Front matter (continued 5)

Jesuit ingenuity was not sufficient to limit the scope of the inquiry thus brought before the pope and the Papal Curia at Rome, because of the increasing indignation against the society. Added to the complaints of the Portuguese authorities regarding their conduct in Paraguay, and that of Nobili at Madura, their idolatrous worship of Confucius in China came generally to be known about this time. Consequently, the investigation which it became necessary for the pope to make, had not only increased in importance, but became broader almost every day. Not only were the matters involved important to the Church, but to the cause of Christianity throughout the world; for it was easy to foresee the injurious and demoralizing results if the Jesuits were permitted to mingle Christian and idolatrous worship together, so as to make it appear to every heathen people within the limits of their missions that Christianity sanctions both forms of worship in the same degree. Consequently, it became necessary for the pope to examine and decide both questions at the same time; that is, whether the Church could rightfully tolerate either the adoption and practice of the Hindoo rites by the Jesuits in India, or their participation in the idolatrous worship of Confucius in China.

Among the notable events connected with the latter was the arrival in China of some Dominican and Franciscan missionaries, and their surprise at discovering the idolatrous practices of the Jesuits. Having never suspected even the possibility of the teachings of the Church being so tortured as to furnish apology for idolatry, they considered the conduct of the Jesuits "a real scandal," which deserved to be rebuked. What seemed to them as especially censurable was the fact that the Jesuits had taught their neophytes to use the Chinese term "King-Tien," to express the idea of God—not as the Creator of the universe, but as the presiding Deity over a multitude of other deities, each having a separate sphere of sovereignty. To them it was not easy to conceive of anything more likely to undermine Christianity, because by limiting or lessening in any way the sovereign attributes of God, the whole Christian system would topple and fall. They, accordingly, notified the apostolic vicar in China, as the immediate representative of the Church there, of this unscrupulous and unchristian conduct of the Jesuits, in order, if possible, to apply the proper corrective and remove the "scandal" from the Church. The vicar did not have much to do to discover that the accusations of the monks against the Jesuits were true; and when this became known to him, he not only condemned their idolatry, but "severely censured them" for practicing it. The Jesuits, by way of defense, attempted to explain why they had applied an idolatrous Chinese term to the God of the Christians, and in doing so exhibited their accustomed sophistry—in which they have always been adepts—in such way as to convince the vicar, as well as the Dominican and Franciscan monks, of their entire want of sincerity and candor, to say nothing of their loss of Christian integrity. They pretended that "the honors paid to Confucius were merely civil ceremonies, with which the Christians did not associate any religious ideas whatever, and that the word King-Tien, in the Chinese language, simply conveyed the idea of God as understood by Christians." This, they said, they were informed by the Chinese mandarins and learned men. Hence, they argued that unless the idolatrous worship they had adopted were allowed to prevail, it would be impossible to obtain sufficient influence over the Chinese to draw them to Christianity—the precise meaning of which was, that unless they were permitted to practice the idolatrous rites of heathenism, the Chinese could never be induced to become Christians. This argument was thoroughly Jesuitical, and failed to mislead either the vicar apostolic or the Dominican and Franciscan monks, all of whom could see through the thin disguise with which the Jesuits attempted to conceal their ultimate purpose of bringing the Church authorities, with the pope at their head, in obedience to them. It did not require any Chinese learning for them to understand that it was impossible, in the nature of things, for the Chinese to have introduced into their language any word, or even any set of words, expressive of the idea of God as Christians understood it. They were familiar with the universal rule that the language of every people is constructed solely to express their own ideas, sentiments, and thoughts, and not such as prevail among those with whom they hold no intercourse. Candor and fair dealing with the Church and the cause of Christianity, therefore, required them to recognize the facts that the Chinese word King-Tien conveyed only the idolatrous idea of the superior godship of Confucius, and that it was so used in all the civic and other ceremonies of the Chinese. The result consequently was, that the vicar united with the monks in repudiating the position and doctrine of the Jesuits, and vigorously condemned and censured them for bringing the established worship of the Church into disrepute. This decision alone—made by the regularly constituted authorities of the Church—constitutes a most important and pregnant fact, which should not be overlooked by those who desire to understand the history of the most wonderful society the world has ever known.

This decision undoubtedly conformed to the opinion of the pope and of all the Church authorities throughout Europe, outside the circle of Jesuits. When announced by the apostolic vicar, with the approval of the monks, it should have put a stop to all further idolatrous proceedings on the part of the Jesuits. Any other body of men, who acknowledged the jurisdiction of the Church, would either have obeyed it by entirely abandoning the condemned practices at once, or, at all events, would have ceased to follow them until the prohibition was removed by the pope, whose superior jurisdiction could not be denied without rebellion against the Church. But the Jesuits did not belong to an order accustomed to submission to any other authority than that of their superior, whom each of them had solemnly sworn to recognize as equal to God, and to obey accordingly. They acquiesced in the decisions of the popes when they conformed with their own opinions and purposes; when they did not, they employed all their combined ingenuity and cunning to evade them. Consequently, they disobeyed the vicar, spurned the counsel of the monks, and persisted in continuing their idolatrous practices, under the pretense that they were awaiting the decision of the pope.[118]

The popes were compelled to deal slowly and cautiously with such questions on account of the difficulty of access to such remote countries as India and China, and the unavoidable delays in transmitting intelligence between them and Rome. Precautionary measures were adopted by sending special prelates of the Church, chosen by the pope for that purpose, not only with directions to investigate and report the facts, but with authority to establish temporary regulations which should become operative while waiting the pope's approval, and final when that was given. One of these prelates was a Spanish Dominican, named Morales, who was sent to China in 1633 by Pope Urban VIII. This was twelve years after the matter had been submitted to Paul V, and was rendered necessary by the fact that it had remained undecided during the pontificate of Gregory XV. When Morales reached China, he entered upon the necessary examination with sufficient care to become convinced of the unchristian conduct of the Jesuits, and, accordingly, condemned their ceremonies as idolatrous. This incensed the Chinese authorities—who are supposed to have been influenced to this by the Jesuits—and "the Dominicans and the Franciscans were driven from the country," leaving the Jesuits alone to follow their idolatrous practices without the interference of the monks or of Morales, who, being a Dominican, was included among those expelled. Morales had then spent twelve years in China, and all that time was laboring with the Jesuits to induce them to give up their participation in the worship of Confucius; but his efforts were wholly unavailing. They had brought themselves into favor at the court of the Chinese emperor, and were unwilling to surrender the advantages thus obtained, preferring them to the service of the Church. There was, therefore, no other course left to Morales, after his expulsion from China, but to proceed to Rome and report to the pope, who was then Innocent X. This he did in 1645, when he fully laid before the pope what he had observed in China, making known, of course, the fact that he had been banished on account of his fidelity to the trust assigned him. It was impossible for the pope to abandon the matter at this point, and he accordingly submitted to the Congregation of the Propaganda, to be decided for his information and guidance, these two questions: "Is it permissible to prostrate one's self before the idol Chachinchiam? Is it permissible to sacrifice to Keumfucum; that is, Confucius?" By these questions the Jesuit methods of procedure in China were brought directly before this established tribunal of the Church at Rome, so that the decision of them by the pope was unavoidable. What that decision was, is shown by the following statement made under the immediate auspices of Archbishop Hughes, of New York, in the "Lives and Times of Roman Pontiffs," by De Montor: "On the reply of the Congregation, the pope issued a decree forbidding missionaries of any order or institute to do either of those things, until the Holy See gave a contrary order."[119] Thus, whatsoever other popes may have done or omitted to do, Innocent X solemnly decreed that the Jesuit practices were wrong and would be no longer tolerated by the Church. He had not then learned—what became perfectly apparent to many of his successors—that the Jesuits were as familiar with the various methods of brushing papal decrees out of their way as they were with the frauds and hypocrisies by which they duped and misled the heathen at the expense of the Christian cause.

There seems to have been some unnecessary delay, and possibly some undue prevarication, in the manner in which the popes disposed of these troublesome matters. De Montor represents that several of the popes who succeeded Innocent X permitted the Jesuits to continue their idolatrous ceremonies; to wit, Alexander VII, Clement IX, Clement X, Innocent XI, Alexander VIII, and Innocent XII. This general statement, however, is misleading, and calculated to do injustice to these popes, unless taken in connection with the fact that none of them went further than to say that the Jesuits might unite with the Chinese in their civil ceremonies, when they were, in no sense, religious. None of them undertook to decide whether the sacrifice to Confucius did or did not involve religious worship; for that was the question directly submitted to them, and with regard to which the utmost pains were taken to procure accurate and reliable evidence. But it is undoubtedly true that the Jesuits misconstrued what had been done by these six popes, and perverted their meaning to suit themselves, by continuing their idolatrous practices with increased impunity. And they did this to such an extent, and so openly, that in 1693, Maigrot, Apostolic Vicar, Doctor of the Sorbonne, and Bishop of Conon, was constrained, as the representative of the Church, to forbid the idolatrous ceremonies of the Jesuits by a special prohibitory decree. The date of this decree is important, inasmuch as it shows how many years it took and how hard it was to bring the Jesuits into subordination to the Church; in other words, how little they cared for the Church, or the popes, or vicars apostolic, or the ancient monkish orders, when either of them alone, or all combined, ventured to place the least impediment in their path. The question with regard to the idolatrous practices of Nobili arose first in 1618, and was submitted to Paul V in 1621. Hence, up to the time of his official decree of condemnation by Maigrot, as vicar apostolic, seventy-two years—nearly three-quarters of a century—had elapsed, during all which time the Jesuits had enjoyed an uninterrupted triumph over the Church, the popes, and Christianity.

