Of course, immediately after his election, felicitations rained upon him, but as de Ravignan expresses it, "they were like flowers on the head of the victim that was to be immolated." Indeed, even in the congratulations harsh notes were heard, as when France expressed its hope that the Holy See would show more condescension to the powers than usual, and when Spain "urgently called the attention of His Holiness to certain petitions which had been presented to him." The Spanish ambassador, Azpuru, reminded him in the very first audience that application had already been made to his predecessor for the suppression of the Jesuits. The representatives of France, Portugal and Naples chanted the same dirge. Before three months had elapsed, there was an explosion that shook Christendom. Following an accepted custom, the Pope issued the septennial Brief of indulgences in favor of the missionaries "to bestow the treasures of heavenly blessings on those who, to our knowledge, are laboring with indefatigable zeal for the salvation of souls. We include among these fervent apostles, the Religious of the Society of Jesus, and especially those whom our beloved son, Lorenzo Ricci, is to assign this year and afterwards, in various provinces of the Society, to that work; and we most certainly desire to promote and increase by these spiritual favors the piety and the active and enterprising zeal of those Religious."
It was a thunderbolt. Fierce protests were made in Spain, Naples, Parma and France. Choiseul, who, up to that time, had been suave in his malice, lost his temper completely and ordered the Ambassador Bernis not only to make a public demand for the suppression of the Society but to order the Pope to begin it inside of two months. "This Pope is trifling with us," he said; "and if he does not come to terms he can consider all relations with France at an end." He became grossly insulting and declared that "he had enough of this monkery;" he would upset the plans of the Fratacci; and annihilate his Roman finesse. "A monk was always a monk," he said, "and it was very hard for an Italian monk to be honest and frank in business matters." Choiseul's varnish of courtesy had been all rubbed off by the incident, and he wanted to know "who were going to win in the fight? the kings or the Jesuits? If I were ambassador at Rome," he wrote to Bernis, "I would be ashamed to see Father Ricci the antagonist of my master."
Bernis, Cardinal though he was, meekly replied: "Of course the kings must win, but only the Pope can make them win. However, he has to do it according to the prescriptions of canon law, and must save his own reputation as well as that of the clergy. Moreover, as he is a temporal sovereign, he has to consider the courts of Vienna, Turin and Poland, and all that takes time. Personally, he means to keep the promise already given to the three crowns to suppress the Society, and has shown his mind on that point by public acts against the Fathers. He will renew the promise explicitly and immediately, in a letter written in his own hand to the King of Spain. He is not feeble or false as you seem to think. Time will show that such is his purpose. But, first, the way to lose the battle with the Jesuit General is to begin now. The Pope cannot and will not do it without preparation. Secondly, France and Spain must agree on the time and manner of arriving at the extinction of the Jesuits. Thirdly, it would be wiser to restrict the suppression to the Papal States, and not attempt it in countries that are favorable to the Society. Fourthly, a good preliminary would be to forbid the reception of novices, as the Pope has already done in his own dominions. Marefoschi and I put that into his head. Fifthly, I also proposed the seizure of the archives, the appointment of a Vicar General, to whom Father Ricci will render an account of his administration."
Bernis' temporising, however, only exasperated the foes of the Society, especially Charles III. Nevertheless, he succeeded in inducing the Pope to write to Louis XV on September 30, and in this communication a promise was made to do all the king wanted. But that was not enough for Charles. To force the issue, he ordered all the Jesuit property in Spain to be put up at auction, and a copy of the decree was sent to the Pope. That was on November 8, and on November 13, a joint letter was sent by the three powers requesting Clement to publish a Brief motu proprio that is on his own initiative, as if they had had nothing to do with it, approving all that the Bourbon princes had done against the Society; and also to send to their majesties the plan he proposed to follow in carrying out its complete suppression. Clement humbly submitted to the outrage, and seven days later, Bernis was able to write to Choiseul: "His Holiness has renewed in the strongest manner the two promises he had made to the Bourbon kings with regard to the Brief approving the missionaries, and the plan to suppress the Jesuit Order. He has commissioned me to positively assure the ministers of the powers on that point."
