However, there was a man in Rome who would not witness the ruin of the Company of Jesus without attempting a desperate effort to save it. This man was Ricci, the General. Ricci was a morose, obstinate, and narrow-minded bigot, extremely jealous of his authority, and altogether incapable of appreciating either circumstances or persons. Unlike Acquaviva, he placed all his glory in never yielding an inch of ground; and to partial loss, he preferred an entire ruin. Acquaviva would have by some timely concession deferred for a while the impending storm. Ricci accelerated its march by his intractability. “Let them be as they are, or not at all”—these words shew the man. And now that his disciples were expelled from a part of Europe, he, to save the Society, if possible, decided upon sacrificing some thousands of individuals. Either the persecution, which he studied to render more cruel, and in some measure effective, would bring the Pope, the other sovereigns, or the different populations, to some acts of energy, to retrieve the affairs of the order, or it must incur the last distressful consequences. He would submit to every extremity rather than to humiliation. In consequence, he obliged Torrigiani, whom he seems to have kept under a severe yoke (if the Cardinal received, or had received money, we can understand it), to write to the Spanish minister that his Holiness would not permit the Jesuits to land on his estates. Charles paid little attention to the letter, and gave orders to the commander of the fleet to land them, if necessary, by force of arms.

Torrigiani obeyed Ricci’s injunction to the letter. When after some days’ sailing the first vessels arrived before Civita Vecchia, they were received by cannon shot. The poor Jesuits, who thought they were near the end of their sufferings, and had smiled at the sight of the promised land, were furious when they saw themselves rejected from a country in which they knew that their General had the utmost influence, and loudly accused him of being the author of all their miseries. The Spanish commander, not wishing to employ violence, and to land by force of arms, coasted away towards Leghorn and Genoa, but there too they were refused a landing. A similar fate was reserved for them on their first approach to Corsica; and only after having been for six long months at the mercy of the winds and waves, were those unfortunate monks, decimated by illness, fatigue, and old age, permitted to disembark in Corsica, lately ceded by Genoa to France, and where Paoli at that same moment had begun to fight for independence.

The King of Naples and the Duke of Parma, both of the house of Bourbon, the former in the month of November 1767, the latter in the beginning of 1768, resorted to the same measures as France and Spain, and the Jesuits were expelled from their estates.

At the news of these repeated outrages, as he considered them, the old Pope, driven to extremities, and instigated by the Jesuits, resolved on an act of vigour, to test what the Supreme Pontiff could do for the sons of his predilection. It seems that he could not summon courage enough to strike the blow against France, Spain, or Naples, but he thought he could dare anything against the Duke of Parma. He did not view him in the light of a grandson of France and infant of Spain, but as a Farnese, over whose dukedom the Roman See had always, if not exercised, at least claimed, the right of suzerainty. In this persuasion, he published a “monitorium,” wherein he pronounced ecclesiastical censures against his vassal, and declared that he had forfeited his estates. Charles and Louis were aghast at the boldness of the old Pope, and although the indolent Louis shewed no great resolution to resent the insult, Choiseul and Charles contrived to stir up his indignation, representing to him the scorn which would fall on the house of Bourbon, if a son of a Venetian merchant (Clement) should insult with impunity a grandson of St Louis.[356] In consequence, the ambassadors of the three courts, France, Spain, and Naples, had orders to present to the Pope a memorial, asking him to revoke the “monitorium,” or to expect to see some of his estates confiscated. Torrigiani and the Jesuit partisans, who knew the demand that was going to be addressed to the Pope, fearing lest the old man should yield, represented to him how glorious it would be to uprear again the tiara, humbled by Benedict XIV., before the secular powers, and made him even descry in the distance the crown of martyrdom, an honour which the enthusiastic and pious Pope would have wished above all things. Clement accordingly, when the ambassadors presented themselves for the appointed audience, would hardly deign to look at the memorial; and when they spoke of reprisals, his whole frame trembled, and he exclaimed, in a broken voice—“The Vicar of Jesus Christ is treated like the lowest of mankind. True that he has neither armies nor cannon, and it is an easy matter to despoil him of all his possessions; but it is beyond the power of man to compel him to act against his conscience.”[357]

The moment this answer was made known to the monarchs, the troops of the French king seized on Avignon, those of the King of Naples on Pontecorvo and Benevento, all possessions belonging to the Roman states.

At such distressful news the poor Pope was overcome by grief, and perceiving that he was unable to offer any material resistance, resolved to endure patiently those injuries, but not to yield to threatening; and he remained firm in his determination, although the Romans loudly murmured against him, and menaced and offered insult to the Jesuit party as the sole cause of the public calamities. The Pope’s position became more and more desperate every day, and he did not know that he had a single friend left. To whom could he now turn for aid? Genoa, Modena, Venice, nay, all the Italian states, took part against him. Once more he directed his eyes towards Austria. He wrote to the Empress Maria Theresa, that she was his only consolation on earth; she would surely not permit that his old age should be oppressed by acts of violence.[358] But the empress answered him that the affair was one concerning not religion, but state policy, and that she could not interfere without injustice.

Nor was this the greatest affliction reserved for the old pontiff. While Clement was so overwhelmed by grief, in the beginning of 1769 the ambassadors of France, Spain, and Naples presented themselves, one after the other, before him, and demanded the irrevocable suppression of the whole Order of the Jesuits. The Pope, on hearing the proposal, was stupified, and remained for some time speechless. When he had recovered some composure, he answered, in a broken and faltering voice, that he would soon make known his intentions, and called a consistory for the 3d of February. But on the evening preceding the day on which that consistory was to assemble, he was seized with a convulsion, in which he expired.[359] The Jesuits have extolled the virtues and the holiness of this Pope to the skies, and consider him as the best friend the order ever had; while the philosophers, in their speculations, have attributed to him the ultimate ruin of the Society, on account of his obstinate resistance to the demands of reform.

