History of the Jesuits: Their origin, progress, doctrines, and designs

by G. B. Nicolini

CHAPTER XX.
1848-1852.
THE JESUITS IN AND AFTER 1848.

Before the Suppression, the Jesuits, with alternate vicissitudes, possessed less or more influence in all Roman Catholic countries, in some of which, at different epochs, they were all-powerful and domineering. But since their re-establishment, their real effective power, it may be said, is confined to the Italian peninsula. It was my unfortunate country that, from the beginning of their restoration, more than any other part of Europe, experienced the pernicious effects of their revival. As from the first they had stood up as the natural enemy of the liberal party, the sovereigns of the peninsula, who wished to reign despotically, without granting any concession required by the times, countenanced and protected the Jesuits in the most decided manner. Charles Felix had delivered up Piedmont to them, and they had taken possession of it, and governed it, as if they were its absolute masters. Even Charles Albert was unable or unwilling to counteract their influence. In Modena and Parma they possessed an equal authority; while in Naples their dominion was still more tyrannical, inasmuch as it rested not only on the support of the court, but also on the superstition and fanaticism of the populace, the most blindly bigoted of all Italy. But the supreme seat of their power, as may be easily conceived, was Rome—Rome, now in perfect friendship with the fathers. Odescalchi, a Jesuit, was Cardinal Vicar of Rome, the highest ecclesiastical authority in the world after the Pope. The whole of the public administration was filled with persons either belonging to the Society, or protected by them. Public education was entirely in their own hands, or of those protected by them. The nomination of every teacher or professor was submitted to the approval of the bishop. Recommendation from the fathers was listened to as if it were the orders of a superior; and few, if any, of the established authorities dared to oppose them in any of their undertakings. Poor Italy was in a lamentable condition. The different governments of Italy, encouraged by the fathers in their tyrannical and intolerant policy, had spread such dissatisfaction among the higher classes of society,[440] that every other year attempts were made at a revolution, some of which were in part successful, as those of 1821 and 1831. They were, however, always crushed by the overwhelming forces of Austria, and only served to increase the number of victims, and the cruelties of the governments, inflexible in their despotic policy. Yet the population, driven to despair, and preferring death to ignominy, were ready to shed their blood to mend the wretched condition of the country. In the latter part of Gregory XVI.’s reign, matters were brought to such a state, that every moment was expected a new general outbreak throughout all Italy; the consequences of which, from the exasperated state of the popular mind, would have been incalculable. In these circumstances, Gregory XVI. died, and Giovanni Mastai was, after only two days’ conclave, raised to the pontifical chair. It was thought that the meekness of his character, the purity of his life, his decided aversion to every act of tyranny, might in part calm the exasperated state of the population of the Roman states, the most oppressed of all the states of Italy, as well as the readiest for a revolution; and the beginning of Pius IX.’s reign promised to the unfortunate peninsula a new era. Fugitive and deceitful hope! Alas! the new era is now such as to make the future generation curse the day that Mastai ascended the throne!

However, a month after his elevation, Pius IX. granted an amnesty, reformed some gross abuses, discarded the most obnoxious agents of the past tyrannical government, and promised to reign according to just and paternal laws. We extolled his clemency to the sky, and saw in him the palladium of freedom; we celebrated his virtues in a thousand different ways. The world was soon filled with the eulogiums of Pius, and for a brief period Europe prostrated herself at the feet of the idol raised up by our gratitude.

But while we were loud in the praises of Pius IX., hoping that he would prove a reformer and a benefactor to Italy, the Jesuits, united with the old despotic party, which recognised Austria for its chief, contrived, by all sorts of means, to oppose his acts of benevolence, slandered his person, abused his ministers, and openly conspired against him. The Romans feared that he would meet with the fate of Ganganelli; and those fears were not only expressed in all writings and in all pieces of poetry, but when the Pope passed through the streets of Rome, the Trasteverini shouted out, “Holy Father, beware of the Jesuits!” A very significant fact, which shews the opinion in which the fathers are held where they are best known.

