Chapter XXV. Intrigues and interpretations.

One of the most conspicuous manifestations of the spirit now prevailing among the leading nations, is that all of them are struggling to go forward and not backward. Italy, in this respect, does not constitute an exception to this general rule, as her present prominent position in Europe abundantly testifies. Hence, every sensible man well knows that the Government now existing there can not be overthrown, so that the temporal power of the pope can be restored, except by another revolution or.by the military invasion of a foreign power. Which of these remedies it is the purpose of the papacy to invoke can only be conjectured. But since one or the other of them must, from necessity, be in contemplation, it is essentially important that the true relation which the dogma of papal infallibility bears to the temporal power should be well understood, in order to see—what will be apparent to any careful investigator—the impress of the Jesuits upon the papal policy, and that, but for them, the Church would be left to the enjoyment of its religious faith, without disturbance by any of the nations.

The temporal power was always an enemy to the peace of the Church—rending it into hostile factions—separating the Eastern from the Western Christians, and introducing feuds and strifes and schisms between popes and anti-popes, cardinals and clergy, and those who followed them in their long and angry conflicts. Before this tremendous power was usurped, and papal ambition was incited by the desire to possess it, the Church of Rome embraced within its fold almost the entire Christian world. Now, however, it finds itself representing only a minority of those who profess Christianity.’ All this, and more than this, has been accomplished by restless and ambitious popes, who, defying the example and all the admonitions, not only of Christ himself, but of all the primitive Christians, entangled the Church in vicious alliances with potentates and kings, in order that they might wear crowns of temporal royalty themselves, and give increased strength and vigor to the principles of monarchical government by keeping the multitude in superstition, ignorance, and inferiority. And when, in the present enlightened age, there is no excuse for not knowing the wars, the bloodshed, the persecutions, and the misery, which followed this unholy alliance between Church and State, in order to create and preserve the temporal power of these usurping popes, he must have but little regard for the welfare of the human race who would again afflict any part of the civilized world with these or kindred calamities. The Roman Catholic people of Italy have, of their own accord, removed them, and those who are now seeking to re-afflict them by alliances with foreign and alien powers, make themselves disturbers of the world’s peace, by seeking to embroil other peoples and nations in dangerous combinations for such a purpose.

It is not easy to overestimate the importance and seriousness of the issue involved in the proposition to restore the temporal power of the pope—whether in its relations to Roman Catholic or Protestant populations. In so far as the former are concerned, it involves the conversion of their religious faith into the illiberality and selfishness of Jesuitism; the sacrifice of the ancient faith of the Church to the principles of a society which boasts that it has plucked out of the hearts of its members every vestige of human sympathy and affection, and has spent the whole period of its existence in sowing seeds of strife and contention, and in so opposing the acknowledged authority of the Church when employed to curb their worldly ambition, that one of the best and most enlightened of the popes was constrained, by a sense of duty to the Church and to the Christian world, not merely to suppress them, but to declare, infallibly and ew cathedra, that the suppression was forever. To Protestants it presents but two alternatives, either to cast away all the rich fruits of the Reformation, or to rebuke the attempt to encroach upon the rights the people have acquired after centuries of conflict with monarchical and arbitrary power. Both these propositions command the most serious and thoughtful consideration, especially by.citizens of the United States, where the form of government is designed to conserve all religions, and enable those who profess them—no matter how variant and conflicting they may be—to live in amicable and peaceful relations with each other. No intelligent mind can reflect upon the indisputable proofs of history and the philosophy they teach, without realizing that, with regard to this issue our own course is plain, clear, and unmistakable.