This condition of things made it absolutely necessary that the severe and protracted strain upon the authority of the Church should, in some way, be brought to an end, and that the stigma the Jesuits had inflicted upon Christianity should be removed. Consequently, Pope Clement XI—after eight more years of delay—appointed a new vicar apostolic and legate in the person of the distinguished Cardinal De Tournon, in order to insure a complete and thorough investigation of the conduct of the Jesuits in India and China. He was empowered to represent fully the authority of the Church and to act in the place of the pope. De Tournon entered upon his mission with zeal, and having, after investigation, found all the accusations against the Jesuits completely verified, issued a decree, in June, 1704, whereby he condemned in the strongest and most explicit terms the Chinese and Malabar rites practiced by the Jesuits. This decree is given by Nicolini, and a perusal of it will show the degraded state into which the Jesuits had brought the professedly Christian worship—even to the adoption of the superstitious and immoral customs of the idolaters.[120] Up till this time the Jesuits had enjoyed nearly a hundred years of impunity, and as the Church had been unable, during this long period, to impose upon them any restraint they had not contrived the means to defy, their idolatrous worship and demoralizing doctrines could no longer be tolerated without incalculable harm. Therefore, the severe measures adopted by De Tournon, by the express authority of Clement XI, were fully justified.

The Jesuits again evidenced their perverse and stubborn nature by impudently appealing from the decree the pope had authorized De Tournon to make in his name, to the pope himself, manifestly hoping either to bring him over to their side, or to procrastinate his final decision indefinitely. They repeated their favorite argument, that Christianity could not be propagated in India and China without making the worship of idols part of its religious ceremonies. They also impeached the character of the evidence upon which De Tournon had relied, by insisting that it was obtained from those who did not understand the people of India or China, or their languages. In all this they persisted in assuming that, in order to convert a heathen people, Christianity must be first converted into heathenism, that it may furnish a starting-point for obtaining ultimate dominion over them. This meant that heathens must be converted to Christianity by the Jesuits alone, inasmuch as none others besides them had endeavored to engraft upon Christian faith and worship any idolatrous ceremonies, or the duty and necessity of falsehood and hypocrisy, as means to an end. But the pope was not misled by this demoralizing subterfuge, and, after hearing them fully and giving all proper consideration to what they said, he brushed it all aside by giving his express and unreserved approval to the decree published by De Tournon as his legate. De Montor admits this; but there is abundant evidence of it apart from this admission. In his life of Clement XI he says:

"But Clement, having examined the affair in 1710 and 1712, confirmed all the decrees that had been made against the ceremonies, as well as the edicts of Cardinal De Tournon; and on the 19th of March, 1715, by the constitution Ex illa die (found in Vol. X of the Bullarium Romanum), he more vigorously condemned those rites; and he established the form of the oath which thenceforth was to be taken by every missionary in the Indies, promising that observance in their own names, and in the names of their order."[121]

No language could be plainer or more emphatic than that here employed by the pope. It was not uttered in a mere brief, which the Jesuits insist may be changed to answer any subsequent emergency, but in a formal pontifical bull, issued ex cathedra, and which, if the popes were all infallible, must be accepted as of divine authority. But whether called by one or the other of these names, it was the solemn official act of a pope—the head of the Church—and as such, according to the teachings of the Church, was final and binding upon all who professed fidelity to it. And it would have been so regarded by any of the ancient monastic orders, and by all who had respect for the authority of the Church. But the Jesuits did not represent either of these classes; and as the power of the pope was not sufficient to change their course, or unsettle them in their purposes, they continued to persevere in their disobedience, with an utter disregard of consequences. They went to the extent of persuading the Emperor of China to order the arrest of De Tournon, which was done by the Bishop of Macao—who was one of their tools—who caused him to be loaded with chains, and thrown into prison, where, from "ill treatment," he died.[122]

These incidents, so unfavorable to the peace of the Church, threw the questions into abeyance again during the succeeding pontificate of Innocent XIII, after which it assumed such magnitude and importance that Benedict XIII was compelled to deal with it both energetically and sternly. This he did by further confirming the decree of Cardinal De Tournon, and the bull of Clement XI, reasserting the unchristian practices and conduct of the Jesuits. But even this did not overcome their obduracy; and the next pope, Clement XII, was compelled to issue still another bull, confirming those of Benedict XIII and Clement XI.[123] The world has never furnished another instance of such flagrant and persistent disobedience as this. Even another pope, Benedict XIV, found it absolutely necessary to issue two additional bulls of censure and condemnation against the Jesuits, in both of which the decree of De Tournon was approved by words of express reaffirmance. He intended and expected to settle the matter finally, and terminate the long-continued disregard of the Church authority by the Jesuits. Nevertheless, like his predecessors for many years, he was compelled to realize that he was dealing with an adversary whose ambition was insatiable, and whose capacity for intrigue was without limitation and as untiring as the wind. De Montor tells the result, but omits any comment upon the triumph of the Jesuits over all the popes who passed censure upon them and sought to impose restraints upon their conduct. He speaks of the "discord between the other missionaries and the Jesuits, the former reproaching the latter with not fully and frankly observing the bull," and makes the discomfiture of the popes palpable by adding, "These disputes lasted till the dissolution of the society."[124] This is equivalent to saying that the only way to bring them into obedience to the Church was to dissolve them. We shall hereafter see, however, that they did not even obey the act of dissolution.

As the society was originally established by Paul III in 1540, and was abolished by Clement XIV in 1773, it thus appears that considerably more than one-half the period of its existence had been spent in open and flagrant resistance to the authority of the popes and the Church—a pregnant fact, which no sophistry can palliate or explain. But as our inquiries proceed, there will be other years of resistance to add to these, along with such combinations of circumstances as show how the society became odious to the Christian world, and how rightfully it was dissolved.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER XIII.

PAPAL SUPPRESSION OF THE SOCIETY.

When Clement XIII became pope, in 1758, events which had grown out of the conduct of the Jesuits were hurrying forward so rapidly that even he, with all the existing pontifical power in his hands, was unable to arrest them, although, as the patron of the society, he endeavored to do so. There was no longer any ground for compromise. Their persistent disobedience of royal authority and interference with political affairs had made it necessary for the Governments to decide whether they should further submit to them or vindicate their own authority by whatsoever steps were required. In Portugal the culminating point was reached by an attempt to assassinate the king. The actual perpetrators were arrested, tried, and executed; but in the course of the investigation it was developed, to the satisfaction of the public authorities, that the deed had been incited by the Jesuits, who had impressed ignorant and fanatical minds with the idea that no wrong was committed by killing a heretical king; that is, one who did not submit to their dictation. An effort was made to place three Jesuit fathers upon trial, so that, if found guilty, they might also be properly punished. But these fathers were bold enough to defy the Government by insisting that, as priests, they were not amenable to the civil laws of the State, even for felonious acts, but could only be tried by an ecclesiastic tribunal under the jurisdiction of the pope. The king and Pombal could easily see that this defiance of Government authority over the temporal affairs of the kingdom could not be submitted to without bringing the State into disgrace and endangering its existence. Hence, as a measure absolutely essential to the life of the nation, the king "issued a decree of banishment against the Jesuits as traitors, rebels, enemies to, and aggressors on, his person, his States, and the public peace and the general good of the people."[125] The Jesuits were then seized, transported to the States of the Church under the jurisdiction of Clement XIII, and the three accused fathers were placed in prison to await his action. The pope defended the Jesuits, and threatened the King of Portugal with his vengeance if he did not revoke his decree against them. But the king could not submit to interference with the temporal affairs of his kingdom even by the pope, who, by his approval of the Jesuits, had shown himself willing to see the Governments humiliated by them. He, accordingly, withdrew the Portuguese ambassador from the court of Rome, and proceeded against the three Jesuits, who had remained in prison under suspicion of having planned the attack upon his life. The chief one of these was turned over to the Dominicans—"the natural enemies of the Jesuits"—by whom he was burned alive, and the other two were condemned to imprisonment for life.[126]

