The Pope in the Waterloo Gallery

It is interesting what can stick in one’s mind during travel.  Pope Pius VII sticks in my memory from my visits to Windsor Castle.

That may seem odd given that the focus of Windsor Castle is the history and housing of the British Royal Family.  And the glorious Chapel of St. George certainly stands out as well.  So my focus on a pope may indeed be odd.  

Yet I remember him indeed thanks to a wonderful portrait in the Waterloo Gallery in the State Rooms of the castle.  As one may guess from the name, the Waterloo Gallery displays portraits of worthies who played a role in resisting and defeating Napoleon and in dealing with the aftermath.  Most of the subjects are in idealized stately and/or heroic poses.  But not Pius VII.

With Pius, the genius of the man who painted the portraits of the gallery, Sir Thomas Lawrence, is most evident. Pius VII is painted very honestly, in a remarkably informal sitting posture, and with few obvious trappings of the papacy.  He is elderly yet at the same time with a lot of life and personality.  His expression is almost mischievous as if saying, “Napoleon thought he had me beaten.”

An excellent video on the Waterloo Gallery with some focus on the portrait of Pius VII may be found here.

It is interesting that Pius VII is enshrined in this gallery; for he actually had a mixed record in opposing Napoleon.   His predecessor, Pius VI was dogged in opposing attacks on the church from the French Revolution and from Napoleon.  That did not work out well as he died a prisoner of Napoleon.  The papacy itself was in peril as well.

Pius VII understandably wanted a different result, so he was beyond reasonable in seeking accommodation with Napoleon. That included attending Napoleon’s coronation as Emperor in 1804, against the advice of some of his Cardinals, and enduring petty disrespectful treatment from the tyrant while in Paris for the occasion.  And it also included later agreements that reduced the papacy’s power.

But Napoleon was not nearly as flexible as the Pope.  When Pius was pushed to the point where he felt he had to say no – the appointment of bishops in the Papal States was a presenting issue, but who knows if Napoleon could have been appeased even if Pius VII gave in on that – then the furious Napoleon had him arrested on the night of June 9^th, 1812 with the intention of confronting him at Fontainebleau.

In poor health, Pius barely survived the trip.  But it turned out the health of Napoleon’s regime was even more precarious.  By the time the Pope made it to Fontainebleau, Napoleon was off to fight Russia where he would eventually lose most of his army.

But Pius VII did not know this, and when Napoleon returned, he was able to badger the isolated pope into an agreement that would have greatly weakened the papacy.  After deep regret, Pius later repudiated that.  And at that point there was little Napoleon could do about it.  He abdicated on April 14^th, 1814 (temporarily it turned out -- Waterloo was in June 1815). Pius VI triumphantly returned to Rome on May 24^th.

Thus for all Pius’ human frailty, miscalculations, and concessions, his imprisonment and twice saying no to Napoleon rightly turned Pope Pius VII into a symbol of resistance to Napoleon’s tyranny.

And Thomas Lawrence’s portrait captures well both the human frailty and the resilient strength of character of Pius VII. It captures the little old pope who outlasted Napoleon.

C. S. Lewis and Getting Ideas in Church

Ever get an idea while sitting in church (other than muzzling annoying children, perpetual conversationalists . . . or the preacher)?  C. S. Lewis did once. In July 1940, he wrote to his brother, Warnie:

Before the service was over – one cd. wish these things came more seasonably – I was struck by an idea for a book wh. I think might be both useful and entertaining.  It wd. be called As one Devil to Another and would consist of letters from an elderly retired devil to a young devil who has just started work on his first ‘patient’. The idea wd. be to give all the psychology of temptation from the other point of view.  

Many of you can already surmise that this was the beginning of The Screwtape Letters.  Lewis wrote that he had returned to church after a “many weeks” absence due to illness.  I am glad he felt up to going to church that day!

I note this now because I just had a similar experience this past Sunday.  (And I beg your forbearance as I depart a bit from the subject of history now.) I don’t recall it being prompted by anything in the service of Holy Communion itself.  Nor was it as momentous as Lewis’ idea to be sure. Perhaps it was just my mind wandering as it is prone to do when it should be fixed on the Lord? Nonetheless I got an idea how better to put my history studies to use.  And I already consider it so much better than what I previously had in mind that I am very thankful.  (More on the guidance perhaps in due time.  But don’t worry; I intend to keep blogging here.)

So, yes, I do think God sometimes rewards attending to him in worship by very personally giving us good ideas as to how better serve him out in the world. 

Or at least that’s my excuse for my mind wandering in church.

“Lazy” C. S. Lewis

I’m continuing to read/skim The Collected Letters of C. S. Lewis.  And last night I came across something I had to reread.  In July 1940, he wrote to Dom Bede Griffiths, “In fact I have recently come to the conclusion that a besetting sin of mine all my life has been one which I never suspected – laziness….”

I certainly would have never suspected that either.  When I read his letters and look at all the work he did then and throughout his life, about the last thing I would call C. S. Lewis is “lazy.”  When I look at his academic work only, as an Oxford student then Fellow, I sometimes wonder how he found the stamina and doubt I could have handled his schedule even in my younger days.  But he wasn’t just an academic, of course.  People often forget his work included maintaining a household which included the often difficult Janie Moore, the mother of his fallen friend from World War I, Paddy Moore, from a young age.  Lazy?

My opinion is that what we see here is that Lewis could be hard on people, including himself.  Some of his private comments on people he met and dealt with were less than charitable. He seems a snob at times. But he was perhaps hardest on himself.  He took self-examination and confession very seriously.  Some of his introspection even comes across as obsessive on occasion.  Perhaps that trait is one reason he wrote The Screwtape Letters so well.

In any case, if C. S. Lewis was the least bit lazy, I hate to think what that makes me!