The ambitious popes—such as Gregory VII, Innocent III, and Boniface VIII, as well as others before and after them— acquired and maintained their temporal power by a long series of coercive and oppressive measures. In order to give these measures a religious sanction, they usurped the functions which pertained to the claim of infallibility, not only without the consent of the Church, but in face of the positive rejection of that dogma by several Councils, and against the almost unanimous sentiment of the multitude of Christians. The general polity of the European nations, under the dominion of monarchical power as it was united in Church and State, was favorable to them, as it kept the people in ignorance of their natural rights, and too feeble to assert them by revolution, if they had resorted to that remedy. Thus held in subjection, their non-resistance was held to be acquiescence in their own humility. Taking advantage of this, popes and other kings, as the allies of each other, asserted their divine right to govern according only to their own united will, and endeavored to establish the infallibility of the pope as a dogma of religious faith, in order to retain and increase their monarchical power. Thoughtful and intelligent Roman Catholics denied and repudiated this doctrine, but were powerless to relieve the multitude from the severity of this joint rule, because the entire coercive, power was in the hands of those whose ambition was promoted by it, and who kept themselves in constant readiness to employ it whensoever their interests, both spiritual and temporal, were placed in jeopardy. If history does not prove all this, it proves nothing.

When the Reformation period began, and the popes and the clergy refused the necessary reforms in the Church, those who supported that great movement detached themselves, in large numbers, from the papal party, but continued to assert their unfaltering fidelity to the primitive Christian faith. The reigning authorities were thus confronted with a disintegrating Church, occasioned by their own refusal to reform acknowledged abuses—some of which were so flagrant as to furnish a reason to the Jesuits for the recognition of their society. It was not an easy matter to arrest this disintegration after the treatment of Luther by Leo X, and the difficulties were increased by the circumstances connected with the Council of Trent, as well as by the proceedings of that body. There are many evidences of this. Prominent among these is the fact that the popes were opposed to a General Council, mainly because of the fear that it would refuse to affirm their assumption of infallibility, which would necessarily tend to weaken their hold upon temporal power. But for the Emperor Charles V, it is not probable that a Council would have been then held. He repeatedly urged upon the pope the necessity of convening one, but without success. He was coquetting with the Lutheran Protestants in Germany by means of his celebrated “interim,” and otherwise, in order to strengthen his armies by accessions from them. But, at the same time, he cherished the hope that a Council would contrive some method of inducing his Lutheran subjects to reunite with the Church, from which they had been driven by the usurpations of the papacy and the acknowledged vices of the clergy. His main purpose, however, was to make the union between the Church and the State so indissoluble as to maintain and perpetuate the monarchical principle as protection to both. Finding the popes unyielding in their opposition to a General Council, he ordered a national one to be held at Augsburg, in his own dominions, to consider and decide upon such matters concerning the Church as he deemed expedient. Clement VII was then pope, and it required but little reflection to assure him that if the emperor succeeded in holding a National Council in Germany, it would, with almost positive certainty, reaffirm the decisions of the Councils of Constance and Basel, rejecting the dogma of infallibility, and thus inflict a dangerous and probably fatal wound upon the papacy. He was completely checkmated by the emperor, and nothing was left him but to call a General Council to supersede the National Council at Augsburg. It was a game of statecraft between rival contestants for the supremacy—neither having been restrained by any higher motives than those which have their birth in personal ambition. As for the pope, he preferred that the disintegration of the Church should continue rather than run the risk of having his infallibility denied by a General Council, and the possible loss of his temporal power which that denial would have threatened. All this is sufficiently indicated by the impediments thrown in the way of the meeting of the Council by the popes. Clement VIL died four years after making the call, but without fixing the time for its assembling. His successor, Paul III, was constrained to fix it for 1537, and to designate Mantua as the place. But this did not exhaust all the expedients for delay. Mantua was objected to for reasons not fully explained, and Vincenza was substituted. The time was accordingly postponed one year, until 1538. No meeting having then occurred, it was again fixed for 1542. Still, however, in order to gain more time, it was transferred to Trent, where it did not assemble until December 13, 1545—thirteen years after it was first called by Clement VII. Its last session was held December 4, 1563—eighteen years after it first assembled, and thirty-one years after it was first called—more than a generation of time!

