THIRD MILLENNIUM LIBRARY
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THIRD MILLENNIUM LIBRARY |
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THE HISTORY OF THE PAPACY IN THE XIXth CENTURY III
THE ABOLITION OF THE ORDER OF THE JESUITS
The idea of
forcing a total abolition of Loyola's order, by making joint representations to
the Pope, gained ground among the Bourbon princes and statesmen, and a fresh
unwise proceeding of Clement XIII made the princes put the though into action. Ever
since 1731, when the house of Farnese became extinct, and the Infante Don
Carlos, son of Philip V of Spain, took to himself the government of Parma and
Piacenza, the popes had claimed to be the real lords of those states. Every
year on the eve of St Peter’s Day they made a solemn protest against the
Spanish prince’s usurpation of what presumably belonged to the successors and
heirs of Paul III, the former Cardinal Farnese and when the young Duke
Ferdinand of Parma, in spite of the protest of his bishop, permitted himself to
invade the rights and dignities of the Church, his action caused the greatest
indignation at Rome. Clement XIII first warned the Duke Infante but as this had
no effect he issued an edict (30th January 1768) declaring all Ferdinand's
measures, which were contrary to the laws of the Church, to be null and void,
and threatening him and his counselors with excommunication under the “Bull ok
Maundy Thursday” if they did not at once bow to the see of St Peter.
But this was not
to be thought of. What Duke Ferdinand had done was perfectly approved of by his
paternal uncle, King Carlos III of Spain, and also by his maternal grandfather,
Louis XV of France. The Pope’s threat only served to draw out the family
feeling of the Bourbons. The Bourbon family treaty was made on 15th August
1761, originally as a counter-move against England; among other things it
contained a sentence that whoever attacked one of the two thrones attacked
both. King Ferdinand I of the Two Sicilies and the
Infante Ferdinand, Duke of Parma, both came under the treaty as the son and
nephew of Carlos III, and therefore the attack roused all the reigning
Bourbons. Unwise prophecies and personal satires and satirical pictures, directed
against the Spanish king and his counselors, enraged the Spaniards still more,
and both Carlos III and Louis XV advised the Duke of Parma to take no notice
whatever of the papal letters, but to send all the Jesuits of Parma to the
Papal States. This advice was followed and there came a fresh protest from
Rome. It made no impression on the allied princes; Naples answered by absorbing
the Papal peculiars of Benevento and Pontecorvo, and
France those of Avignon and Venaissin.
These reprisals
caused the greatest consternation at Rome. Clement XIII was so overcome by
grief and anger that it was thought necessary to bleed him; his Secretary of
State, Torregiani, was likewise so affected that he
had to undergo the same operation. As soon as the Pope had somewhat recovered,
he wrote and complained to Carlos III, but, instead of considering this
complaint, the Spanish king sent a secret order to his representative at the
chair of St Peter to demand that Rome should withdraw at all points. The
Spanish representative was to insist upon Clement XIII's recalling and
destroying the letter against Parma; recognizing the sovereignty of the
Infante, and submitting to the loss of Benevento and Pontecorvo,
Avignon and Venaissin; banishing Cardinal Torregiani and the General of the Jesuits from Rome, and
abolishing the order. The old relations between Spain and St Peter's see could
only be renewed on such conditions. Carlos III also tried to draw Maria Theresa
into the coalition against the Jesuits. The wise and prudent empress answered
that she had no reason to work for the abolition of the order, but, if the Holy
Father thought such a step necessary, she would neither oppose it nor
disapprove.
The papal
diplomatists tried in vain to make the Bourbon Courts look with more favor on
the disciples of Loyola. The Spanish ambassador at Paris, a friend of the
Jesuits, whose wife was descended from the family of St Aloysius of Gonzaga,
and who had two brothers of his own in the order, informed the papal nuncio in
Paris that the fire which was burning in Spain could only be quenched by the
abolition of the order. When this was done, Spain would do anything for Rome,
and Rome would be able also to help to stop the progress of infidelity which
was spreading in Spain as elsewhere. Carlos III sent one courier after another
to Versailles to induce Louis XV to take common action against the Jesuits. At
last, in the beginning of 1769, France, Spain, and the Two Sicilies jointly demanded that the order of the Jesuits should be abolished. To gain
time, the Roman Jesuits made Clement XIII claim an explanation of the reasons
for the demand; but even Lorenzo Ricci began now to lose heart. He told the
French ambassador at Rome, in a confidential conversation, that the rage of the
people might be turned upon the Society of Jesus to such a degree, that its
members would be in danger of life and limb. It is said that Clement XIII
thought of bringing forward the case of the order in a Consistory which was
fixed for 3rd February; but he died the night before; sorrow and
anxiety had sapped his remaining strength.
The Conclave which
met on 15th February 1769 was in an unusual degree an object of interest to all
politicians. The health of Clement XIII had long been so doubtful that the
election of a new pope had been looked upon as a near contingency, and the
different governments had for some time been considering what position they
would take when the time came. All the Roman Catholic princes wished for a pope
of a different stamp from Clement XIII and one who would not choose Torregiani for his Secretary of State! Carlos III went
still further; his opinion was that they should make sure beforehand that the
new Pope would abolish the Jesuit order. The Jesuits felt what was in the air,
and did everything to avert the catastrophe. All intrigued that could be
devised either before or during a Conclave were brought into operation.
JOSEPH II VISITS
THE CONCLAVE
Cardinal Rezzonico, a cousin of Clement XIII, rallied the friends of
the Jesuits among the cardinals, the so-called Zelanti, round himself; but the
opposite party, the “Cardinals of the Crowned Heads”, formed a
counter-organization. The Jesuits wanted a quick election, because that would
make it easier to place one of their friends in St Peter's chair, and Ricci
advised the cardinals to provide a new head for Christendom as soon as
possible. But the diplomatists objected, and the French ambassador, the Marquis d’Aubeterre, informed the members of the Conclave in
his own name and that of the Spanish Chargé d'affaires that they would both leave Rome
immediately if the Jesuit General’s advice were followed. This threat answered
its purpose. For a long time, more than a third of the cardinals would not
vote; they would not hear of finishing the Conclave before the arrival of the
French and Spanish cardinals—two from either country. The foreign cardinals
kept them waiting a long time. One of the French cardinals, Bernis,
Archbishop of Albi, had great difficulty in getting
together the considerable sum which was necessary for the journey, and the
Spanish cardinals were so afraid of the sea that they got off the man-of-war,
which the government had put at their disposal, to pursue the journey by land.
During the long time of waiting, the Conclave had the unexpected honor (16th March)
of a visit from two princes who were soon to cost St Peter's see serious
anxieties—the Grand Duke Leopold of Tuscany and his brother the Emperor Joseph
II. Both princes were admitted to the assembly of the cardinals, and the
various members of the Conclave were presented to them. When some of the
cardinals asked the young Emperor to protect the new pope, he answered: “You
can do that best yourselves by your own wisdom, in choosing a pope who will
keep the rule ne quid nimis,
and who will not force matters on”. When Cardinal Torregiani was presented, Joseph II said rather coldly: “I have very often heard him
mentioned!”