Spain wanted even more than that; and on November 22d, Azpuru told the Pope that if he did not send a manuscript letter to the king promising the suppression, extreme measures would be resorted to, and the rupture of relations which had been begun in 1767 and which was so disastrous to the Church in Spain would be carried to its limit. He was not exaggerating, and the nuncio at Madrid wrote that the king was so set on his purpose, that they did not know what mad thing he might do to gain his point. The general impression was that Charles was on the verge of insanity.
To quiet him, the Pope wrote, on November 30, to say positively that he would carry out the will of the courts. "We have gathered all the documents," he said, "that are needed for writing the motu proprio agreed upon; so as to justify to the whole world, the wise conduct of your majesty in expelling the Jesuits, as troublesome and turbulent subjects. As we are carrying on our government, unaided, although crushed by the weight and multiplicity of questions that have to be settled, you will understand that it is not forgetfulness but merely the unavoidable delay required to bring this important matter to a successful issue." Indeed at that time Clement had secluded himself from everyone. He was in constant fear of being poisoned, and had his food prepared by a Cordelier lay-brother. "We beg Your Majesty," he continued, "to put your entire confidence in us, for we have fully resolved to act, and we are preparing to give to the public incontestable proofs of our sincerity. We shall submit to the wisdom and intelligence of Your Majesty a plan for the total extinction of this Society; and Your Majesty will receive it shortly. We shall not cease to give genuine proofs of our attachment and our veneration for Your Majesty to whom in the plenitude of our paternal affection we give our apostolic benediction" (De Ravignan, "Clément XIII et Clément XIV," I, 295).
Bernis gave himself the credit of having got the Pope to write this letter, and said that now: "His Holiness could not escape carrying out his promise. He will be forced to do it, in spite of his unwillingness, for he knows that the king is too intelligent not to publish the letter, and the Pope will be disgraced if he does not keep his word" (Saint-Priest, p. 131). Thus six months after his election, he was bound by a written and absolute promise to suppress the Society; though he was continually saying "questa supressione mi darà la morte" (this suppression will kill me). At this stage of the proceedings little Naples was becoming obstreperous. Tanucci had seized the Greek College and expelled the Jesuits. He then claimed the property of all religious communities, and when remonstrated with, he replied that "he was going to keep on thwarting every order that came from Rome, until the Society of Jesus was abolished." In 1770 the Pope cancelled the excommunication of the Duke of Parma to gratify the sovereigns, but the satisfaction that ensued did not last long. Cardinal Pacca, who was quasi-nuncio at Lisbon just then, notes the disorders prevalent in the country especially in the University of Coimbra, where the worst kind of teaching was permitted.
On July 3, 1770, Bernis wrote to Choiseul: "I heard that the Founder of the Passionists, Paul of the Cross, has warned the Pope to watch over his kitchen, and hence Brother Francisco who looks after the Pope's household has redoubled his vigilance. I do not know if it is on account of this warning, but in any case the Pope has gone to some mineral springs for treatment and is to be there for the next fortnight." Ten days afterwards, Choiseul replied: "I cannot imagine the Pope is so credulous or so cowardly as to be so easily frightened by reports about attempts on his life. The Society of Jesus has been looked upon as dangerous because of its doctrines, its Institute and its intrigues in the countries from which they have been expelled; but they have not been accused of being poisoners. It is only the base jealousy and fanatical hatred of some monks that could suspect such a thing. The General of the Passionists might have dispensed himself from giving such indiscreet advice to the Pope, which seems to have aggravated the illness of which he was already complaining." As this General of the Passionists was no other than the saintly Paul of the Cross, who has been since raised to the honors of the altar, one may form some idea of the infamous devices resorted to in all this business. Far from being unfriendly, Paul of the Cross writes: "I am extremely pained by the sufferings of the illustrious Company of Jesus. The very thought of all those innocent religious being persecuted, in so many ways, makes me weep and groan. The devil is triumphing; God's glory is diminished, and multitudes of souls are deprived of all spiritual help. I pray, night and day that, after the storm is passed, God who gives both life and death may resuscitate the Society with greater glory than before. Such have been always, and such still are, my feelings towards the Jesuits."