The people of Europe became greatly agitated at finding in their midst so formidable an enemy to the public peace and quiet as the Jesuits. This agitation was increased by the trial of the society for the debt of Lavalette before the Parliament of Paris, which resulted, as already stated, in bringing to the light the odious principles of the Jesuit constitution, the exposure of which is represented as having produced "alarm and consternation among all classes of society." In France the Jesuits made an effort to arrest the public indignation by procuring a decree from "fifty bishops," who, under the auspices of the nuncio of Clement XIII, certified that the principles of the constitution were harmless. But this adroit movement failed to produce the desired effect. The Parliament, under the lead of Choiseul, the prime minister of Louis XV, refused to permit an edict to that effect to be registered. Whereupon, the investigation into the constitution and statutes of the society was continued for some months, and resulted in the enactment of a Parliamentary decree which shows the odium then attached to the society in France. It denounced their doctrines and practices "as perverse, destructive of every principle of religion, and even of probity; as injurious to Christian morality, pernicious to civil society, seditious, dangerous to the rights of the nation, the nature of the royal power, and the safety of the persons of sovereigns; as fit to excite the greatest troubles in States, to form and maintain the most profound corruption in the hearts of men." It would be impossible to find language more expressive; and when it is considered that it was uttered by a Parliamentary body composed only of those who maintained the faith of the Church of Rome, it may readily be supposed that the most imminent necessity called it forth. And it will excite no surprise that the same decree proceeded to provide "that the institutions of the Jesuits should forever cease to exist throughout the whole extent of the kingdom," and that it also prohibited them from teaching in the schools, from longer recognizing the authority of their general, and from wearing a religious dress.[127]

Clement XIII, feeling himself powerful enough to resist this decree, endeavored, as the friend of the Jesuits, to break its force by issuing a counter decree of his own. At this point it is worthy of remark that the Parliamentary decree had reference to temporal affairs, and did not, in any way, interfere with the religious faith of the Church, which the French Christians continued to maintain according to their traditions and teachings. The decree of Clement XIII, therefore, was the assertion upon his part of the pontifical right to dictate the temporal policy of France. He explicitly asserted this by affixing his papal "curse" upon all who obeyed the decree of the Parliament, and by declaring it to be "null, inefficacious, invalid, and entirely destitute of all lawful effect," and by releasing all who had sworn to observe it from the obligation of their oaths.[128] In the face of this pontifical mandate, however, the decree of Parliament was executed, and four thousand Jesuits were driven out of Paris. Clement XIII was incensed at this, and issued a formal bull in praise of the Jesuits and in denunciation of their opposers. The Parliament suppressed this bull, and refused to permit it to be printed in France. The Parliament of Aix went even further, by having it "torn up by the executioner and publicly burned," and by inviting Louis XV "to avenge himself on the court of Rome and the pope."[129] The King of France, however, was weak enough to suffer himself to be prevailed upon to allow a Synod of the clergy to be convened, under pretense of putting an end to "the disputes between the civil and religious powers," as if such a thing were then possible without submission to Jesuit dictation, backed as the society was by an irritable and impracticable pope, who had vainly supposed himself powerful enough to check the tide of indignation then beating upon the Jesuits. Impressed by the opinions and policy of Clement XIII, this Synod adopted a course favorable to the Jesuits by endeavoring to change the issue, so as to conceal the real question. With the view of making it appear that the Church itself, and even Christianity, was in danger, they fulminated anathemas against the works of the French philosophers—of Bayle, of Helvetius, of Rousseau, of Voltaire, and of the Encyclopædists—thereby furnishing arguments which have ever since done Jesuit service by misleading the unwary into the belief that Christianity and Jesuitism are of synonymous meaning, and that the destruction of the latter would be the death of the former. They, moreover, tried to favor the Jesuits by declaring "that the Church alone had the right to teach and instruct children; that it alone could judge in matters of doctrine, and fix the degree of submission which was due to them," and that "the civil authority could in no way go against the Canon law."[130] This assumption of ecclesiastical authority was intended to strengthen the papacy, and was accepted by the Jesuits as favorable to them, because the pope at that time was their friend. But the Parliament of Paris could not fail to see that, if recognized, it would place the papacy above the State, and France at the mercy of the Jesuits, at least during the pontificate of Clement XIII. It therefore declared it to be "derogatory to the authority of the Government," and prohibited the people from obeying it. In consequence of this Parliamentary opposition, the prelates who had shaped the course of the Synod were driven to the necessity of seeking the aid of Louis XV, so as to avenge themselves upon the enemies of the Jesuits by means of royal power. The king, who was then "reeking from his debaucheries"—for which he found shelter in the acquiescence of the Jesuits—succeeded in obtaining an edict which annulled the decree of Parliament. Encouraged by this success, the Jesuits demanded their restoration to authority, supposing that, with the king and the pope both upon their side, they would then be able to triumph over all opposition. But their Parliamentary antagonists were not overcome so easily, and rallied sufficiently to obtain another decree against them, not less condemnatory than that which had been temporarily suspended. Meanwhile, hostility to the Jesuits was rapidly increasing throughout Europe, which incensed them the more, inasmuch as they would not abate their extreme demands, and could compromise nothing without an acknowledgment of their wrong—which they were never known to make. Spain then followed the example of Portugal, and the king, Charles III, expelled them from his dominions. Thus, at the time referred to, they were expelled from the territories of the three great Roman Catholic States—Portugal, Spain, and France. The King of the Two Sicilies, and Ferdinand, Duke of Parma and Placencia, also expelled them from their dominions. By common consent among these powers, the Jesuits were sent to Italy, where the pope, in return for their devotion to him, was expected to provide for their wants and to see that proper protection was afforded them. Clement XIII had resisted all these strong powers in order to defend them, and this measure was adopted in preference to an open breach with the pope, so that he might be made to realize the extent of the indignation against them. In the strong language of Cormenin—a Roman Catholic, but intensely hostile to the Jesuits—"the soil of Italy was polluted by this unclean slime which the nations had rejected, and which they had sent back to Rome, the fountain of all corruption."[131]

Clement XIII became indignant when he found himself unable to counteract the general prejudice existing against the Jesuits, and, with strange infatuation, allowed his passions to obtain complete mastery over him. He fulminated anathemas against the Kings of Portugal, Spain, France, the Two Sicilies, and the Duke of Parma and Placencia, and threatened them with excommunication if they did not cease their opposition to the Jesuits. He even went so far as to send papal troops against the Duke of Parma to bring him to obedience by military coercion. But the other powers were not alarmed by the sound of the pontifical thunder, and the Kings of France, Spain, Portugal, and Naples promptly pronounced against the pope, and prepared to punish him for marching an army against the Duke of Parma, whose policy towards the Jesuits was the same as their own. Even Louis XV was induced by Choiseul, his minister, to unite upon this point with the other kings. Thereupon, the King of the Two Sicilies invaded the papal province of Beneventum with an army, intending thereby to teach the pope that he was transcending his legitimate powers as head of the Church. The bull of the pope was torn up at the courts of Portugal, Spain, and Parma, and by the Parliament of Paris. The excitement became general, and Clement XIII was awakened from his apparent sense of security by the mutterings of the storm gathering upon all sides of him. He was brought to realize, possibly for the first time, that even he, with all the powers of the Church in his hands, was unable to drive back the waves then dashing against the papacy, and threatening to ingulf it. In this emergency he sought aid from Maria Theresa, the Empress of Austria, with the hope that, with the assistance of so strong a power, he could make successful resistance to those combined against the Jesuits. But the empress, having cause to complain of the treachery of the Jesuits to her, declined to comply with this request, and went a step farther by annulling one of the important papal bulls which had been published in her dominions. The clouds, already lowering over the head of Clement XIII, then thickened more rapidly than ever, and the struggling pope, finding himself everywhere deserted by the strong powers—all of which had hitherto been united in favor of the Church—became so humbled in his pride as to declare that "he was ready to make concessions;" that is, to do something—anything—to arrest the declining fortunes of the papacy. Thus humiliated, "he implored the clemency of the sovereigns," begging them, as we may suppose, to relax their grasp upon him on account of their veneration for the Church. But it was too late. The impracticable demands of the Jesuits had brought on such an issue between the spiritual and the temporal powers as to leave no ground for concessions on the part of the sovereigns, so long as they were persisted in. They were bound to maintain their own temporal powers within their dominions, or else allow the Jesuits to rule over them according to their pleasure. To this they could not submit without absolute degradation. Howsoever strange it may now appear that the pope did not see this sooner, it should be regarded as creditable to him that, when he did see it, he bowed his head humbly before the pelting storm, and yielded to a necessity he could not avoid. Due credit should not be withheld from the man who does right, even at the last extremity, especially when, as in this case, after Clement XIII decided to change his course, he went to the extent of promising the sovereigns that "he would pronounce the abolition of the society in a public consistory," and leave the Jesuits to suffer the consequences of their own folly. Having made up his mind to this, a day was appointed for the performance of the solemn act of signing the death-warrant of the Jesuits. But this postponement led to a result which had not been dreamed of—one that furnished new evidence of the capacity of the Jesuits for intrigue. During the night preceding the day appointed for the public ceremony of announcing the abolition of the Jesuits, Clement XIII was suddenly seized with convulsions, and died, leaving the act unperformed, and the Jesuits victorious. Cormenin, writing in France, where the Jesuits are better known and understood than here, records this event in these terse and expressive words: "The Jesuits had poisoned him."[132]

The Jesuits do not, of course, agree to this account of the manner and circumstances of the pope's death. They admit that it was sudden, and that it occurred at the time named; but attribute it to the intense sufferings he endured in consequence of his sympathy for them on account of their persecution, and his inability to extend further assistance to them. De Montor says he died from a sudden fit of coughing, brought on by a pulmonary disease.[133] The Jesuits admit, however, that the Spanish and French ambassadors had presented to him memorials from their respective Governments asking for the abolition of the society, and insist that he shed tears in consequence, and expired a few days afterwards.[134] But the manner of his death is of no special consequence now, since it is more important for us to know that, at the time of it, he left undecided the matters with reference to the general conduct of the Jesuits which his predecessor had directed to be investigated. His defense of the Jesuits had manifestly been the result of previous and general convictions, and not his deliberate judgment upon the actual condition of affairs with which they were connected either in India, China, Paraguay, or in European States beyond the limits of Italy. The facts had not been sufficiently developed for final pontifical action, and therefore he acted upon impressions rather than evidence. We shall soon see that when the evidence was afterwards fully obtained, the result reached by his successor was not only fully justified, but inevitable and unavoidable.