It was quite plain
that the Jesuit party could not expect any support from the two young princes.
Joseph II wrote home to his mother: “We saw the Conclave. As all the cardinals
begged us to go in, we let ourselves be persuaded. It is rather amusing to see
it, especially because one so seldom has the chance”.
The instructions
given by the Duke of Choiseul to the French cardinals were, that they should act in concert with their Spanish and Sicilian brethren. The
Archbishop of Naples, who was the candidate of Spain and the Sicilies, would also be acceptable to France, and there
were a few cardinals, such as Torregiani, who were
not to be elected; but otherwise the French government had no special wishes as
to the person of the future pope. Its chief interest lay in a different
direction—the retention of Avignon and Venaissin—which
the Parliaments would not give up.
The Spaniards were
instructed to demand three concessions—the abolition of the Society of Jesus,
the cession of Avignon and Venaissim to France, and
of Pontecorvo and Benevento to Naples. Of these three
claims Carlos III evidently had the first most at heart. The Cardinal
Archbishop of Seville, the spokesman of the Spaniards, thought that there was
no reason why the future pope should not give a definite promise, either in
writing or in the presence of witnesses, to abolish the Jesuit order. But in
Cardinal Bernis' opinion such a plan was contrary to
all canonical laws, and he urged that a cardinal who would stoop to give such a
promise was not to be trusted. The Cardinal of Seville, however, was not moved
by this objection; he and the other Spanish cardinal had come with the firm
determination “to take good care not to be fooled by the Frenchmen”.
But where was a
cardinal to be found who had the qualities necessary for a pope, and was at the
same time willing to fetter himself by such a bond? Even Cordara admits that there were not many “papable” cardinals
in the Conclave of 1769. The Marquis d’Aubeterre, who
did not share Cardinal Bernis' scruples about binding
the future pope, had long had his eye on Lorenzo Ganganelli, and the Spanish
cardinals voted for him immediately after they had entered the Conclave. But
could Ganganelli be trusted? He had attended the Jesuit school at Rimini; it
was said that he had to thank the General of the Jesuits for the hat which
Clement XIII had given him, and Cardinal Rezzonico seemed to be willing to vote for him. It was no wonder that the Spaniards began
to doubt, and refused to work in earnest for his election as long as he had not
bound himself in any way. As far as can be gathered from Bernis’
later dispatches, Ganganelli complied with the wishes of the Spanish cardinals,
and, as a theologian, recognized, in writing, the possibility that the future
pope, with due respect to Canon Law, and without violating the rules of wisdom
and justice, might, with a clear conscience, abolish the Society of Jesus. Crétineau-Joly, the historian of the Jesuits, who, it must
be owned, was anything but trustworthy, says that he had held in his hand a
note of Ganganelli’s to that effect; but that note
has not since been found in the Spanish archives. Several historians,
therefore, ignoring Crétineau-Joly, and calling
attention to Cardinal Bernis légèreté proverbiale, deny that Ganganelli ever wrote such a note. It is certain that the Cardinal of
Seville concealed this document from Bernis, and it
was only afterwards from the lips of the new Pope himself that Bernis heard of this ambiguous declaration. But Bernis' account of what the Pope had afterwards told him
about this note has such a stamp of reality that there does not seem to be
sufficient reason to doubt its truth.
After receiving Ganganelli’s declaration, the Spaniards firmly supported
his candidature. When Bernis noticed this, he
approached the confidential agent of Austria in the Conclave, Cardinal Pozzobonelli, in order to discover the attitude of the
Court of Vienna. As he found sympathy in that quarter, he resolved to bring the
long and tiring Conclave to an end as soon as possible. On the evening of the
17th May he sent his “Conclavist” to Ganganelli to let him know what the
general feeling was. At first Ganganelli gave out that he would not accept the
election, but by degrees he began to discuss different questions which showed
that the thought of obtaining the tiara had not been quite foreign to his mind.
The French conclavist told him, so it is said, that the three governments
expected him to meet them half way, especially in abolishing the Society of
Jesus, and in giving satisfaction to the Duke of Parma. Ganganelli answered
that he had thought out a plan which would easily settle the last point, and he
was convinced that the abolition of the Jesuit order was “necessary”, but it
ought, he said, to be carried out with due observance of all the proper forms.
When the conclavist asked what forms he had especially in view, he answered
that the approval of the Catholic Courts and of their clergy ought to be obtained;
and so the conversation ended.
Next evening (18th
May), Bernis again sent his conclavist to Ganganelli’s cell; this time furnished with a memorandum,
of which the chief purpose was to show what gratitude the future Pope owed to
the French cardinals, who had taken such an important part in his election.
Ganganelli answered that he had always had an affection for France, and that he bore Louis XV in his heart, and Cardinal Bernis in his right hand. The memorandum expressed anxiety,
lest the observance of all the forms which had been mentioned with respect to
the abolition of the Society of Jesus might place the new Pope in a false
light, and that in any case it would retard the business. But Ganganelli
reassured Bernis by declaring that events would justify
the methods which he would choose. And when Bernis wished also to know how the reconciliation with Parma was to be effected,
Ganganelli confided to him, under promise of secrecy, that he thought of
marrying the Infante-Duke at Rome with his own hands to the Austrian
Archduchess who was chosen to be his bride. Such a proceeding on the part of
the new Pope would cancel all the threats and curses of Clement XIII against
Parma. In reference to the wish expressed in the memorandum, that France should
be allowed to retain Avignon, and Naples Benevento, he only said that he would
leave that point entirely to the King's conscience.
CLEMENT XIV
After these
declarations Bernis had no doubt that Ganganelli ought
to be pope, and all the more so because he had readily agreed to appoint as his
Secretary of State and other high officials the persons suggested by the
Cardinal of Albi. So Bernis went at a late hour of the night to Cardinal Pozzobonelli,
with whom he also found Rezzonico. The three
cardinals at once agreed that next day they would make all their partisans vote
for Ganganelli; and as the party led by the two Cardinals Albani would likewise vote for him, full unanimity
would be reached. On the 19th May, forty-six out of the forty-seven voting
papers bore the name of Lorenzo Ganganelli; he had himself voted for Rezzonico, who hitherto, during the whole time of the
Conclave, had not received a single vote. The new Pope took the name of Clement
XIV in gratitude to Clement XIII for having given him the purple, and also as a
token that he wished to throw a veil of oblivion over the ill-will which his
predecessor had often shown him of late years.
Clement XIV had at
an early age been adopted into the order of St Francis; his nature was
peaceable and harmonious, and the constant disagreements between Clement XIII
and the secular powers had always been distasteful to him. As we have seen, he
had again and again raised his voice among the cardinals in the cause of
moderation and reasonableness. In spite of the name, he did not mean to be a
repetition of Clement XIII. He was anxious and suspicious, and trusted only
himself, his Franciscan confessor, and his Franciscan cook; and all the Jesuit
eyes which watched him everywhere made him feel uncomfortable.
