in the quiet-faced youth. At the termination of his career at San Carlo’s, Don Achille Rattis progress was summed up by one of his professors as wholly satisfactory and, indeed, as “brilliant” The Archbishop needed no further proof of the young man’s fitness for the priesthood. His friend, Lualdi, had distinguished himself in theology. A dream that must have been shared between them was to be realized. They were ready for Rome.

The Collegio Lombardo at Rome had just been reopened by Leo XIII after being closed for eight years, following the upheaval of 1870, and was under the supervision of the Bishop of Crema, Monsignor Ernesto Fontana. This was their logical destination.

In Rome the youthful student must have responded eagerly to the tremendous appeal of the Eternal City. There unfolded to his keen mind a fuller realization of the meaning of the history of the Church. Here in the catacombs was the very cradle of Christianity. All the magnificent basilicas and ancient sites spoke eloquently of the continuous story that harked back to the Apostles, Peter and Paul. This cumulative wealth of Christian experience could not fail to exercise a potent influence on an ardent young believer of the One True Faith. For if this dynamo of spiritual power fires the imagination of even the unbelieving sojourner in Rome, we can conceive of what its message must be to one who participates intimately in its regenerative graces. For it is as true today as it was during the pontificate of Gregory XVI when in 1840 Macaulay wrote the words: “The Papacy remains, not in decay, not a mere antique; but full of life and youthful vigor.”

To one endowed with the historic sense, the spectacle of a throng of fifty thousand souls from every corner of the globe, speaking every language on earth, standing at reverent attention, eager eyes turned toward the great right door leading to the throne room of Saint Peter’s, expectantly waiting for the supreme moment when the trumpets shall announce the Vicar of Christ Himself, borne aloft on the sedia gestatoria for all the world to behold and partake of the pontifical blessing which the vast throng with a single impulse kneels to receive – there is no experience on earth like it in solemnity and spiritual elevation. It is the symbol of the Church Triumphant!

How many times young Ratti must have participated in silent awe in the impressive ceremony, as Leo XIII, a Pontiff venerable in years and wisdom, slight and frail of build, raised his long thin fingers in the familiar gesture of the sign of the cross. Only in recent years has the true greatness of this truly distinguished Pope begun to be appreciated by the world generally. Did the youthful student for the priesthood, arriving in Rome at a time of great moment for the Church, realize amidst what tremendous events he was moving? It is more than likely that he did, for his analytical mind was enriched by much study. From the beginning he was an eager student of contemporary history. He must have responded to the tempo of the times.

For Pius IX’s long pontificate had seen a bitter struggle between the Holy See and the alarming revolutionary forces of Europe. The rampant anti-clerical phobia presaged an anxious future for the Church, An era had passed; and the alert, far-seeing mind of Leo was grappling with the new problems that seemed to be dominated by purely sectarian interests. One cannot doubt how indelibly imprinted upon young Ratti’s memory must have been the shameful insult to the body of Pius IX when, as it was borne to its final resting place in San Lorenzo fuori le Mura, ruffians attempted to seize it and throw it into the Tiber.

Yet, however outraged his soul may have been over this indignity to the person of the Pope, Ratti was not to be numbered among the irreconcilables. He was too well-informed and too canny not to know that the old days, once gone, never return. A new modus vivendi for the Church and the State of Italy must be found. Hating anarchy and desiring above all else a stable social peace, his nature naturally sought a more Christian solution of the impossible dilemma. He must have recognized that the arm of the Lord is far-reaching and that the regime of Leo was decreed by God to regain a new dignity and prestige for the Church. For there can be no doubt, in retrospect, and writing after the event, that the Papacy under Leo XIII had entered upon a renaissance which has continued and is today at flood-tide.

Young Ratti and his friend, Lualdi, were both in their twenty-third year when they entered the Lombard College in Rome. Three months later Ratti was ordained priest in Saint John Lateran, his father and brother, Fermo, being present and receiving his first blessing. The following day he celebrated Mass in the church of the Lombards, San Carlo al Corso, where the heart of the saint is enshrined. Two years later, in 1882, after attending courses in canon law, he took his degree, at the Gregorian University. In the same year he completed his work and took his degree in theology at the Sapienza, and in philosophy at the Academia di San Tommaso.