It required three months to elect a successor to Clement XIII. The cardinals were divided into two parties—one supporting the Jesuits, and the other the Governments of France, Spain, and Portugal, united in opposition to them. The former desired to subject all civil Governments to Jesuit dominion; the latter insisted that the Church and the State should each remain free and independent of the other in its own domain. After innumerable intrigues—such as are familiar to those who manipulate party conventions—the latter party triumphed by the election of Ganganelli, a Franciscan, who took the name of Clement XIV, and entered upon the pontificate in 1769. He was greatly esteemed for his virtues, and possessed a conspicuously noble character and a mind well and thoroughly disciplined. That he was a man of profound ability is abundantly shown by his letters, which have been preserved and published, and which contain many passages of exceeding eloquence and beauty.[135] He was far better prepared, therefore, to form intelligent and impartial conclusions upon the evidence concerning the Jesuits than Clement XIII, because, apart from his qualifications, he was not under the dominion of undue prejudices.

The sovereigns demanded of Clement XIV that the expulsion of the Jesuits from their territories should be approved, and the society entirely suppressed and abolished. Upon the other hand, the Jesuits insisted, with their accustomed superciliousness, that it was necessary to the Church and the cause of Christianity that they should be restored to public favor by his pontifical indorsement. This issue confronted him at the beginning. At first he somewhat excited the hopes of the Jesuits by the course he took against the French philosophers, and the bulls of excommunication he issued against Diderot, d'Alembert, Voltaire, Helvetius, Rousseau, Marmontel, and Holbach. This stimulated them afresh, and by their machinations created a party in France, headed by Louis XV, which demanded their return to that country. But the pope was not driven from the plain line of his duty, which required of him that the investigation already entered upon should be completed, and that the questions involved should be decided according to right and justice. This was due to the sovereigns, to the public, and especially to the Church. Cormenin says he was suspicious of being dealt with like his predecessor, and that he took the necessary precautions to guard against it, by substituting a faithful monk for the cook of the Quirinal, so as to guard against the possibility of poison. Howsoever this may have been, he persevered in his course with the courage of a man who fears no evil when in the faithful discharge of duty. Resolved, however, not to act with undue haste, but to have all the matters brought fully before him, together with the evidence bearing upon them, he continued the investigation for the period of four years, so that when his final decision was made the world should be convinced that it was the result of calm deliberation and honest conviction. He says of himself that he "omitted no care, no pains, in order to arrive at a thorough knowledge of the origin, the progress, and the actual state of that regular order commonly called the Company of Jesus;" and Ranke, the great historian, says he "applied himself with the utmost attention to the affairs of the Jesuits;" and adds that "a commission of cardinals was formed, the arguments of both sides were deliberately considered," before his conclusion was announced.[136] No greater deliberation and no more serious reflection could have been bestowed upon any question. The evidence was carefully inspected and everything duly considered. The scales were held at equipoise until the preponderance of proof caused the beam to turn against the Jesuits, when he was constrained by a sense of duty to the Church, to Christianity, to the public, and to his own conscience, to announce the result which gave peace and quiet to the nations and joy to the great body of Christians throughout Europe. This he did July 21, 1773, by issuing his celebrated bull, "Dominus ac Redemptor"—called by the Jesuits a brief—whereby he decreed "that the name of the company shall be, and is, forever extinguished and suppressed;" that "no one of them do carry their audacity so far as to impugn, combat, or even write or speak about the said suppression, or the reasons and motives of it;" and that the said bull of suppression and abolition shall "forever and to all eternity be valid, permanent, and efficacious."[137]

It is well to observe, before further comment upon this important papal decree, that it had the effect to increase the apprehensions with regard to the personal safety of the pope. The manner in which Clement XIII had met his death on account of the mere promise to suppress the Jesuits, was well calculated to excite the fear that the same fate might befall Clement XIV, in revenge for their actual abolition. Hence, all the avenues of approach to the pope were carefully watched, and the utmost precautions employed to guard against the possibility of poison. These were successful for about eight months, when a peasant woman was persuaded, by means of a disguise, to procure entrance into the Vatican, and offer to the pope a fig in which poison was concealed. Clement XIV was exceedingly fond of this fruit, and ate it without hesitation. The same day the first symptoms of severe illness were observed, and to these rapidly succeeded violent inflammation of the bowels. He soon became convinced that he was poisoned, and remarked: "Alas! I knew they would poison me; but I did not expect to die in so slow and cruel a manner." His terrible sufferings continued for several months, when he died, "the poor victim," says Cormenin, "of the execrable Jesuits."[138]

So much has been written about the manner of this pope's death, that if it all were repeated, some would still continue to doubt about it. The Jesuits treat the foregoing account as a malicious libel, denouncing it with their usual virulence. There is this, however, to say of it, that it has some strong affirmative proof in the fact that a post-mortem examination of his body revealed the presence of poison, as was reported to his Government by the Spanish ambassador then at Rome. There are probable grounds, certainly, for believing that he was poisoned by the Jesuits, and that it was the result of their doctrine that it was not criminal, but rather the proper service of God, to assassinate their enemies. At all events, that opinion generally prevailed, and had much to do in creating the sentiment of satisfaction at the abolition of the society. This satisfaction extended throughout all the Roman Catholic countries. There was no complaint against it except among the Jesuits themselves, because, as it was the solemn act of the pope, and consequently of the Church, even those who may not have desired it were disposed to acquiesce. It pacified the minds of the great body of Christians, because they could see that a serious and exciting cause of disturbance had been removed. And an examination of the reasons assigned by the pope will not only demonstrate this, but also that it could not have been avoided without imperiling the Church itself as well as the cause of Christianity.

We have seen how cautious Clement XIV was to examine the whole matter thoroughly, and that for this purpose he continued the investigation for four years, in addition to what had been previously done—hearing everything that could be said upon both sides, and carefully weighing all the evidence. He even went so far as to appoint a commission of five cardinals and several prelates and advocates to assist him in the examination,[139] all of which he would have omitted if he had been disposed to prejudice the cause of the Jesuits or to inflict unmerited injury upon them. In so far, therefore, as his desire and intention were involved, there is not the least ground for supposing that he omitted anything essential to the discovery of the truth, or that he did not honestly desire to discover it. The Jesuit attacks upon him exhibit bad temper, but furnish no arguments. They are too vindictive to be courteous, and exhibit too much anger to be truthful. It is, therefore, only left for us of the present day to understand the reasons assigned by Clement XIV to justify his action, in order to decide intelligently between him and the Jesuits. In his statement of facts he is entitled to be regarded as veracious, not only because of his pure Christian character, but because he is fully supported by the most reliable secular history. A brief review of them will enable the reader to place a proper estimate upon the character of the Jesuits, which, from the nature of their organization, is incapable of change.

After a preliminary statement of his powers and responsibilities, he declares the Jesuits to have been accused of things "very detrimental to the peace and tranquillity of the Christian Republic," and proceeds to enumerate the Christian sovereigns who have, from time to time, complained of them, and asserts that Pope Sixtus V had found charges against them "just and well founded." Referring to the favor shown them by Gregory XIV, he says that, notwithstanding this, "the accusations against the society were multiplied without number, and especially with their insatiable avidity of temporal possessions." He enumerates eleven popes, including Benedict XIV, who had "employed, without effect, all their efforts" to provide remedies against the evils they had engendered. He accuses them with opposition to "other religious orders;" with "the great loss of souls, and great scandal of the people;" with the practice of "certain idolatrous ceremonies;" with the use of maxims which the Church had "proscribed as scandalous and manifestly contrary to good morals;" with "revolts and intestine troubles in some of the Catholic States;" and with "persecutions against the Church" in both Europe and Asia. He refers to the fact that Innocent XI had been compelled to restrain the society by "forbidding the company to receive any more novices;" that Innocent XIII was obliged to threaten "the same punishment;" and that Benedict XIV had ordered a general visitation and investigation of all their houses in the Portuguese dominions. Alluding to the decree of Clement XIII in their favor, he says it "was rather extorted than granted"—that is, that it was obtained by undue means and influences—and that it "was far from bringing any comfort to the Holy See, or any advantage to the Christian Republic;" but had made the times "more difficult and tempestuous," so that "complaints and quarrels were multiplied on every side. In some places dangerous seditions arose—tumults, discords, dissensions, scandals, which, weakening or entirely breaking the bonds of Christian charity, excited the faithful to all the rage of party hatred and enmities." Then follows the assertion that the Kings of France, Spain, Portugal, and Sicily had "found themselves reduced to the necessity of expelling and driving from their States, kingdoms, and provinces, these very Companions of Jesus," because "there remained no other remedy to so great evils;" and that "this step was necessary in order to prevent the Christians from rising one against the other, and for massacring each other in the very bosom of our common mother, the holy Church." For these and many other reasons, and because the Christian world could not be otherwise reconciled, it was urged upon him, he said, that the Jesuits should be "absolutely abolished and suppressed."