During all these years the popes were striving after the surest method of perpetuating their claim of infallibility as the means of preserving their temporal power. While it is to be supposed that they, at the same time, desired to save the Church from overthrow, they so blended its cause with their own ambitious ends, that the Council, instead of being reformatory, was unable to accomplish anything more than the inauguration of a counter revolution to suppress the Reformation, which, by that time, was becoming more formidable everyday. The pope, Julius II, and Charles V had a common interest in keeping Church and State united, in order to ward off successfully any blows that might be aimed at the principle of absolute monarchism. But, apart from this, the pope had a separate and distinct interest of his own, in trying to secure, beyond the possibility of loss, the imperial rights and prerogatives of the papacy. Embarrassed as he was, with the eyes of all Europe centered upon him, he was compelled to look for support in every direction, and found no contribution to the papal pretensions likely to become more valuable than that offered by the Jesuits, who were then in readiness, under the lead of Laynez, their general, to devote themselves to whatsoever work should be necessary to extinguish the spirit of revolt against the monarchism of Church and State.

Remembering the services rendered by Loyola to the cause of absolute monarchy, and knowing that the central feature of the Jesuit constitution was specially designed for the advancement of that cause, the pope resolved to bring the united and compact body of Jesuits to his aid, by enlisting them as an army to defend the tottering cause of the papacy. The main object of Loyola during his life had. been to drive back the tide of the Reformation; and, although he had signally failed in this, he exhibited such superior qualities as a general and commander of men, and had so succeeded in imparting these same qualities to Laynez, his successor, that the pope determined to send the latter as one of his legates to the Council, clearly indicating that he was both unwilling and afraid to trust the interests of the papacy in the hands of those who, by the existing organization of the Church, were intrusted with its administrative authority. He undoubtedly considered that the most certain, if not the only method of preserving the papacy, as distinct from the primitive Church, would be the infusion of Jesuit spirit and courage into the ranks of its defenders. We have heretofore seen how Laynez had succeeded at the French Council of Poissy in restricting the right of discussion to ecclesiastics alone, and it is fair to presume that the knowledge of this dictatorial spirit commended him to the pope. At all events, he was specially favored and distinguished as the representative of the pope and the Jesuits at the same time—a union that had but a single signification; that is, that the pope had accepted the Jesuits as his allies in preference to any of the existing monastic orders, because, as can not be doubted, the latter occupied the field of religious labor, while the former considered religious professions and practices as the stepping-stone to the acquisition of riches and temporal power. Thus favored above any other member of the Council, Laynez courageously entered into the contest between those who defended and those who denied the doctrine of the pope’s infallibility, and exhibited his great ability in supporting to the utmost the extreme claim to spiritual and temporal sovereignty which such popes as Gregory VII, Innocent III, Boniface VIII, and others, now declared to have been infallible, had for centuries maintained in defiance of the enlightened sentiment of the whole Christian world. During the long and tedious sessions of the Council, it had been getting farther and farther away from such conclusions as would satisfy those who desired to see the integrity of the Church maintained; and it was not until the time for its closing sessions was approaching that Laynez announced the Jesuit doctrine with regard to the infallibility of the pope, and the authority and power it would confer upon the papacy. Al though, contrary to the expectations of the pope, he did not succeed in procuring the aflirmance of his doctrines by the Council—for if an effort had been made to embody the pope’s infallibility in the articles of faith, the negative decisions of the Councils of Constance and Basel would have been repeated—yet he did succeed in assuring the papacy that its most formidable allies were the Jesuits, upon whom it could then and always thereafter rely to fight its battles in behalf of that dogma, as well as the temporal power, and whatsoever should become necessary to give strength and permanency to the principle of monarchism in the government of both Church and State. This having been accomplished, together with as much infusion of Jesuitism into the Creed as could then be safely ventured, the pope considered the papacy saved, at least for the time being, and dissolved the Council.

