To obtain some delay from France, he thought that the best he could do was to flatter the vanity of De Bernis, now the accredited ambassador of the court of Versailles, and to render him an unwilling accomplice in his dilatory system; and Bernis, although an intelligent and shrewd man, was so blinded by his vanity, as to be easily duped by his arts. St Priest has given, from Bernis’ letters to Choiseul, a relation of some interviews which took place between the Pope and the cardinal. “When the cardinal went to pay his respects to the Pope, the latter would not accept the customary homage; he forbade his genuflexion, repeatedly he offered him his snuff-box, and even compelled him to be seated in his presence. Bernis retired with every mark of profound respect, but Clement said, in a familiar tone, ‘We are alone, and no person sees us; let us dispense with etiquette, and resume the old equality of the cardinalate.’”[382] A few days afterwards, when Bernis presented a letter from Louis XV., Clement seized and kissed it with transport, exclaiming, “I owe all to France. Providence has chosen me among the people like St Peter, and the house of Bourbon has, under Providence, been the means of raising me to the chair of the prince of the Apostles. Providence, too, has permitted,” he added, embracing Bernis, “that you should be the minister of the king at the Papal court. I place unlimited confidence in you, my dear cardinal; let there be no indirect intercourse, no mystery, between us.”[383]
These assurances flattered the vanity of Bernis, who was continually asking his court to sanction the delays which the dignity of the Pope rendered necessary, and which he represented to be inevitable in matters affecting ecclesiastical discipline. These representations had some influence upon the mind of Louis XV., who in his profligacy was often assailed by transitory fits of remorse; and he prevailed upon the King of Spain, though with some difficulty, to be a little more patient, and to grant to the Pope some reasonable delay for the settlement of the question.
Clement’s joy at the good success of his policy was irrepressible. Not only did he feel proud of his own cleverness, but he hoped to be able to find fresh pretexts for an indefinite delay. This brief moment of illusion was the happiest in all his pontificate; indeed it was the only happy one. His countenance beamed with contentment, his manner became still more amiable, and nothing could exceed his good-humour. To wrap himself in his happiness, he went to the enchanting residence of Castel-Gandolfo, and spent many happy hours on the charming shore of the Lake of Albano, with no other witness or suite than the old friend of his youth, the poor lay brother, Francesco.
But the felicity was of short duration. Scarcely had Ganganelli returned to Rome, when all his illusion vanished. Ardent and restless in the furtherance of his projects, Charles III. was impatient to see the destruction of the Jesuits accomplished; and seeing that no progress was made towards this end, he accused Bernis to Choiseul either of incapacity, or of connivance with Clement. Choiseul, to whom Charles left all liberty to act as he pleased in the general policy of Europe, was very anxious to comply with his wishes in this affair. He had already, some time before, written to Bernis a letter full of remonstrances, and ending thus:—“And if I was ambassador at Rome, I should be ashamed to see Father Ricci the antagonist of my master.”[384] But now he pressed the cardinal more and more strongly to bring the Pope to a speedy decision. The Spanish king, on his part, not content with stimulating Choiseul, was pressing the Pope harder and harder. First he held out a menace against the Court of Rome; then, when Clement represented that there was some danger that the measure of suppression would cause an outbreak, or the interference of other monarchs, or of the pious friends of the Jesuits, he proposed to land at Civita Vecchia 6000 men to defend the Pope against his enemies; and, to frighten Ganganelli still more, he publicly and explicitly denounced Cardinal de Bernis to the Court of France, and asked for his recall.