Monsignor Fontana had introduced Ratti and Lualdi to His Holiness on one of the Pontiff’s visits to this child of his spirit (San Tommaso’s) . Later Leo undoubtedly kept the youths in mind as they were the first students to matriculate at the Academy where he had established the courses in the Thomist philosophy in which he took such keen personal interest It was a red-letter day indeed when the two young doctors were summoned into the Holy Father’s presence to receive the Pontiff’s congratulations upon their successful achievements. For the Pope’s solicitude for these two chosen vessels into which the rare old wisdom had been poured was so great that he sent by special messenger an invitation to his protégés to come to the Vatican for a private audience.

Undoubtedly this personal contact with a living Pope exerted a lasting influence upon the young theologian just as the revival of the Thomist philosophy must have wrought a decisive impression upon his mind. This was a vital contribution of a living Pope to a future Pope that neither could have foreseen at the time.

We can imagine with what awe the two youths prepared themselves for the momentous occasion. Leo had come in from his gardens and was about to enter the Clementine Hall in his sedan chair when he saw the two young men. When told who they were, he asked to be left unattended, and he blessed the young doctors who had fallen on their knees before his chair. If one endowed with prophetic vision could have observed this historic incident, how impressive the scene would have appeared as the great Pontiff of the new regime, Leo XIII, extended his arm in blessing over the future Pope who was to break the fetters of Papal imprisonment for himself and all popes thereafter, and restore to the Papacy, after sixty years of struggle, the old temporal power.

The venerable and saintly Pontiff did not leave the young men after the Papal blessing, but discoursed with them at length upon their achievements and on the true philosophy of religion, and their obligation to Saint Thomas Aquinas to extend the influence of their Christian scholarship throughout the world. How potent were the Holy Father’s words uttered at such a moment and under such circumstances to two such eager young souls, full of ardor for the cause of the Church to which they were dedicating their lives!

For over three years young Ratti had been in Rome, imbibing not only the philosophy of Saint Thomas, but a wealth of knowledge about the Church and applied religion as it affected the lives of the average citizen of the Eternal City, a knowledge of the strained relationship between the Vatican and the Quirinal and of a thousand and one other practical matters of daily concern to an ardent churchman and patriotic Italian.

At last his old friend and advisor from Milan, the Archbishop, Cardinal Calabiana, sent for his protege to return home and accept the curacy of the little village of Barni, on the shores of Lake Como. Thus Providence brought Father Ratti back to the scenes of his origin; but what a different man he returned from the provincial youth who, a decade earlier, had left those placid shores!

What an opportunity to assimilate the wealth of knowledge and experience of which he had so eagerly partaken in the Eternal City! In the quiet of the long evenings his thoughts returned to Rome with clarified vision, and there came to him a fuller sense of the tremendous meaning of all that he had learned and observed there. Amid the peaceful surroundings of the simple folk of his parish he learned to correlate and clarify the vast erudition he had imbibed at San Tommaso’s. Most of all, in that detached mood that is so essential to the creation of a just perspective, the Roman Question pressed upon his mind for a solution.

But the contemplation of all that he had seen and heard at Rome was not to end in sterile thoughts. Within the space of only a few months, the good Archbishop, who watched over him so lovingly, called him to Milan. In 1883, in his twenty-sixth year, Father Ratti accepted an appointment as Professor of Sacred Eloquence and Dogmatic Theology at San Carlo’s. Here he remained for five years. The young students under his care all testify how stimulating were his lectures, how learned and sound his teaching, and with what charming courtesy he encouraged their studies. They recall his fine artistic taste and speak of his deep religious convictions.

Because of the tact and wisdom he displayed among his students, it is not surprising that his success as a teacher, and more especially his ever-increasing scholarship, should be rewarded with his appointment to fill a vacancy among the doctors of the Ambrosian Library in Milan under its illustrious Prefect, the Abate Cerian.