If this Council had been promptly called and convened when demanded by Charles V and the numerous body of Christians, much that has since transpired to the injury of the Church might have been avoided. One result would almost certainly have followed—the reaffirmance of the doctrine of the Councils of Constance and Basel by a denial of the pope’s infallibility. What a multitude of evils would then have been avoided by the Church! With the question of infallibility disposed of by adhering to the ancient faith, which assigned it to popes and Councils combined as the representatives of the universal Church, composed of the whole body of Christians, the events then transpiring in Europe indicate that the prevailing sentiment in favor of reform would have been strong enough to check, if not to arrest, the progress of Church disintegration. “That accomplished, the question of temporal power would have been left as a mere domestic one to be settled alone by the Italian people; the ambition of the popes would have been no longer tempted by the desire to acquire universal sovereignty over the world; their meddling with the temporal affairs of the nations would have been rebuked; harmony and concord might have prevailed among all Christians, no matter what their differences of religious faith; all controversy about freedom of conscience would, in all probability, have ceased; the people of every nation would have been left to manage their own affairs in their own way, and there would, doubtless, have been ushered in such a period of general prosperity and contentment as it has required Protestantism to introduce, in despite the resistance and anathemas of the papacy, reigned over by disappointed popes.

But the doctrine of the pope’s infallibility, as announced by Laynez in the Council of Trent, deserves to be well scrutinized, in order that its true and actual meaning may be comprehended. He who shall prosecute the laborious research necessary for this, will not be surprised to find that it required over three hundred years of controversy within the Church before the papacy was enabled to create a sufficient number of obedient and submissive prelates to approve the Jesuit teachings of Laynez, as the Vatican Council of 1870 did by decreeing, not only that the pope then reigning, Pius IX, was infallible, but that all the other popes from the be. ginning—good, bad, and indifferent—were also infallible! It will, however, excite no little astonishment when he reflects that this was done in the nineteenth century, in the face of the popular enlightenment now prevailing, and that such a period was selected for this Jesuit and papal triumph over the Church—which is neither more nor less than placing the future destiny of the Church under Jesuit control, with the helm of the ship which bears its most precious treasures guided by the followers of Loyola and Laynez and the Jesuit generals who have succeeded them.