Canova has immortalised the memory of Rezzonico by the most beautiful of all the monuments which have a place in St Peter’s. Strangers go there to admire the chaste and pure figure of religion weeping over his tomb, the majestic dignity of the vigilant lion, the imposing calmness of the sleeping one, and the admirable execution of the whole group.

With Clement XIII. the Popes lost all independence as secular princes, and, as such, have been ever after at the mercy of the strongest secular power that has wished to domineer over them.

CHAPTER XVI.
1773.
ABOLITION OF THE ORDER.

After the death of Clement XIII., all the influence of the house of Bourbon was employed to secure that the choice of the College of Cardinals should fall on a man adverse to the Company of Jesus, as all the efforts of the members of that body were directed to bring about the contrary result. While D’Aubeterre, the French ambassador, speaking also in the name of Spain and Naples, was reiterating that an election contrary to the wishes of the house of Bourbon would lead to the ruin of the Roman See, thus endeavouring to intimidate the more pusillanimous of the cardinals, Ricci was hurrying about from place to place, imploring the one, threatening the others with the wrath of God, and freely distributing presents and money when necessary. At daybreak he was on foot, traversing every quarter of the city, and mixing with all classes of the people. He visited their eminences, their confessors, their varlets, not omitting some of the fashionable ladies, the——spiritual friends of the Eminentissimi! He and Torrigiani gave out, and repeated with great indignation and affected dignity, that it would be to the eternal shame and confusion of the Sacred College to renounce their independence, and submit to the demands of the imperious sovereigns.

The Court of Rome was divided at the time into two parties;—the Zelanti, who laboured to maintain all the privileges of the Church in their integrity and full extent; and the Regalisti, or the adherents of the crowns, who considered that the welfare of the Church must be sought in wise conciliation. Thirteen days after Clement’s demise, the Conclave assembled, and the Zelanti, notwithstanding D’Aubeterre’s insinuations and menaces, attempted to elect a Pope before the arrival of the French and Spanish cardinals. They nearly succeeded in their attempt. Cardinal Ghigi, one of them, having missed his nomination only by two votes. Then the struggle for the nomination began again more seriously. Choiseul, and still more than he, Charles III., being determined on the abolition of the Jesuits, were resolved not to give their assent to the election of a Pope, unless they should have a good assurance that he would abolish the Society. The French and Spanish ambassadors in Rome, and above all, the French and Spanish cardinals, were ordered to endeavour to effect this result. But the person to whom was assigned, by the Bourbons, the most prominent part in the Conclave, was Cardinal de Bernis. Bernis was a man endowed with many noble qualities, but vain, ostentatious, and devoured above all with the desire of playing a conspicuous part. He had been first minister of Louis XV., had been supplanted by his protégé Choiseul, who sent him back to his Bishopric of Alby, and who now intrusted to him the delicate mission of choosing a successor to St Peter. We say choosing, because, to flatter his vanity, Choiseul told him that such would certainly be his mission, and the cardinal entered the Conclave fully convinced that on him alone rested the choice of the future pontiff. He was confident that the authority of the monarchs of the house of Bourbon, and his own pleasing and insinuating manner, would be irresistible. “His affability,” says St Priest, “which was a little theatrical, but always winning, seemed to transport the Court of Louis XV. into the midst of the gloomy apartments of the Vatican.” On entering the Conclave, Bernis, in the most courteous and modest manner, and without shewing any pretension of a desire to exercise any empire over the holy College, said to his colleagues, “France has only the desire of seeing raised to the papal throne a wise and temperate prince, who may entertain the respect due to the great powers. The choice of the Sacred College can only rest upon virtue, since it shines forth in each one of its members. But virtue alone is not sufficient. Who could surpass Clement XIII. in religion and purity of doctrine? His intentions were excellent; nevertheless, during his reign, the Church was disturbed and shaken to its centre. Let your eminences restore concord between the Holy See and the Catholic States, and bring back peace to Christendom, and France will be content.”[360] As an inducement to the cardinals to comply with the wishes of the sovereigns, Bernis had permission to promise in their names the restitution of Avignon, Pontecorvo, and Benevento; and it may be well supposed that he made the most of the permission. To this, the Zelanti and the Jesuit party answered, that in the election of the supreme chief of the Church, no considerations should be regarded but the good of religion, and that the electors ought to listen to no advice, but implore fervently the Holy Ghost, and follow his inspiration. De Bernis’ position became rather embarrassing. Charles III., it seems, proposed to bind the future Pope by a written promise to abolish the order of the Jesuits. But when D’Aubeterre proposed to Bernis this arrangement, the cardinal drew back; his conscience would not allow him to be an accomplice in lowering so much the Tiara. He refused to make any such proposals, adding, with justice, that nothing could secure the execution of the contract, and that a cardinal who was capable of pledging himself beforehand to such a contract, would dishonour his future pontificate, as everything must ultimately come to light;[361] and although the ambassadors insisted anew with more pressing instances, Bernis remained firm in his opinion, that such conduct was disgraceful and illegal. Aubeterre endeavoured to overcome his repugnance by all sorts of arguments, and in a letter addressed to him on the 11th of April, we find the following passage: “I know well that I am unable to be the casuist of your eminence; but let your eminence consult Cardinal Ganganelli, one of the most celebrated theologians of this country, and who has never been accused of professing a lax morality.”[362]