The French
ambassador wrote to the Duke of Choiseul, in the days of Clement XIII, that the
Jesuits held all the entrances to the Pope’s palace, so that whichever way
Clement XIII turned he always heard the same story. As
the confessors of the nobles, Loyola's disciples took a leading part in the Roman
salons, and everywhere in the Papal States they were in power. The new Pope was
by no means a favorite in the best Roman society, so Joseph II wrote to his
mother,—the Pope being of humble birth and a sworn enemy of the Jesuits.
Clement XIV on his
part did not like the enormous influence of the Jesuits. His predecessor had
been accustomed to discuss all important questions with the cardinals and the
General of the Jesuits. Clement XIV would not follow this plan. Partly on
principle, and partly from anxiety, he decided to act entirely on his own
account; only facts and not reasons should in future be made known to the
cardinals. In his person an enlightened absolutism ascended St Peter’s
throne—though certainly in rather a frightened form. He succeeded in breaking
free from the yoke of the cardinals; but to make up for this, the
representatives of the foreign powers had much more influence under him than
under his predecessor.
This rupture with
the cardinals and dependence on the foreign governments made Clement XIV very
unpopular in Rome. The slighted cardinals drew back resentfully from the silent
and suspicious Pope; and their resentment infected the Romans, who in so many
ways depended upon their Eminences, and who suffered besides under the parsimony
of the new Pope and his serious efforts to raise the deeply depressed finances
of the Papacy.
With the foreign
Courts Clement XIV quickly came to a good understanding. Maria Theresa had had
scruples about giving her consent to her daughter’s marriage with the
Infante-Duke of Parma as long as the dispute with Rome was not settled. A
dispensation from Rome was necessary, because of the near relationship of the
bride and bridegroom. This was now sent immediately, and so the effect of the
violent measures of Clement XIII against Parma was quietly neutralized. But
with the abolition of the Society of Jesus things did not go so easily. On 31st
May the Marquis d’Aubeterre informed the Duke of
Choiseul that he had expressed the wishes of France in this matter. Clement XIV
had asked for time, as it could not be done in a moment; especially as,
according to the ambassador, the Pope “so far was accustomed to do everything
himself”
When D’Aubeterre soon after was recalled to France, Cardinal Bernis was made the French ambassador to the see of St Peter, and as the representative of the head of
the Bourbon Courts, he took over for a time the management of the negotiations
with the Pope. Everything was done in the greatest secrecy. The General of the
Augustinian order, who was a Spaniard and well known in Rome, was one of the
few who were initiated; he was to help Cardinal Bernis with good advice. But in spite of every precaution the Jesuits found out what
was in the wind, and took all possible pains to follow the course of events by
the help of spies. In order to frighten the Pope, they spread abroad prophecies
that he would die before he had time to sign the paper abolishing the order.
But Cardinal Bernis was able to reassure his
government with the news that Clement XIV would not allow himself to be scared by these Jesuit prophecies, but had given Padre Georgi, a theologian of the Augustinian order, the task of
making a draft of the brief of dissolution. At the same time, however, he did
not conceal his anxiety lest Clement’s incessant
labor should injure his health.
The whole affair
progressed much more slowly than Carlos III wished, and would perhaps have gone
yet more slowly if the Jesuits had not again roused universal exasperation by
announcing to the world, in a boastful manner, that their missionaries had
received the same privileges and indulgences that other missionaries usually
received. In order to make a display of this papal favor, as if it were
evidence of the present Pope's protection of their order, they had the papal
letter to their missionaries printed and distributed everywhere. All that they
gained by it was that on 22nd July Cardinal Bernis in
the name of France, Spain, and Naples explicitly demanded the abolition of the
order.
Clement XIV endeavored
to moderate the anger of the allied princes by expressing his astonishment at
the “audacity” with which the Jesuits boasted of a letter, which in reality
only contained what was given to all workers in the mission field. He also held
out the prospect of two new letters being issued which would reduce the pride
of the reverend fathers, adding that he would show the world that he was not
afraid of doing his duty. Cardinal Bernis wrote to
his government: “After this the Holy Father spoke to me with much spirit,
clearness, and force about the abolition of the Jesuit order. He said to me
that in this affair he must consider his conscience and his honor;—his
conscience, because he must respect the laws of the Church and the example set
by his predecessors on similar occasions: his honor, because he could not
lightly disregard the deference due to those who had not demanded the
abolition, i.e., the Emperor and Empress, the Polish Republic, the King of
Sardinia, the Venetians, the Genoese, and even the King of Prussia”
Clement XIV did
not conceal, however, from the Cardinal of Albi that
he feared for his life, and he asked for time to carry out his plan, if for no
other reason but that the world should not believe that he had bound himself
before his election to fulfill the wishes of the allied princes. Two days later Bernis wrote in a private letter to Choiseul: “That
document which they (the Spaniards) had got the Pope to sign, was in no wise
binding; the Pope has himself told me what it contained. His Holiness is afraid
of being poisoned, he distrusts all his entourage, and
does not confide in anyone”. In the beginning of August, Bernis further informed his government that an attempt had been made to remove the
Franciscan who kept the Pope's papers and keys, and also the friar of the same
order who looked after the Pope's kitchen. He also said that Clement XIV took
more and more precautions with his food and drink. The confidence which the
Pope always placed in him made an impression on him, and he did his best to
defend Clement XIV’s delay against the impatient princes.
CHOISEUL AND
BERNIS
In reality France
could well wait, for the time which was spent in negotiations only served to
strengthen French authority in Avignon and Venaissin.
But Spain could not and would not brook any delay in the abolition of the
Society of Jesus; and the Duke of Choiseul saw with a certain terror, how this
one thing so occupied the Spanish diplomatists, that they forgot “England,
Pitt, and the greatest and dearest interests, only to think about the Jesuits
and to plague him with them”. On 2nd August he sent Bernis a private letter, in which he tells him that it was said in Spain that he, the
French Minister, who in his own country was counted the worst enemy of the
Jesuits, was in reality one of their hangers on. Nothing in the world was
really a subject of greater indifference to him than the Jesuits; but a decision
must now be arrived at as soon as possible. A few days later, therefore, he
sent Bernis, officially, a sort of ultimatum charging
the Cardinal to inform Clement XIV that two months was the longest respite
France would allow him. At the same time at an audience he made the papal
nuncio at Paris feel his ill-humour—the more so
because he had been freshly incited by Tanucci, who
was in the highest degree offended by a work called Reflexions on the conduct of the Bourbon Courts with reference to the Jesuits,
in which Loyola's disciples had given full vent to their anxious and wrathful
hearts.
In these
circumstances, Bernis found it necessary to present
another note to Clement XIV, and to request a definite promise of the abolition
of the order. To get out of this promise as easily as possible, Clement XIV
sent a letter written in bad French to Louis XV, in which he promised to
examine the matter and then “give a proof of his fatherly love”. Louis XV
thanked him for this trivial and unsatisfactory letter; but Carlos III could no
longer contain his impatience. Certain diplomatists slandered Bernis to him, and in Madrid it was even feared that France
would withdraw her support from the common cause. However, the Duke of Choiseul
succeeded in convincing Carlos III that this fear was unfounded; and Bernis regained the Spanish king’s confidence to such a
degree, that he was commissioned to present a new note to Clement XIV in the
name of all the Bourbon princes, with the addition of Portugal. In this note
the Pope was requested, first to sanction, by means of a Bull, all that had
been done with the Jesuits and their possessions in the Bourbon states; and,
secondly, to inform the combined governments of the course which he intended to
take in carrying out his former promise of abolishing the Jesuit order. Clement
XIV promised to do as they wished, but again begged for time, pointing out the
difficulty of the case and the hindrances that the Jesuits put in his way at
every turn.
