Chapter XX

1848-1852.

THE JESUITS IN AND AFTER 1848.

Before the Suppression, the Jesuits, with alternate vicissitudes, possessed less or more influence in all Roman Catholic countries, in some of which, at different epochs, they were all-powerful and domineering. But since their re-establishment, their real effective power, it may be said, is confined to the Italian peninsula. It was my unfortunate country that, from the beginning of their restoration, more than any other part of Europe, experienced the pernicious effects of their revival. As from the first they had stood up as the natural enemy of the liberal party, the sovereigns of the peninsula, who wished to reign despotically, without granting any concession required by the times, countenanced and protected the Jesuits in the most decided manner. Charles Felix had delivered up Piedmont to them, and they had taken possession of it, and governed it, as if they were its absolute masters. Even Charles Albert was unable or unwilling to counteract their influence. In Modena and Parma they possessed an equal authority; while in Naples their dominion was still more tyrannical, inasmuch as it rested not only on the support of the court, but also on the superstition and fanaticism of the populace, the most blindly bigoted of all Italy. But the supreme seat of their power, as may be easily conceived, was Rome—Rome, now in perfect friendship with the fathers. Odescalchi, a Jesuit, was Cardinal Vicar of Rome, the highest ecclesiastical authority in the world after the Pope. The whole of the public administration was filled with persons either belonging to the Society, or protected by them. Public education was entirely in their own hands, or of those protected by them. The nomination of every teacher or professor was submitted to the approval of the bishop. Recommendation from the fathers was listened to as if it were the orders of a superior; and few, if any, of the established authorities dared to oppose them in any of their undertakings. Poor Italy was in a lamentable condition. The different governments of Italy, encouraged by the fathers in their tyrannical and intolerant policy, had spread such dissatisfaction among the higher classes of society,[440] that every other year attempts were made at a revolution, some of which were in part successful, as those of 1821 and 1831. They were, however, always crushed by the overwhelming forces of Austria, and only served to increase the number of victims, and the cruelties of the governments, inflexible in their despotic policy. Yet the population, driven to despair, and preferring death to ignominy, were ready to shed their blood to mend the wretched condition of the country. In the latter part of Gregory XVI.’s reign, matters were brought to such a state, that every moment was expected a new general outbreak throughout all Italy; the consequences of which, from the exasperated state of the popular mind, would have been incalculable. In these circumstances, Gregory XVI. died, and Giovanni Mastai was, after only two days’ conclave, raised to the pontifical chair. It was thought that the meekness of his character, the purity of his life, his decided aversion to every act of tyranny, might in part calm the exasperated state of the population of the Roman states, the most oppressed of all the states of Italy, as well as the readiest for a revolution; and the beginning of Pius IX.’s reign promised to the unfortunate peninsula a new era. Fugitive and deceitful hope! Alas! the new era is now such as to make the future generation curse the day that Mastai ascended the throne!

However, a month after his elevation, Pius IX. granted an amnesty, reformed some gross abuses, discarded the most obnoxious agents of the past tyrannical government, and promised to reign according to just and paternal laws. We extolled his clemency to the sky, and saw in him the palladium of freedom; we celebrated his virtues in a thousand different ways. The world was soon filled with the eulogiums of Pius, and for a brief period Europe prostrated herself at the feet of the idol raised up by our gratitude.

But while we were loud in the praises of Pius IX., hoping that he would prove a reformer and a benefactor to Italy, the Jesuits, united with the old despotic party, which recognised Austria for its chief, contrived, by all sorts of means, to oppose his acts of benevolence, slandered his person, abused his ministers, and openly conspired against him. The Romans feared that he would meet with the fate of Ganganelli; and those fears were not only expressed in all writings and in all pieces of poetry, but when the Pope passed through the streets of Rome, the Trasteverini shouted out, “Holy Father, _beware of the Jesuits_!” A very significant fact, which shews the opinion in which the fathers are held where they are best known.

The good understanding, however, which existed for some eighteen months between the liberal party and the Pope, began to be shaken when the Romans, tired of benisons and insignificant concessions, asked for liberal organic laws, and wished, above all, to snatch from the hand of the priests and monks their ill-gotten and ill-used authority, extending to all branches of the administration, even to those most inconsistent with their calling. It is well known that no office of any importance in the Roman states was filled by a layman—even the general of the army was a _Monsignore_. We wished for a radical reform on this point. Unfortunately, at this time, Grazioli—a high-minded and tolerant priest, the Pope’s confessor—died, and Pius fell into the hands of a confessor devoted to the Jesuits, and from that moment his conduct became hypocritical and deceitful, and afterwards cruel and inhuman. To the Jesuits is certainly to be attributed the change in the politics of the Pope. From the beginning, Pius had been displeased when he heard abuse poured upon the Company; but his desire of popularity and applause had modified the propensities of the priest, nay, of the narrow-minded, bigoted chief of the priests. But now, divesting himself of the borrowed character of a tolerant and liberal man, Pius returned to the former error of all Popes, and would not listen to a word about reform touching the priesthood. It was this inflexible opposition to our just and reasonable desires, and not our petulance, which brought things to extremities, and the Jesuits were even the apparent cause of the rupture.

Although the Romans were resolved to be no longer the vassals of the priesthood, and were determined not to leave a vestige of authority in civil matters to any churchman except the Pope, nevertheless, no injury, no abuse, was offered to any secular priest or monk, with the exception of the Jesuits. But against them there was raised a great commotion. Publications of all sorts were daily poured into the streets of Rome against the fathers; and along with the shout for Italy, was mingled the cry, “Down with the Jesuits!”