While the cardinals were thus engaged in the supreme and all-important affair of choosing the chief of their Church, they, the Jesuits, the ambassadors, and all Rome, were on a sudden thrown into a state of anxiety and expectation. Joseph II., Emperor of Germany, accompanied by his brother Leopold, Grand Duke of Tuscany, arrived in Rome. Possessed of real personal merit, Joseph disdained ostentation, and appeared among the citizens of the eternal city with all the studied and striking contrast of an incognito, of which he was the inventor, under the modest title of Count of Falkestein. He mixed among the Romans without a suite, wearing no decoration, and without any pomp. Yet his presence in Rome produced a great sensation.

There are in almost every nation certain traditions, which are transmitted from generation to generation, tacitly without any apparent effort by any person to transmit them, which, however, pass to the remotest posterity as if by intuition, and form part of the moral life of a people. Such is in Rome the tradition, more or less correct, of a republic, and of emperors, which is at the bottom of the heart of every inhabitant of the metropolis of the world. Very few people are recorded in history to have fought as we Romans lately did. But I doubt much that we would have so fought even for the same prize—liberty and independence—in the name of prince or king, or any title in Christendom, or, indeed, in any name except that of the republic, and it may be that of an emperor.[363] Joseph, although a Roman Catholic, and anxious to respect the scruples of his mother, Maria Theresa, was a philosopher, meditating already part of those reforms he shortly after effected; and the moment he came within sight of Rome, he decided upon humbling her pride, and putting some restraint upon her immoderate pretensions. When in Rome, as may be imagined, he was courted by all parties, and his support was eagerly sought by every one, and especially by the Zelanti and the Jesuits. Every one waited with impatience to see the part he would take in the contest. But the young prince was, or affected to be, indifferent to the paltry question of the Jesuits, which was then paramount; and in speaking of it, he often repeated that he wondered that the fate of some thousand monks should cause so much uneasiness to such powerful sovereigns. Although he spoke of the Jesuits with the greatest contempt, nevertheless the fathers hoped that they might claim him as their partisan; an opinion which Joseph took care soon to dissipate. While visiting the different monuments of Rome, he went also to the Gesù, the principal and most magnificent establishment of the order. The fathers soon gathered round him in the most respectful and humble attitude; and the General, approaching him, and prostrating himself at the emperor’s feet with the most profound humility, was going to address him, when Joseph, without allowing him to go on, abruptly asked him when he was going to relinquish his habit. Ricci turned pale, and muttered some inarticulate words; he confessed that the times were very hard for him and for his brethren, but that they trusted in God and in the future holy Father, whose infallibility would be for ever compromised if he destroyed an order which had received the sanction of so many of his predecessors. The emperor smiled; and being then in the church, and chancing at the moment to fix his regards on a statue of Ignatius of massive silver, and glittering with precious stones, exclaimed against the prodigious sum it must have cost. “Sire,” stammered the Father General, “this statue has been erected with the money of the friends of the Society.” “Say rather,” replied Joseph, “with the profit of the Indies,” and departed, leaving the fathers in the utmost grief and dejection.[364] Joseph, assuming, on the other hand, a marked tone of superiority over the sovereigns of the house of Bourbon, affected the same indifference as to the election of a Pope, which he considered, as he said, of little moment, and unworthy of occupying the attention of a monarch of the eighteenth century; and, to prove by deeds the sincerity of his words, he gave orders to the Cardinal Pozzo-Bonelli, his minister, neither to support nor oppose any candidate.

The cardinals were distressed at this marked indifference of the only Catholic sovereign of rank who was then on good terms with Rome; and wishing to try whether they could not attract the young prince to the Holy See, by shewing him some extraordinary mark of respect and devotion, in general so flattering to the youthful mind, they, violating all their rules and regulations, invited the emperor to do them the honour of visiting the Conclave. Joseph went thither, and was met by all the cardinals in a body, one of whom took him by the hand, and introduced him within those precincts which no man can enter or leave from the commencement of the meeting till a Pope has been elected. The emperor received all those extraordinary advances with cold dignity. He addressed Bernis with rather condescending affability, which much flattered the vanity of the cardinal. But when Torrigiani was presented to him, he merely observed, “I have heard much of you,” and inquired immediately for the Cardinal of York. “Le voici,” answered the grandson of James II. Joseph saluted the last of the Stuarts with a marked expression of feature, and requested to be admitted to his cell. “It is very small for your highness,” said the emperor, after having visited it.[365]

When the emperor was on the point of leaving the Conclave, the demonstrations of the cardinals increased. “Sire,” cried they, “we trust that your imperial majesty will protect the new Pope, that he may put an end to the troubles of the Church.” The emperor replied, that the power to accomplish this rested with their eminences, by choosing a Pope who should imitate Benedict XIV., and not require too much; that the spiritual authority of the Pope was incontestable, but that he ought to be satisfied with this; and that, above all, in treating with sovereigns, he ought never to forget himself so far as to violate the rules of policy and good-breeding.[366] So saying, he left the Conclave, and even abandoned Rome the same evening, and set out for Naples to avoid the fêtes prepared for him.