Bernis wrote to
Choiseul: “The Pope has occupied himself far too much in examining the depth of
the ditch he has to cross; he has wasted time in tasting the medicine instead
of swallowing it at once”.
The wretched Clement
grew more and more anxious as the time for deciding drew near. One day he would
brace himself up with thinking of that courageous brother of his order, Sixtus V; and the next he would be paralyzed with fear by
thinking of all the dangers which threatened him. Bernis wrote: “He has an intermittent-fever; after a good day there always comes a bad
one”.
It was a great
misfortune for Clement XIV that he had not a single cardinal near him who could
advise and comfort him. Once more he resolved to rid himself of his
difficulties by means of a letter. He made drafts of several letters to Carlos
III, but not till the 30th November did he gain enough courage to put his name
to one, in which among other things he said that he was collecting some ancient
documents, which in the eyes of the world would amply justify the Spanish
king's wisdom in expelling the “restless and dangerous Jesuits from his country”.
He also said that
he would very soon lay before his Spanish Majesty a plan for the total
abolition of the Society of Jesus. By this letter he crossed the Rubicon. The
promise here given was as plain as could be wished, and his Catholic Majesty
was a man who knew how to enforce the fulfillment of promises made to him.
Choiseul, who was half surprised at this unreserved letter, wrote privately to Bernis: “If I were the Pope, I should pull this thorn out
of my foot and destroy those monks, so as never to hear of them again. It would
only be necessary to alter the constitution of the order a little, dress the
members in white, and dedicate them to the Virgin, and then get the leaders of
the order to agree to this metamorphosis. Those who wish to have the Jesuits in
their states could then keep them under
the name of 'Virginians'; but neither
we nor the Spaniards will have them”
It would doubtless
have been more difficult to effect this “metamorphosis”
than the Duke of Choiseul imagined, and in any case Clement XIV did not choose
to follow this course. He approved of his predecessor's words: Aut sint ut sunt, aut non sint. To him the only possible plan was to
effect an abolition of the hated order in accordance with all canonical rules.
It seemed a sign of what was to follow that on Maundy Thursday of 1770 he
omitted to have the Bull In cena Domini read in St Peter’s. For several centuries, pope after pope had worked at this
Bull. It had last been edited under Urban VIII (1627). It excommunicated and
cursed all heretics and schismatics, and all who without the Pope’s permission
read, owned, or printed books written by people of another faith.
The “Bull of
Maundy Thursday” had long been an object of displeasure to statesmen, because
in it the Pope encroached on the sovereign rights and self-government of
states, as well as on the right of princes to judge and to punish. In France,
Spain, Portugal, Naples, the Netherlands, Bohemia, and Mainz, it had long been
prohibited, and in Switzerland great resentment had recently been expressed
against its accusations of heresy. When the reading of the Bull was omitted in
1770, the Jesuits fumed; but everywhere in Catholic Christendom the step was
much appreciated. Loyola's disciples were still more enraged when Clement XIV
made peace with Portugal, and even made Pombal’s brother a cardinal; and they were highly scandalized to hear of the splendid
reception given to the papal nuncio when shortly afterwards he made his entry
into Lisbon.
But in spite of
the dropping of the Bull In cena Domini, and the peace with Portugal, Carlos III
was not content. Why did Clement go on delaying to suppress the order?
In order to hasten
matters Carlos III got thirty-four of his bishops to send a letter to Rome in
which they demanded the complete abolition of the Society of Jesus. This
combination of the Spanish episcopate had a noticeable influenced in spurring
Clement on. He at once took away from the Jesuits the management of the
priestly seminary at Frascati. He thought of
forbidding them to receive any more novices. At the end of March Bernis was able to inform Choiseul that Clement XIV himself
had told him that the brief against the Jesuits was nearly ready, and that the
draft oft it would be sent to the King of Spain so that he could send it on to
Louis XV; but that the brief must be kept secret until they were quite agreed
about the abolition. In the end of April he wrote that Clement XIV was
dissatisfied with the style of the brief, and was occupied in altering it.
Meanwhile neither Bernis nor Choiseul could
understand why Carlos III had suddenly become more patient; but, as Spain was
now negotiating on her own account, Bernis received
orders to remain quiet.
MARIA OF AGREDA
The reason for
Carlos’ patience, which at first was so mysterious, soon came to light. Bernis discovered that lively negotiations were being
carried on between Madrid and Rome about another matter, which, for the time,
quite eclipsed the Jesuit question. Carlos III's confessor had long been very
eager to obtain the canonization of the Franciscan nun, Mari of Agreda, and he had succeeded in making his royal penitent
anxious for this canonization which would confer upon Spain a new saint.
Maria of Agreda, who died in 1665, lived in a convent which her
mother had founded at Agreda in Old Castile. This
convent was dedicated to the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin, and
Maria of Agreda was an enthusiastic believer in this “pious
proposition”, which had long been an apple of discord among the Roman
theologians. A mystical work was published in her name: Mistica Ciudad de Dios, milagro de su omnipotencia y abismo de la gracia (Madrid,1670), containing a biography of Our Lady which gave much
offence, especially in France, where the Sorbonne forbade the circulation of
the book.
In the days of
Pope Innocent XI the Inquisition likewise issued a decree against it, because
it represented the Scotist doctrine of the Virgin
Mary’s immaculate conception as a divine revelation.
It taught that the Virgin Mary’s body and blood propria specie was present in the Eucharist, and that every 8th of
December she celebrated her own conceptio immaculata, borne up to heaven by angels; and other
similar follies. According to the visions of the Spanish nun the Virgin Mary
had also helped the Apostles to compose the Apostles’ creed,
had visited St James at Zaragossa to command him to
build a church, and so forth.
Such was the
curious “biography”, which, after several unsuccessful attempts with former
popes, they now endeavored to get recognize by the Fransciscan Clement XIV. This done, it would be possible for Maria of Agreda to be crowned as a saint, and so the way be paved for the dogma of the
immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary, about which Carlos III and the
Spanish Fransciscans were “strangely fanatical”. So
wrote the French ambassador at Madrid. Choiseul was beyond measure astonished
that anybody in the age of Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists could put faith in such romances, and at Paris it was thought that the whole
thing was fraught with possible dangers. It was still fresh in remembrance what
troubles had been caused by the controversy over the Bull Unigenitus; and now a battle was gathering about the Immaculate
Conception, for it was certain that in France, where the Sorbonne had expressed
the greatest contempt for the nun’s work, the new dogma would never be received
with submission. However, neither then nor at a later
time was any decisive judgment delivered upon the fantastic imaginations of the
Spanish nun. It was said in 1866 that Pius IX had confirmed a decree of the
Congregation of the Index forbidding the book; but to this day it still appears
in translations and adaptations, with episcopal approbation prefixed. Indeed, Pius IX publicly praised the learned Benedictine
Dom Gueranger, for having written an apology for the
work of Maria of Agreda.
The episode of
Maria of Agreda shows clearly the spiritual plane
upon which the battle with Jesuitism was fought, so far as Spain was concerned.
Of course, the interlude came very opportunely for the disciples of Loyola, and Bernis observed that they once more lifted their
heads high. In the same letter in which he gave his government this
information, he mentioned also that it was rumored in Rome that the King of
Spain and his confessor were beginning to feel qualms of conscience and
uneasiness about giving the coup de grace to the Society of Jesus, and that the Spanish king wished to draw back from the
combat against the Society. An extract from this confidential dispatch was sent
to the ambassador of France at Madrid by Choiseul, who bade him at the same
time to make a discreet use of the confidential information given by the
Cardinal of Albi. Whether through stupidity or
through malice, the French ambassador was so inconceivably indiscreet as to send the whole extract to the Spanish Foreign
Minister. This senseless or malicious step gave rise to a far from pleasant
exchange of notes between France and Spain, in the course of which expressions,
which were anything but diplomatic, were used on the Spanish side with regard
to Cardinal Bernis, who had in reality only done his
duty in keeping his government well informed about facts and opinions at Rome.
Bernis boldly continued
his work at Rome, although the prospect before him was somewhat discouraging,
because the' Spanish ambassador was now allowed to take the lead. The latter
was exceedingly jealous of his dignity, but was not in a position to point out
means for attaining the end. It was easy to nominate new cardinals, who would
support the Pope, and as easy to make two of the boldest champions of the
Jesuits feel the papal displeasure. “But the King of Prussia, England, and the
Protestants, were agitating in earnest on behalf of the society, and at Rome it
was adored”. It was, in Bernis’ opinion, a matter of
less importance that at Vienna, likewise, people appeared to wish to make use
of the Jesuits for the future; for if they were deprived of their General,
their rule and their vows, and so were converted into a congregation of priests
like St Sulpice, the Austrians could easily get leave
to keep and use them. But—“there was Rome in the background and Rome was
entirely devoted to the Jesuits. Rome would only allow the Pope to suppress
them if the see of St Peter
recovered Avignon and Benevento”
These last words
give a short expression of Cardinal Bernis’
diplomatic tactics in the case. In his opinion it was necessary to choose
between the suppression of the Jesuit order and the cession of Avignon. If the
one object was to be gained the other must be given up. But Choiseul wished to
have both: he only thought that Carlos III should see to the first and Bernis to the second. At this juncture, however,
circumstances arose which made it difficult for Spain to bestow as much thought
upon the Jesuit question as before. A war with England was a near possibility.
The danger of war passed over, and there was again a prospect of taking up the
interrupted negotiations. But at last, in December 1771, Bernis was surprised by a brief intimation that the Dukes of Choiseul and of Praslin had both fallen into disgrace and were dismissed;
and a little later he learned that the Duke of Aiguillon and M. de la Vrilliere had taken their places.
It was a fresh
piece of good news for the Jesuits. The Duke of Aiguillon was so well known for a friend of theirs that the ladies of Paris were already
laying wagers on the recall of the order to France, and on 16th January Bernis informed the new Minister that the Jesuits of Rome
had bidden farewell to fear, and that at the same time sure hopes were now
entertained at Rome of the restoration of Avignon. But in spite of his sympathy
with Jesuitism, the Duke of Aiguillon could not think
of sacrificing Spain and the family compact at a moment so critical for France,
and orders were given to La Vrilliere to assure Carlos
III that Louis XV had by no means forgotten the promise which he had made to
His Catholic Majesty with regard to the Jesuits.
It was again the
turn of Spain to pursue other objects, and to break off the thread of the
negotiations. Carlos III's confessor had once more succeeded in rousing his
master to be jealous for a canonization, which this time stood in a kind of
connection with the suppression of the Jesuit order, inasmuch as it concerned
the elevation of the Jesuits' ancient enemy, the Mexican Juan de Palafox, who died in 1659 as Bishop of Osma.
Bishop Palafox, even before Pascal wrote his Provincial Letters,
had been commissioned by the Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo to write against the Probabilism of the Jesuits; but death overtook him
before he had accomplished his task. He succeeded, nevertheless, in evincing
his dislike of the Society of Jesus in another way, by sending to Rome a
complaint of the Jesuits' proceedings; and a papal brief of 1648 had in the
main justified his view. As early as 1696 steps had been taken; in Spain to get
Juan de Palafox beatified, but the General of the
Jesuits had hindered it. Now the matter came up again and Rome this time was
willing to meet the wishes of the Spaniards. The matter, however, was long
delayed, and before the "heroic virtues" of the deceased bishop were
sufficiently examined, Pius VI stopped the process of beatification.
This breaking off
of action against the Jesuits’ order was not so significant as the former; still, it was a breaking off, and they began again
to hope to ride out the storm. Bernis in dignantly informed his government that the Roman Jesuits
had begun once more to agitate for the curious “Devotion to the Sacred Heart of
Jesus”, which is one of the pet children of Jesuitism in the way of worship. At
the Colosseum, in particular, they held festivals of
the Heart of Jesus, and upon an altar which was erected there was seen a
picture representing Christ with His breast open; from His heart issued a
multitude of Hosts, and Christ was holding one of them out to a kneeling nun,
Marguerite Marie Alacoque. “The heretics and the
ungodly”, wrote Bernis, “make fun of these novelties;
but the fanatics use them to swell the ranks of their party”
Nevertheless,
Carlos III was naturally indisposed, when it came to the point, to give up his
demand for the suppression of the Society of Jesus, and his impatience once
more awoke. In the new Spanish ambassador to the papal Court, Don Jose Moniño,
he found the right man to bring this great and often frustrated cause to a
successful issue.
DON JOSE MONIÑO
Don Jose Moniño
had the reputation of being an intrepid diplomatist, and a determined opponent
of the Jesuits. When in 1772 he took up his situation at Rome, things were
speedily changed. Every one trembled before his energy, which was the subject
of much talk. As soon as he arrived in Rome Clement XIV caught a cold, Cardinal Bernis thought of going into the country, and
Cardinal Orsini suddenly bethought him that he must
visit a convent of nuns. But the Pope's cold passed off quickly; Bernis thought better of it and remained in Rome; and the
negotiations began afresh. At the very first audience which Moniño had with
Clement XIV he gave the Pope to understand that Spain was determined to have
the matter brought to a conclusion at once. When Clement began to speak of the
difficulties, he reminded him of his promises, and added: “My master the King
is a resolute prince; if too long a delay makes him distrustful, all will be
lost”. Clement XIV knew of no other way of escaping for the time from more
audiences than to say that he was obliged to go and take the baths; and
therewith he left Rome.
While he was
absent, Moniño made an accurate study of the state of things at Rome, and at
the same time he attempted to intimidate the Pope’s confessor, Buontempi, the only person who had any influence over
Clement XIV. The cold Spanish diplomatist gave the poor Franciscan to understand
that there were far worse things which could befall a favorite than to be sent
home to the cloister, and that, on the other hand, it was a matter of
importance to stand well with so powerful a prince as His Catholic Majesty.
At last, in
August, Clement XIV came back. At the first audience he promised Moniño to
bring the beatification of Bishop Juan de Palafox to
completion; but the Spanish diplomatist took no interest whatever in it. Next
he expressed a willingness to close the Jesuits’ noviciate and to forbid them to receive any more novices; but Moniño told him that Spain
desired “suppression, not reforms”. In his anguish Clement let fall some words
about all the difficulties connected with the suppression of an order like the
Society of Jesus. Moniño answered that he would himself with pleasure work out
a scheme for the suppression of the Jesuits, if the Pope would only give him a
few pieces of information for his guidance. Hoping by the acceptance of this
offer to gain time, Clement agreed to it; but by 6th September Bernis was able to lay before him the proposed scheme, and
at the same time Carlos III sent a letter to Louis XV, in which he expressed
his deliberate conviction that there would be no peace in the kingdoms until
the Society of Jesus was entirely dissolved.
But Rome could
not, and would not, make haste. At an audience in the middle of November,
Clement XIV acknowledged that he had endeavored to spin the case out with the
intention that it might not be said that the suppression of the order was a
condition of his election. These scruples made no impression upon Moniño. He
answered curtly that so long a time had now gone by—three years and a half—that
it would be, absurd to make such an accusation. Upon this Clement made two
important admissions: he confessed that on weighing the good that might result
from the dissolution of the order, and the evil that would follow upon its
continuance, he had come, to the conclusion that it ought to be dissolved; and
he admitted that not a single government had shown a disposition to maintain
it. Of taking any immediate action, however, he would not hear.
In these
conditions Moniño thought that he must begin to use serious threats; and at an
audience on 22nd November he went to the utmost bounds of what he could think
at all permissible in dealing with a successor of St Peter. The stern bearing
of the Spanish ambassador brought Clement to disclose the fact that he was
actually engaged in composing the brief of dissolution; and he informed Moniño,
in confidence, of the main outlines of what was to be contained in the
preamble. Shortly after this audience Clement went still further, and
commissioned a Roman, prelate named Zelada to arrange
in secrecy the suppression of the Society, according to the scheme drawn up by
Moniño in September, and in conjunction with the Spanish diplomatist. On 6th
January the work was ready, and the outcome of the joint labors of Zelada and Moniño was presented without delay to Clement.
The Pope decided that the document should first be sent to Carlos III, and from
him to Louis XV, and to the King of Portugal; and Cardinal Bernis considered the matter to be so completely finished, that he proposed to his
government to give Zelada an abbacy, worth twelve or
fifteen thousand francs a year, as a reward for his services.
A sure token of
what was coming was seen in the closing of the Jesuits’ famous Collegium Romanum; and the
followers of Loyola, with a view to emergencies, now began to realize their
property. In some places, as at Bologna, they even sold their church plate. On
17th February, Bernis informed his government that a
copy of the papal brief had been delivered to Moniño and transmitted by him the
same day to Madrid. On 5th March it was sent with the approva of Carlos III to Louis
XV, and on 14th March it was returned to the King of Spain without being
examined at Versailles; if Spain was satisfied with it, France would be so too.
The Jesuits had hoped that Maria Theresa would offer remonstrances,
but Choiseul had long before assured himself of the consent of Austria to the
suppression of the order.
Thus all went
according to the wishes of the Spaniards. But the time of procrastination was
not yet quite over. The brief does not appear to have been subscribed by
Clement until 8th June; and even after that was done there were still measures
to be taken. Before the world could be informed of what had happened, various
archives of the Jesuits had to be secured, and Clement expected that France
would surrender Avignon before the brief of suppression was published, as Tanucci, in whom he had little confidence, might otherwise
hesitate to relinquish his hold upon Benevento. The expectation of the
surrender of Avignon cost another delay, and to set things going Moniño found
it necessary to frighten the Pope's confessor again. At last, however, on 13th
August a commission was appointed consisting of five cardinals, with the
Dominican Padre Mamachi and a Franciscan of the
strict observance as consulting theologians, and the prelate Macedonio as secretary, to settle all questions relating to
the publication of the brief. This Congregation
de rebus extincte societatis Jesu was bound under threat of excommunication to
the deepest secrecy.
On Monday, 16th
August, in the evening, the great secret burst. At nine o'clock that day Macedonio, accompanied by soldiers and the police for fear
of a riot in the street, appeared at the Gesù, the
Jesuits’ chief house, to deliver to the General the fatal brief. At the same
stroke of the clock other prelates read the brief to the Rectors in the other
houses and colleges of the Jesuits in Rome. The followers of Loyola were
forbidden until further notice to perform ecclesiastical functions, and they
were not allowed to quit their dwellings. Later the same evening Cardinal Corsini, the president of the appointed Congregation, sent
his carriage to fetch Lorenzo Ricci, and to drive him to the English College.
Thence the General was afterwards taken to the Castle of Sant'
Angelo, where he died in 1775 in a mild captivity, surrounded by his
assistants. The severe treatment of Ricci was in vain defended on the ground
that various seditious writings from members of the suppressed order were
discovered. The Jesuit Cordara, who thought it
reasonable enough for Clement XIV to yield to the pressure' of the political
powers, and suppress the Society of Jesus, was by no means the only person who
considered it a great mistake that Ricci was not appointed to a bishopric
instead of being thrown into prison.
At the cost of the
Apostolic Camera, all the members of the order were supplied with the ordinary
garb of priests, and after that received permission to leave their houses. Only
the old and sick were detained, and the greatest consideration was shown to them
on the part of the Pope. "All are agreed," writes Bernis,
on 18th August, "that the Pope's decrees were conveyed to the Jesuits with
great moderation and great kindness. It is also universally considered that the
brief of suppression is well written, and is as lenient as possible towards the
Jesuits." On this point Cordara was at one with
the Cardinal of Albi.
THE BRIEF OF
SUPPRESSION
What are the
contents of this famous brief Dominus ac redemptor noster of 21st July
1773, which dissolved the mighty order of Loyola?
Attention is first
called to the well-known decree of the Lateran Council forbidding the erection
of new orders, because of the harmful confusion which too great a number of
them might create in the Church of God. In spite of this decision of the Council of 1215, the Apostolic See had
found it necessary in the years that followed to confirm several new orders.
There were, however, in history cases of orders being suppressed. Clement V dissolved
the order of the Templars, Pius V abolished the
Humiliates, Urban VIII extinguished the congregation
of the Reformed Conventual Brethren, the orders of St
Ambrose and St Barnabas, and so forth. It was not so small a list of
extinguished orders that Clement XIV was able to name in justification of the
step which he intended to take.
After this introduction
the rise of the Society of Jesus is described, and the many complaints which
from early days were made by various princes, amongst others by Philip II of Spain,
against the powerful order. The complaints began as early as the time of Paul
IV, Pius V, and Sixtus V, and not even the threat of
Gregory XIV to launch the greater excommunication at those who, directly or
indirectly, assailed the Society, its regulations or decrees, had been able to
stay the attacks.
“Day by day”, says
the brief, “throughout all the world, the most distressing controversies are
carried on concerning the doctrines of the Society, which many consider to be
at variance with right faith and good morals”. In spite of all that could be
done, the dislike of the Jesuits continued. “The more the outcry and the
complaints against this Society made themselves heard, causing here and there
dangerous commotions, contentions, and scenes of scandal, the more was the bond
of charity between Christians broken, and hearts were filled with party spirit,
hatred and enmity”. At last the Kings of France, Spain, Portugal, and the Two Sicilies had seen themselves obliged to expel the Jesuits
from their kingdoms and dominions. But not even this measure was sufficient to
pacify the Christian world. Nothing less than the complete
suppression of the Society was demanded.
As soon as this
desire was expressed, Clement XIV had examined into the matter. He had come to
the conclusion that the Society no longer produced the rich fruits and the
blessing for the sake of which it was founded. And he was of opinion that the
restoration of true and lasting peace to the Church was unattainable so long as
the order continued to exist. "For these weighty reasons, as well as for
others, commended to us by the rules of prudence, and by regard for the good
government of the Church, and kept by us in the depth of our heart, we abolish
and suppress this Society of Jesus after mature consideration, in consequence
of our complete understanding, and in the strength of our entire apostolic
power." The brief then proceeds to forbid any expressions of opinion upon
the extinction of the order, whether by word of mouth or in writing, and at the
same time forbids any ridicule of the dissolved Society. Lastly, the Pontiff dismisses the notion of anyone questioning the authority of
the brief “on the pretext of undue influence, obreption or subreption, nullity or invalidity, or on the
ground of want of intention on our part; or by reason of any other flaw however
great or important”. “It shall be, and forever remain, valid, firm, and
effective; it shall retain and exercise its force fully and completely, be
implicitly obeyed and entirely followed and observed by each and every person
whom it concerns or in future shall concern”.
Soon after the
issue of this brief, which seemed to bring the epic of the Jesuits to a close
for ever, Clement XIV took his way to Castel Gandolfo, to that splendid palace
where, until the time of Pius IX’s and Leo XIII’s “captivity” in the Vatican,
the successors of St Peter sought coolness and fresh air, and where time was
often shortened by a game of billiards in the beautiful room with its
enchanting view over the lake of Albano lying far beneath. While Clement XIV
was there, he filled up the vacancies left in the schools and the mission field
by the disappearance of the Jesuits, and on his return to Rome, he transformed
the Collegium Romanum,
where in the palmy days of Jesuit theology Bellarmin had set up his professorial chair. It was to the
disciples of Thomas and of Duns Scotus, some of whom
were themselves ex-Jesuits, that the task of theological instruction was now
committed. Only the disciples of Augustine were kept away from the reformed
academy, in order that the transition from the dogmatics of the Jesuits might not be too abrupt.
Clement XIV felt
that a load was lifted off his mind when he had got so far, and the
diplomatists thought he seemed in better health and spirits than before. Carlos
III was delighted at having gained his end; and when the brief reached Lisbon,
the town was illuminated for several days. Louis XV was less pleased. He
thought that the abolition might have been carried out in a more considerate
manner, and without so much violence, and the award with regard to Jesuit
property, which was communicated to the French government by the Congregation,
left a sting behind; because, as far as France was concerned, the thing had
been settled long ago in a different way. Inasmuch as a great part of the brief
was not of real interest to France, where the order was virtually suppressed in
1764, Louis XV resolved not to register it, but only to make it officially
known to the bishops. It was also exceedingly distressing to Louis XV that it
now became necessary to take steps with regard to the restitution of Avignon.
It is true that D'Aiguillon had dissolved Parliament
in 1771, and put the Grand Conseil in its place, so
that there was no fear of parliamentary opposition. But the members of
Parliament were still alive, and they and their Gallican sympathizers would view with anger the restoration of Avignon and Venaissin to the see of St Peter.
Among the
Parisians, moreover, a certain reaction could also be felt with regard to the
Jesuit question itself. Many were surprised at the papal brief, because they
had imagined that when it came to the point, Clement XIV would not have the
courage to abolish an order approved by the Council of Trent. Louis XV’s daughter,
Mme. Louise, who had taken the veil in the Carmelite convent at Saint Denis,
was especially eager in the Jesuit cause. She made use of various intrigues to
make her royal father beg for the restoration of the Jesuit order in his
country. She showed her love for the suppressed order by plaguing D’Aiguillon and Bernis with her
requests for Jesuit relics. Now it was the cross and candlesticks which had
stood on the high altar of the church of the Collegium Romanum; now other objects which had
belonged to the Jesuits. She and Archbishop de Beaumont put their heads
together to work for the Society of Jesus, and several circumstances seemed to
favor their wishes. Many Frenchmen, even followers of the esprit philosophique, pitied the Jesuits
because of the persecution they had suffered. They were missed in the schools;
and when Louis XV sat in his chapel, weighed down by his many sins, one or two
preachers dared to blame him for having given his consent to that which had
befallen the Society of Jesus. On St Francis Xavier’s day, 1773, an ex-Jesuit
preached a sermon in Paris, in which, among other things, he said that his
hearers had presumably come there to weep over what had happened, and he spoke
so disrespectfully of Clement XIV that the papal nuncio had to take the matter
up. D’Aiguillon even began to prepare a royal edict
permitting those Jesuits who were expelled by order of Parliament to return and
seek appointments in the French Church, but only on the understanding that they
submitted to the brief Dominus ac redemptor noster.
There were one or
two things, however, which indicated that not all Jesuits would bow to this
brief. From Rome came vague rumors of serious defiance on the part of the
Jesuits, and even of the General himself; and both Frederick II, and Catherine
II refused to enforce the brief in their countries. Frederick II found the
Jesuits useful in Silesia, and Catherine II needed their help in White Russia.
Accordingly the Silesian Jesuits were provided with a vicar-general to take the
place of Ricci. The doings of the Prussian king made a painful impression at
Rome, and Clement XIV begged Austria to induce Frederick to submit to the
brief.
Both Frederick II
and Catherine II refused to carry out the Pope’s wishes, giving as the reason
their solemn promise in the treaty of 18th September 1773, to let the Roman
Catholic Church remain in statu quo in their newly acquired Polish territory. In
their opinion this included the maintenance of the Society of Jesus, although
the Pope had actually abolished the order before the treaty was concluded.
Nevertheless, as far as Frederick II is concerned, we have words of his which
show that in reality he had a very poor opinion of the learning of the Jesuits,
and of their teaching powers.
FABLES ABOUT AND DEATH OF CLEMENT XIV
The ex-Jesuit, Francis Xavier Feller, sounded the alarm all over
Germany, by writing poisoned articles against Clement XIV in the German papers,
and also in those of Holland and Belgium. It was common in Jesuit circles to
accuse the Pope of simony. It was asserted that he had undertaken before his
election to abolish the order, and so had bought the tiara by his promise to
carry out the wishes of the Bourbon Courts. The learned Italian Jesuit, Zaccaria, ventured to use very bold expressions in the
immediate neighborhood of the Pope. A myth was formed to the effect that
Clement XIV had signed the brief with a pencil, at night, in one of the windows
of the Quirinal, had fainted immediately after signing, and had lain on the
marble floor till the morning. On being carried to bed he had cried again and
again: “Oh God, I am damned! Hell is my home! There is no salvation for me now!”