When Father Ratti arrived at the Ambrosiana to assist its Prefect, Ceriani, that renowned Orientalist of the famous old library was carrying on with unstinted devotion the tradition of learning of a long line of distinguished savants. For three centuries the library had grown in fame through the acquisition of rare manuscripts, books, and costly works of art, until it was recognized by serious students as one of the few great libraries of the world in the same class as the Vatican Library of Rome, the Nationale of Paris, and the British Museum of London. The history of learning is preserved and enriched by such selfless scholars as Ceriani, whose names are known only to the elect, yet whose sacrifices and consecration to the cause of true culture make it live on in an indifferent age, in spite of the modern tendency to belittle and degrade it. In Dr. Ratti, Ceriani found a scholar after his own heart, who, for nineteen long years, was to work under him, assisting him in his researches; travelling abroad on missions in search of some old tome, to unearth some ancient manuscript, to confer with other scholars and to address societies for the further glory of their mutual labors.

No library in the world has a nobler history than the Ambrosian. Founded in the Late Renaissance (1609) by Cardinal Federigo Borromeo, a cousin of the great Saint Charles Borromeo and his successor in the Milanese See, it was the personal expression of this remarkable man. Manzoni has left a perfect picture of the founder and of all the details of the foundation and the methods by which the numerous duties of its officers were carried on.

Although so frugal in his personal life as to seem miserly the founder of the Ambrosiana “planned with such munificent liberality, to supply which with books and manuscripts, besides the preservation of those he had already collected with great labor and expense, he sent eight of the most learned and experienced men he could find, to make purchases throughout Italy, France, Spain, Germany, Flanders, Greece, Lebanon and Jerusalem. By this means he succeeded in gathering together about thirty thousand printed volumes, and fourteen thousand manuscripts. To this library he united a college of doctors . . . whom he maintained at his charge while he lived. . . . Their office was to cultivate various branches of study; theology, history, literature, and the Oriental languages; each one being obliged to publish some work on the subject assigned to him. He also added a college he called Trilingue, for the study of the Greek, Latin and Italian languages; a college of pupils for instruction in these several languages that they might become professors in their turn; a press for the Oriental languages; that is, Hebrew, Persian and Armenian; a gallery of paintings, another of statues and a school for the three principal arts of design.

Of the nine professors he supported out of his personal funds, eight were selected from the pupils of the seminary, indicating how sound and well-grounded he considered their instruction and the high standard attained by his college of doctors. For the use and perpetuity of the library he left ample provision at his death, showing how far-sighted his vision and how dear to his heart the Ambrosiana had become. He required that his librarian should keep up an extended correspondence with the most learned men of Europe, to bring to him all the latest information on all the works of science and the best works on any subject that had been published. Such books were immediately purchased for the library. His labors were not only “admirable, but judicious and elegant” and far beyond the ideas and habits of his age.

Most remarkable of all, this exceptional man of his time ordered that the books preserved here should be accessible to all, whether citizens of Lombardy or strangers. Books were brought to anyone who should demand them, with full opportunity to sit down and study them, with the provision of pen, ink, and paper, to take notes. Although today these facilities are approximated in all good libraries, in the seventeenth century such an innovation was unheard of, for in most libraries of Europe all valuable books were concealed under lock and key and the public had no access to them. No one can properly appraise the effect upon scholarship of this method of making all books available to any student who might desire them. The greater part of the Cardinal’s fortune was consumed by his devotion to his beloved enterprise. Thus the beginning of a rich legacy of wisdom from all the ages was given to the world.

Many works famous in the history of literature have been created because of the generosity of Cardinal Borromeo. Distinguished men of learning like Giggi, Muratori, Angelo Mai, Sassi, Oltrocchi, and last, but not least, the Abate Ceriani himself, under whom Dr. Ratti worked, have added glory to the famous old institution, so that today the library is a Mecca to which scholars from all over the world are indebted.

Here, in the silence dedicated to learning, Dr. Ratti worked and wrote, conscientiously following in the revered footsteps of its founder and his famous successors. For nineteen years he was the obedient disciple and loving son of the elderly Ceriani whose reputation for discipline and petulance over any inefficiency have come down to us, along with his self-abnegation of spirit and devotion to his cherished library.

The many subjects Dr. Ratti contributed for such Milanese journals as the Archivio storico lombardo, Rendiconri dell’ Institute lombardo di scienze e lettere, Giornale storico letteratura italiana, Scuola Cattolica, etc., dealt with history, biology, liturgy, hagiography, politics, art and archeology. But all these related to the Ambrosian church and had to do with Milanese history. It is his native Lombardy, its famous metropolis, and its glorious church that claim his hours of research and writing. Over seventy of these studies are analyzed by Senator Malvezzi in his Pio XI nei suoi scritti published in 1923 by Treves Freres.

