G. State and Protestant Book Laws.

As we have already remarked, Henry VIII continued his policy of proscribing books opposed to his views long after he had constituted himself the head of the English Church. Between 1526 and 1546 there were issued by the King’s authority nine catalogues of books which Englishmen were forbidden to read. Among these books were the works of the continental “reformers”; for some years the English Bible; also writings against the King’s matrimonial projects.

The Protestants on the continent followed the same system. Calvin condemned a Spanish physician, who happened to come to Geneva, to be burned at the stake, because he had written a heretical book. The Protestant princes and republics had each its special book-legislation, which was made to serve not only religious but also political purposes.

After the middle of the eighteenth century, in almost all Catholic countries, the civil power usurped the monopoly of proscribing books, and practiced it in a truly despotic way. Thus in Austria 639 books were forbidden within five years. No book was allowed to be printed without previous permission, not even on forestry or cattle-raising. Bishops were severely reproved for enforcing the prohibitions of the Roman Index in their seminaries.

Napoleon I had a publisher shot, practically without trial, for issuing a work contrary to his political plans. One book was publicly burned because it contained the picture of Pius VII. To enable the authorities to control the book trade more effectively, no printing establishment was allowed to have, in Paris more than four, and in the provinces more than two, presses.

Needless to remark, the civil authorities have the right to prohibit books that seriously endanger the common welfare. If they use this right in a reasonable way, their measures are likely to bring about good and prevent evil. We all have occasional opportunities to observe this in the measures taken against immoral literature by the police or the post-office department.

H. Some Examples of Submission to the Index.

The first Roman Index, that of 1559, was considered rather severe. One of the influential men who tried hard to have its provisions softened, was Blessed Peter Canisius, the “Second Apostle of Germany.” Yet the very letters he wrote to Rome for this purpose show that he scrupulously observed all the regulations, though he himself, called the “Hammer of Heretics,” surely incurred little personal risk by reading forbidden books.

About 1698, a book by Archbishop Fénelon was under investigation at Rome. Fénelon was a great scholar and one of the greatest preachers of all centuries, but he was also a loyal son of the Church. He knew a condemnation of his book would mean his own condemnation in the eyes of Catholic France. His friends as well as his antagonists were eagerly awaiting Rome’s decision on one of the great churchman’s books. At last the verdict was pronounced in the most solemn way by the Pope himself, and it was a condemnation. Fénelon was just ascending his pulpit, March 25, 1699, when his brother broke the news to him. The great Archbishop at once proceeded to read to his own flock the papal document and preached an eloquent sermon on the obedience every Christian owes to his superiors. We can imagine what a profound impression his words must have made. His was a truly heroic example of self-abnegation.

In 1861 there died in Munich Ernest von Lasaulx, a famous professor of the University. In his writings he had now and then been very bold, and it was rumored that the Congregation of the Index thought of censuring some of his books. Von Lasaulx knew this. A few weeks before his death he made an implicit retraction of the errors he might have involuntarily committed, which was forwarded to Rome by his friends. Already some years before he had declared that he had never intended to contravene the doctrine of the Church, but that he feared there were many errors in his books. “If Rome would think it advisable to put my books on the Index, I should consider the verdict perfectly just, since I firmly believe that such measures are truly in the interest of the Catholic Church in our times.” Four of his books were really condemned after his death.

In July, 1906, an Italian novel, Il Santo, (The Saint) by Fogazzaro, was put on the Index. The author “submitted himself.” An American edition of the book had meanwhile appeared; “but the prohibition by the Roman authorities was duly respected by the publishers of the leading Catholic papers of America, which declined to accept advertisements of the book.” (Putnam.)