The language employed by Laynez in this celebrated Council—speaking for the pope as his specially empowered legate—is not only expressive, but will be startling to some who may now learn it for the first time. It.should be well scanned and considered by citizens of the United States, especially by those Roman Catholics whose silent acquiescence in what the papacy has been and is now doing, causes them to be regarded as approving what, in their honest consciences, vast numbers of them do not approve. On October 20, 1562—after the Council had been in existence seventeen years without settling the question whether bishops acted under Divine appointment or were the mere passive creatures and instruments of the popes—Laynez addressed the assemblage in a carefully-prepared and elaborate speech, which the historian says occupied “more than two hours.” The occasion was a great one for him and the Jesuits—in the nature of a turning-point in his and their history. It was the first time during the existence of the Church when the voice of a Jesuit was heard in a General Council, and the first time when the general of that society had been made the special legate of the pope. It was also the first time when the Church had openly turned its back upon the ancient monastic orders by giving preference to a society expressly organized in antagonism to them, for the avowed reason that they were unfitted by corruption for rendering efficient service to the Church. Laynez was equal to the occasion—his speech having been, as all agree, a grand display of eminent ability. He pointed out the difference between the Church and human Governments—the former having been built by Christ, and the latter by human societies. Upon this premise he then developed the papal and Jesuit theory by saying: “That while Christ lived in the mortal flesh, he governed the Church with an absolute monarchical government, and being about to depart out of this world, he left the same form, appointing for his vicar St. Peter and his successors, to administer it as he had done, giving him full and total power and jurisdiction, and subjecting the Church to him, as it was to himself.” This was a bold announcement of the infallibility of the popes—of the religious dogma that each one of them, in himself alone, possessed the “fall power and jurisdiction” of an absolute and irresponsible monarch. “This declaration extorted both praise and censure—the latter especially from the Bishop of Paris, who denounced it as having been invented, within fifty years before, in order that its author might gain from the pope a cardinal’s cap; thus showing how well and distinctly it was understood that Laynez was the mouthpiece of the pope, and was merely echoing his opinions. Notwithstanding this rebuke, Laynez was not discomfited—for he well knew the potency of the power behind him—but proceeded to establish the proposition that Peter, like Christ, was an absolute monarch, by an argument which has ever since answered the same end; that is, because Christ said to him: ““ Feed [that is, govern] my sheep [animals, which have no part or judgment in governing themselves. |” Then, insisting that Christ intended this relation to subsist between the Church and “the Bishop of Rome, from St. Peter to the end of the world,” he also declared that Christ, in addition, “gave him a privilege of infallibility in judgment of faith, manners, and religion, binding all the Church to hear him, and to stand firmly in that which should be determined by him.” With the view of expressing more distinctly this pre-eminence of the pope over the universal Church he continued: “The Church can not err, because he can not, and so he that is separated from him who is the head of the Church, is separated also from the Church;” that is, none can remain within its pale who do not accept as infallibly true what the pope shall command with reference to faith, manners, and religion. And in order to give completeness to the papal and Jesuit system he was explaining, he humiliated the bishops by placing them, along with the other “animals,” at the feet of the pope. He insisted that as “the apostles ordained bishops, not by Christ, but by St. Peter, receiving jurisdiction from him alone,” therefore their powers and functions were conferred upon them, not by the divine law or will, but by the pope at his own will and pleasure—thus making them his creatures, mere agents to do his will, ready at all times to yield implicit and uninquiring obedience to his commands, and bound to accept the will and law of God as he shall instruct them.”

This palpable perversion of the words of Christ, which are of plain and simple meaning, has been since so persisted in, that multitudes who do not obey his command to “search the Scriptures” for themselves have accepted the papal and Jesuit interpretation as infallibly true. What he said—”Feed my sheep”—can not be tortured into the meaning which that interpretation gives to the words. The English word “feed” signifies only to supply or furnish with food for nourishment. In the Latin Vulgate edition of the New Testament the words of Christ are thus expressed: “Pasce oves meas.” The word “pasee” signifies exactly what the English word feed does; so that the translation now accepted by the most enlightened portion of the world is precisely accurate. But Laynez, it will be seen, so perverted the word pasce, or feed, as to make it mean “govern;” whereas, if the authors of the Vulgate edition of the New Testament had intended to convey any such idea as that, they would have employed either the word guberno, or impero, or dominor, or rego, either of which means govern.’ But he was, manifestly, looking more anxiously after the interest of the papacy and the welfare of his society than a correct interpretation of Scripture. The principles of the Jesuit constitution were deeply imbedded in his mind; and inasmuch as he was taught by these that the multitude of mankind should be reduced to the degrading standard of absolute obedience to superiors, his assumption that all the members of the Church were “animals,” without either the right or capacity to govern themselves, and therefore completely subject to the mastery of the pope, was a legitimate conclusion from his premise. What he evidently designed to accomplish was to infuse into the doctrines of the Church the fundamental and most distinguishing principle of the Jesuit constitution—that which makes monarchism the chief cornerstone in all spiritual and temporal government. He was the companion and confidant of Loyola, and undoubtedly considered himself as executing the purpose for which the society was established by him; that is, to bring the Church, through and by means of the papacy, to the point of casting off all the influences of the ancient monastic orders, and relying alone upon the Jesuits for its main defense in its conflict with Protestantism. In this he was serving the society as its general, while as the legate of the pope he was serving the papacy—manifestly, however, the first being his chief object. Considering only these ends, he omitted to notice the important fact that Christ, when addressing “a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered,” had instructed them to “search the Scriptures” for themselves, because therein they would find those things which testify of him.”