He then proceeded to declare that he had examined attentively and weighed carefully all the matters touching the conduct of the Jesuits; that he had invoked "the presence and inspiration of the Holy Spirit;" that, under the responsibilities of his high station, he had been compelled to reach the conclusion that they could "no longer produce those abundant fruits and those great advantages" which had been promised when the society was instituted; but that, "on the contrary, it was very difficult, not to say impossible, that the Church could recover a firm and durable peace so long as the said society subsisted." Wherefore, for these controlling reasons, he announced that "after a mature deliberation, we do, out of our certain knowledge and the fullness of our apostolic power, suppress and abolish the said company." And to make his decree final, complete, and absolute, so that thereafter it should not be misunderstood, he thus pronounced his pontifical judgment:

"We deprive it of all activity whatever, of its houses, schools, colleges, hospitals, lands, and, in short, every other place whatsoever, in whatever kingdom or province they may be situated. We abrogate and annul its statutes, rules, customs, decrees, and constitutions, even though confirmed by oath, and approved by the Holy See or otherwise. In like manner we annul all and every its privileges, indults, general or particular, the tenor whereof is, and is taken to be, as fully and as amply expressed in the present Brief as if the same were inserted word for word, in whatever clauses, form, or decree, or under whatever sanction their privileges may have been conceived. We declare all, and all kind of authority, the general, the provincials, the visitors, and other superiors of the said society, to be forever annulled and extinguished, of what nature soever the said society may be, as well in things spiritual as temporal." He denies them any right to teach in colleges or schools—prohibits them from calling in question his act of suppression and abolition, and, after varying his language in every way necessary to show the inviolability of his decree, he makes this declaration: "Our will and pleasure is, that these our letters should forever and to all eternity be valid, permanent, and efficacious, have and obtain their full force and effect, and be inviolably observed by all and every whom they do or may concern, now or hereafter, in any manner whatsoever." This solemn decree was then executed by the pope "under the seal of the Fisherman"—the highest emblem of Church authority.[140]

These extracts from the celebrated decree are necessary to convey to the mind of the reader a correct idea of its character and scope. A mere statement of the fact of its issuance is insufficient for that purpose. That it was the solemn and deliberate act of Clement XIV is not denied by anybody. The Jesuits assail its author, and by that means seek to invalidate it. They boastingly assert that it was unduly obtained, contrary to the Christian sentiment of that period. Every view suggested by them is an impeachment of the integrity of the pope, upon whom they have bestowed innumerable severe and hostile censures. Those who now examine the document and the circumstances which led to it, together with the Jesuit comments upon it, and are influenced only by the desire to judge it accurately, can not withhold their surprise at the many false and mendacious representations made by them with regard to it. One of their most influential authors—seemingly insensible to the idea that even an adversary should be treated fairly—represents Clement XIV as "conscientiously opposed to the suppression of the Jesuits,"[141] in the very face of the fact, conceded by him, that he did issue this decree in his official capacity as pope. This is an unequivocal charge that he violated his own conscience, and acted faithlessly to the Church and dishonorably as a man, by yielding to influences condemned by his judgment, and which he was too cowardly to resist. In ordinary intercourse such an accusation is highly offensive, and there is nothing to make it otherwise when made by a Jesuit against a pope—especially when he professes to believe that the latter was infallible. This same author does not scruple to charge that the Spanish ambassador "bribed the household of the sovereign pontiff, and undertook to overpower the pope by his indomitable persistence"[142]—as if the pope were surrounded by corrupt hirelings who were able to influence his decision, and could be overpowered upon so great and serious a question by the importunities and threats of others. And, continuing his comments in the same spirit, he asserts, upon the alleged authority of Cardinal Pacca, that after Clement XIV signed the Act of Suppression, "he dashed the document to one side, cast the pen to another, and from that moment was demented. This signature had cost the unhappy pontiff his reason! From that day he possessed it only at intervals, and then only to deplore his misfortunes."[143]

Statements of this character pertain to a low order of partisanship, and are discreditable to their authors. No facts whatsoever have ever been given, or can be, upon which to base them. Clement XIV lived until September 22, 1774, fourteen months after his decree abolishing the Jesuits. The French ambassador, Bernis, in a letter written at Rome, November 3, 1773, three months and twelve days after the decree, said: "His health is perfect, and his gayety more remarkable than usual."[144] Nicolini says "all the authors are unanimous upon this point," and quotes the historian Botta to the same effect. He retained this condition of health for eight months, when his sudden sickness gave rise, as already stated, to the belief that he had been poisoned by the Jesuits. Certainly if he had experienced any such remorse as the Jesuits allege, it would have been exhibited before that time. After his illness his faculties may have become somewhat impaired, but this was the natural result of intense physical suffering. The Jesuits represent him, when in the agony of pain, as having exclaimed, "I have been compelled," which they interpret to mean that he was unduly influenced by the sovereigns. They fail in this to exhibit their usual shrewdness by deriving an argument from an expression used by him when in what they say was a demented condition. If he did speak the words alleged, it is far more probable, as Nicolini suggests, that he intended to express regret that the iniquities of the Jesuits had been so enormous and so clearly established that he was compelled to suppress and abolish their society, because of the injury they had already inflicted, and would be likely to inflict in the future, upon the Church and Christianity. It should also be remarked in this connection that neither Cormenin nor De Montor, in their separate histories of the pontificate of Clement XIV, says anything about his having been demented, or about his remorse. That accusation is the fruit of Jesuit revenge.

But we have now less to do with the motives of the pope in abolishing the society, and with the circumstances immediately attending the act, than with the act itself and its consequences. As pope, Clement XIV had the undoubted power to make and promulgate the decree. When this was done, it was accepted with satisfaction, not alone by the sovereigns who had made themselves accusers of the Jesuits, but by the great body of the European Christians. Among the latter the belief almost universally prevailed that he had thereby conferred a benefit upon the Church and the Christian world by removing a serious and disturbing evil. In the course of history no important public act has been more generally approved. This would have been the case even if but part of what is alleged in their terrible arraignment by the pope had been true. But there is every reason for believing that all the charges were fully verified by proof, and that the Christian people accepted that fact as complete justification for the abolition and absolute suppression of the society.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER XIV.

RE-ESTABLISHMENT.

If it be conceded, as the Jesuits insist, that Clement XIV was prompted by unworthy and impure motives to abolish their society, and that, in consequence, he afterwards became demented from remorse, nevertheless the decree of abolition was an official act not subject to review or reversal by any authority known to the Church. No appeal from it was authorized by any existing law or Church regulation. He exercised a power which had been always understood to belong to the popes—of the same nature and import precisely as that exercised by Paul III when he established the society. No matter whether it be called a bull, a brief, or by some other name, it was undoubtedly an official decree, pronounced by the head of the Church, acting within his proper, well-established, and recognized pontifical jurisdiction. Consequently, its nature can not be changed, nor can its scope and effect be limited, by any view that can be taken of his motives, any more than can the decree of a competent judicial tribunal be impaired in its force and effect by the motives or inclinations of the judge who pronounces it. There can, therefore, be no escape from either of these propositions: First, that the decree, having been issued in conformity with the law and custom of the Church, was valid; and, second, that after its issuance, the Jesuit society could no longer exist as a religious order, under the Canon law of the Church.

It is not necessary to inquire whether or no this decree was binding upon subsequent popes; that has been of no practical importance since the new decree of Pius VII re-establishing the order, after it had been forty-one years abolished. Until the time of that new decree, the Church and all its members were bound, under its existing laws and discipline, to recognize the abolition of the society as legitimate and proper. In point of fact this was the case, the only exceptions being the Jesuits themselves, and such as they could influence. Pius VI, the immediate successor of Clement XIV, although he discharged from prison some of the Jesuits who had been arrested and confined, suffered the decree of Clement XIV to have full effect during his pontificate, and held on to the confiscated property of the Jesuits for the benefit of the Church. The Christians of Europe were satisfied with this condition of things, and indicated this, not merely by their silent acquiescence, but by acts of positive approval. The Jesuits, however, refused to be reconciled, and exhibited their discontent by such measures of resistance as proved, beyond question, their malevolent hatred of Clement XIV and their contempt for the authority of the Church and the pope, when it was employed to curb their ambition or to impose upon them any form of restraint. Instances of their disobedience to popes have already been cited; but at this particular crisis in their history their desperation became such that they recognized nothing as meritorious, either in the Church or any of the popes, except what tended to restore to them the power they had forfeited by the criminality of their conduct. Their society was abolished pursuant to the law of the Church, and by its highest authority; but they had no respect for either—not a whit more than they had for the papal decrees by which their practice of the heathen rites in India and China was forbidden. They sought after no other end than their own triumph, and to achieve this they plotted with whomsoever would consent to aid them, and threw themselves into the arms and under the protection of the enemies of the Church, with the facility of such deserters as pass from camp to camp to find shelter for themselves. This part of their history presents their leading characteristics in a striking light, and is, perhaps, more instructive than any other, because it shows with conspicuous prominence the little esteem in which they hold the Church and its legitimate authority when in conflict with their own purposes and designs, and how ready they are to curse the popes who oppose them, whatsoever their Christian virtues, and to praise all who favor them, whatsoever their vices.

