Unquestionably, the Pope could not have succeeded better than he has done, had he studied the means ever so deeply, in removing from the minds of the people all respect for the Papacy, and in exposing more completely its imposture, than by besieging and bombarding Rome, and the other two principal cities of his dominions. He never reflected that the altered state of the times would occasion a result exactly opposite to that which he anticipated. In fact, he has absolutely lost all that he intended to regain. The mere deprivation of his temporal dignity would have been a far less misfortune to him; he would then have preserved his spiritual power. Now, however, he has forfeited both. How much longer, we may ask, will he, or any one in his place, retain possession of the government of the Roman States, now that all trust and all veneration for the Papal dignity is for ever done away with?[104]
These reflections often came into my mind, the short time that Rome was a Republic; and they were strengthened when I afterwards saw the city taken possession of by French soldiers, and the old abhorred government once more imposed upon the citizens. It would be a difficult matter to render any people so subservient, and most of all the Romans, as to submit long to a government merely effected by force; it can only be upheld by France and Austria, so long as their bayonets are at hand to support it: and these bayonets are wielded by Papists! Is not this the last proof that was wanting to show that the Church of Rome is opposed to Christianity, which never has recourse to weapons of destruction? Is it possible to love a religion that is obliged to seek the aid of arms?—that to return to the place from which it has been driven, calls in foreign troops, selects deadly artillery, lays siege, batters down the walls, and showers into the town shells, grenades, rockets, and other projectiles?—that slaughters, destroys, and commits every ravage in order to replant a standard which at once displays and disgraces the sign of the cross?
At our Circolo, religion and politics were brought side by side; the throne of the Popes by the Cross of Christ. One evening a member arose and addressed the assembly as follows:—
"I think we are wrong in continuing any outward show of respect for the religion our priests lay down to us, which is, in fact, no religion at all; though they seem to think that, like Midas in the fable, who had the power of turning everything he touched into gold, so whatever they lay their hands upon must, of necessity, become holy, sacred, and divine. Until just now we had the Apostolic custom-house, and the Apostolic coat-of-arms! Did the Apostles then collect customs in their kingdom? or had they their coats-of-arms, their sumptuous carriages, and their richly-caparisoned horses?"
"St. Peter," observed another, "made it his boast that 'silver or gold had he none.'"
"But what," said I, "has the Pope to do with St. Peter? I maintain that he never was in Rome at all. Even if he had been, there is no reason why the Pope should call himself his successor."
"What!" inquired another, "have you good argument to show that St. Peter never was in Rome?"
Hereupon I brought forward the strong reasons that exist against the supposition, and the still greater absurdity of the assertion that he occupied the Pontifical throne for twenty-five years.
"At any rate," I added, "even granting that he had been here, that circumstance could not possibly have invested the Romish bishops with any right or privilege, since they themselves have never ventured any attempt to prove that he bequeathed to them the right of succession at his death."