Bernis was stunned by the shock, and felt as if his embassy, the thing of all things dearest to his heart, for the pomp and power which it imparted, had already been torn from him. The sympathy which he had for Clement, the desire to be agreeable to him, and to repay the Pope for the confidence which he thought his Holiness placed in him, vanished at once, and all his thoughts were directed to find out how he could constrain the Sovereign Pontiff, his spiritual and immediate chief, to obey his temporal masters, and thus maintain himself in his embassy. Instead of his previous easy acquiescence, he now became stern and exacting; and not seeing any more efficient step to take to calm Charles III.’s impatience, he urged the Pope to write to the king, and to make peace with him.[385] Ganganelli, overjoyed to escape the present evil, consented inconsiderately to what was asked of him, without reflecting that, by pledging himself in writing, he rendered his position still more difficult and perilous for the future. In his letter to the Spanish king, declining the assistance offered by his Catholic majesty, he requested time to accomplish the suppression of the Jesuits, admitting, at the same time, that this measure was indispensable, and announcing, in plain terms, that “the members of the Society had merited their fall from the restlessness of their spirit, and the audacity of their proceedings.”[386] This letter, which was written in 1770, has been denied by some, and by others confounded with the more vague note which, as we have seen, it was asserted that Ganganelli had written previous to his ascension to the pontificate. This is a grave error; and, to dispel any doubt, we shall quote the words of Cardinal Bernis himself, in his despatch of April 29, 1770. They are, as will be seen, of the gravest importance:—“The question is not whether the Pope would wish to suppress the Jesuits; but whether, after the formal promises he has given in writing to the King of Spain, his Holiness can for a moment hesitate to fulfil them? This letter, which I have induced him to write to his Catholic majesty, binds him so firmly, that, unless the court of Spain should alter its opinions, the Pope will be obliged to complete the undertaking. By gaining him, it is true, he might effect something, but the power of delay is limited. His Holiness is a man of too much clear-sightedness not to perceive that, should the King of Spain cause his letter to be printed, he would lose his character as a man of honour, if he hesitated to fulfil his promise, and suppress the Society, a plan for whose destruction he had promised to communicate, and whose members he considered as dangerous, discontented, and turbulent.”[387]
On the existence of this letter, to which they wrongly assign, as we have said, a date anterior to the election of Ganganelli, the Jesuits have founded their system of defence. They have asserted that the Pope was compelled to the act of abolishing their Society, which act Clement personally did not consider either just or necessary; and it cannot be denied that the sovereigns exercised a kind of constraint upon him. But was, then, Ganganelli favourable to the order, and would he, if left to himself, have let the Jesuits live in peace, and protected them against a great part of Europe conspiring for their destruction? No! undoubtedly no. We have already observed that Ganganelli could not be the friend of the Jesuits. The man who took Sistus V. and Benedict XIV. for his models, and with whom he had so many points of resemblance, could only have wished what these his predecessors wished and attempted to do, namely, to put a stop to the Jesuits’ pride and arrogance. But we say more. Had not Clement been pressed too hard by the sovereigns, we are convinced that he would have acted more energetically and with more decision. We must remember that Ganganelli, though little exacting in regard to outward shows of pomp and power, had the highest opinion of the dignity with which he was invested, and was by no means disposed to see the tiara lowered or dishonoured in his person. Once, when Florida Blanca, the Spanish ambassador, in order to support his argument, suggested to the Pope that immediately after the publication of the Brief of Suppression, Avignon and Benevento would be restored to the Holy See, Clement answered with majestic dignity, “Remember that a Pope governs the Church, but does not traffic in his authority,”[388] and, breaking short the conference, retired in indignation. Besides, Ganganelli, though wanting in energy, and though he may be reproached with somewhat equivocal conduct in order to satisfy his ambition, was a man too religious and too noble-hearted, of too sound principles of morality and honesty, to subscribe to a measure which he considered unjust. He would have preferred every inconvenience, martyrdom itself, to such iniquitous and dishonourable conduct. Why, then, did he hesitate so long to accomplish a measure which he considered useful and just? Let Clement answer for himself first, and we shall give our reasons afterwards. In the Brief of Suppression the Pope says: “We have 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.”[389] And Ranke, whom the Jesuits often quote as authority, and who seems to be rather partial to them, says, “Clement applied himself with the utmost attention to the affairs of the Jesuits. A commission of cardinals was formed, the archives of the Propaganda were examined, and the arguments of both sides were deliberately considered.”[390] It is evident, then, that Clement wished to give a judgment with a perfect knowledge of the affair. It must be remembered that there is a wide distance between the opinion that Ganganelli might have entertained of the Jesuits, and the fact of the Supreme Pontiff, the chief of the religion, condemning, by a solemn irrevocable act, a religious order approved and protected by thirteen former Popes. It must be remembered that Clement was himself a monk, and that, at the very beginning of the Brief of Suppression, he informs us what his sentiments were towards the monastic communities. “It is beyond doubt,” says the Brief, “that among the things which contribute to the good and happiness of the Christian Republic, the religious orders hold the first place. It was for this reason that the Apostolic See, which owes its welfare and support to these orders, has not only approved, but endowed them with many exemptions, privileges, and faculties.”[391] Besides these powerful and principal reasons, many other secondary ones must have induced Clement to defer the all-important act. It was repugnant to his mild, benevolent, and conciliating character to have recourse to harsh and severe measures. The nobleness and generosity of his heart, on another side, suggested to him, that to the Jesuits, perhaps, he was indebted for the supreme dignity he had obtained, since it was by their influence that he had been named cardinal; and this leads us to believe that, had the measure been less urgent and indispensable to the welfare of the Church and Christianity, he, in memory of past benefits, would never have suppressed the order. As a last, not least reason, for Ganganelli’s hesitation, it may be adduced that the Roman Catholic world would have received it with astonishment, and not without murmurs, if he had abolished a society for which his benefactor, Rezzonico, whose ashes were yet warm, had nourished such a particular affection, and which he had taken under the protection of his infallibility—an infallibility which, though Clement never spoke, he no doubt would not have liked that others should have called in question. In one word, in judging of Ganganelli’s conduct, the different parties have too often forgotten that he was a Pope and a monk.