Dr. Ratti’s intellectual interests were vast and varied. Whether he is engaged in writing on art such as his monograph on an ancient mosaic in the basilica of Saint Ambrose; or in contributing important data in his biographical study of Saint Charles Borromeo or in deciphering some old palimpsest, or in archeological research as in his article on a Latin inscription of the first century, found in Milan in 1904, or in editing his Missale Ambrosianum Duplex, he is always original in his approach and impartial in his treatment of the facts. Never does the apologist blind the faithful historian’s philosophical approach to history, which he firmly believed to be “the living tissue of facts wherein the thoughts and deeds of men and God unite, mix and cross each other” so that a “marvelous providential plan is wrought” in which “the love of God for man is manifest,” pervades all his written work, whether he writes as critic, linguist, paleographer or archeologist.

But it was not only as a writer of distinction that the famous librarian achieved renown. He is remembered today for the help he so generously gave to students, lavishly bestowing upon them the benefits of his vast learning. His fluency with languages was of great assistance in this task of acting as host and guide and counsellor. And it was not only to those who were studying in the library in Milan that his services were rendered. He answered at great length all inquiries that came to him in writing from any land, giving adequate and exact information. The Prefect of the Lauren tian Library of Florence, Enrico Rostagno, declares that there are few scholars in Italy or abroad who have not consulted Dr. Ratti and been benefitted by his courteous helpfulness both when he was doctor and Prefect of the Ambrosiana and later as Prefect of the Biblioteca Vaticana at Rome. Many students can testify today in their own behalf of the resources that have been provided and the facilities that have been made available by this self-effacing scholar.

There is yet another gift, as essential as those already mentioned, which the great librarian must possess, which was conspicuous in Dr. Ratti that of administrator. Important reforms were instituted under his wise direction. He made of the Ambrosiana a living, pulsating organism, planning and overseeing the reorganization of its many departments. As Prefect he provided a special room for the invaluable manuscripts and drawings of Leonardo da Vinci. He opened the Gallery of Arms, and the Rose Gallery with its exhibit of engravings of the history of Milan, and also the Museo Settala. He wrote a guide of the thoroughly modernized institution, with a history of the Library and a full description of its art treasures. This executive faculty was later to be allowed full scope in the field of practical diplomacy. For his scholarly work and administrative achievements as Doctor and Prefect of the Ambrosiana, Dr. Ratti had conferred upon him the Cross of the Order of Saints Maurice and Lazarus by the Italian government.

Ratti’s relationship with Ceriani under whom he worked was most intimate and affectionate. The famous old Orientalist treated him as his own son. Between the two men, so different in temperament and age, but so alike in their enthusiasm in behalf of learning, there existed perfect respect and enduring admiration. Cerian’s temper was known to be uncertain. He was impatient of all that distracted him from his work. His one passion was his library. His unconcern of personal preferment was as genuine as it was rare. Young Ratti soon discovered beneath the cold exterior the humility of a great spirit; his Superior’s lack of urbanity was a protective covering that camouflaged a heart of gold. And Ceriani recognized in his assistant a devotion to learning and a willingness for self-abnegation that answered a responsive chord in his lonely old heart. A deep affection grew up between these two men so unlike in temperament and years. The younger became the confessor of the older. His letters to his Superior are more than mere discussions about their mutual labors. There are tender inquiries concerning his health, and beautiful allusions to the deep concern he felt for the elderly man. When the great scholar died, Ratti took charge of his funeral and erected a tablet to his memory in the old library in which they had worked together for two decades. Each year he led a pilgrimage to Ceriani’s tomb. During the years of Dr. Ratti’s incumbency at the Milanese Library, time had not stood still. Entering in 1888 in his thirty-first year, he passed through middle age under Ceriani, and beyond that period he was still working there as Prefect for another seven years, until His Holiness, Pius X, called him to Rome to act as Pro-Prefect under Father Ehrle at the Vatican Library, Here, at the Ambrosiana, we see him, immersed in the atmosphere of books, moving silently among the students and visitors from the outside world, or seated in calm seclusion at his desk, ready at a moment’s notice to leave his own literary labors to give advice, direct some stranger, act as guide to some party of English or American tourists. To keep himself from growing stale in the cloistered serenity of peaceful walls, he acted as chaplain to the nuns of the Cenacolo (the Cenacle) an order that takes care of poor Milanese children. To this function of pastor of souls (a duty he performed for thirty years!) he added the self-imposed task of instructing the street urchins and chimney-sweeps of the city in the catechism and becoming intimately acquainted with their individual lives and needs. The fastidious scholar, careful of dress, spectacled, grave of manner, lavished upon these dirty little charges the same earnest attention and kindly practical assistance that he bestowed upon the eminent scholars that sought him out.

