The Footprints of the Jesuits

by Richard W. Thompson

It can never be known, of course, to what extent the Jesuits molded the opinions of Pius IX. But as they had employed the whole period after their re-establishment in endeavoring to dictate to all the popes, and were eminently successful with Gregory XVI, it may fairly be supposed that the unsuspecting and impressible mind of Pius IX was unable to detect their cunning, and consequently became influenced by them. Taking into consideration everything bearing upon their relations with him, in so far as they can be now known, the conclusion is inevitable that their expulsion from Italy by the pope was not only the result of imperative necessity, but the highest possible evidence of their unworthiness. This is the natural and unavoidable inference from the fact itself. Nevertheless, he had already gone so far in attempting to enforce doctrines which the people attributed to the Jesuits, that even their expulsion did not relieve him from the suspicion of having already yielded too much to them. On this account he may have derived more harm than benefit from it. Whilst they remained in Italy they served as a shield, protecting him, in a large degree, from public censure; for as the people loved him and hated them, they had to stand in the front and receive the full force of the indignation that fell upon him after their departure.

When the Jesuits were out of the way, and it came to be seen that Pius IX still adhered to their obnoxious doctrines with regard to an independent constitutional government and the religious obligation to maintain the temporal power of the pope as a tenet of faith, he found himself, far more than before, unable to escape the public criticism and reproof. If he had pursued his course up to this time without having given due consideration to possible results, and was then for the first time brought to reflect upon them, it is not easy to see how he failed to realize that he had gone too far, and had put it out of his power to arrest the current of events then rapidly hastening to the very results he deplored the most. He had probably never suffered himself to regard the people as a power to be dreaded; for, besides knowing their inclination to be faithful to the Church and their personal esteem for him, he was manifestly influenced by the belief that the combinations between Church and State were sufficiently powerful to suppress any popular uprising in favor of constitutional government. If these ideas occupied his thoughts, he must have become satisfied, after he had expelled the Jesuits, that he had been deluded by them, and that they had been the real authors of his misfortunes. It is not probable, however, that his excitement subsided sufficiently for calm reflection. Nor is it likely that anything occurred to awaken him from his dream of security until he discovered that his renewed effort at reform had no other effect than to assure the Italian people that their independence could be achieved only by abolishing the temporal power of the pope by means of an alliance with Sardinia. He had unwisely made the issue with his own people, and was no longer able to control it.

The imminence of war led to sending Italian troops to the frontier to drive out the Austrians; and as Pius IX could not take part in such a war because he considered himself "the father of all the faithful"—the Austrians included—he begged the Emperor of Austria to withdraw his troops, and sent a nuncio to the King of Sardinia, inviting his co-operation in forming a confederacy of Italian republics, with the pope at its head! The emperor refused to comply with his request; and the king had no leisure to devote to impracticable and visionary schemes with such an enemy as Austria near at hand, ready to strip him of his territories and convert Sardinia into an Austrian dependency. The Austrians, becoming incensed at the movements of the Italian troops, announced that they would treat them as bandits and brigands, and threatened to invade and desolate the Italian provinces. The Italians, therefore, having failed to obtain any assistance or encouragement from the pope, although he insisted that he was their rightful king and they his subjects, and being left to deal alone with Austria, had to make choice between war and degradation. Under these circumstances they could not fail to realize that everything pertaining to their future prosperity and interests commanded the former—their pride forbade the latter. Hence, the war from that time was, upon their part, in self-defense. And it was not difficult to see, from the beginning, that with such an adversary as Austria to contend against, and the pope resisting rather than aiding them, the Italians were compelled to rely upon their alliance with Sardinia, which by that time had become separated from the influences dictated by the "Holy Alliance," and was rapidly becoming an important and independent power.

At the battle of Novara, between Austria and Sardinia, Charles Albert, the Sardinian king, was defeated with terrible loss. He immediately abdicated his office and turned over the crown to Victor Emmanuel, his son, who so conducted affairs as to make himself influential in the great movements that led to the peace of Villafranca, and by skillful statesmanship to procure from the Austrians the recession of Lombardy to Sardinia. The military strength of Sardinia having been thus increased, greatly encouraged the Italians, and in order to counteract the influences which were tending to an alliance between them and Victor Emmanuel, the proposition to create an Italian confederacy, with the pope at its head, was revived. But the Italians, who had become unwilling to submit to the dominion of an absolute monarch any longer, resisted this scheme, from the conviction that it would still keep them at the feet of their old masters. And to make this resistance more effective, several of the Italian provinces transferred their allegiance to Sardinia, thus increasing her strength beyond what it had ever been, and adding to her importance as a military power.