All the motives we have adduced to explain and excuse Clement’s delay in suppressing the order, were noble and praiseworthy; but it must be confessed that with them was mingled one that was less noble, and not so creditable to the Pope’s character. He was afraid lest the Jesuits should assassinate or poison him; and his fears were not, as we shall see, without foundation.
The Jesuits, it may be imagined, had spared no pains to influence Clement’s mind, and to deprecate the scheme of their destruction. At first they set at work all the influences they still possessed. In Rome, above all, they were as yet all-powerful among the nobility. They were the agents of the husbands, the confessors of the wives, the tutors of the children; and by means of these nobles they endeavoured to influence the Pope in their favour. But as Ganganelli received few persons of that rank, and listened to none, this expedient of the fathers proved abortive. They obtained afterwards from the sovereigns of Austria, Bavaria, Poland, and Sardinia, letters of recommendation to the Holy Father; and when they perceived that even these proved ineffectual, they had recourse to threats, and, by many ingenious and sly contrivances, conveyed to Clement’s mind the persuasion that they would take away his life, whatever precautions he should take. To make a still stronger impression upon his mind, they had his death predicted by a set of impostors, whose predictions were, as is generally the case, readily believed by the people; and the Jesuits took good care to strengthen this belief. Bernardina Renzi, a peasant of Valentano, giving herself out as a prophetess, predicted the vacancy of the Holy See by the mysterious initials P. S. S. V. (presto sarà sede vacante). Another Pythoness of Montefiascone also put forth similar strange and mysterious predictions.[392] The Pope was too enlightened, too religious, to believe in such impostures; but, just because he did not believe in them, he feared them the more, knowing that those who had put them forth would find the means to accomplish them. Two Jesuits, Fathers Coltraro and Venizza, along with the confessor of Bernardina, were thrown into prison, as having been suspected of being the advisers of the prophetess. In the various circles of society, almost publicly and aloud, the Jesuits and their partisans accused and cursed Clement, heaping reproaches on his name, and even insinuating the possibility of a deposition. Insulting images and hideous figures were put forth, announcing an approaching catastrophe, under the form of vengeance of Providence. Father Ricci, far from feeling any repugnance to the support of such shameless deception, did not even shrink from an interview with the sorceress of Valentino.[393]
Surrounded as he was by treachery, Ganganelli could not long resist the impressions which such a state of things was calculated to make upon him. His natural gaiety gave way; his health became impaired; and evident signs of weariness were stamped on the whole of his countenance. He lived more secluded than ever, and would not taste of any dishes but those prepared by his faithful Francesco, or by his own hands.
On the other hand, the sovereigns became more and more urgent. To Anzpurù succeeded, as Spanish ambassador, that same Muniño who, in his capacity of magistrate, had assisted D’Aranda in the mysterious examination of the Jesuits’ conduct, after the émeute of 1766, and who was now the Count of Florida Blanca. He was stern and inflexible, and pressed hard the poor Pope to take the dangerous leap. The transitory, delusive hope which the Jesuits had enjoyed, of escaping ruin, after the disgrace of Choiseul, and the paramount influence which had been acquired over the king by their friend Madame Dubarry, the successor of Madame de Pompadour, soon vanished. D’Aiguillon, to deprecate the anger of Charles III. for the fall of his friend Choiseul, seconded the Spanish king vigorously in his cherished project of obtaining the Suppression; and, as Austria had abandoned the cause of the order,[394] the ruin of the Jesuits became inevitable. Yet Clement resisted all those importunities and menaces, and held firm, till, after a long and protracted investigation, his conscience was satisfied that the act he was called upon to perform was an act of supreme justice and of immense advantage to Christianity. Then, although he felt sure that he should forfeit his life, he decided upon sacrificing it to the fulfilment of a duty, which gives to the act a more imposing and solemn gravity. On the 23d July 1773, he affixed his signature to the Brief, saying, in the very act of writing his name, “We sign our death”—Sottoscriviamo la nostra morte.[395]