To give effect to the decree of abolition, the general of the Jesuits was arrested and held in confinement; the members were dispersed among different ecclesiastical establishments in Rome; their buildings were taken possession of; seals were placed upon their papers; and their schools were turned over to the management of others. Proceedings were instituted against Ricci, the general, and other members of the society, and he and the secretary, together with several of the prominent fathers, were sent to the Castle of St. Angelo, and held as State prisoners. The crimes charged against them, and of which they were convicted, were "that they had attempted, both by insinuations and by more open efforts, to stir up a revolt in their own favor against the Apostolic See; that they had published and circulated through all Europe libels against the pope," in one of which Clement XIV was charged with having been elected by simony, and that three of the most prominent Jesuits, "Favre, Forrestier, and Gautier, were loudly repeating everywhere that the pope was the Antichrist."[145]

The society generally, but not unanimously, exhibited this same spirit of resistance to the pope and the authority of the Church. By the decree of abolition the members were allowed to act as secular priests, and exercised sacerdotal functions, subject to the authority of the Church. A few of them availed themselves of this provision, and "settled themselves quietly in different capacities." Others endeavored insidiously to preserve the principles of their constitution and organization, by abandoning the name of Jesuits, and adopting other titles. "But," says Nicolini, "the greater part, the most daring and restless, would not submit to the Brief of Suppression; impugned its validity in a thousand writings; called in question the validity of Clement's election, whom they called Parricide, Sacrilegious, Simoniac, and considered themselves still forming part of the still existing company of Jesus."[146]

Catharine, Empress of Russia, had given some protection to the Jesuits before their suppression, and Ricci, the general, admitted in his examination that he had held correspondence with Frederick of Prussia after the decree. How is it to be accounted for, in any mode consistent with due respect for the Church, that the Jesuits in Russia did not withdraw themselves from the protection of the emperor, and that others sought shelter and protection in Prussia, after the decree of the pope had declared the order to be forever abolished throughout the world? Russia had long before rejected all the overtures of the Roman Church, and established the Greek faith as the religion of the State, with the reigning sovereign as the spiritual head of the national Church. The Church of Rome taught that the Russians were schismatics, and therefore heretics. The Prussians were Lutherans—that is, Protestants—and were, consequently, looked upon at Rome as the deadly enemies of the Church, and were, besides, under the ban of excommunication for heresy. Consequently, an alliance of the Jesuits with either Russia or Prussia, after their suppression, could be looked upon in no other light than as an act of rebellion against the authority of the Church and the pope—a desire to pass from the jurisdiction of the Church of Rome to that of alien authority arrayed against it. It amounted to a desire to exchange their allegiance from what they had considered legitimate authority to that of schismatics and heretics. It is impossible for the Jesuits to escape this view of the attitude they occupied after their abolition. They were simply rebels against the Church.

The Jesuits in Silesia, in Prussia, refused positively to obey the decree of Clement XIV—paying no more regard to it than if it had been issued by the chief of an Arab tribe. They continued to hold on to their convents and houses in the same manner as before their suppression, in doing which they directly defied the pope. They relied upon the Lutheran Frederick for protection, preferring that to obedience to the pope. Frederick willingly gave them this protection, because he was induced to believe that he could employ them for the twofold purpose of strengthening monarchism, to which they were pledged by their constitution, and of supplanting the Roman by the Protestant form of Christianity. The Jesuits flocked, therefore, to Silesia from all quarters, seeking this Protestant protection, which caused Voltaire to remark, in his caustic style, that "it would divert him beyond measure to think of Frederick as the general of the Jesuits, and that he hoped this would inspire the pope with the idea of becoming mufti."[147]

The Kings of France and Spain called the attention of Pius VI—after the death of Clement XIV—to this disobedience of the Jesuits, and urged upon him the necessity of requiring that the decree of Clement XIV should be strictly enforced against them. But the attitude occupied by Pius VI required him to observe extreme caution in administering the affairs of the Church. As he had not been directly allied with either of the factions among the cardinals at the time of his election, he felt constrained to adopt a conservative and moderate course, whereby he might, if possible, restore harmony in the Church. He therefore refrained from identifying himself with the sovereigns who were hostile to the Jesuits, and yet did not openly espouse the Jesuit cause. Whatsoever his personal inclinations may have been, he could not, as pope, venture to impugn the motives of his predecessor, or assail the fairness and integrity of the decree abolishing the Jesuits. He could not fail to realize that Clement XIV—a canonically elected pope, with all the powers of that office in his hands—had taken the precaution to declare that he intended the suppression to be absolute, final, and forever. He knew also that, as the Jesuits had derived the authority to exist as a religious order from the approval of one pope, it was clearly competent for another pope to withdraw that approbation and to dissolve the order, whensoever it became obvious to him that the good of the Church required it. Under these circumstances, even if he had desired to do so, he manifestly was not inclined to strike what might prove to be a fatal and deadly blow at the dignity of the papal office and the authority of the Church, which he undoubtedly desired to maintain in all its completeness. Consequently, he not only continued to preserve to the Church the confiscated property of the Jesuits, but left the decree suppressing the order in full force, in all its entirety, during his pontificate, which terminated during the last year of the eighteenth century.

The Jesuit writers have taxed their ingenuity to the utmost to explain the attitude of Pius VI towards their society. They have struggled hard to prove that, notwithstanding he caused the decree of Clement XIV to be executed, he was in fact opposed to it. One of them, heretofore cited—whose work abounds in a mixture of apologies for their conduct and vilification of their adversaries—says: "In the opinion of Pius VI the Society of Jesus was disbanded only for a time; it was not abolished."[148] To this it may be answered, in the first place, there is nothing to show that Pius VI ever so committed himself; in the second place, that Clement XIV decreed that it should be abolished forever; and in the third place that, if he had considered the society as suspended merely for a time, he would have revived it by his own decree, or fixed the tenure of suspension. But this method of treating the question is trifling with a serious matter which should be treated with fairness and candor. It is equivalent to saying that Pius VI executed the decree of his predecessor, which absolutely abolished the society forever, when in his conscience he did not approve it. If he did entertain this opinion, it is not shown to have been authoritatively announced by him; and to allege that he did, in the absence of proof to that effect, has the appearance of attempting to substitute fiction for fact—to make history rather than to record it.

The Jesuits, however, draw inferences of the favorable estimate of their society by Pius VI from his kind treatment of Ricci, the general, while confined in the castle of St. Angelo, and his release from confinement of the other Jesuits who had been arrested. This is far-fetched, inasmuch as it may well be attributed alone to motives of benevolence. But in no event are these such acts as could limit, in the least degree, the effect of the decree of abolition so long as it continued in force, as it did during the pontificate of Pius VI. Besides, the propriety of punishing individuals must have depended upon their personal agency in the offenses charged against the society as an organized body. The Jesuits derive more support to their claim that Pius VI favored them by quoting language alleged to have been uttered by him, which, if actually spoken, would place him in the attitude of being upon their side and condemning the decree of his predecessor, but without the courage to relieve them from the condemnation of their conduct or from the Act of Suppression. This is not very complimentary to Pius VI, for it represents him as saying, "I approve of the Society of Jesus residing in White Russia,"[149] at the same time that he continued his assent to their abolition in all the Roman Catholic States. The question whether or no he made this remark is in too much doubt to give full credit to it. It is not pretended that the words were written, but only that they were spoken in the presence of a single witness, who is said to have attested their utterance. This would place him in the attitude of performing a public act contrary to his private judgment, which might well enough be done where temporal matters only were involved, but not by a pope concerning spiritual matters. Hence, it is scarcely to be supposed that Pius VI ever uttered these words. But they amount to nothing which reaches the dignity of an official act if he did, for the plain reason that the decree of abolition having been a solemn official act, under "the seal of the Fisherman," if subject at all to revocation or modification by any of the successors of Clement XIV, could only have been so dealt with by an official act of corresponding solemnity. For some causes judicial decrees may be changed or annulled, but only by other judicial decrees, and it will not be pretended, even by Jesuits, that a decree pronounced by a pope under the authority of the Canon law and the unvarying custom of the Church, is of less dignity than the decrees of the civil courts. What is said by De Montor disproves the allegation of Daurignac. He tells us that when the Jesuit general in Russia took such steps as would have enlarged the society by the admission of neophytes, Pius VI commanded him to cease. Whilst in this he does not seem to have condemned the existence of the Jesuits in Russia, it emphatically approves the decree of abolition by executing it elsewhere.

Not to condemn their existence in Russia was a simple act of omission, differing essentially from a direct approval. But whether what he did was the one or the other, it undoubtedly had the effect of enabling the Jesuits in Russia to defy the decree of Clement XIV by keeping their organization alive there, so that at the death of Ricci they elected a successor of their own, who conducted himself and the society in open opposition to the Church, the pope, and the Canon law.[150] All, therefore, that can be justly said about Pius VI is, that he occupied an equivocal attitude—not willing to approve directly by any official act the existence of the society in Russia, yet leaving the decree of suppression in full force.