The cardinals, when the agitation produced by the visit of the emperor was a little subdued, returned to their party intrigues, and vainly endeavoured, during three long months, to give a successor to St Peter. At last the Spanish cardinals, who seem to have purposely delayed their voyage till that moment, in order to decide by their votes and their influence a contest which must have by this time tried both parties, arrived in Rome, and entered the Conclave. La Ceda and De Solis, the latter Archbishop of Seville, and possessing Charles III.’s confidence, began at once to explore the ground, and to take all the necessary measures to succeed in their purpose, Bernis still pretending to be the negotiator of the Conclave. The Spaniards, leaving him to rejoice in this opinion, set themselves quietly to work, and soon succeeded in bringing the matter to a conclusion, by the choice of a candidate who was accepted by both parties. This candidate was Cardinal Ganganelli, of whom we must give some account before proceeding further.

Lorenzo Ganganelli was born in the town of St Arcangelo, on the 30th of October 1705, of a plebeian family, his father being a labourer. Like his predecessor, the goatherd of Montalto, Lorenzo entered at a very early age the order of St Francis (the Cordeliers),[367] and distinguished himself by a constant application, by the love of solitude, and by a calm, equal, and placid conduct. His principal occupation was the study of theology, in which he became a proficient and able professor. But his long meditation upon this science did not inspire him with a spirit of fanaticism and persecution, but, on the contrary, with a spirit of tolerance and love for his fellow-men; and, what appears still more rare, he did not in the least alter his jovial and agreeable manners. Nor did he, plunged as he was in the study of divinity, become insensible to the charms of nature, or to the attractions of the fine arts. He delighted in natural history, and spent many of his leisure hours in dissecting insects, or in collecting plants. He cultivated literature with some success; and if he was not a judicious connoisseur, he certainly was a warm protector of the fine arts, and was passionately fond of music.[368] One of his masters had once said of him in this particular, “No wonder he loves music, seeing that everything in his mind is in harmony.”[369] From his earliest youth, Lorenzo conceived hopes of rising to an extraordinary station in life; and his ambition, which was ardent and persevering, persuaded him that he was destined by Providence to perform extraordinary deeds; which persuasion gave to all his conduct the characteristic turn of a mysterious reliance on the future. When his parents dissuaded him from entering the cloister, Lorenzo, although he was then very young, answered that a monk’s frock had often preceded the purple, and that the two last Sistuses had issued from the convents of St Francis. Indeed, he cherished the memory of Padre Felice, of that Sistus who, even in our own day, is remembered by all the Italians, but, above all, by the lowest classes, with a loving veneration. Like Sistus, Ganganelli shewed little inclination for the aristocracy, and courted the favour of the multitude. Ganganelli, even after he had ascended to the highest dignity, remained an unpretending and popular monk. He was ambitious, and extremely jealous of real authority, but disdained the shows and appearance of it. “Notwithstanding his elevation, Ganganelli preserved his former simple habits. Pomp and ceremony were less to his taste than a frugal meal, long rides into the campagna of Rome, the friendship of Francesco,[370] the visit of a few well-informed strangers, and, above all, the conversation of the fathers of the convent of the Holy Apostles.”[371]

These were, indeed, very amiable and noble qualities, and assuredly Clement XIV. proved one of the most enlightened and well-intentioned Popes that ever ascended the pontifical chair. But almost all the historians, many of them influenced no doubt by the fact that he was the suppressor of the order of the Jesuits, have exaggerated the virtues and merits of Ganganelli, and made of him, either as monk or as Pope, an irreproachable and unexceptionable personage, gifted with almost supernatural qualities.[372] We are not quite so partial to him, and, while we give him credit for his many superior good qualities, we cannot overlook his faults, nor declare his conduct free from reproach. Thus, for example, it is evident that Ganganelli, as a thorough good Franciscan (an order from the first to the last inimical to the Company), and as a tolerant and conciliating man, could not be the friend, or have any regard for the Jesuits; and yet, perceiving how influential the fathers were under Rezzonico, Padre Lorenzo courted their favour, obtained the protection of Ricci, who presented him to the Pope’s nephew, and by their joint interest the poor monk was made an eminentissimo. This certainly does not prove much in favour of his straightforwardness; and his whole conduct during the Conclave proves also that Ganganelli was not over-scrupulous as to the means he adopted to satisfy his deeply-rooted ambition. Gioberti, his warm apologist, seeing that it would be rather difficult to exonerate him from the reproach of ambition, admits that he was indeed an ambitious man, but he says, “If it is true, according to St Paul, that the man who desires the office of a bishop desires a good work,[373] why will it not be permitted in certain cases to wish to obtain the Popedom, which is the supreme priesthood?”[374] And he (Gioberti) proceeds to prove that such ambition is permitted when the man seeks not his own but the public welfare, when he is sure that he is qualified for the task, and when he does not make use of any unworthy means to obtain the object of his ambition; and he pretends that Ganganelli fulfilled all these conditions. We, too, give credit to the poor cordelier for having fulfilled the two first, and we believe that, in aspiring to the supreme See, he had in view the public advantage, the welfare of the Church, and that, moreover, he thought himself perfectly qualified to be a Pope; but we shall leave our readers to judge whether all the means he resorted to were unexceptionable and honest.

