CHAPTER XVII.
1774.
DEATH OF CLEMENT XIV.

During the struggle which Clement had to undergo before the suppression of the order, his health, as we have seen, had been injured, and his gay, placid humour much altered. But the moment he had affixed his signature to the document, after pronouncing those foreboding prophetic words, “This suppression will cause our death”—wrung from his heart by the knowledge he had of the enemies he was going to offend, as if those words were the last doleful thought he was going to give to the subject—he became an altered man, or, to speak more correctly, he again became the same good-humoured, mild, and affable monk he had ever been. The facility with which his orders were executed filled him also with extraordinary joy. “His health is perfect, and his gaiety more remarkable than usual,” wrote Bernis on the 3d of November 1773. Whatever discontent the nobles and the cardinals may have felt, they remained silent spectators of the event; and the generality of the citizens of Rome, and, in particular, the Trasteverini, hailed the Pope with loud acclamations. In vain did the conquering party foment a revolt; Rome remained tranquil; Clement was delighted; and, as if to compensate for the sad moments he had passed, and the irascible humour he had shewn, his character became still more joyful, and almost infantine. One day, followed by the Sacred College and all the Roman prelates, he went on horseback to the Church La Minerva. Suddenly a heavy rain came on; Porporati Monsignori all vanished, and the light horsemen themselves sought shelter. The Pope, left alone, and laughing at the terrors of his escort, proceeded bravely on his way amidst the storm, and the people were delighted at the sight, and loud in their applause.[402]

Clement XIV. (Ganganelli)

Hinchliff.

All the authors are unanimous on this point, and agree in representing Ganganelli as full of vigour, and enjoying the most perfect health. “The Pope,” says Botta, “enjoyed rather good health, because he was of a strong constitution, and his natural strength had not been wasted by an intemperate and licentious life; for, on the contrary, he had always lived with frugality and moderation, according to his own natural inclination.”[403] And the ex-Jesuit Georgel, who certainly can be accused of anything but partiality to the suppressor of his order, says “that Ganganelli’s strong constitution seemed to promise him a long career.”[404] Nevertheless, in spite of appearances, sinister rumours were afloat not only in Rome, but throughout all Italy. At the very time that the Pope was seen in the public ceremonies, in all the churches and everywhere else, enjoying the most perfect health and strength, the rumour of his death was widely circulated. The Pythoness of Valentano announced it with a characteristic obstinacy; and a Jesuit, writing to a brother of the order, and relating such impious predictions, says, Aplica ut fiat systema.[405]

Nor was it long before the ominous predictions were realised. This man, represented by everybody as strong and healthy, suddenly, on the approach of the holy week of 1774, some eight months after the signature of the Brief, was taken ill, confined to his palace, and unable to grant any audience, even to the diplomatic body. What had happened to Clement, who, when on the 17th of August the ambassadors of the great powers were admitted into his presence, appeared a MERE SKELETON? Whence such strange and fatal change? The answer to these questions will appear from the following statement of facts.

One day, on rising from table, the Pope felt an internal shock, followed by a great cold; and although he was for a moment alarmed, he soon recovered from his fright, and attributed his indisposition to indigestion. But soon after, the voice of the Pope, which had always been full and sonorous, was lost in a singular hoarseness; an inflammation in his throat compelled him to keep his mouth continually open. He had repeated attacks of vomiting, and felt such feebleness in his limbs, that he was obliged to discontinue his long habitual walks. His step became interrupted by sharp pains, and at length he could not find any rest at all. An entire prostration of strength suddenly succeeded a degree of even youthful activity and vigour; and the sad conviction that his fears were realised, and that his life had been attempted, seized upon Clement, and rendered him strange even to his own eyes. His character was changed as by magic. The equability of his temper gave place to caprice, his gentleness to passion, and his natural easy confidence to continual distrust and suspicion. He saw poison and poniards everywhere. Sometimes, under the conviction that he had been poisoned, he increased his malady by inefficacious antidotes; at other moments, in the hope of escaping an evil which he imagined not yet accomplished, he would feed upon dishes prepared by his own hands. His blood became corrupted, and the close atmosphere of his apartments, which he would not quit, aggravated the effects of an unwholesome diet. In this disorder of his physical system his moral strength gave way; all trace of the former Ganganelli disappeared; and even his reason became disordered. He was haunted by phantoms in his short moments of rest; and, in the silence of night, he started up continually, as if dreams of horror had struck his imagination. Often he ran from one place to another as if he was pursued, exclaiming, as in the act of asking mercy, “Compulsus feci! compulsus feci!”—I have been compelled![406] Indeed, that his reason had abandoned him, is generally believed; and Pius VII., when prisoner at Fontainebleau in 1814, exclaimed that he should die mad, as Clement XIV. These words are reported by Cardinal Pacca, a fellow-prisoner of Pius.[407] Ganganelli passed seven months in this dreadful state; at last his reason resumed its sway. For a while he shewed himself superior to his terrors and infirmities. “He resumed some tranquillity,” says Botta, “as generally happens some moments before man arrives at the last moment of his life, as a warning of God to mortals to think of their own affairs in that last moment. Already the attendants were rejoicing as if their master was returning to life; but the calm was the forerunner of death. The fatal signs soon re-appeared, and on the 22d September Ganganelli breathed his last—giving back his courageous soul to Him from whom he had received it.”[408]

The Romans heard of the Pope’s demise with indifference, as of an event daily expected; but the Jesuits and their partisans gave an indecent and unblushing expression to their joy, conveyed in the most infamous and sacrilegious satires, which they carried themselves from place to place; and this circumstance, together with what was known of Ganganelli’s illness, left no doubts whatever in the people’s minds that the unfortunate Clement had died by poison. “The human mind,” says Gioberti, “is reluctant to believe in certain atrocious crimes, and I confess that I have hesitated to believe the sect guilty of the death of Ganganelli; nor have I consented to believe it till forced by the evidence of the facts.”[409] Although our opinion exactly coincides with that of our illustrious countryman, yet we shall put the facts and documents under the eyes of our readers, and let them form a judgment for themselves.