The good understanding, however, which existed for some eighteen months between the liberal party and the Pope, began to be shaken when the Romans, tired of benisons and insignificant concessions, asked for liberal organic laws, and wished, above all, to snatch from the hand of the priests and monks their ill-gotten and ill-used authority, extending to all branches of the administration, even to those most inconsistent with their calling. It is well known that no office of any importance in the Roman states was filled by a layman—even the general of the army was a Monsignore. We wished for a radical reform on this point. Unfortunately, at this time, Grazioli—a high-minded and tolerant priest, the Pope’s confessor—died, and Pius fell into the hands of a confessor devoted to the Jesuits, and from that moment his conduct became hypocritical and deceitful, and afterwards cruel and inhuman. To the Jesuits is certainly to be attributed the change in the politics of the Pope. From the beginning, Pius had been displeased when he heard abuse poured upon the Company; but his desire of popularity and applause had modified the propensities of the priest, nay, of the narrow-minded, bigoted chief of the priests. But now, divesting himself of the borrowed character of a tolerant and liberal man, Pius returned to the former error of all Popes, and would not listen to a word about reform touching the priesthood. It was this inflexible opposition to our just and reasonable desires, and not our petulance, which brought things to extremities, and the Jesuits were even the apparent cause of the rupture.

Although the Romans were resolved to be no longer the vassals of the priesthood, and were determined not to leave a vestige of authority in civil matters to any churchman except the Pope, nevertheless, no injury, no abuse, was offered to any secular priest or monk, with the exception of the Jesuits. But against them there was raised a great commotion. Publications of all sorts were daily poured into the streets of Rome against the fathers; and along with the shout for Italy, was mingled the cry, “Down with the Jesuits!”

Gioberti’s book, Il Gesuita Moderno, was in everybody’s hands, and when that courageous priest came to Rome, the people shouted his name as that of a benefactor; a guard of honour was stationed at his hotel, and almost royal honours were rendered to him for having so unreservedly laid bare the iniquities of the fathers.[441] All this irritated the Pope in the highest degree. From the balcony of the Quirinal he reproached the Romans with slandering venerable ecclesiastics; and when the news arrived that the Neapolitans had expelled the Jesuits from their city, he issued a proclamation, in which he threatened us, if we were tempted to imitate them, with his anger, and with the curse of God’s indignation, who would launch His holy vengeance against the assailants of His anointed.[442]

But the Papal protection was no longer sufficient to shelter the Jesuits from public hatred. Pius IX. lost a great part of his popularity, but could not save them. They were expelled from the whole of the peninsula—not as a general revolutionary measure, since all other religious communities lived unmolested, but as a manifestation of the public opinion against the hateful descendants of Ignatius. The Pope’s indignation at this sacrilegious act knew no bounds, and from that instant he vowed an implacable and intense hatred against the liberals of whatever nation.[443]

Not only did Pius now refuse to grant any new concession, but he attempted to recall those which he had been forced to grant; and when he saw that he could not effect his purpose, he fled to Gaeta, in the hope that Rome and Italy would soon fall into a state of anarchy and confusion, so that the great powers of Europe would be obliged to interfere, and restore him to the throne as an absolute master. The wisdom and moderation of the people again disappointed his hopes. Never was Rome more true to her duty than during the absence of the Pope. For a while, even the government was carried on in the name of a sovereign who had abandoned the state, and who refused even to listen to three deputations sent to Gaeta to come to some understanding. This exasperated Pius still more than anything else. From Gaeta he poured forth his curses on his subjects. And while he was giving these manifestations of his paternal heart, the Jesuits and Cardinal Antonelli were laying the plan of that infernal compact between the Court of Rome and almost all the despots of Europe, for crushing and annihilating all seeds of civil and religious liberty, and for murdering, with merciless ferocity, all those who had shouted for reform, in the name and under the auspices of Pius IX.; a just retribution, it should seem, for having trusted in a priest, and thought him capable of being an honest and liberal man. Monsignor de Falloux, a Jesuit, brother of the then all-powerful minister of Louis Napoleon, was notoriously the soul of the negotiation, and it was he who decided the court of Rome to accept the succour of the French. The crusade undertaken against Rome, by four nations so different in character, and having such opposite interests, as Austria and France, Spain and Naples, was the signal of that fiery reaction against the liberty of all nations which still rages, and which, we fear, will not cease till another general outbreak shall teach the tyrants that it is not always safe to try too severely the patience of the people.