During the Conclave of all the cardinals, Cardinal Ganganelli appeared the most unconcerned and indifferent as to the supremely important matter they were engaged in. He kept aloof from the intrigues of all parties, so that each might have considered him as one of its adherents. He ingratiated himself with the party of the sovereigns, by repeating often in public, but with the utmost timidity, just as an observation to be taken into consideration, “Their arms are very long, they reach beyond the Alps and the Pyrenees;” while to the partisans of the Jesuits he repeated, “We must no more think of destroying the Society of Jesus than of pulling down the dome of St Peter’s.”[375] It has been insinuated, and even asserted, by many historians, that while Ganganelli was speaking so ambiguously in public, he had secretly assured the French minister of his adverse disposition towards the Jesuits, and that France, from the beginning, had chosen him as her candidate. St Priest positively denies that this was the case, and affirms that Ganganelli was by no means the man upon whom France rested her confidence. “The cardinal was indeed mentioned in the list of bons sujets, that is to say, of persons who would not be unacceptable to the Bourbons; but his name, as well as that of many others, was accompanied with notes of reservation.”[376] And the French historian proceeds to say that France, far from preferring him to the rest of the candidates, suspected him of intrigues and duplicity; and Ganganelli’s conduct might have well given cause for such suspicion. He had been previously intimate with the French cardinals, and shewed himself rather favourable to their interests, but during the sitting of the Conclave had affected to shun them, evidently with the intention of not giving offence to the other party. He lived alone, shut up in his cell, and seemed as if what was going on did not concern him in the least.

How, then, did it happen that he was chosen to the vacant throne? The Jesuits have accused him of simony, and have asserted that, in exchange for a written promise to suppress their order, the Spanish cardinals gave him all the votes that were at the disposal of the house of Bourbon.[377] The admirers of Clement have, on the other hand, indignantly denied the ignominious traffic, and affirm that he was chosen as the most moderate, tolerant, and virtuous of all the cardinals, and as one who could alone heal the wounds of the Church; and the fact is, that neither party may be said to be altogether wrong in their assertion. It rests on many good authorities; and in our eyes the fact admits of no doubt, that Ganganelli, two or three days before the scrutiny for the nomination of a Pope, gave a written note to De Solis, conceived in the following terms:—“I admit that the Sovereign Pontiff may in conscience abolish the Society of the Jesuits, without violating the canonical regulations.”[378] Now, how far this proceeding may constitute the sin of simony, we do not pretend to decide. Evidently, in the strictest sense of the word, here is no specified contract constituting simony. In this note Cardinal Ganganelli expresses his opinion, as a theologian, that the Supreme Pontiff may, in perfect safety of conscience, abolish the Order of Jesus; and this opinion is perfectly sound and orthodox. But, as plain matter of fact, it may be asked, was this answer intended to win for the adviser the support of Spain, who was firmly resolved not to consent to any nomination without having obtained from the future Pope a written promise to suppress the Society of Jesus? It seems that the Spanish cardinals, with whatever intention Ganganelli may have given the note, took it not as the opinion of the theologian, but as the solemn engagement of the future Pope, so that, soon after the note was written, as if the Holy Ghost had of a sudden decided on the choice, and suggested to the electors the same name, Ganganelli was elected to the chair of the apostles.

However, between the negotiation of the Spanish ministers with Ganganelli and the scrutiny for the nomination, Bernis, who saw that all opinions were growing warm in favour of the Franciscan, and perceived that he had been played upon by his Castilian colleagues, since all had been done without his participation, to save at least appearances, hastened to the probable candidate, and boasted to him that his election would be due to the influence of France. The Spaniards willingly allowed him to play this specious part, so suited to his ostentatious character, and Ganganelli, who perhaps felt embarrassed as to how he should express his pretended gratitude, answered in these strange words, “I bear Louis XV. in my heart, and the Cardinal de Bernis in my right hand.”[379] Bernis then, with a sort of diplomatic importance, requested distinctly to know Ganganelli’s opinions with respect to the Jesuits, and the affair of the Infant of Parma. On the latter point the future Pope answered in the most satisfactory manner, and promised not only to recall the monitorium, but to consecrate himself, in the Basilica of St Peter, the duke’s approaching marriage. But on the Jesuit question he was not so explicit; he admitted that their suppression appeared to be necessary, and that most likely the future Pope would not be satisfied with mere words; and, “in short,” says St Priest, “Ganganelli promised De Bernis all that he desired.”[380] This being so arranged, and the Austrian party, to which also adhered that of the Jesuits, having accepted the candidature of Ganganelli, he was, as we have said, elected Sovereign Pontiff, and assumed the name of Clement XIV.