The fact is, however, that the Pope was really frightened. His cheerfulness had vanished, his health had failed, and his features wore an anxious and haunted look. He kept in seclusion, and, as has been said, would let no one prepare his meals but his fellow-friar, Brother Francisco, who remained with him till the end. He was evidently fighting for time; hoping, no doubt, that something might occur to absolve him from his promise. But his enemies were relentless. Charles III was more than fanatical in his insistency, and finally Clement appointed Marefoschi, an open enemy of the Jesuits, to prepare the Brief. The task was joyfully accepted, but the Pope discovered that it was not written in the usual pontifical style. That excuse, however, was regarded by his assailants, as a trick, and they complained of it bitterly. Then it was alleged that the Empress Maria Theresa, who was not averse to the Jesuits, had to be consulted. Indeed, she had given out that as long as she lived they had nothing to fear in her dominions, but she failed to keep her word. Subsequently, a promise was given not to allow Father Ricci to have a successor or to admit novices into the Order; then a general council was proposed to decide the question, but all was of no avail.
At this point, December 25, 1770, Choiseul fell from power, and the world began to breathe for a short spell, hoping that this might affect the situation, but d'Aiguillon, his successor, was just as bad. Moreover, Saint-Priest, in his "Chûte des Jésuites" (p. 127) uses the incident for a nasty insult. He attributes Choiseul's fall to the regard that Madame du Barry had for the Society. "Thank God!" exclaims de Ravignan, "the Society has never had such a protectress." She was admired by Voltaire, who hailed her as another Egeria, but no Jesuit ever sought her protection. Their only advocate at the court at that sad period was the saintly daughter of the king, who became a Carmelite nun to expiate her father's sins. The real cause of Choiseul's downfall was that Maupeou showed to Louis XV some of Choiseul's letters urging parliament "not to yield in the fight, for the king would sustain the Society with all his power." "It was not hard," says Foisset in "Le Président des Brosses" (p. 302), "for du Barry to persuade the king that those letters were meant to incite the parliament to rebellion against him." She hated Choiseul who, though willing to pay court to Pompadour, had no respect for the low and coarse du Barry.
At this point, the Pope offered another inducement to the King of Spain: the canonization of Palafox, whom Charles III worshipped, but that failed, though a little respite was gained by the help of the king's confessor; and certain discussions with regard to the restitution of the papal territories also contributed to delay the disaster. The year 1771 had now been reached, and to afford some satisfaction to the foe, the Pope established a commission or congregation of cardinals to examine the financial conditions of the Society. At its head was the fierce Marefoschi, who began by seizing the Roman Seminary. Thus matters dragged on till 1772. Up to that time very little progress had been made, and people were beginning to talk about the impossibility of abolishing the whole Order, or even a part of it without "proper juridical investigation." Even Bernis told his government that "there was too much heat in this Jesuit affair to permit the Pope to explain his real thoughts about the suppression;" but, though Aranda was out of office and Choiseul likewise, the implacable Charles III was determined to put an end to the delay and instead of Azpuru, he sent the fierce José Moñino, otherwise known as Florida Blanca to be his ambassador in Rome.
Under an affable and polished exterior Moñino was in reality very brutal. He simply terrorized the Pope, who put off receiving him for a week after his arrival and invented all sorts of excuses not to see him. When at last they met, the Pope was pale and excited but Moñino had resolved to end the siege. He dismissed absolutely all question of a reform of the Order. What he wanted was suppression, or else there would be a rupture with Spain. In vain the Pope entreated him to wait for Ricci's death; but the angry minister rejected the offer with scorn, and the Pope after being humiliated, insulted and outraged, withdrew to his apartments, exclaiming with sobs in his voice: "God forgive the Catholic King." "It was Moñino," said a diplomat then at Rome, "who got the Brief of 1773; but he did not obtain it; he tore it from the Pope's hand." Under instructions from Charles III, Moñino told the Pope, "I will disgrace you by publishing the letter you wrote to the king," and he laid before the Pontiff a plan drawn up by himself and the other ministers of Charles III to carry out the suppression. De Ravignan condemns Crétineau-Joly for having published this paper. "It would have been better to have left it in the secret archives."