The Council of Trent did not decree the infallibility of the pope, and would have failed in the attempt to do so if it had been persisted in, on account of the popular odium in which that doctrine was held after the schisms brought on by the papacy had rendered it absolutely necessary to the life of the Church that the Councils of Constance and Basel should expressly deny and condemn it, by declaring that a General Council, as the representative of the Church, was superior to a pope. This was especially necessary with regard to the former of these Councils, for the reason that the pontifical throne was then claimed by Gregory XII, Benedict XIII, and John XXIII, so that no one knew who the true pope was. But as John XXIII had possession of the office, he was tried by the Council upon “fifty-five heads of accusation,” and, having been solemnly deposed, Martin V was elected in his stead, and constitutes one in the line of papal succession. In the face of these well-known facts, however, the Council of Trent, under the artful manipulations of Laynez, with the pope to back him, went as far as it could in that direction, without arousing the popular indignation. The legates of the pope—headed by Laynez—would willingly have passed a decree of the pope’s infallibility, yet there were a number of bishops who were not prepared to accept the Jesuit theory, that instead of deriving their jurisdiction and authority from the divine law, it was derived solely from the pope. Besides, the representatives of the monarchs and princes were unwilling to concede to the pope the temporal authority which the doctrine of his individual infallibility was intended to embody in his spiritual sovereignty; for it was easy to see that, if admitted as part of the faith, they would hold their kingdoms and authority at his pleasure. Although no direct vote was taken in the Council of Trent by which the advocates and opponents of infallibility could be numerically determined, the whole proceedings prove that the foundation was there laid, by its final action, for the ultimate triumph of the Jesuit doctrine. Laynez did not win the complete victory he hoped for, but obtained advantages of which his society continued to avail itself for three hundred years, when their triumph became complete under the pontificate of Pius IX. During that protracted period the fortunes of the Jesuits were shifting—favored by some popes and opposed by others—but during all these years the society clung, with the most stubborn tenacity of purpose, to the teachings of Laynez, as announced in the Council or Trent. Notwithstanding the members were held in almost universal odium in all the enlightened nations, and the society was tried, convicted of numerous public crimes, and suppressed by one of the most distinguished of the popes, and found shelter from the popular indignation under protection afforded them by the enemies of the Roman Church, they at last succeeded in being re-established to serve the ” Allied Powers” in the defense and preservation of absolute monarchism. Thus regaining a share of their lost influence under the fostering care and patronage of the papacy, they ultimately became enabled, only about two decades ago, to hold the pen and steady the nerves of Pius IX when preparing the decree of his own infallibility and that ot all the popes “from St. Peter to the end of the world.” Nor were the popes themselves idle during these three centuries of conflict between progress and retrogression, enlightenment and ignorant superstition. Like skillful politicians, as many of them were, they employed the appointing power confided to them by the Church to create a large body of cardinals and bishops, who were held together, like an army-corps, by solemn oaths of fidelity to the papacy. The march of this ecclesiastical army was slow from necessity, because those who had been supposed to be mere “animals,” were gradually brought within the light of the Reformation. But it was steady, nevertheless, for the reason that the stake played for was great, and the courage imparted by the Jesuits was stimulating. At last the forces were sufficiently consolidated, and the cardinals and bishops sufficiently submissive, to hazard the fortunes of the papacy upon a single cast of the die. Accordingly, the Vatican Council of 1870 was brought to the point of decreeing the infallibility of all the popes as the last resort, in order, if possible, to drive back the waves of the Italian Revolution, and rescue the temporal power of the papacy from impending destruction, and make its future secure by engrafting a repudiated Jesuit dogma upon the settled and recognized faith of the Church.

Download a PDF file of this article.

Please follow and like us: