RE-ENTERING SPAIN.
The decree abolishing the Jesuits was accepted by all the Roman
Catholic sovereigns and people of Europe as final. It was an exercise
of the highest authority of the Church. But it was not accepted by
the Jesuits, who, in contempt of this authority, brooded over the
purpose to plot stealthily against it until they could obtain its
revocation from some sympathizing and pliable pope. Their position was
that of condemned criminals--compelled to recognize the authority and
jurisdiction of their triers, while secretly endeavoring to find or to
create some antagonistic authority from which they could obtain a grant
of pardon, or a revival of their power to repeat their offenses without
pardon. It counted nothing with them that Clement XIV was canonically
pope--their own interest outweighed anything that concerned either pope
or Church. They were willing to obey the Church provided the Church
favored their society, but not otherwise. Consequently, it may be said
of them then, as at all other times, that they recognized no other form
of Christianity than that which centered in Jesuitism, and no other
authority than that of their general at Rome.
When re-established, they came out from their hiding-places, and
appeared again in all the centers of European influence. Their
numbers were sufficient to show that, instead of having considered
their society abolished--as they were commanded to do by the decree
of Clement XIV--their organization had been secretly and defiantly
preserved, without any departure from the principles of the
constitution, any abatement of their pretensions, or any perceptible
diminution in their numbers. Each one reappeared in the old armor
of the order--reburnished for use again. The weapons which Loyola
had forged for deadly warfare against Protestantism were re-issued
to the "sacred militia" of the order, and its drilled and submissive
battalions renewed their old and familiar battle-cry, announcing their
determination never to lay down their arms until all the fruits and
consequences of the Reformation were exterminated. The possibility of
achieving that result stimulated their ardor afresh; and they became
more earnestly united than ever in the cause of the Bourbon monarchs,
when they realized that Pius VII had assured the "Holy Alliance" that
all the powers of the papacy should be employed to that end, and that
they were to be placed, as the special champions of retrogression,
in the forefront of the conflict. The times were such that they drew
fresh inspiration from them. The jealousies and rivalries among the
sovereigns had thrown all Europe into tumult. The French Revolution
had been productive of consequences which created a flame of intense
excitement, reaching the outer circumference of the Continent.
Society was thrown into an agitated and perturbed condition, and the
foundations of the strongest Governments were threatened.
The appearance of Napoleon had alarmed the hereditary sovereigns. He
had succeeded in striking what they feared would be a fatal blow at the
doctrine of the divine right and hereditary descent of royal powers.
He had shattered Governments and destroyed dynasties with reckless
audacity, in order to build up new Governments and dynasties obedient
to himself. The reigning monarchs were dismayed at the rapidity and
success of his movements--being unable to anticipate when or where his
quick and decisive blows would strike. But when his star waned, they
again applied their united energies to the revival of their claim of
divine right and to a closer union of Church and State. They could not
fail to see that monarchism was threatened with defeat unless some
agencies could be discovered whereby the unwary populations who were
striving after freedom could be brought back again into the net which
the papacy and secular monarchs had spent centuries in weaving. These
terrified sovereigns were seemingly relieved from their embarrassing
fears when Pius VII ventured to bring to their aid what he intended
should be the whole power of the Church, by restoring life to the
dissolved society of Jesuits. They must have rejoiced as drowning men
do when seizing upon some object that saves them. The Jesuit spirit did
not need to be revived, for it had never been suppressed; and therefore
they reappeared fully panoplied for the renewal of the battle against
civil and religious liberty, the popular right of self-government, and
all the beneficent influences of the Reformation.
Sympathizing with Ferdinand IV of Naples--the most bigoted monarch in
Europe, at whose instance they were restored--the Jesuits selected such
points of operation as would enable them to strike their hardest blows
at the freedom of speech, of the press, and of religious belief; well
knowing that where these were allowed, they gave birth to the principle
of popular self-government where it did not exist, and strengthened and
maintained it where it did. They were encouraged by all who supported
the alliance between the papacy and the allied sovereigns, upon the
ground that the parties to that alliance were endeavoring to keep
Church and State united, as the only certain guarantee for preserving
monarchism. They were consequently accepted as co-workers in the cause
of absolute imperialism and the enemies of every form of government
where the people possess the right of sovereignty. The flag under which
they marched had upon it all the symbols of despotism, and no room for
a single star to indicate the light of modern progress and development.
Having thus reached again a condition of apparent security, they were
attracted to Rome by the patronage of the papacy, and the value of
their alliance was recognized by the papal authorities, as may be seen
in the fact that they had restored to them their property which Clement
XIV had confiscated, together with the Roman and German colleges at
Rome, and a number of churches. They became more powerful than ever
in the States of the Church, and succeeded in bringing all Italy under
the dictatorship of their general, except Sardinia and Piedmont, where,
in order to avoid a direct breach with the pope, they were tolerated,
but not installed. They moved about through Europe, openly where they
could do so safely, and secretly where they could not--rejoicing
when they witnessed the triumph of monarchism over the rights of the
people. Wheresoever a battle was to be fought against these rights,
they always aided and encouraged the cause of political despotism. If,
in the contests of that period, a single Jesuit could have been found
in the ranks of the people, except to betray them, he would have been
anathematized by his society.
The reintroduction of the Jesuits into Spain teaches a lesson which
should not be forgotten. The king, Ferdinand VII, proved himself to be
one of the most faithful of their royal pupils. After he had succeeded
in becoming freed from the grasp of Napoleon, and returned to his
kingdom, he found an existing constitution by which the Spanish people,
in his absence, had placed wholesome limitations upon the royal power.
With a view to regain possession of authority, he made a solemn pledge
that he would obey this constitution and see that it was enforced.
Having succeeded, he proved by his subsequent conduct that he was
thoroughly conversant with, and wholly approved, the Jesuit doctrine
that a monarch is not bound by any promise made to his subjects, or
by any oath to obey it, because his authority is divine, and the
people possess no rights which he does not of his own accord concede
to them. Consequently, when safely in possession of the throne--with
Jesuit emissaries crowding about his court to dictate his policy and
pardon his perjury--he traitorously proceeded to abolish the Cortes,
the legislative body of the nation, and grasp the scepter of absolute
government in his own hands. He restored the infamous Inquisition, and
the cruelty of his despotism was exhibited in the number of victims
who suffered death during his reign of terror. How such a monarch
should have enjoyed the favor and protection of Pius VII--the head of
the Church--almost passes intelligent comprehension; how he had the
approval of the Jesuits is well understood. His enormities became so
great, at last, that the Roman Catholic _people_ of Spain, weary of
his persecutions, and realizing that the nation could not live unless
they were arrested, resorted to revolution to avenge wrongs they could
endure no longer, and proclaimed a constitutional form of government,
whereby they guaranteed such popular rights as they deemed essential to
their own welfare. But the Jesuits were present to counsel the perjured
king, and, accepting their casuistical teachings as his guide, he
assented to this new constitution, and by the repetition of his solemn
promise to observe it, turned away the popular vengeance. Thus he
gained time to renew his royal strength, and when he subsequently found
the nation seemingly slumbering in a sense of security, again stamped
his feet upon the constitution, reassumed his arbitrary authority as
king by divine right, independently of the people, forfeited his honor
by repeating his perjury, and plunged Spain into the deepest misery.
This perjured tyrant was cursed by the Roman Catholic people of Spain,
and his enormities drove the Roman Catholic populations of Spanish
America to assert their independence. When he had the royal power in
his hands he brought the Inquisition and the Jesuits back to Spain;
when the people were enabled to enforce the constitution, they _drove
the Jesuits out of the country_. He knew his friends, and the people
knew their enemies. But with all the infamies of his conduct resting
upon him, he was favored and applauded by Pius VII and venerated by the
Jesuits. The contemporaneous events are full of instruction.
To accomplish the objects announced at Vienna, the "Holy Alliance" met
again in Congress at Verona, where the sovereigns pledged themselves,
in the most solemn form, that they would continue to prevent the
establishment of popular governments, and would unite all their
energies in preserving monarchical institutions where they existed,
and in re-establishing them where they had been set aside by the
people.[161] The adoption of a constitution by Spain was considered
as in conflict with this decision at Verona, and preparations were at
once made to defeat it. Louis XVIII, of France, as one of the allied
sovereigns who had undertaken to preserve monarchism and defeat all
popular Governments at every hazard, marched an army into Spain for
the sole purpose of subduing the people and setting the constitution
aside, so that the state of things that had so long existed under
Ferdinand VII should continue. It was this unnatural and unjust war
that carried back the Inquisition and the Jesuits to Spain. Nothing
could have been more grateful to the Jesuits, because they thought
they could see in it the triumph of monarchism over the people. They
followed this army of invasion with as much delight as famishing people
go to a feast. That they exulted when it succeeded in overthrowing the
constitution, and when they saw the feet of the perfidious Ferdinand
VII again upon the necks of the Spanish people, no reader of history
will doubt. They "nestled themselves in the country," says Greisinger,
"more firmly than ever," seemingly encouraged by the hope that the
cause of popular rights was lost forever among the Roman Catholic
population of Spain. But this unrighteous triumph was short-lived.
Another crisis in the affairs of Spain occurred upon the death of
Ferdinand VII, when, after a bloody civil war of six or seven years,
the ill-fated Isabella was placed upon the throne, and another liberal
constitution was proclaimed--not entirely republican, it is true,
but sufficiently representative in form to arrest the usurpations of
absolutism and assure the ultimate triumph of popular liberty. Once
more the Roman Catholic people of Spain signalized their victory over
absolutism by _driving the Jesuits out of the country_, and avowing
their determination that they would no longer be endangered by their
presence or annoyed by their intrigues. And thus the Jesuits were
compelled to find congenial fields of operations elsewhere in Europe,
among those who regarded a constitutional and representative form of
government as an offense against the divine law, the people as fit only
for servitude, and absolute monarchs as "booted and spurred to ride
them."
Those familiar with the hatred the Spanish people entertained for the
Jesuits--not only on account of their bad influences over Ferdinand
VII, but because of the tendency of their doctrines to convert men
into machines and blunt their moral sensibilities--are not surprised
at the detestation in which they were held in Germany. The Spanish
people had long been known for obedience to the Roman Church, but had
reached a point of intelligence which enabled them to understand the
difference between the Church and the papacy, and, therefore, they
would not permit even Pius VII to force the Jesuits upon them--a fact
of great significance in forming a true estimate of their character.
In Germany, however, where the Reformation began, the remembrance
of their former vicious career had not died out, the opposition
to them after their re-establishment was more intense than it had
been before their suppression; for as the German people increased
in enlightenment they were better able to see and understand the
irreconcilable hostility of the Jesuits to intellectual development and
constitutional government. Their own experience had taught them that
reconciliation and concord between Protestants and Roman Catholics were
not only possible, but desirable; and they had learned, from that same
experience, that, as the Jesuits had participated in all the measures
designed to strike down constitutional governments established by Roman
Catholic populations, their delight would be increased if, with the
same weapons, they could destroy similar governments established by
Protestants. Therefore, the German people built around themselves a
wall of defense in their own intellectual enlightenment, which Jesuit
craft and ingenuity has in vain endeavored to undermine.
France, Austria, and Bavaria were all Roman Catholic countries. France
had not forgotten the former fierce and protracted conflict which had
given the Gallican Christians their cherished liberties, by assuring
to the Government the control of its temporal affairs without papal
interference. The recollection of this revived also the remembrance of
the fact that the Jesuits had been expelled because of their efforts
to destroy these liberties. And, hence, after their re-establishment,
even Louis XVIII, with his evident partiality for them as the untiring
defenders of absolute monarchism, was unable, although backed by Pius
VII, to allow them again openly to re-enter France. Neither in Austria
nor Bavaria had there ever been any such struggle as in France; but,
nevertheless, the indignation felt towards the Jesuits by the people
of both these countries was so undisguised that neither Francis I
in the former, nor Maximilian Joseph in the latter, dared to brave
public opinion by allowing them free access to either kingdom. These
impediments, however, only offered to the Jesuits the opportunity
to practice the arts of dissimulation and deception with which they
are made familiar by their method of educational training. They
surreptitiously entered France under the name of "_Pères de la Foi_,"
or "Fathers of the True Faith," and Austria and Bavaria under that
of "Redemptionists."[162] They did not venture, in either of these
countries, to avow themselves openly as Jesuits, because of the almost
universal indignation felt towards them by these Roman Catholic
populations. But gaining admission among them by these false pretenses,
they understood well, by skillful training, how to proceed. Having
penetrated the skirmish-line of the enemy, they could survey the whole
field of battle, and plan accordingly. Every Jesuit who stealthily
crept into France or Austria or Bavaria, under these masks of
hypocrisy, stood towards the people of these countries as the Italian
bandit does to his unsuspecting victim,--ready to strike home his
stiletto in the dark. It should excite no wonder, therefore, that, with
Pius VII and the allied sovereigns upon their side--all maintaining
the divine right to govern, and denying that of the people--these
incendiary Jesuits were enabled, at last, to avow openly the name and
existence of their order, and to become scattered in all directions,
under the shelter of papal and imperial protection. Thus supported,
they extended themselves over the adjacent States, even as far as
Rhenish Prussia, opened their colleges and schools, and permitted but
little time to elapse before they assumed their former dictatorship
over Governments and peoples. Since then they have again revived their
old imperial airs among all the nations, especially where they have
found shelter under liberal institutions, and seem to be again inspired
by the hope, if not the belief, that their ultimate triumph over
Protestantism is assured, and that Roman Catholic populations will bow
down before them as the only divinely appointed exponents of the true
apostolic faith.
Pius VII was encouraged by the success of the Jesuits, and endeavored
first to make them available in France to promote the interests of the
papacy. Finding Louis XVIII submissive to his authority, he proposed
to him a Concordat with provisions intended to destroy the Gallican
liberties, and bring France into the condition struggled after so hard
by Boniface VIII; that is, of absolute submission to the papacy in
temporal as well as spiritual affairs. Louis XVIII was weak enough to
agree to this Concordat, manifestly under Jesuit influence. But the
Roman Catholic people of France were not so easily entrapped as the
pope and the king had supposed; and the latter soon learned that even
his royal authority was not sufficient to enforce this odious measure.
He was compelled, therefore, by the force of public sentiment, to
abandon it, although France still submitted to the presence of the
Jesuits. The failure of the Condordat, however, was a sore defeat; but
defeat only incensed the passions of Pius VII.
The hatred of the Jesuits in Germany was shared alike by Protestants
and Roman Catholics. These two bodies of Christians agreed that they
would unite in maintaining freedom of worship; that is, they would
return to the old order of things, which existed before peace and
harmony had been disturbed by the Jesuits at their first appearing
in Germany. They signed a Concordat to that effect, and sent it to
Pius VII for his approval, intending that he should realize how easy
it was for Christians to live together in harmony, notwithstanding
differences of religious belief prevailed among them. The importance
of this movement can not be overestimated. If the pope had thrown his
great influence in its favor, its beneficial results would have been
universally felt. But Pius VII, seeming not to know that such a union
among Christians was possible, positively and peremptorily refused
his assent to this just and liberal arrangement, declaring that it
would "compromise his temporal and spiritual power." All classes of
German Christians--howsoever they otherwise differed--rebuked his
illiberality, and adhered to their conciliatory course towards each
other. Pius VII, realizing the necessity of fulfilling his obligation
to the allied sovereigns, and of keeping the Jesuits in the active
service of the papal and imperial cause, became intensely excited
at this German persistence, and expressed his indignation in strong
language. His course is thus explained by Cormenin: "He rallied around
him the kings of the Holy Alliance, declared a terrible war against
liberal ideas, fulminated excommunications against the Democrats of
France, the Illuminati of Germany, the Radicals of England, and the
Carbonari of Italy,"[163] which includes everything that tended, at
that period, towards liberalism and popular government. Manifestly,
however, his anger was specially aroused at the thought of religious
toleration, which, looked at from the papal standpoint, meant the loss
of monarchical power and, consequently, heresy.
With this tremendous combination confronting them--composed, as it was,
of the papacy, the allied sovereigns, and the Jesuits--what other
remedy but revolution was within reach of the people? How else could
they prevent the continued union of Church and State, the complete
triumph of monarchism, and the crushing defeat of constitutional and
popular government? Nobody needs to be told to what extremities the
allied sovereigns were ready and willing to go to accomplish these
results; and when supported by a pope like Pius VII, and he by the
Jesuits, whose society he had re-established for that express purpose,
they possessed an organization of such a character, so formidable and
vast in its proportions, that there was left to the multitude no other
possibility of escape than by asserting, as the people of the United
States had done, their natural right to civil and religious liberty. No
question about the form of religious faith was involved, except in so
far as the pope, the allied sovereigns, and the Jesuits were united in
maintaining that the only true religion was that based upon the joint
monarchism of Church and State--in other words, that the faculties of
the human mind should remain undeveloped in order to fit the people for
inferiority and passive obedience to authority.
Hence, when the Roman Catholic populations came to realize what
Protestantism had done in a few centuries to enlighten and elevate
multitudes of people, it required but little intelligent thought
to see that the combination which threatened to deprive them of
liberties essential to their welfare was violative of the true faith
of the Church they revered, and from whose proper teachings they
were unwilling to depart. They could readily understand that it
was the papacy, and not the Church, that had led them to the very
edge of a fearful precipice. They were animated by the inspiring
influence of liberty--always broad, generous, conciliatory. Yielding,
therefore, to the instinctive teachings of nature, they found
themselves no less desirous than others to enjoy the protection of
constitutional government, and no less willing than others to resort
to the ultimate remedy of revolution when assured that their just
rights could not otherwise be obtained. Thus only are we enabled
to account intelligently for the revolutions in the Roman Catholic
States--organized, as they were, to resist the tremendous conspiracy of
European monarchists, in both Church and State, to defeat the formation
of popular constitutional governments, and to overthrow them where they
had been formed.
These revolutions followed each other so rapidly as to prove the
existence of a common purpose; and the nearer they were to Rome, the
more violent were the passions which incited and followed them. The
masses of the people were unwilling to submit longer to their own
humiliation, even in face of the fact that Pius VII had, by assuming
infallibility never authorized, placed the Church in the attitude of
approving the doctrines and purposes of the "Holy Alliance." They
accepted, with reverential fidelity, the faith proclaimed by "the
fathers" of the Apostolic Age, the Conciliar Decrees and the true
traditions of the Church, but were unwilling to have it perverted by
either the papacy or the Jesuits, so that it should be made the pretext
for holding them and their posterity in vassalage. They courageously
determined, therefore, to free themselves from bondage--being no longer
willing to be bound with fetters, whether drawn from the arsenals of
the papacy or newly forged in the workshops of the Jesuits. These
revolutions might have been avoided, and might have been arrested after
they broke out, by the authority of the Church in the hands of a pope
less intent upon the possession of temporal and monarchical powers
than Pius VII, and less willing than he to patronize the Jesuits and
participate in the purposes of the "Holy Alliance" for political and
ambitious ends. But Pius VII was constrained by the circumstances
surrounding him, as the representative of the papacy, to discard all
other considerations except such as promised success to the allied
powers, to whose triumph over the people he contributed, as far as he
could, all the authority of the Church. To him the Jesuits appeared
merely as "experienced rowers," who could "break the waves" of the
revolutionary sea; and having taken them on board the papal bark,
freighted with the richest treasures, he defied alike the complaints of
the oppressed peoples and the dangers of shipwreck.
That Pius VII was not disposed to abate in the least the claim to
universal sovereignty which some of his predecessors had asserted for
the papacy, and was therefore incompetent to deal compromisingly with
any of the pending questions, is abundantly demonstrated by the history
of his pontificate. His assumption that he occupied God's place upon
earth, and was so clothed with divine authority that no human tribunal
could rightly inquire into his conduct or motives, placed him in the
attitude of bold defiance to the sentiment of liberalism then rapidly
permeating the whole body of the people. He mistook the papal dogmas of
Gregory VII, Innocent III, and Boniface VIII, and a few other popes,
for the Christian doctrines of the nineteenth century. After Napoleon
had extended the empire of France over Italy, it became necessary to
adjust the relations between the spiritual and the temporal powers.
He accordingly addressed a letter to Pius VII, wherein he said: "I
will touch in nothing the independence of the Holy See;" that is, that
in all spiritual matters he would leave the independence of the pope
undisturbed. He made this clear by continuing: "Your holiness will have
for me in temporals the same regard I bear for you in spirituals."
The obvious meaning of Napoleon was that Church and State should be
separated, and that each should be independent of the other in its own
proper sphere. The pope was to be left "sovereign in Rome," with all
the temporal powers necessary to local government, but Napoleon should
remain the emperor with the general jurisdiction pertaining to that
office. In effect it was, substantially, a restoration of the relations
which existed between the Church and the Emperors Constantine and
Charlemagne.
If Pius VII had accepted this proposition, it would have gone far
towards allaying the revolutionary excitement in Europe, because the
people would have seen in it a desire on his part to become reconciled
to the progressive spirit of the nineteenth century. It would have
been accepted as a recognition of the fact--of which European society
had then become conscious--that the wonderful advancement of the
United States was attributable mainly to the separation of Church
and State. But this was what Pius VII intended neither to concede
nor recognize; for it was plain to him that if Church and State were
separated in Italy, the papacy would come to an end. Therefore, after
reminding Napoleon that he considered his proposition as offensive
to "the dignity of the Holy See," and an invasion of his "rights of
free sovereignty," although it left all his spiritual powers not
only unimpaired but fully protected, he emphatically and indignantly
rejected it. After declaring that "it is not our will, it is that
of God, whose place we occupy on earth," he proceeds to define the
relations between the spiritual and the temporal powers in these
unequivocal words:
"We can not admit the following proposition: That we should have for
your majesty in temporals the same regard that you have for us in
spirituals. This proposition has an extent that destroys and alters the
notions of our two powers. A Catholic sovereign is such only because
he professes to recognize the definitions of the visible head of the
Church, and regards him as _the master of truth and the sole vicar of
God on earth_. There is therefore no identity or equality between the
spiritual relations of a Catholic sovereign and the temporal relations
of one sovereign to another."[164]
The true meaning of this was well understood at the time, and can not
now be disguised by any method of interpretation. According to Pius
VII, therefore, a "Catholic sovereign" must accept whatsoever the pope
shall define in the domain of faith and morals, whether spiritual or
temporal, because he alone is "the master of truth," and stands in the
place of God on earth, and is, consequently, without any superior, or
even equal; that in no other way can a pope be such a supreme sovereign
as he ought to be; that it is his divine right to command, and the
duty of temporal sovereigns to obey; and that, no matter what temporal
relations shall exist among sovereigns, there can be no equality
between them and the pope, who shall rule them all, in whatsoever
concerns faith and morals, as "the sole vicar of God on earth." If
in this Pius VII is to be taken to have defined the only form of
government which the papacy can recognize as rightful, then it is clear
that none such now exists in the world--not even in Italy since the
abolition of the pope's temporal power. The European people at the time
understood him sufficiently well to foresee that all their efforts to
limit the monarchical power by constitutions would be unavailing if
the papal policy announced by him should prevail. The Roman Catholic
populations, already upon the verge of revolution, were specially
indignant when they realized that the papacy was thus availing itself
of the authority of the Church, not only to defeat the popular will,
but to require them to accept these teachings as essential parts of
the faith. Hence, the revolutionary spirit was increased, so that by
the time of the death of Pius VII, in 1823, it had become evident that
it could not be arrested unless the papacy abated its pretensions
and became reconciled to the existing condition of affairs. Pius
VII fretted out his life because of the tendency of the times to
liberalism; and if it be said in his behalf that he lived at a stormy
period, when the waves of the political sea ran high, it may well be
replied that if he had possessed a conciliatory spirit he could have
done more than any other living man to bring the discontented and
jarring elements into harmony. But instead of this, he turned loose
upon society the odious and condemned Jesuits, whose very presence
increased the popular discontent, as the storm rages more violently
when the imprisoned winds are unchained.
Under the pontificate of Leo XII, the immediate successor of Pius VII,
the revolutionary fervor was increased. He found the Jesuits actively
engaged in disturbing the peace among all who were reached by their
influence, and lost no time in assuring them of his benediction in
their efforts to exterminate everything that tended to liberalism and
free, popular institutions. With the view of bringing France completely
under the papal scepter, he demanded that the clergy there should be
made independent of the Government and irresponsible to its laws. But
the public sentiment of France was so outraged by this demand that
even Louis XVIII was constrained to condemn it by royal ordinance.
Failing in this, he turned his attention elsewhere in Europe, adopting
the Jesuit tactics of stirring up Protestant populations against their
kings, and Protestant kings against their subjects. In this way he,
manifestly, hoped to allay, if not suppress, the revolutionary spirit,
which was threatening to destroy his temporal power and deprive him
of his crown. For a time he seemed to feel assurance of success in
Germany and elsewhere, and under the influence of this assurance
visited his maledictions upon the modern philosophers, characterizing
their opinions as "phalanxes of errors," and their toleration of
different religious opinions as "indifference to all religion"--leading
to infidelity. So as not to be misunderstood, he represented them as
"teaching that God has given entirely freedom to every man, so that
each one can, without endangering his safety, embrace and adopt the
sect or opinion which suits his private judgment." He makes this
statement thus clear so that there may be no misconception of his
unqualified condemnation of the freedom of religious belief, not only
as it is taught by these modern philosophers, but as it constitutes the
foundation of Protestantism and the civil institutions it has built
up, especially those of the United States. Centering his wrath in a
single anathema, he said: "This doctrine"--that is, the freedom of
conscience--"though seducing and sensible in appearance, is _profoundly
absurd_; and I can not warn you too much against the _impiety of these
maniacs_." Then, passing to "the deluge of pernicious books" which
inundated Europe, he specially selected the Holy Scriptures in the
vernacular languages as prominent in this class. "A society," said he,
"commonly called the Bible Society, spreads itself audaciously over the
whole world, and in contempt of the traditions of the holy fathers,
in opposition to the celebrated decree of the Council of Trent, which
prohibits the Holy Scriptures from being made common, it publishes
translations of them in all the languages of the world. Several of our
predecessors have made laws to turn aside _this scourge_; and we also,
in order to acquit ourselves of our pastoral duty, urge the shepherds
to remove their flocks carefully from these mortal pasturages....
Let God arise! Let him _repress, confound, annihilate this unbridled
license of speaking, writing, and publishing_."[165]
Charles X succeeded Louis XVIII as King of France, and the Jesuits,
encouraged by the policy of Leo XII, renewed their efforts in that
country. They desired to get control of the young, as they have always
done, and therefore demanded that all public instruction in colleges
and schools should be confided to them. If assent to this demand had
depended upon the king alone, it would doubtless have been obtained,
because it was an essential part of the policy which brought about the
alliance of the Bourbon and other sovereigns with the papacy. But the
people of France knew the Jesuits too well to intrust their children to
their care, and were so united in resisting this demand, that Charles
X was compelled to refuse their request. And in order to rebuke the
Jesuits as signally as possible, the public authorities provided by
law that no one should be employed in teaching who belonged to any
religious congregation--a fact which shows how far they felt justified
in going in order to escape what they deemed a serious evil. This
provision, however, for an exclusively secular education was made in
full accordance with the Gallican Catholic and Protestant sentiment
of France, and was intended, not as tending in the least degree to
irreligion, but as a necessary step towards the complete separation of
Church and State.[166]
Leo XII died pending these agitations. When his successor was
elected--as near our own time as 1829--and took the name of Pius
VIII, the revolutionary embers needed only a little more stirring to
break out into a flame. The success of constitutional government was
becoming more and more apparent, and it was evident to the allied
sovereigns that unless the current beating against them could be set
back, they were in danger of being overwhelmed. As the idea of Church
and State united was involved in the entire papal and royal policy,
those, therefore, who were struggling after constitutional guarantees
of the freedom of the press, of speech, and of religious belief, had
no difficulty in understanding that these great natural rights were
specially anathematized by the late Pope Leo XII, for the reason that
they constituted the fundamental principles upon which that form of
government must rest. Consequently, the masses of the people--Roman
Catholics and Protestants alike--became more and more united and
clamorous for these rights; not only because they were in themselves
of inestimable value, but because they had come to realize that the
nations which maintained them were advancing in prosperity, happiness,
and enlightenment, far more rapidly than those which suppressed and
denied them. Pius VIII could not avoid realizing all this, as well
as the obligation resting upon the papacy, as the spiritual patron
and guardian of monarchism, to arrest the popular tendency towards
constitutional government. Accordingly, he had scarcely entered upon
his pontificate when, wedded to the policy of retrogression, like
his immediate predecessors, Pius VII and Leo XII, he endeavored to
ingraft the teachings of the Jesuits more firmly than ever upon the
doctrines of the Church. He addressed a circular letter to "the bishops
of Christendom"--which, being to the whole Church and concerning the
faith, was, necessarily, _ex cathedra_--wherein he pointed out some of
the existing errors they were commanded to extirpate. This, according
to the Jesuit teaching, was an act of infallibility, and required
implicit obedience from all who were faithful to the papacy. It would
have been well suited to the Middle Ages. After condemning "secret
societies"--overlooking, of course, the Jesuits--and the "fierce
republicans," or supporters of popular government, as the "enemies of
God and kings," he arraigned them for "breaking the bridle of the true
faith and _passive obedience to princes_," and thus opening "the way to
all crimes." He insisted that they were endeavoring "to hurl religion
and empires into an abyss." And when he reached the culminating point
he expressed himself in these words: "We must, venerable brethren,
pursue these dangerous sophists; we must denounce their works to the
tribunals; we must _hand over their persons to the Inquisitors, and
recall them by tortures to the sentiments of the true faith of the
spouse of Christ_."[167]
These denunciations and threatenings were intended for those Roman
Catholic populations who had always venerated the Church of Rome, in
order to turn them away from their revolutionary course. But their
increasing enlightenment enabled them to understand that they were
papal interpolations upon the primitive faith. Not being disposed to
make open war upon the pope, whose sacred office they revered, they
attributed them to the undue influence of the Jesuits over him. This
was especially the case in France, where, during the pontificate of
Pius VIII, as we have seen, the efforts to bring the Government in
subjection to the papacy were attributed to Jesuit intrigue. This gave
the general sentiment throughout France a tendency towards liberalism,
as was indicated, not only by frequent popular demonstrations during
the reign of Charles X, but specially at the period here referred to by
an election of the Chamber of Deputies. In July, 1830, an overwhelming
majority of liberal members were elected to the Chamber, which alarmed
the monarchical and royal party, and increased the activity of the
Jesuits. To counteract the influence of this election, an effort
was made to turn the popular attention away from it by exciting the
national pride in favor of royalty, in consequence of the successful
termination of the war with Algiers. The royalists made this the cause
of great rejoicing, and when they supposed that the people, impelled by
their ideas of national glory, had become sufficiently enthusiastic,
resolved upon a step designed to crush out the popular spirit of
liberalism. The king's minister, Polignac, the Archbishop of Paris, and
the Jesuits, succeeded in inducing the king to defy public opinion by
issuing a royal edict to prevent the assembling of the liberal Chamber
of Deputies. This edict was composed of three ordinances: 1. Suspension
of the liberty of the press; 2. Dissolution of the Chamber of Deputies
before it met; 3. Changing the plan of elections by placing the returns
in the hands of prefects in the pay of the Government.[168] By this
high-handed and arbitrary act all Paris was thrown into commotion.
Within the course of three days the spirit of revolution, which had
been slumbering, but was not suppressed, became thoroughly aroused. The
public indignation was exhibited among all classes of the population,
except those enlisted in the cause of retrogression. The people
demanded the rights which had been secured to them by public charter.
The deputies of the Chamber assembled. Barricades were thrown up in
the streets. The popular revolt soon ripened into active revolution,
which terrified the king, who, unable to pacify the people, attempted,
as a last resort, to do so by offering to rescind the tyrannical and
obnoxious ordinances. But he was too late. The offense against popular
rights was too flagrant to be so easily forgiven. The result was that
Charles X--the last of the Bourbons--was ignominiously driven from the
throne and from the country, and Louis Philippe, Duke of Orleans, made
King of France. And thus did a Roman Catholic population fix the stamp
of their reprobation upon the policy which the king, the papacy, and
the Jesuits had designed for their enslavement.
It was impossible any longer to disguise or to mistake the true
character of the issue between progress and retrogression--between
constitutionalism and monarchism. It did not, therefore, take long for
these events in France to impart their influence to Roman Catholic
populations elsewhere. Throughout the central parts of Europe the
people were stirred up to inquiry, to protest, to revolution. Having by
this time fully realized that the chief calamities which afflicted them
proceeded from the union of Church and State, and that a constitutional
guarantee of protection was impossible so long as that union continued,
their first efforts were directed to a separation of these powers, and
the assignment to each its proper and independent sphere of duties.
Many centuries of struggles had demonstrated that in no other way could
political equality be obtained, or provision be made for assuring to
them their natural and inalienable rights. The task was most difficult,
because the papacy had been permitted to enlarge its powers by means
of false decretals and constitutions, which the ambitious popes had
employed without scruple, after they sundered their allegiance to the
Eastern Empire and divided the Church. Nevertheless, they resolved upon
the effort, hazardous as it was, rather than remain longer in their
humiliating condition of vassalage while the Protestant nations were
moving forward in their careers of progress and improvement. A brief
glance at the condition of Europe will show that they were favored by
the times, as if Providence were then specially shaping the destiny of
the world, so as to put a stop forever to the usurpations by which the
union of Church and State had been so long maintained, to the prejudice
of the Church and the cause of Christianity, no less than to the
natural rights of mankind.
The Netherlands contained a population united only under a Government
maintained by the combinations which had arisen out of the "Holy
Alliance." In the north, Protestantism had the ascendency; in
the south, Roman Catholicism prevailed. This latter part of the
population, imitating their Christian brethren in France, desired
separate independence, so that their civil institutions should be
placed under their own control. They desired a constitution by which
proper restraints could be placed upon the royal power, while, at the
same time, they did not desire to destroy entirely the principle of
monarchism; but rather that it should continue to exist under proper
limitations, so as to escape from the absolutism which had hitherto
borne so heavily upon them. Being unable to accomplish their object in
any other way, they inaugurated an insurrection in Brussels, which soon
became a revolution, and resulted in a declaration of independence. The
revolution soon acquired strength enough to establish the Government of
Belgium, which then became separated from Holland. A king was chosen
by an elected Congress, but the constitution tied his hands, and
instead of being an absolute, he became a dependent monarch. In this
there was no attempt to escape from the just and rightful influence
of the Church, for which the population retained the attachment they
had long felt. But it severed the bond of union between Church and
State by placing in the hands of the people such portion of the powers
of Government as they deemed it proper to assert, so that instead of
submitting to the absolute domination of the papacy, they protected
their own rights and interests by constitutional guarantees. It
practically condemned the doctrines of the Jesuits, which denounce
revolution against absolute monarchism as sin, and laws proceeding
from a tribunal of the people as heresy, and rightfully subject to
resistance.
France and Belgium having, therefore, both accepted revolution as a
remedy for grievances which could no longer be endured, it excited no
surprise when the same sentiment was imparted to other Roman Catholic
populations of Europe. The masses were moved, almost everywhere, by
the impulse to escape the influences of the old _régime_, and place
themselves under institutions of their own creation, responsible only
to themselves. The people of the different nations were beginning
to understand and to sympathize with each other more than ever
before. They were coming nearer together by means of the facilities
of intercommunication, for which they were indebted to the spirit
of Protestant progress. They were learning, from the marvelous
successes of the advancing nations, that the real sources of national
greatness were in their own hands, and depended for proper development
upon themselves alone. In whatsoever direction they looked, they
found evidences to assure them that these same successes could not
be obtained without the constitutional guarantee of the right of
self-government. And having been brought to the conviction--no matter
whether from choice or necessity--that they could more safely confide
their temporal welfare to governments of their own construction than to
either ecclesiastical or secular monarchs who traced the prerogatives
of absolute imperialism to the divine law, they accepted revolution as
a just and rightful remedy for their wrongs.
When France and Belgium had each broken the scepter of absolutism,
their influence was soon imparted to the Roman Catholic populations in
the south of Europe; and they, too, brooding also over their wrongs,
began to gather up the weapons of revolution and prepare to use them.
They moved slowly at first, because the chains which bound them were
tightly riveted. But they kept their eyes steadily fixed upon the
constitutional governments, and advanced cautiously towards a like
fortune for themselves. They could not expect to go at once to the
whole extent of establishing popular institutions, in the American
sense. Their education and the forms of government to which they had
been accustomed, had left them in a condition which made extreme
caution indispensable, for fear that by rash and precipitate action
the principles of the "Holy Alliance" might become so permanently
established that Church and State could not be separated, and they
would be compelled to acquiesce in the doctrine of the divine right of
kings as an essential part of Christian faith, or make war upon the
Church, which they had been taught to revere, and did, in fact, revere.
The pope was the recognized spiritual head of the Church, and with that
they were content. But he was also a temporal king in the States of
the Church, and claimed that the authority pertaining to that position
was divinely conferred, and included such spiritual sovereignty over
the world as God himself possesses; and that he was thereby made the
infallible "master of truth," and was entitled to uninquiring and
absolute obedience, not merely in spirituals, but in such temporal
matters as he alone should declare to be essential to the preservation
and exercise of his imperial prerogatives. They had endured the evils
of that form of government long enough, and having contrasted their
condition with that of peoples who had entered upon the experiment of
governing themselves--such as those of the United States--they became
convinced that they owed to themselves and their posterity the duty
of undertaking the same experiment, even at the cost of revolution.
All they could hope to do, under the conditions surrounding them, was
to separate Church and State, disavow and discard the doctrine of
the divine right of kings as temporal rulers, whether ecclesiastical
or secular, and substitute constitutional governments for absolute
monarchism; in other words, to try political institutions of their own
creation in place of the "paternal government" by which the papacy had
kept them from advancing along with the progressive peoples who had
asserted and maintained the right of self-government.
Had not these populations the right to do this? The American
Declaration of Independence asserts that this right is derived
from the law of nature, and is inalienable. The "Holy Alliance" of
European sovereigns was organized to suppress it. The papacy and the
Jesuits combined their energies to resist it as heresy. There was,
therefore, no middle ground between constitutional government and
submission--between the continuance of the old order of things and
the infusion of new life into decrepit and decaying institutions.
Consequently, the people of Southern Europe had to make choice between
these alternatives, at the risk of being denounced and punished as
unfaithful and heretical revolutionists. They patriotically chose the
latter.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 161: This gave rise to what is known as the _Monroe
Doctrine_, which declares that the United States will consider it
threatening to their own independence if European Governments shall
interfere with that of any of the American States.]
[Footnote 162: Greisinger, pp. 670 to 674.]
[Footnote 163: Cormenin, Vol. II, pp. 424-425.]
[Footnote 164: De Montor, Vol. II, pp. 614 to 620.]
[Footnote 165: Cormenin, Vol. II, pp. 426-427.]
[Footnote 166: Cormenin, Vol. II, p. 428.]
[Footnote 167: Cormenin, Vol. II, p. 429.]
[Footnote 168: History of France. By White. Page 540.]