The attitude occupied by Sardinia after these accessions, introduced into the politics of Europe a new and most important question—whether these revolted Italian provinces should be compelled to return under the temporal dominion of the pope, or be allowed to settle their own position and destiny for themselves? Although this question involved the principle of self-government, it was considered as having somewhat an international aspect, and consequently attracted the notice of other powers beside those immediately interested. Louis Napoleon had, in the meantime, made himself Emperor of France, and being fully imbued with the "Napoleonic idea" of his own importance, ventured to suggest to Pius IX, by way of advice, that it would be well for him and the Church to let the revolted provinces "go in peace." The pope, however, scornfully rejected this advice, and declared that he preferred death to such degradation—in which it is fair to suppose he was sincere. But his refusal settled nothing, having only invited renewed resistance to his policy among the Italians. It led, however, to such results that the right of the Italian provinces to unite with Sardinia, if they deemed it expedient, was recognized. This was a practical question, as it involved the right of the people of each province to remain under the rule of the pope or not at their pleasure. As was to be expected, Pius IX considered this as a death-blow aimed at his temporal power, and, consequently, anathematized it severely. From the papal standpoint he could not have done otherwise. And yet, if he had rightfully interpreted the passing events, he could have seen that the temporal scepter was rapidly passing out of his hands, and that severe measures upon his part, instead of preventing, would only hasten that result. The violence of his resistance was responded to by Parma and Modena, both of which provinces were annexed to Sardinia. Tuscany and the Æmilian provinces followed by the votes of an immense majority of the people. Other provinces also followed their example. And thus, by means of these important accessions, Victor Emmanuel was enabled to signalize his reign by converting Sardinia into the Kingdom of Italy. This measure of attraction having been presented to the Italians, soon became an enthusiastic rallying-point, and the Two Sicilies, under the lead of Garibaldi, united with Sardinia by a popular vote nearly unanimous. Umbria and Ancona did the same. One by one, therefore, these Italian provinces, filled with Roman Catholic populations, separated themselves by solemn votes from the temporal dominion of the pope, and left Pius IX to mourn over his rapidly-sinking fortunes, and to repent—if his excited passions allowed of repentance—over the folly which had produced that result.

The Government of Sardinia, without unnecessary delay, enacted such laws as were demanded by this new condition of affairs. Victor Emmanuel endeavored, consequently, to open negotiations with a view to bring about a reconciliation between the two powers, spiritual and temporal. This proposition involved, necessarily, the separation of Church and State, and was designed to define the respective spheres and functions of each, so that in the future there should be no conflict or rivalry between them. Victor Emmanuel was a Roman Catholic, and neither expressed nor entertained the desire to impair, in any degree whatsoever, the spiritual authority or independence of the pope. Nor did any such desire prevail among the great body of the people who had aided in bringing about the new order of things—they still remaining Roman Catholic, as they had always been. All that he and they desired was to make the State independent of the Church in the enactment and administration of temporal laws, and to leave the Church, with the pope remaining its head, independent of the State in spiritual affairs. If in this a model for imitation had been needed, it would have been found in the form of government constructed by the people of the United States, which must have influenced those conducting Sardinian affairs at all events to the extent of separating Church and State. But Pius IX could not consent to this without being unfaithful to the cause of the papacy, as distinct from the welfare and best interest of the Church, which manifestly required that he should conciliate, and not further antagonize, the Roman Catholic populations in whose behalf the proposition of the Sardinian Government was made. Instead of conciliation, however, he—with a mind singularly constituted and curiously erratic—surrendered himself entirely to the dominion of his passions, and, in order to condemn that form of government and to rebuke the amicable spirit exhibited by Victor Emmanuel, issued a pontifical allocution, which may well be called "brutum fulmen," because it was made entirely harmless by the violence of its language, as well as by its inconsiderate and intemperate assault upon the leading principles which prevail among modern nations. Inasmuch as this allocution was intended to be an official announcement of the faith maintained by him upon the politico-religious questions involved, and was of so recent date, it deserves special consideration, because of its direct bearing upon the question of restoring the pope's temporal power. Where else shall we look for papal doctrines but to the infallible head of the papacy?