Ganganelli having at last attained the summit of his ambition, enjoyed for a short moment with rapture his good fortune, and the immense popularity which immediately surrounded him, and gave way to all the naturally good impulses of his heart. On the day of his coronation, upon entering the Basilica of the Vatican, his eye fell upon a stone on which he had once stood when a simple monk, to see the cortege of Pope Rezzonico pass by. “Look,” said he, pointing it out to one of his suite, “from that stone I was driven ten years ago.”[381] The very commencement of his pontificate gave great satisfaction to the sovereigns, and to all the friends of a liberal and tolerant policy. He began by prohibiting the reading of the Bull in coena Domini, so offensive to all monarchs; he suspended the effect of the monitorium against the Duke of Parma; he declared that he would send a nuncio to Portugal; and he extended some concessions made by Benedict XIV. to the King of Sardinia, and which his predecessor had refused to recognise. Had not the question of the Jesuits been at issue, there is no doubt that Ganganelli would have given general satisfaction, and he himself have lived and died a happy and honoured Pope. But this unfortunate affair poisoned all his joy from the commencement of his reign. To whatever side he turned himself, he saw nothing but almost insurmountable obstacles. On the one hand, the sovereigns demanded imperatively the abolition of the order, and Clement had to fear that his refusal to comply would divest Rome not only of the valuable possessions of Avignon and Benevento, but also of the filial obedience of Spain, France, and Portugal. On the other hand, how could he, the supreme chief of the Roman Catholic Church, abolish an order which had been considered the firmest bulwark of this same Church, and, as such, recognised and approved by many of his predecessors? What would be the judgment of posterity and of the followers of his creed? Would they ratify his sentence, and ascribe to him the gift of infallibility at the expense of the other mistaken pontiffs? or would he be accounted peccable, and his predecessors infallible? In both cases the Papal infallibility would be greatly damaged, and the authority it gave to the decisions of the Holy See greatly diminished, which neither Ganganelli nor any other Pope ever wished that it should be; because it is a remarkable fact, that the Popes, elective sovereigns, and who alone of such have no hope whatever of transmitting to their issue or their relatives any portion of their power, have always been, and still are, scrupulously careful not to diminish the splendour and glory of the Papal chair, although they may sometimes foresee that after their death it will be occupied by their bitterest enemy. What then could the poor Pope do in these critical circumstances? Although he liked to be compared to Sistus V., whose memory he dearly worshipped, he was far from possessing the firmness of character and the indomitable energy of the quondam goatherd of the Abruzzi. He did not act as Sistus would have done; like all persons without energy, in perilous and difficult emergencies, he took no decisive measure, but directed all his efforts and artifices to gain time, incessantly promising to the sovereigns to come to a determination, and always evading the fulfilment of his promises at the decisive moment.

To obtain some delay from France, he thought that the best he could do was to flatter the vanity of De Bernis, now the accredited ambassador of the court of Versailles, and to render him an unwilling accomplice in his dilatory system; and Bernis, although an intelligent and shrewd man, was so blinded by his vanity, as to be easily duped by his arts. St Priest has given, from Bernis’ letters to Choiseul, a relation of some interviews which took place between the Pope and the cardinal. “When the cardinal went to pay his respects to the Pope, the latter would not accept the customary homage; he forbade his genuflexion, repeatedly he offered him his snuff-box, and even compelled him to be seated in his presence. Bernis retired with every mark of profound respect, but Clement said, in a familiar tone, ‘We are alone, and no person sees us; let us dispense with etiquette, and resume the old equality of the cardinalate.’”[382] A few days afterwards, when Bernis presented a letter from Louis XV., Clement seized and kissed it with transport, exclaiming, “I owe all to France. Providence has chosen me among the people like St Peter, and the house of Bourbon has, under Providence, been the means of raising me to the chair of the prince of the Apostles. Providence, too, has permitted,” he added, embracing Bernis, “that you should be the minister of the king at the Papal court. I place unlimited confidence in you, my dear cardinal; let there be no indirect intercourse, no mystery, between us.”[383]

These assurances flattered the vanity of Bernis, who was continually asking his court to sanction the delays which the dignity of the Pope rendered necessary, and which he represented to be inevitable in matters affecting ecclesiastical discipline. These representations had some influence upon the mind of Louis XV., who in his profligacy was often assailed by transitory fits of remorse; and he prevailed upon the King of Spain, though with some difficulty, to be a little more patient, and to grant to the Pope some reasonable delay for the settlement of the question.

Clement’s joy at the good success of his policy was irrepressible. Not only did he feel proud of his own cleverness, but he hoped to be able to find fresh pretexts for an indefinite delay. This brief moment of illusion was the happiest in all his pontificate; indeed it was the only happy one. His countenance beamed with contentment, his manner became still more amiable, and nothing could exceed his good-humour. To wrap himself in his happiness, he went to the enchanting residence of Castel-Gandolfo, and spent many happy hours on the charming shore of the Lake of Albano, with no other witness or suite than the old friend of his youth, the poor lay brother, Francesco.

But the felicity was of short duration. Scarcely had Ganganelli returned to Rome, when all his illusion vanished. Ardent and restless in the furtherance of his projects, Charles III. was impatient to see the destruction of the Jesuits accomplished; and seeing that no progress was made towards this end, he accused Bernis to Choiseul either of incapacity, or of connivance with Clement. Choiseul, to whom Charles left all liberty to act as he pleased in the general policy of Europe, was very anxious to comply with his wishes in this affair. He had already, some time before, written to Bernis a letter full of remonstrances, and ending thus:—“And if I was ambassador at Rome, I should be ashamed to see Father Ricci the antagonist of my master.”[384] But now he pressed the cardinal more and more strongly to bring the Pope to a speedy decision. The Spanish king, on his part, not content with stimulating Choiseul, was pressing the Pope harder and harder. First he held out a menace against the Court of Rome; then, when Clement represented that there was some danger that the measure of suppression would cause an outbreak, or the interference of other monarchs, or of the pious friends of the Jesuits, he proposed to land at Civita Vecchia 6000 men to defend the Pope against his enemies; and, to frighten Ganganelli still more, he publicly and explicitly denounced Cardinal de Bernis to the Court of France, and asked for his recall.

Bernis was stunned by the shock, and felt as if his embassy, the thing of all things dearest to his heart, for the pomp and power which it imparted, had already been torn from him. The sympathy which he had for Clement, the desire to be agreeable to him, and to repay the Pope for the confidence which he thought his Holiness placed in him, vanished at once, and all his thoughts were directed to find out how he could constrain the Sovereign Pontiff, his spiritual and immediate chief, to obey his temporal masters, and thus maintain himself in his embassy. Instead of his previous easy acquiescence, he now became stern and exacting; and not seeing any more efficient step to take to calm Charles III.’s impatience, he urged the Pope to write to the king, and to make peace with him.[385] Ganganelli, overjoyed to escape the present evil, consented inconsiderately to what was asked of him, without reflecting that, by pledging himself in writing, he rendered his position still more difficult and perilous for the future. In his letter to the Spanish king, declining the assistance offered by his Catholic majesty, he requested time to accomplish the suppression of the Jesuits, admitting, at the same time, that this measure was indispensable, and announcing, in plain terms, that “the members of the Society had merited their fall from the restlessness of their spirit, and the audacity of their proceedings.”[386] This letter, which was written in 1770, has been denied by some, and by others confounded with the more vague note which, as we have seen, it was asserted that Ganganelli had written previous to his ascension to the pontificate. This is a grave error; and, to dispel any doubt, we shall quote the words of Cardinal Bernis himself, in his despatch of April 29, 1770. They are, as will be seen, of the gravest importance:—“The question is not whether the Pope would wish to suppress the Jesuits; but whether, after the formal promises he has given in writing to the King of Spain, his Holiness can for a moment hesitate to fulfil them? This letter, which I have induced him to write to his Catholic majesty, binds him so firmly, that, unless the court of Spain should alter its opinions, the Pope will be obliged to complete the undertaking. By gaining him, it is true, he might effect something, but the power of delay is limited. His Holiness is a man of too much clear-sightedness not to perceive that, should the King of Spain cause his letter to be printed, he would lose his character as a man of honour, if he hesitated to fulfil his promise, and suppress the Society, a plan for whose destruction he had promised to communicate, and whose members he considered as dangerous, discontented, and turbulent.”[387]

On the existence of this letter, to which they wrongly assign, as we have said, a date anterior to the election of Ganganelli, the Jesuits have founded their system of defence. They have asserted that the Pope was compelled to the act of abolishing their Society, which act Clement personally did not consider either just or necessary; and it cannot be denied that the sovereigns exercised a kind of constraint upon him. But was, then, Ganganelli favourable to the order, and would he, if left to himself, have let the Jesuits live in peace, and protected them against a great part of Europe conspiring for their destruction? No! undoubtedly no. We have already observed that Ganganelli could not be the friend of the Jesuits. The man who took Sistus V. and Benedict XIV. for his models, and with whom he had so many points of resemblance, could only have wished what these his predecessors wished and attempted to do, namely, to put a stop to the Jesuits’ pride and arrogance. But we say more. Had not Clement been pressed too hard by the sovereigns, we are convinced that he would have acted more energetically and with more decision. We must remember that Ganganelli, though little exacting in regard to outward shows of pomp and power, had the highest opinion of the dignity with which he was invested, and was by no means disposed to see the tiara lowered or dishonoured in his person. Once, when Florida Blanca, the Spanish ambassador, in order to support his argument, suggested to the Pope that immediately after the publication of the Brief of Suppression, Avignon and Benevento would be restored to the Holy See, Clement answered with majestic dignity, “Remember that a Pope governs the Church, but does not traffic in his authority,”[388] and, breaking short the conference, retired in indignation. Besides, Ganganelli, though wanting in energy, and though he may be reproached with somewhat equivocal conduct in order to satisfy his ambition, was a man too religious and too noble-hearted, of too sound principles of morality and honesty, to subscribe to a measure which he considered unjust. He would have preferred every inconvenience, martyrdom itself, to such iniquitous and dishonourable conduct. Why, then, did he hesitate so long to accomplish a measure which he considered useful and just? Let Clement answer for himself first, and we shall give our reasons afterwards. In the Brief of Suppression the Pope says: “We have omitted no care, no pains, in order to arrive at a thorough knowledge of the origin, the progress, and the actual state of that regular order commonly called the Company of Jesus.”[389] And Ranke, whom the Jesuits often quote as authority, and who seems to be rather partial to them, says, “Clement applied himself with the utmost attention to the affairs of the Jesuits. A commission of cardinals was formed, the archives of the Propaganda were examined, and the arguments of both sides were deliberately considered.”[390] It is evident, then, that Clement wished to give a judgment with a perfect knowledge of the affair. It must be remembered that there is a wide distance between the opinion that Ganganelli might have entertained of the Jesuits, and the fact of the Supreme Pontiff, the chief of the religion, condemning, by a solemn irrevocable act, a religious order approved and protected by thirteen former Popes. It must be remembered that Clement was himself a monk, and that, at the very beginning of the Brief of Suppression, he informs us what his sentiments were towards the monastic communities. “It is beyond doubt,” says the Brief, “that among the things which contribute to the good and happiness of the Christian Republic, the religious orders hold the first place. It was for this reason that the Apostolic See, which owes its welfare and support to these orders, has not only approved, but endowed them with many exemptions, privileges, and faculties.”[391] Besides these powerful and principal reasons, many other secondary ones must have induced Clement to defer the all-important act. It was repugnant to his mild, benevolent, and conciliating character to have recourse to harsh and severe measures. The nobleness and generosity of his heart, on another side, suggested to him, that to the Jesuits, perhaps, he was indebted for the supreme dignity he had obtained, since it was by their influence that he had been named cardinal; and this leads us to believe that, had the measure been less urgent and indispensable to the welfare of the Church and Christianity, he, in memory of past benefits, would never have suppressed the order. As a last, not least reason, for Ganganelli’s hesitation, it may be adduced that the Roman Catholic world would have received it with astonishment, and not without murmurs, if he had abolished a society for which his benefactor, Rezzonico, whose ashes were yet warm, had nourished such a particular affection, and which he had taken under the protection of his infallibility—an infallibility which, though Clement never spoke, he no doubt would not have liked that others should have called in question. In one word, in judging of Ganganelli’s conduct, the different parties have too often forgotten that he was a Pope and a monk.

All the motives we have adduced to explain and excuse Clement’s delay in suppressing the order, were noble and praiseworthy; but it must be confessed that with them was mingled one that was less noble, and not so creditable to the Pope’s character. He was afraid lest the Jesuits should assassinate or poison him; and his fears were not, as we shall see, without foundation.

The Jesuits, it may be imagined, had spared no pains to influence Clement’s mind, and to deprecate the scheme of their destruction. At first they set at work all the influences they still possessed. In Rome, above all, they were as yet all-powerful among the nobility. They were the agents of the husbands, the confessors of the wives, the tutors of the children; and by means of these nobles they endeavoured to influence the Pope in their favour. But as Ganganelli received few persons of that rank, and listened to none, this expedient of the fathers proved abortive. They obtained afterwards from the sovereigns of Austria, Bavaria, Poland, and Sardinia, letters of recommendation to the Holy Father; and when they perceived that even these proved ineffectual, they had recourse to threats, and, by many ingenious and sly contrivances, conveyed to Clement’s mind the persuasion that they would take away his life, whatever precautions he should take. To make a still stronger impression upon his mind, they had his death predicted by a set of impostors, whose predictions were, as is generally the case, readily believed by the people; and the Jesuits took good care to strengthen this belief. Bernardina Renzi, a peasant of Valentano, giving herself out as a prophetess, predicted the vacancy of the Holy See by the mysterious initials P. S. S. V. (presto sarà sede vacante). Another Pythoness of Montefiascone also put forth similar strange and mysterious predictions.[392] The Pope was too enlightened, too religious, to believe in such impostures; but, just because he did not believe in them, he feared them the more, knowing that those who had put them forth would find the means to accomplish them. Two Jesuits, Fathers Coltraro and Venizza, along with the confessor of Bernardina, were thrown into prison, as having been suspected of being the advisers of the prophetess. In the various circles of society, almost publicly and aloud, the Jesuits and their partisans accused and cursed Clement, heaping reproaches on his name, and even insinuating the possibility of a deposition. Insulting images and hideous figures were put forth, announcing an approaching catastrophe, under the form of vengeance of Providence. Father Ricci, far from feeling any repugnance to the support of such shameless deception, did not even shrink from an interview with the sorceress of Valentino.[393]

Surrounded as he was by treachery, Ganganelli could not long resist the impressions which such a state of things was calculated to make upon him. His natural gaiety gave way; his health became impaired; and evident signs of weariness were stamped on the whole of his countenance. He lived more secluded than ever, and would not taste of any dishes but those prepared by his faithful Francesco, or by his own hands.

On the other hand, the sovereigns became more and more urgent. To Anzpurù succeeded, as Spanish ambassador, that same Muniño who, in his capacity of magistrate, had assisted D’Aranda in the mysterious examination of the Jesuits’ conduct, after the émeute of 1766, and who was now the Count of Florida Blanca. He was stern and inflexible, and pressed hard the poor Pope to take the dangerous leap. The transitory, delusive hope which the Jesuits had enjoyed, of escaping ruin, after the disgrace of Choiseul, and the paramount influence which had been acquired over the king by their friend Madame Dubarry, the successor of Madame de Pompadour, soon vanished. D’Aiguillon, to deprecate the anger of Charles III. for the fall of his friend Choiseul, seconded the Spanish king vigorously in his cherished project of obtaining the Suppression; and, as Austria had abandoned the cause of the order,[394] the ruin of the Jesuits became inevitable. Yet Clement resisted all those importunities and menaces, and held firm, till, after a long and protracted investigation, his conscience was satisfied that the act he was called upon to perform was an act of supreme justice and of immense advantage to Christianity. Then, although he felt sure that he should forfeit his life, he decided upon sacrificing it to the fulfilment of a duty, which gives to the act a more imposing and solemn gravity. On the 23d July 1773, he affixed his signature to the Brief, saying, in the very act of writing his name, “We sign our death”—Sottoscriviamo la nostra morte.[395]

We shall now lay before our readers a great part of this Brief, which we should wish them to attentively read and consider, because, as a Roman Catholic priest observes, “It is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful and honourable of the Roman Church; and so much so, that I dare assert that there is no ecclesiastical ordinance where shines more brightly the wisdom, the holiness, the moderation, and the true philosophy of the apostolic chair. The idea which is predominant in the Brief is, that of the unity and peace which the Man-God brought to mortals, by establishing his religion,” &c.[396] In fact, the Brief is extremely remarkable in all its parts, and shews with what accuracy, with what patience, Clement had examined the question. It begins by pronouncing a high eulogium on the monastic orders, and on the good intentions of Loyola in founding that of the Jesuits. It then points out many of these orders which were abolished by different Popes. It recapitulates all the favours that the Holy See had bestowed on the Jesuits. Then, in a rapid sketch of the history of the order, it shews in it the principle of discord, of schism; of a continual war waged by it against all other religious communities; the dissensions it excited in various Catholic countries; the obstinacy of the Jesuits in persisting in their reprehensible conduct, notwithstanding a number of briefs and admonitions of the Supreme Pontiff; and, finally, concludes by declaring it to be impossible that the Church could recover a firm and durable peace, so long as the said Society subsisted. Here follows this memorable document,[397] which we give at length, as the most correct epitome of the history of the Company, written by the most high and competent authority:—