In Moñino's plan of action he declares that "it was not advisable to enter into details; so as not to allow any ground for discussion, as it would do harm to religion and uselessly defame the character of the Jesuits." The king's reasons had already been made known to the Holy See. They were three in number. The first was "they had caused the Sombrero Riot in Madrid;" the second: "their moral and doctrinal teaching was bad;" the third, and this was the most extraordinary of all: "they had always persecuted the holiest bishops and persons in the Kingdom of Spain." The last item probably referred to Palafox. His Majesty had not yet revealed the important secret which he kept "locked in his royal heart." All the terrible statements of the documents alleged to have been seized by Marefoschi were to be of no use, when compared with the Riot of the Sombreros.
Meantime conditions were every day growing worse in Europe. The publications of Voltaire and his friends were destroying both religion and morality. The fulminations of the Pope against these books availed little, and meantime he was about to crush the men who were best able to face the enemy. Finally, poor Poland was being cut up by Prussia, Russia and Austria and the Pope was powerless to prevent it. On the other hand, there were some consolations. Thus in 1771 the Armenian patriarch and all his people renounced Nestorianism and returned to the unity of the Church. Between 1771 and 1772 seven thousand families and their ministers in the country of Sickelva abandoned Socinianism, and became Catholics. Again, wonderful conversions were made in Transylvania and Hungary, not only among Protestants but among the schismatical Greeks. Similar triumphs had been achieved in Armenia and Syria among the subjects of the Grand Turk, and the whole peninsula of Italy under the eyes of the Pope was in a transport of religious zeal. The peculiarly interesting feature about all this was that it was the work of the members of the Society of Jesus. But that did not check the progress of the anti-Christian plot of the Catholic kings of Europe to obliterate from the face of the earth the organization which even in its crippled condition and in the very last moments of its existence was capable of such achievements. Cardinal Migazzi, the Archbishop of Vienna, called the Pope's attention to this fact, but without avail.
Up to this time, Maria Theresa had been the devoted friend of the Society. She had even said she would never cease to be so, but yielding to the influence of her son, Joseph II, and of her daughter, the Queen of Naples, she consented to their suppression, on condition that she could dispose arbitrarily of their property (Clément XIII et Clément XIV, I, 362.) The illustrious queen displayed great worldly prudence in withdrawing her affections. This desertion destroyed the last hope that the Pope had cherished of putting off the Suppression. Moñino returned to the attack again and received an assurance from Clement that the document of suppression would be ready in eight days, and copies would be sent to the Kings of Spain, France and Naples. Meantime, as a guarantee, he began the work in his own States. Under all sorts of pretexts, individuals and college corporations were haled to court; and official visits were made of the various establishments. On March 10, 1773, Malvezzi, the Archbishop of Bologna, applied to the Pope for "permission to dissolve the novitiate, if it would seem proper to do so. If you think well of it, I shall carry that measure into effect, as soon as I arrive. I also judge it advisable to shut up St. Lucia, by dismissing the Jesuit theologians and philosophers. In doing so, Your Holiness will be dispensed from the trouble of investigating and will thus avoid the publicity of any notable offence which an examination might reveal."
There were two difficulties in the way, however. The people objected to the expulsion, and the Jesuits refused to be released from their vows. The latter obstacle was thought to be overcome by tearing off the cassocks of the young men and sending them adrift as laymen, and when the rector, Father Belgrado, who besides being a theologian was one of the foremost physicists and mathematicians of the day, and had been the confessor of the Duke and Duchess of Parma, informed the archbishop that dispensation from substantial vows must come from the Pope and from no one else, that did not stop Malvezzi. He had the rector arrested and exiled; and with the help of a band of soldiers expelled the scholastics from the house. He then wrote to the Pope regretting that he had not proceeded more rapidly. Besides this, Frascati was taken from the Jesuits and given to the Cardinal of York, who asked for it, though his royal pension had made him already immensely wealthy. Similar visitations were made in Ferrara and Montalto, and the looting became general.
