Meanwhile symptoms of the coming conflict began to appear. Catholics of all classes looked forward to great events for the Church and the nations. Those who did not share the hopes of the hidden Council, or who recoiled from the dogmas likely to be decreed, felt anxious. The Press began to pour out pamphlets and reprints, enabling all to read up on the question of Councils.
"The Crusaders of St. Peter" was the title of historical tales now regularly appearing in the _Civiltá_, which continued for years. The object was to make the blood of Mentana the seed of a great oecumenical army. Every incident was described with vivid conception and boundless faith in the destiny of the Papacy, with faith too in the duty of all to rear up sons for the Crusade, and faith that those who fell escaped purgatorial pains and found direct entrance among the beatified.
The following are passages scattered here and there--
It was a sight to rejoice the angels in heaven, that of these brave men laying down the carabine to perform the little office of the Virgin, and then turning from the little office of the Virgin to take up the carabine.... On the march fatigue was lightened by reciting the prayer which had so often conquered the foes of the Church, the rosary.... The masters of war know that on the field of battle the last army to deserve ridicule is an army fresh from confession and communion.... A young gentlewoman gave birth to her first-born. "How long it will be," she said, "ere he can carry a musket! But Pius IX can do anything. He can make a zouave even now of my Eugenio." Melted by such faith, the Pope wrote a benediction on a paper "consecrated to him" by the infant. The venerated word was placed in the domestic sanctum, and in return for it "the zouave at the breast will do a soldier's service." Some weeks later, on receiving from him a first oblation, the Pope again wrote a word for "his soldier in swaddling clothes." The family were overjoyed at being permitted within five months to kiss two Papal autographs. The mother wrote, "Eugenio was asleep. I ran to put the Papal benediction on his head and forehead. He immediately broke out in a smile, and to me he looked like an angel. I could not restrain my tears. He still slept, but bounded for joy as long as I kept the blessed letters on his little head.... Should the avengers of Mentana try their hand, the zouave will lisp his first word crying _Viva Maria_!"