But whatsoever Pius VI may have done or said, his immediate successor, Pius VII, did "authorize the society to establish itself in White Russia." This he did in 1801, twenty-eight years after the decree of Clement XIV. It was not done, however, by a mere verbal declaration to that effect, but by a formal bull, or brief, or decree—no matter by what name it may be called—in observance of the usual formality. From this it is to be implied that there had been no attempt to change or limit the decree of suppression by Pius VI; for if there had been, this repetition would have been unnecessary. Pius VII manifestly understood that without the official solemnity of a new bull, brief, or decree, no effect would have followed; that is, that his mere verbal assent, if he had given it, would have amounted to nothing. But what he did was equivocal, to say the least of it, by both affirming and disaffirming the decree of Clement XIV. It affirmed it in so far as the decree was left in force in the Roman Catholic States of Europe, where the jurisdiction of the pope as the head of the Church was recognized; and disaffirmed it in Russia, where the pope had no jurisdiction. It was as much as to say that the Jesuits should not exist as an organized society among Roman Catholics, but might do so among schismatics and heretics. No matter what idea he intended to convey with regard to their abolition among the former, he accepted it as an accomplished fact which he was officially bound to recognize. To have done otherwise would have been perilous to the Church by inciting the opposition of the Roman Catholic sovereigns, who could not be reconciled to the Jesuits, and would have offended the multitude of European Christians who had approved their abolition. Up to the first year of the present century, therefore, the decree of Clement XIV remained unreversed throughout Europe, and wheresoever the jurisdiction of the pope was recognized. Whatsoever the Jesuits did to resist, defeat, or evade it, must, consequently, be considered willful disobedience to the recognized and legitimate authority of the Church; in other words, as rebellion.

This measure of leniency on the part of Pius VII had the effect upon the Jesuits of making them bolder in their general conduct and more vindictive in their denunciation of Clement XIV, whose name and memory they assailed with fierce and foul aspersions. They flocked to Russia in large numbers, as they had done to Silesia, from all the Roman Catholic States, and, under the guidance of their skillful general in that country, soon acquired the habit of acting as if they were sure of an ultimate revival of their organization. Thus sustained, it was not long before they re-entered Parma and Sicily, with the implied if not express approval of Pius VII, who seems to have been gradually preparing himself, by cautiously feeling his way, to espouse their cause and to acquiesce in their defamation of Clement XIV. As their hopes grew higher they began to repeat their old practices by venturing to interfere with the temporal affairs of Governments, as they had been accustomed to do before their suppression. They ventured the attempt to domineer in Russia as they had formerly done in Spain, France, Portugal, and elsewhere. Finding themselves, for a time, unrebuked by the Russian authorities, they carried this interference so far, and became so exacting in their demands, that the Russian Government was compelled, in self-defense, to impose restraints upon them. They had learned so well how to plot treason and rebellion in the Roman Catholic States as to make themselves familiar with all the artifices and instrumentalities most effective for those purposes, but their Russian field of operations presented difficulties they had not probably anticipated. The pope, whether for or against them, had no power there, and they were required to deal only with the authorities of that Government. Those authorities soon became convinced that they had warmed a viper into life, and that the Jesuits could not be trusted even in return for favors bestowed upon them. The Russian emperor, Alexander, was consequently compelled to issue a royal ukase in 1816, by which he expelled them from St. Petersburg and Moscow. This proving ineffectual, he issued another in 1820, excluding them entirely from the Russian dominions. The emperor set forth in his decree that he had intrusted them with the education of youth, and had imposed no restrictions upon their right to profess and practice their own religion, but that they had "abused the confidence which was placed in them, and misled their inexperienced pupils;" that whilst they enjoyed toleration themselves, "they implanted a hard intolerance in the natures infatuated by them;" and that all their efforts "were directed merely to secure advantages for themselves, and the extension of their power, and their conscience found in every refractory action a convenient justification in their statutes." After showing how insensible they were to the duties imposed on them by gratitude for the protection Russia had extended to them after the abolition of the society by the pope, and charging them with the egregious crime of sowing tares and animosities among families, and tearing the son from the father, and the daughter from the mother, Alexander asks this emphatic and significant question: "Where, in fact, is the State that would tolerate in its bosom those who sow in it hatred and discord?"[151]

This was the first attempt made by any State not Roman Catholic to expel the Jesuits, and it is not pretended, even by the Jesuits themselves, that it was on account of their religion, which the Russian Government allowed them to exercise freely. It must have been, therefore, the consequence of their having convinced the Russian authorities that they employed their religion as a pretext for their interference with temporal and political affairs; and that they had thereby made themselves rightfully amenable to the charges alleged against them in the ukase of the emperor. It is no defense against these charges to say that the emperor may have been mistaken. This is not probable; for the fact of their having plotted against the peace and interests of society in return for the favors he bestowed upon them, would have justified him in condemning them even more severely. There are very few offenses so base as ingratitude, which excludes the higher emotions from the mind. He gave them shelter and protection after the pope and the Roman Catholic powers had condemned and abolished them; and but for this they would have passed away forever, overwhelmed by the popular indignation. The very fact that he found himself constrained to arraign them as he did, with such crushing severity, is convincing proof of their ingratitude, as well as of their inability to exist anywhere, in fidelity to their constitution, without warring upon the peace of society and upon everything they are unable to subdue and control.

It is to be presumed that the Jesuits professed submission to Russian authority before the decree of Pius VII which allowed them to exist in that country. But after the same pope re-established the order, as he soon did, by another special decree, their schemes of ambition were more actively and openly plotted. This last act, which restored them to active life, was dated August 7, 1814, and inasmuch as it enabled them to reproduce all their old machinery of mischief, it deserves to be well considered, both as regards the character of the act itself, and the motives of its author. It constitutes one of the important events in modern history, the influences of which have not yet ceased, and are not likely to cease so long as the contest between monarchism and popular institutions shall continue. Pius VII was a monarchist in principle, besides being a temporal sovereign. Monarchism was seriously threatened, and was ready to accept whatsoever alliance its defenders deemed essential to its preservation. Popular government was the special dread of kings, and there were none of these who did not understand that nowhere else in the world was it more severely condemned than in the Jesuit constitution, and none who would rejoice more at its extermination than the members of the Jesuit society. We should glance, therefore, at the condition of the European nations at the time of Pius VII, in order to penetrate his motives and comprehend what he must have regarded as the necessity which influenced him in aiding the Jesuits to cast reproach upon the memory of Clement XIV, one of the most meritorious of his predecessors.

The French Revolution had made the attempt, in imitation of the example of the United States, to scatter the germs of popular representative government throughout Europe. Whatsoever errors sprang out of that great movement are attributable more to the pre-existing influences and prejudices of false education, and to the aid which monarchism derived from the ill-fated union of Church and State, than to all other causes combined. When the European States became convulsed by this event, the Jesuits seized upon the opportunity to persuade the reigning sovereigns that the support of their society as organized by Loyola, was absolutely necessary to the preservation and continuance of the principle of monarchy; and that without their co-operation the people, who were incapable of conducting the affairs of government, would triumph over kings. They assailed liberalism in every form, from the French Encyclopædists to the humblest advocate of popular government, consigning all of them to eternal tortures for venturing to assert the natural right of mankind to civil and religious liberty. This was congenial work to them; for, although not yet re-established, they felt assured that if they could excite the fears of the sovereigns at the probable loss of their royal authority, they would thereby set in operation a current of influences which would soon reach Pius VII, and lead him to disregard the decree of their abolition, and to cast his lot along with the other kings, whatsoever effect might be produced upon the fortunes of the Church. Loyola had founded the order upon the plea of its necessity to counteract the influences of the Reformation in the sixteenth century; and now in the nineteenth, the same argument was repeated, so varied only as to embrace all the existing fruits of the Reformation, including the right of the people to self-government. The Jesuits did not miscalculate. They knew how to excite both the fears and bigotry of the sovereigns. They understood Pius VII, and succeeded at last in obtaining from him the decree for their re-establishment, by virtue of which they have since existed, and are now scattered throughout all the nations, with neither their ambition nor thirst for power in the least degree slackened.

Everybody at all familiar with history understands how necessary it was considered by the "Allied Powers" to recast the history of Europe after the escape of Napoleon from the Island of Elba. For this purpose their representatives assembled at the Congress of Vienna, and took to themselves the name of the "Holy Alliance," which, according to Prince Metternich—who was its leading spirit—was induced by "the overflow of the pietistic feeling of the Emperor Alexander [of Russia], and the application of Christian principles to politics;" in other words, "a union of religious and political-liberal ideas."[152] This effort, on the part of the monarchists of Europe was designed to give renewed prominence to the idea that kings governed by divine right; in other words, to establish the union between Church and State so completely that it could never be again disturbed. It was intended to teach the people that all the liberties they were entitled to possess were such only as the governing monarchs deemed it expedient to grant them; that they were entitled to none whatsoever by virtue of the natural law; that the attempt to establish representative and liberal government, like that of the United States, was an unpardonable sin against God; and that the highest duty of citizenship was obedience to monarchical authority.

Not the least conspicuous among the maneuvering sovereigns and politicians of Europe at this time was Pius VII, who felt himself to be the most illustrious and important representative of the divine right of kings. He hated Napoleon intensely, if for no other reason, because the "little Corsican" had arrested and held him in confinement. In casting about to discover by what means he, as pope, could render the most conspicuous aid to the cause of monarchism, and the suppression of liberal and popular government, he naturally turned in the direction of the Jesuits, whose fidelity to the principles of absolutism was vouched for by the constitution of their society and their intense devotion to the memory of Loyola. He, accordingly, whilst the monarchs were preparing for the Congress of Vienna, and only a few months before its assembling, anticipated their action by re-establishing the society of the Jesuits. His prompt action commended him to the allied sovereigns, who could not have failed to see in it sufficient to assure them of his hostility to popular government and his fidelity to the monarchical cause. His purposes may be inferred from the language of his decree. He declared that he should be derelict of duty, "if placed in the bark of Peter, tossed and assailed by continual storms, we [he] refused to employ the vigorous and experienced rowers [the Jesuits], who volunteered their services, in order to break the waves of a sea which threatened every moment shipwreck and death."[153] What did he mean by the storms that tossed and assailed the bark of Peter? The Governments were agitated by political and military turmoil, but these things were not within the rightful province of the Church or the pope. The Church was at peace, except in so far only as Pius VII had voluntarily chosen to mix himself up with the political struggles of kings, in order to preserve his own temporal crown. That he intended to become an active party to these struggles is proved by all that he said and did—even by the language of his decree. In explaining his action, he says that Ferdinand, King of Sicily, had requested the re-establishment of the Jesuits, because it was necessary that they should be employed as instructors "in forming youth to Christian piety and fear of God." Ferdinand was one of the most bigoted kings and thorough monarchists in Europe, and his idea of "Christian piety and fear of God" was, that it centered in the divine right of kings and the union of Church and State. With him religion and monarchism were synonymous terms. If he sometimes made small concessions to his subjects from fear of the popular wrath, they were always withdrawn when his power became strong enough to enable him to renew his oppressions with impunity. He acted upon the Jesuit principle that a monarchical sovereign is not bound by any promise he makes to his subjects, for the reason that the latter have no rights which the former are bound to recognize, and if they had, that the pope could release him from the obligation to obey his promise—a doctrine then strictly adhered to so as to make popular institutions impossible. His main purpose was to perpetuate his own temporal and political authority, and he desired to employ the Jesuits for that purpose, well knowing that their doctrines were expressly designed to hold society in obedience to monarchism. Pius VII did not hesitate to avow his sympathy with Ferdinand, and in doing so proved that he was influenced by the same temporal and political motives. He considered it necessary that the crown of absolute sovereignty should be kept upon the head of Ferdinand, in order to assure himself that it should be kept also upon his own. The sovereigns of the "Holy Alliance" had massed large armies, and soon entered into a pledge to devote them to the suppression of all uprisings of the people in favor of free government; and he desired to devote the Jesuits, supported by his pontifical power, to the accomplishment of that end. He knew how faithfully they would apply themselves to that work, and hence he counseled them, in his decree of restoration, to strictly observe the "useful advices and salutary counsels" whereby Loyola had made absolutism the corner-stone of the society.

Thus the motives of Pius VII are clearly shown to have been temporal and political, and when he excused himself on account of the "deplorable times"—that is, the political disturbance among the nations—he manifestly had in view the advancement of those plottings against popular liberty which soon furnished the rallying point to the "Holy Alliance" at Vienna. He seems to have been so intent upon this subject as not to realize that he owed at least some show of respect to the memory of Clement XIV. As if unconscious that when the latter abolished the society, he also was the head of the Church, possessing all the powers and prerogatives of a lawfully-elected pope, he abrogated and annulled his decree as if it had possessed no higher dignity than a municipal ordinance, imitating in this the practice of those sovereigns who brush all impediments out of the paths of their ambition. He conferred upon the Jesuits the right to exist as an order throughout the world, and thereby approved and indorsed their vilification of Clement XIV. And to show his own estimate of the plenitude of his pontifical authority, he declared that his decree of restoration should be "inviolably observed," and that it should "never be submitted to the judgment or revision of any judge." And then, as if he stood in the place of God, whilst Clement XIV had rebelled against the Divine authority, he commanded that "no one be permitted to infringe, or by an audacious temerity to oppose any part" of his decree; and made disobedience to it an act of sin, by declaring that he who shall be guilty of it "will thereby incur the indignation of Almighty God, and of the holy apostles Peter and Paul." He treated contemptuously the decree of Clement XIV, without the least pretense that the Jesuits had repented of the crimes for which he abolished their society after four years of careful investigation, and without any pledge upon their part not to repeat them—a serious and dangerous omission.[154]

One can not refrain from wondering why Pius VII did not pause long enough to inquire, "Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed, that he is grown so great?" What source of pontifical authority existed in his behalf that did not also exist in behalf of Clement XIV? The one was no more pope than the other—no more infallible than the other—possessed no higher official prerogatives than the other. They were equals in power and official dignity. If Clement XIV had suspended the society, then it would have been within the power of Pius VII to set aside the suspension and revive the society. But he went further, and in the most emphatic and express terms, suppressed, abolished, annulled, and extinguished it forever. His official act was valid, complete, and final, in compliance with the Canon law and established custom. The society, therefore, had no legal existence according to the law of the Church, but was dead and extinct when Pius VII became pope. Its constitution was then a nullity. He had rightfully only the power possessed by Paul III when he first established the society; and by exercising this power could have organized a new society and granted it a new constitution. Instead of this he "re-established" the defunct society, at the request of King Ferdinand, thereby assuming the prerogative right to review and annul what Clement XIV had done within the scope of his legitimate authority. In order to do this, he had further to assume that Clement XIV had exceeded his authority, and had acted injuriously towards the Church, by depriving it of "the vigorous and experienced rowers" necessary to save it from "shipwreck and death." This was, in effect, to approve the Jesuit defamation of Clement XIV, and to deny his infallibility. It was, moreover, an implied approval of the rebellion of the Jesuits against the authority of the Church during the forty-one years that had elapsed after the abolition of their society. It was an attempt to cover up, sanction, and legitimate that rebellion, and to reward the society for its persistent defiance of the Church and the Canon law, by galvanizing its dead body into life.

The Jesuits themselves are sensible of this difficulty, and are perplexed by it. In dealing with it, Daurignac displays more ingenuity than candor. Referring to the existence of the Jesuits in White Russia, after the decree of abolition and in violation of it, he ventures to say: "The position of the Jesuits in White Russia was an anomaly. Clement XIV had authorized them to remain in statu quo."[155] He fails to give any authority for this, for the obvious reason that there is none. Nothing can be found to verify it. It is undoubtedly of Jesuit manufacture, being contradicted by everything done and said by Clement XIV. The language of his decree is conclusive upon the point that his object was to destroy the society and put an end to it forever—not allowing it to exist anywhere. He makes neither exception nor reservation. Any other pretense is a palpable perversion of his meaning. Daurignac manifestly realized this difficulty, and made an additional effort to escape it by attempting to impair the official force and effect of the decree of abolition. He says elsewhere: "In view of the future, he [Clement XIV] would not suppress the society by a bull, which would be binding upon his successors. He had suppressed it by a brief, which could be revoked without difficulty whenever public feeling might allow it."[156] The Jesuits have an "exchequer of words" from which they draw at pleasure, employing them to express or conceal the truth as shall be necessary to advance their interests or improve their fortunes. Here there is an attempt to interpret the meaning of the decree, not by the plain language it contains, but by the name given to the instrument itself. In what does the difference between a bull and a brief consist? If there is any, it must arise out of the subject-matter involved, and not otherwise. One can conceive that a pope may regulate some inferior affairs, touching matters not essential to the universal Church, by an order or decree called a brief, in which case he or his successors may revoke it. But where such an order or decree concerns the universal Church, it must be considered a bull, because in that case, according to the Jesuit theory, it partakes of infallibility, and can not be revoked—for the reason that whatsoever is infallible must stand for good or bad. The decree of Clement XIV is found in the "Roman Bullarium," preserved in the Vatican at Rome.[157] There could have been no other purpose in placing it there than to attach to it the same dignity and effect as the bulls of other popes among which it is recorded. When thus deposited it was undoubtedly considered irrevocable, because it related to a religious order which could exist only by authority of the pope representing the whole Church. When the pope acts with reference to a religious order, he decides whether or no it is capable of fulfilling its professions. He then acts with reference to faith, and his act is therefore ex cathedra. Upon this ground, according to Jesuit teaching, he is infallible in whatsoever opinion he expresses, because it is within the domain of both faith and morals. Hence, in the discussion of the question "When does the Church speak infallibly?" a recent Roman Catholic author of accepted authority says that, as the Church can never be "an unreliable guide, it follows that she can not err when she seals a religious order with her formal approbation."[158] Of course, no argument is necessary to prove that if the pope is infallible in establishing a religious order, he is equally so in abolishing and annulling an existing one, upon the ground expressed by Clement XIV, that the good of the universal Church and the cause of Christianity demanded it, and also upon the additional ground that the subject-matter is the same. This proposition can not be escaped by substituting assertion for argument.