These stories, which belong to the same class as the Jesuit fables about
the Jansenist meeting at Bourgfontaine, and about
Luther’s suicide, have been brought to light again in our times by Crétineau-Joly and polemical Jesuits of lesser importance.
They are founded on some autograph notes by the Jesuit Bolgeni,
now preserved in the archives of the Jesuit General at Rome. Bolgeni gives Cardinal de Simone as his authority; but on
closer examination the untrustworthiness of Bolgeni’s notes is so apparent, that they have only been believed in those quarters where
the wish exists to lower Clement XIV’s character and work at any cost.
But it is certain that the opposition to the brief made an impression on
the infirm and anxious Pope. For a moment it seemed that Madame Louise's
intrigues would succeed in France. D’Aiguillon sent
to Bernis a “plan for forming a congregation in
France for the employment of the former Jesuits”; which was nothing less than a
reestablishment of the order with a special superieur general for France. Thus the Jesuits and their friends now desired
the very arrangement, which at the beginning of the negotiations they had
rejected with scorn.
There was one great obstacle to the accomplishment of the plan; it would
constitute a grave offence both to Carlos III and to the Pope. Consideration
for the latter probably did not weigh very much, but to offend his Spanish
Majesty so deeply was a more serious thing. The plan was quietly put aside.
Meanwhile affairs in France became so threatening that Clement XIV was
constrained to issue a fresh brief (9th March 1774), addressed to Bernis, in which he charged him to labor to have the brief Dominus ac redemptor noster completely carried out.
When the Cardinal of Albi sent the new brief
to D’Aiguillon, it was accompanied by an explicit
note, in which the writer proved that it was the Pope's will that the order
should never again appear. He characterized as false and foolish the assertion
that Clement XIV was secretly a friend of the Jesuits, and that as soon as he
had satisfied the sovereigns, he would be glad enough to have the Society
restored.
On the contrary, it was only fear of hurting the Roman Catholics in
Prussia and Russia which kept the Pope from launching excommunications against
those who dared to resist his clearly expressed will. D'Aiguillon did not think it expedient to make this note known to all the French bishops. He
gave Madame Louise something else to occupy her thoughts; the Jesuits had to be
put off; and the death of Louis XV (10th May 1774) soon dashed the hopes of all
the French friends of the Jesuits. Soon after the accession of the new King, D'Aiguillon, who owed his elevation to Madame du Barry, was
compelled to retire; and under the new régime the restoration of Parliament was
immediately talked of. Forty French bishops attempted in vain to frighten the
young King from taking this step, by representing to him how dangerous it might
be to the Church. On 12th November 1774 Louis XVI held a lit de justice, and reinstated the members of Parliament in the possession of those functions of which in
his opinion they ought never to I have been deprived.
By that time Clement XIV was dead. The difficulties about the
restoration of Avignon and Benevento, and the French designs for reestablishing
the suppressed order, had filled him with new cares and troubles, and every
anxiety told upon his bodily health. After Holy Week in 1774 he became more
infirm, and the diplomatists already began to prepare for another Conclave. Bernis wrote to his government, after an audience on 16th
August, that Clement XIV had become very thin and old, so that he feared the
disease had gone below the surface. The Pope's enemies had spread the report
that he had gone out of his mind, and as this rumor had also reached Paris, Bernis thought it right to contradict it. On 7th September
he wrote: "In spite of whatever malicious men have dared to say, the Pope’s
mind is as sound and his head as clear as ever. During the last week he has
received not only his own Ministers, but the foreign representatives."
The disease took its course, and fear of the Jesuits caused the sick
Pope fresh pangs. Only up at Castel Gandolfo did he feel safe and happy. In
Rome he was in constant dread of Jesuit poison and Jesuit daggers; and the
prophecies of his quickly approaching death, which were now and then circulated
among the people, increased his alarm. At Christmas, 1773, there were riots in
the streets of Rome; and although they were quelled with comparative ease,
Clement XIV felt that the shouts of joy with which the Roman people greeted his
appearance in the streets became less frequent and less loud.
The end came on 22nd September 1774. Bernis wrote to his government on 28th September: “You will already have heard that
the Pope died last Thursday at eight in the morning; he retained his mental
faculties to the last”. The body was so wasted with long sickness and evil
humors, that decomposition set in at once, and the customary exhibition on the lit de parade had to be dispensed with.
This circumstance strengthened the report that he had been poisoned, which
gained more and more credence. Cardinal Bern is believed this report; Don Jose
Moniño was inclined to do the same; and Beranger, the French chargé d'affaires at Naples, even wrote that “Padre Parisi, the Fransciscan, who was with the Pope during his last moments,
writes to his friend the Chevalier Bottola, that the
General of the order has admitted, under the seal of confession, that he gave
orders to poison the Pope, and said by whom the poison was administered”. It
was stated that the poison was acquetta. According to some, Clement XIV had received it in
the Holy Eucharist; according to others he had eaten poisoned figs.
In confutation of this report, we are reminded that the evidence of the
confessor, of the doctors, and of many other contemporaries, all points to the
belief that Clement XIV died a natural death. Cordara dismisses the report as a piece of
absurdity which is not worth wasting words upon. Others have asked: In whose
interest would it have been to poison the Pope at such a time? Cordara says that
the Jesuits were not so silly as to commit such a crime so late when their
order had been suppressed and everything settled, if
they ventured to do it at all. On the same side Baron C. H. Gleichen,
who was for a time in the Danish diplomatic service, is thought to have
expressed the truth when he wrote: “Clement XIV died from fear of dying. Poison
was his one idea; and the sudden
decomposition of his body was only the result of the horrible fright which
killed him. I am convinced that the Jesuits would still be in existence, if
they had been as bad as was supposed”. When the evidence of well-informed men
is so sharply contradictory, it seems best for history to hold her verdict in
suspense, admitting that on the basis of our present means of knowledge, it is
impossible to decide how far the report that Clement XIV was poisoned was a
true report.
There is no doubt, however, that the suppression of the Jesuit order was
an event of worldwide importance. This powerful society, which had ruled
princes and statesmen through the confessional, and the rising generation
through the schools, had used its influence to support the system of the Curia,
and by all means in its power to annul the effects of the Reformation. When it
was suppressed, the mediaeval theory of the State lost its best support, and
the Reformation its fiercest foe. It was the political sins of the Jesuits
which roused the anger of the Bourbons; therefore it was just that they should
be overthrown for political reasons. Their fall was the only real fruit of the
Bourbon family treaty. But political winds are apt to turn. The day might come
when politicians, and those who regard things in a political light, might wish to
see Loyola's order restored, because they needed it to head, not only the
Counter-Reformation, but also the Counter-Revolution. Such a day would perhaps
never have come, had the abolition of the order been the result of religious
and moral indignation at those things in Jesuitism, which must be said to
conflict with real religion and true morality.
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