Training for the priesthood, self-discipline imposed as a religious duty, innate serenity and adjustability, diversions of mountain climbing, visits abroad and contact with some of the best minds in the world, mental adventures in books, the passion of discovery in the field of literature – yes! and the romance of the religious life itself – all these Dr. Ratti knew and experienced at first-hand! For the Monsignor, as he had become, was not one of those priests who grow apathetic in their religion. In him it has always remained the mainspring of his being; directing, consoling, fortifying his hours of doubt and weariness. Daily he finds his Source of Strength in the Holy Eucharist. Like any layman he feels the need of confession. On his mountain adventures he carries his breviary and recites his prayers. But his vision of his God is not limited to the book, nor even to the Mass. He sees Him in the sunrise at dawn, enveloped in glory. He hears His terrible voice in the thundering avalanche. He receives a direct revelation of Him in the pure mystery of the snow and in the peaceful beauty of Lago di Como.

It must not be imagined that the scholarly doctor was deprived by his clerical dress of the amenities of cultivated society. Some of the best Milanese families invited him to their homes. They were proud to have him grace their tables. His quiet ease of manner, his vast scholarship, his latent wit and infinite tact, made him a welcome guest. He could banish self-consciousness with his gracious smile and genial word. He did not appear pedantic, nor overladen with learning. Yet, when the occasion demanded, he could be non-committal and relapse into a smiling silence. If the subject of conversation became controversial this was his habitual demeanor. For he preferred to be an interested listener rather than to override an opponent. Argumentative disputation on such questions as the Roman issue left him silent and attentive. Aggressiveness and self-assertiveness, heated controversy and the mania to outshine others were as alien to his nature as conflict and mob violence were hateful. He was, and has remained, a man of peace.

In 1894, years after Father Ratti was called to the Ambrosiana, his old friend, Cardinal-Archbishop Calabiana, who had seen the boy Achille grow to manhood and justify all his expectations, died. He was succeeded by the saintly Ferrari as head of the diocese of Milan the largest and one of the most difficult in the world to administer. The Cardinal, impressed by the scholarship and character of the Doctor of the Ambrosiana, began to entrust him with responsibilities outside the library walls. He turned to him to carry forward the work of reestablishing religious instruction in the public schools. It was a task requiring the utmost tact as, for several years, priests had been excluded by law from the schools in Milan. Over a hundred priests volunteered their services to Dr. Ratti and the scheme created such opposi- tion by the anti-clerical elements that only through the consummate wisdom of their leader was the plan executed and continued.

Because of Dr. Ratti’s success in this very delicate matter, Cardinal Ferrari continued to call upon him; and his own health failing, leaned upon his lieutenant more and more. On Ceriani’s death Dr. Ratti was made his successor as Professor of Hebrew and was later appointed canon of the Church of Saint Ambrose with the title of “Monsignor.” Today the visitor is shown by the guide the stone seat the present Pontiff occupied for several years as canon under the shadow of the fourth century pulpit from which it is said Saint Ambrose preached and converted Saint Augustine.

Cardinal Ferrari and his Monsignor were in complete accord regarding the necessity of fostering the growth of Azione Cattolica. Monsignor Ratti’s admiration for his Cardinal was unbounded. At the third centenary of the canonization of Saint Charles Borromeo, the quiet priestly scholar forgot his restraint and spoke with the warmth and enthusiasm of a devoted disciple.