In Poland, as we learn from "Les Jésuites de la Russie blanche," the spoliation had started even before the promulgation of the edict. Libraries were broken up and the books were often used to kindle bonfires; the silver of the churches was melted down and sold, and medals and chains from statues were seen on the necks of abandoned women. Even the cattle on the farms were seized. The Jews were especially conspicuous in these depredations.
All this was the prelude of the fatal Brief, which was signed on July 21, 1773, but was not promulgated until August 16 of that year. Theiner is the only author who gives August 17 as the date. As a matter of fact it was held up by Austria so as to gain time to prevent the secular clergy from seizing the property. The preparation of the Brief was conducted with the profoundest secrecy. Even on July 28, the French Ambassador wrote to D'Aiguillon: "the Pope is doing nothing in the Jesuit matter." He was unaware that not only was the Brief already signed but that a Congregatio de rebus extinctæ Societatis (a Committee on the affairs of the Extinct Society) had been appointed, and that its members had been bound under pain of excommunication not to reveal the fact to any one. However, Bernis found it out on the 11th, and complained that he had not been consulted. He wrote as follows: "Last Friday, the Pope summoned Cardinals Marefoschi, Casali, Zelada, Corsini and Caraffa, and after having made them take an oath, he put a Brief in their hands, which constituted them members of a congregation which was to meet every Monday and Thursday to discuss whatever concerned the Jesuit establishments, their benefices, colleges, seminaries, foundations, and such matters. It held its first meeting last Monday. Macedonio, the Pope's nephew, was the secretary; Alfani, a prelate, was the assessor; and Fathers Mamachi, a Dominican, and de Casal, a Recollect, were consulting theologians. The last two mentioned are men of repute."
"The 16th day of August 1773, the day of sad memories," writes de Ravignan, "arrived. Towards nine at night, Macedonio went to the Gesù and officially notified the General of the Brief that suppressed the Society throughout the world. He was accompanied by soldiers and officers of the police to keep order, though no one dreamed of creating any trouble. At the same hour, also by command of the Pope, other distinguished prelates and ecclesiastics gave notice of the Brief to the various Jesuit rectors in Rome. They also were accompanied by soldiers and notaries. Seals were put on the archives, the accounts, the offices of the treasurers and the doors of the sacristies. The Jesuits were suspended from all ecclesiastical functions such as confessions and preaching, and they were forbidden, for the time being, to leave their houses. The Father General and his assistants were carried off to jail." "Such," said Schoell (xliv, 84), "was the end of one of the most remarkable institutions that perhaps ever existed. The Order of the Jesuits was divided into five nations, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, French and German, each one of which had a representative living with the General. In 1750 the organization comprised 39 provinces, had 84 professed houses, which were residences where the most experienced members worked unceasingly for the Order without being distracted by public instruction. There were 679 colleges, 61 novitiates, 176 seminaries, 335 residences, and 273 missions. There were 22,589 members of whom 11,293 were priests."
This official act of the Pope really added very little to the temporal injury already done to the Order in Spain, France and Portugal where they had already been robbed of everything. But to be regarded as reprobates by the Pope and branded as disturbers of the peace of the Church was a suffering with which all they had hitherto undergone bore no comparison. Nevertheless, they uttered no protest. They submitted absolutely and died without a murmur, and in this silence they were true to their lifelong training, for loyalty to the See of Peter had always been the distinctive mark of the Society of Jesus from the moment that Ignatius Loyola knelt at the feet of the Sovereign Pontiff, for his approval and blessing. When the blow fell, the Society was found to be faithful. If it had during its lifetime achieved something for the glory of God and the salvation of souls; if it had been constantly appealed to for the most dangerous missions and had accepted them with enthusiasm; if it had poured out its blood lavishly for the Faith; if it had given many glorious saints to the Church, now, in the last terrible crisis which preceded the French Revolution and perhaps precipitated it, when the ruler of the Militant Church judged that by sacrificing one of his legions he could hold back the foe, the Society of Jesus on being chosen did not hesitate; it obeyed, and it was cut to pieces. Not a word came from the heroic band to discuss the wisdom or the unwisdom of the act. Others protested but not they. Those who condemned Clement XIV were not Jesuits, though their enemies said they were. On the contrary, the Jesuits defended and eulogized him and some of them even maintained that in the terrible circumstances in which he found himself, he could not have done otherwise. The Suppression gave them the chance, which they did not miss, to prove to the world the solidity of virtue that reigned throughout the Order, and to show that their doctrine of "blind obedience" was not a matter of mere words, but an achievable and an achieved virtue. They would have stultified themselves had they halted when the supreme test was asked for, and so they died to uphold the judgment of the Vicar of Christ, and in similar circumstances would do it again. They had preached sermons in every part of the world, but never one like this. Nor was it a sublime act such as some individual saints might have performed. It was the act of the whole Society of Jesus.
Silent themselves, they did their best to persuade others to refrain from all criticism. One example will suffice. It was after the Pope's death when the ex-Jesuits at Fribourg held a funeral service in their collegiate Church of St. Nicholas. The whole city was present, and the preacher, Father Matzel, amid the sobs of the congregation uttered these words: "Friends! beloved Friends of our former Society! whoever and wherever you may be! If ever we have had the happiness to be of help and comfort to you by our labor in city or country; if ever we have contributed anything to the cause of Christianity in preaching the word of God or catechising or instructing youth, or laboring in hospitals or prisons, or writing edifying books now, on this occasion, although in our present distress we have many favors to ask of you, there is one we ask above all and we entreat and implore you to grant it. It is never to speak a word that would be harsh or bitter or disrespectful to the memory of Clement XIV, the Supreme Head of the Church of Christ."
The famous Brief is designated by its first words, Dominus ac Redemptor. Its general tenor is as follows: It begins by enumerating the various religious orders which, in course of time, had been suppressed by successive Popes, and it then gives a list of the privileges accorded to the Society by the Holy See, but it notes that "from its very cradle" there were internal and external disagreements and dissensions and jealousies, as well as opposition to both secular and ecclesiastical authority, chiefly because of the excessive privileges that had been granted to it by the different Sovereign Pontiffs. Its moral and dogmatic theology also gave rise to considerable discussion, and it has frequently been accused of too great avidity in the acquisition of earthly goods. The Pontiff merely declares that such "charges" were made against the Society; he, in no place, admits that the "charges" were based on truth. These accusations, he continues, caused much chagrin to the Holy See, and afforded a motive for several sovereigns of Europe to range themselves in opposition to the Society; while, on the other hand, a new confirmation of the Institute was obtained from Pope Paul IV of happy memory. That, however, did not succeed in putting an end to the disputes with the ordinaries or with other religious orders on many points, and notably with regard to certain ceremonies which the Holy See proscribed as scandalous in doctrine, and subversive of morality; nor did it avail to quell the tumult which ultimately led to the expulsion of the Society from Portugal, France, Spain and the Two Sicilies, and induced the kings of those countries to ask Clement XIII for its complete suppression. "Hence, finding that the Society of Jesus can no longer produce the abundant fruits for which it was instituted, and for which it was approved by so many Popes, and rewarded by so many privileges, we now abolish and suppress it. But as the purpose which we have set for ourselves and are eager to achieve is the general good of the Church and the tranquillity of the people, and, at the same time, to give help and consolation to each of the members of this Society, all of whom we tenderly cherish in the Lord, we ordain as follows with regard to them." He then explains the various ways in which each section of the Society is to be dealt with.
Such in general is the substance of this very long Brief. In it, however, there is not one word about the decadence of the Society in its morality or its theology. The Pontiff merely says that many have "charged" them with such offenses. He even goes so far as to say that "he tenderly loved all of the individuals who composed the Society." The real purpose of it was to bring peace to the Church. Cahours in his "Des Jésuites par un Jésuite," (II, p. 278) says, "Every judge who passes a sentence affirms two things: the existence of a crime and the fitness of the penalty. Clement XIV pronounces on the second, but says nothing of the first. Hence the sentence is not something exacted by justice, but is merely an administrative measure called for by the embarrassment of the moment."