He accused the new Government of Italy with "attacking the Catholic Church, its wholesome laws, and all its sacred ministers"—an accusation which lost its force by the excess of its misrepresentation, as the facts just detailed abundantly show. The burden of this attack was the proposed separation of Church and State; but, besides other matters of which he complained, he specially designated civil marriages—such as are provided for by the laws of all the States of the United States—which he said "encouraged a concubinage that is perfectly scandalous." He meant by this that the issue of all marriages solemnized otherwise than by the Roman Catholic clergy are bastardized by the unchristian and illegitimate character of the ceremony. And with the express view, doubtless, of fully explaining himself upon the vital question then pending, he announced his claim to "civil authority"—that is, his right to wear the crown of a temporal king—by declaring that he and his successors never can be "subject to any lay power," but must "exercise, in entire liberty, supreme authority and jurisdiction over the Church" in all its entirety. His idea—more than once repeated by him, and affirmed by his successor—was this: that, in whatsoever country the Church shall have a footing, it shall not be governed by the temporal laws of the State in conflict with its interests, but only by the Canon laws which it has itself provided, and which confer upon the popes plenary and sovereign power to define what they may do and require of others within the domain of faith and morals, along with the coercive power necessary to secure obedience. Seemingly unconscious that he was placing himself in the track of the popular storm then sweeping away the props upon which the papal throne had long rested, he fancied that his "apostolic authority" would yet enable him so to direct its course as would prevent the final wreck of the temporal power. Putting on, therefore, his full papal armor in imitation of some of his predecessors, he endeavored to upturn and destroy the new Government of Italy by the thunder of his anathemas. He, accordingly, abrogated and declared "null and void, and without force and effect," all its laws and decrees in conflict with his claim of supreme and absolute authority over both spiritual and temporal affairs throughout the whole of Italy, including the provinces annexed to Sardinia! It requires a very inventive imagination to conceive of an act of more supreme folly than this useless allocution.[185]

If Pius IX had been less perturbed, and calm enough to reason logically, he might have observed how fatal to his own conclusion was an important confession made by him in this official allocution. Without seeming to comprehend its full meaning and force, he declared it to be "a singular arrangement of Divine providence" that the pope "was invested with his civil authority" at the time of the fall of the Roman Empire; that is, during the latter half of the fifth century, and nearly five hundred years after the beginning of the Christian era. In this he admits—certainly by necessary implication—that during all the long period preceding that event, the affairs of the Church had been conducted without the assistance of a temporal monarch at Rome or elsewhere, and by spiritual authority alone—by bishops who looked after religious and not political affairs.[186] He must have been guilty of a singular omission of duty if it did not occur to him to inquire why so great and radical a change in the management of Church affairs had not been made before the fall of the Roman Empire, but had been deferred until that particular period. It is easy enough to understand how the popes may have become kings in a purely temporal sense, after that event; but that was not the question he was considering. His object was to show that when the Roman Empire fell, the temporal power was divinely added to the spiritual power of the pope, and, therefore, that it would violate the divine law if he were deprived of the crown of temporal royalty, which the popes of the primitive times did not possess. A little calm reflection might have enabled him to see, in the light of his own statement, what fallacy there is in the pretense that belief in the Divine establishment of the temporal power is a necessary and essential part of true religious faith; for if it had been the Divine purpose that Christianity should not exist without it, that purpose would have been fulfilled long before the fall of the Roman Empire. The concession of Pius IX must consequently be taken as fatal to the claim of temporal power as necessarily pertaining to the cause of Christianity or to the Church as a religious body. The primitive Christians had no knowledge of it, and the fact that they had not—which he concedes—suggests such a contrast between what the early Church was immediately following the apostolic period, and what it became after the papacy was established by means alone of the temporal power, as to show conclusively that the papal pretense of sovereignty must have been the result of usurpation.