Because he is of gold unalloyed, boundless in charity, inexhaustible in zeal? untiring in labor, truly great in virtues . . . we needs must admire, love and imitate him. And he can count on us, on our work, on our lives [continues the fervent disciple, adding with the firm conviction of one who knows]: in the battle for ideas, for truth, for souls, the work of books has its place and its value. The soldier of truth, coming back from the firing-line, his ammunition spent, knows that the man of books may point out new and untouched shores; [for] . . . there is an eighth sacrament, the Sacrament of Learning, which Saint Francis de Sales called the sacrament par excellence for the priest.

And there are those who have called Achille Ratti phlegmatic!

Milan has long been the arena for conflicting intellectual opinions, and has always resounded with the clamor of party strife. Achille Ratti did not participate in party controversy. Yet on the occasion of the riot in May of 1898 he braved the armed soldiery in the streets of Milan to reach the police station where the Capuchins had been arrested and plead for their release, explaining they had not participated in the Socialist uprising which had resulted in over a hundred deaths, but had merely offered sanctuary to fleeing rioters. Feeling keenly that the true mission of the priest is peace, and that his position in the old and honored institution of learning placed him above party alliances which might injure his usefulness as a public servant, Ratti was a consistent advocate of sanity. This aloofness from party alignment was later to prove a great factor in his election to the Papacy when the qualities he possessed were sadly needed in a war-racked world.

Ratti neither posed as an advocate of “science” nor did he identify himself with those intemperate devotees of the Church’s “rights” to the exclusion of sanity and charity. In regard to the Roman Question he was neither with the Intransigents nor with the so-called “Liberals” who sought peace at any price. He was too good an Italian not to desire above all things a reconciliation in which his love for his Church and his love for his country might be harmoniously merged.

During all the years of Achille Rattis residence in Milan he kept in close touch with his relatives especially with his brothers and nephews. His mother, long a widow, lived with her daughter, Camilla, in the Via Nerone, and he visited her almost daily. His feeling of reverence for her is one that is commonly observed and is often wondered at by travelers from countries where the worship of the Virgin Mary is not practiced, but which is soon discovered by foreigners to be characteristic of Italian sons toward their mothers in the flesh. Certain it is that Dr. Ratti almost worshiped his widowed mother. In a dedication to a learned work dealing with Milanese history he writes of her:

To you, mother of a rare and ancient type, I dedicate these plans, the oldest known, of our great and dear Lombard metropolis, our mother city, with my few pages of explanation. I dedicate it to you on your name-day, and it pleases me to think that some student, in the far-off future, may read your name here and find a memorial of your son’s love and veneration for you.

In the summer of 1900, having completed a particularly exhaustive piece of work of cataloguing at the Ambrosiana and having left his library in the perfect shape that his careful conscientious habits demanded, Dr. Ratti started off to cross the Channel on what he called a summer holiday. Enjoying himself in his own quiet way, he toured afoot like any layman, or rode through London streets atop of busses to get the view of the Thames and of Saint Paul’s. But Sunday claimed the pious priest. He said Mass at Westminster Cathedral. On week-days the librarian spent long hours studying at the British Museum and at the Bodleian at Oxford.

It was at Oxford particularly, renowned seat of Catholic learning, that he experienced what he felt was the persistent pervading influence of his ancient Faith. Recalling its founding by Catholic scholars in the Middle Ages, he felt a just pride in the University’s long history as one of the innumerable institutions which dotted the continent and the Isles, attesting to Catholic scholarship for the greater glory of the Church. The names of Roger Bacon and of Cardinal Newman he found indelibly imprinted upon the very walls of Oriel and of Trinity. Strolling at his leisure through the highways and byways of the town, reveling in the atmosphere of centuries of learning and watching the sun gild the towers and turrets of the old mellowed stone, Dr. Ratti rejoiced in yet another evidence of the vitality and robustness of his Faith. For here he found the religious orders which had survived for seven hundred years, alive and flourishing, carrying on in an environment of freedom and tolerance. Capuchins, Jesuits, Benedictines and Dominicans were maintaining themselves in the free atmosphere of a national religion!

It is no wonder that Dr. Ratti’s memory of the days spent in England left an indelibly pleasant impression on his mind, whether as guest of the Bishop Casartelli in the industrial area of Salford, or in the more genial atmosphere of the old University of Oxford. It is not surprising that upon his return to Italy the observant generous-hearted priest and librarian expressed his appreciation of English culture with the simple words: ‘The English reward their scholars with gratitude.’