The condition of the European nations at the period here referred to—although certainly not designed for that purpose by the chief actors—was favorable to the cause of Italian independence. The jealousies and rivalries among the sovereigns had brought them into such relations as to require immense standing armies to keep watch over each other. Austria was not only one of the most restless, but the most arbitrary of the great powers, and soon found it necessary, of her own accord, to withdraw her armies from Italy, in order to protect herself against attack at exposed points within her own borders. The removal of this formidable adversary greatly encouraged the whole populations of the Italian peninsula, among whom the desire to become united with the kingdom of Italy became almost universal. After Venetia, by a vote practically unanimous, decided to do so, the revolutionary spirit was greatly aroused. There were, however, among the revolutionists, some who were so enthusiastic as to demand a republic, which, for a time, somewhat threatened the cause of independence. All of these favored the new Government under Victor Emmanuel to a longer continuance of papal rule, but desired to dispense with a king entirely, preferring that the entire political sovereignty should be vested in the people. These readily rallied at the call of Garibaldi, and made preparations for attacking Rome. In the meantime, after the withdrawal of the Austrians, Louis Napoleon—acting under a species of infatuation which he never could well explain, and nobody could fully understand—had sent a large body of French troops to Italy to protect the temporal power of Pius IX, and hold him upon the throne, it having been fully demonstrated by this time that nothing but foreign military force could do so. The Garibaldians were defeated by the French, which event, although it produced a temporary sadness among the patriotic Italians, did not intimidate them. The course of events among the sovereigns favored their cause to such a degree that there are far better grounds for saying that they were providentially designed to abolish the temporal power than there are in support of the pretense that it was divinely established at the fall of the Roman Empire, or at any other time. Louis Napoleon had his own affairs to look after. His stealth of the imperial crown of France had given fresh spur to his ambition, but his perfidy was so flagrant that even among the stanchest monarchists he was held in contempt. His self-conceit made war between Prussia and France inevitable; and when that event was brought on, he realized, probably for the first time, that he had been engaged in the ignominious work of preventing the independence of Italy, and forcing the Italian people to accept a king they had almost unanimously decided to reject. Whether he fully realized this or not, his necessities compelled him to withdraw the French troops from Italy, and to leave Pius IX without the support of foreign troops, who had stood guard over his temporal crown during every hour of his pontificate. The war between Prussia and France was a terrible blow at Pius IX, but an event of incalculable value to the cause of Italian independence. And when it led to Sedan, the capture of Paris, and the loss of Alsace and Lorraine by France, Victor Emmanuel steadily kept his eyes upon the unification of Italy, which even Pius IX understood to mean the abolition of the temporal power.

Victor Emmanuel again had an opportunity of acting frankly towards the pope and fairly with the Church. He endeavored to explain himself in a letter to Pius IX, wherein, "with the faith of a Catholic" but "with the dignity of a king," he declared that it was not his purpose to impair or interfere with the spiritual authority or independence of the pope, and that he would maintain these with his troops; and, counseling him to recognize the stubborn facts which confronted him and which he was powerless to change, he urged him to accept this as the only practical and possible solution of the difficulties surrounding him. He closed his appeal in these words: "Your holiness, in delivering Rome from the foreign troops, in freeing it from the continual peril of being the battle-field of subversive parties, will have accomplished a marvelous work, given peace to the Church, and shown to Europe, shocked by the horrors of war, how great battles can be won and immortal victories achieved by an act of justice, and by a single word of affection."[187] Here, in an eloquent and touching appeal, the king implored the pope to "give peace to the Church," well knowing, as he did, that the only purpose of the revolution was to get rid of the temporal power and establish a constitutional government, and that if this question were disposed of by the acquiescence of Pius IX the vast multitude of Roman Catholics then in arms would return to their homes and be content to live in peace and quiet under his spiritual dominion. The issue was a single and a simple one, which could not be misunderstood; and that it should be made so clear that even the commonest mind could comprehend it fully, Victor Emmanuel accompanied his letter with a statement of the terms which he proposed for adjusting the relations between the Church and the State. They were these: All nations should have free access to the pope; all Churches in Rome to be neutralized; ambassadors to the pope to enjoy full immunity; the cardinals to retain their revenues and immunity; the salaries of all military and civil functionaries to be paid as before; and the bishops and clergy throughout Italy to have "the full and absolutely free exercise of their ecclesiastical functions."