Gioberti’s book, _Il Gesuita Moderno_, was in everybody’s hands, and when that courageous priest came to Rome, the people shouted his name as that of a benefactor; a guard of honour was stationed at his hotel, and almost royal honours were rendered to him for having so unreservedly laid bare the iniquities of the fathers.[441] All this irritated the Pope in the highest degree. From the balcony of the Quirinal he reproached the Romans with _slandering venerable ecclesiastics_; and when the news arrived that the Neapolitans had expelled the Jesuits from their city, he issued a proclamation, in which he threatened us, if we were tempted to imitate them, _with his anger, and with the curse of God’s indignation, who would launch His holy vengeance against the assailants of His anointed_.[442]

But the Papal protection was no longer sufficient to shelter the Jesuits from public hatred. Pius IX. lost a great part of his popularity, but could not save them. They were expelled from the whole of the peninsula—not as a general revolutionary measure, since all other religious communities lived unmolested, but as a manifestation of the public opinion against the hateful descendants of Ignatius. The Pope’s indignation at this sacrilegious act knew no bounds, and from that instant he vowed an implacable and intense hatred against the liberals of whatever nation.[443]

Not only did Pius now refuse to grant any new concession, but he attempted to recall those which he had been forced to grant; and when he saw that he could not effect his purpose, he fled to Gaeta, in the hope that Rome and Italy would soon fall into a state of anarchy and confusion, so that the great powers of Europe would be obliged to interfere, and restore him to the throne as an absolute master. The wisdom and moderation of the people again disappointed his hopes. Never was Rome more true to her duty than during the absence of the Pope. For a while, even the government was carried on in the name of a sovereign who had abandoned the state, and who refused even to listen to three deputations sent to Gaeta to come to some understanding. This exasperated Pius still more than anything else. From Gaeta he poured forth his curses on his subjects. And while he was giving these manifestations of his paternal heart, the Jesuits and Cardinal Antonelli were laying the plan of that infernal compact between the Court of Rome and almost all the despots of Europe, for crushing and annihilating all seeds of civil and religious liberty, and for murdering, with merciless ferocity, all those who had shouted for reform, in the name and under the auspices of Pius IX.; a just retribution, it should seem, for having trusted in a priest, and thought him capable of being an honest and liberal man. Monsignor de Falloux, a Jesuit, brother of the then all-powerful minister of Louis Napoleon, was notoriously the soul of the negotiation, and it was he who decided the court of Rome to accept the succour of the French. The crusade undertaken against Rome, by four nations so different in character, and having such opposite interests, as Austria and France, Spain and Naples, was the signal of that fiery reaction against the liberty of all nations which still rages, and which, we fear, will not cease till another general outbreak shall teach the tyrants that it is not always safe to try too severely the patience of the people.

Distressful consequences for the people followed the league. The Roman states were first made to feel the rage of the allies. Louis Napoleon, who, in 1831, had fought along with us to overturn the Papal throne, now sent an army in support of the Pope. He thought (I expressed this opinion in my _History of the Pontificate_, written two years ago) that priests and peasants would assist him to grasp the imperial sceptre, and that he could not better ingratiate himself with them, than by replacing the Pope on the throne; an act which would also be very acceptable to the other despots. In consequence, he hastened to send his troops to crush the new republic. The French army landed at Civita Vecchia. The general chosen to command it was worthy of the end proposed. Oudinot is the type of Jesuitism: and Louis Napoleon himself has, more recently, given him his desert. Hardly had he landed on our shores, when many of the fathers (we here relate facts of which we ourselves were witnesses)—as an envenomed brood, sprung by magic from the soil—put themselves in communication with him. The very proclamation by which he announced the landing of the army was a masterpiece of Jesuitical craft. According to its tenor, every party might have considered the French expedition as coming to its own support. Oudinot informed the first deputation sent by the republican government to inquire about the motives of this unwelcome visit, that the French came as its friends; but, some hours after, when pressed by a second deputation to be more explicit, he at last confessed that they came to replace the Pope on the throne.[444] It would be to our glory, but not to the purpose, to describe the prodigies of valour performed by our inexperienced volunteers, in contending for three months with forty-five thousand of the best troops of Europe. We fought as only citizens combat for home and liberty. Men and women were in the _mêlée_. Neither wife nor mother attempted by tears and entreaties to stay her husband or son, but with a blessing and a kiss sent him forth against the enemy. O Rome! O my noble country! when I remember thy noble deeds, the readiness with which thou didst sacrifice the noblest of thy children to achieve thy liberty, hope lends me patience to endure the longing and miseries of my exile! Thou canst not be long under the yoke of the priests!

But our valour availed us nothing. Left alone, we could stand no longer. Four nations were leagued against us, and not a friendly hand was stretched forth to succour us. England must reproach herself for having left us to contend, unaided and alone, against four Catholic powers, combined together to re-establish the Pope, who is as much her enemy as ours. She must now feel the consequences of her culpable indifference. The result was—and this is of great importance for England—that at last, masters of our destinies, the Austrians have established a military port at Leghorn, the French one at Civita Vecchia. Englishmen are cut down in broad day in the streets of Florence,[445] condemned to death by an Inquisitorial tribunal at Rome,[446] imprisoned at Verona,[447] and insulted and ill-treated throughout all Italy. An English ambassador sues in vain for the friendly interference of the Pope in English affairs; he is not listened to, and the newspapers of the peninsula, and of the powers adverse to England, laugh at his discomfiture. But there is in the looming a still darker and more serious prospect, threatening to punish England for having abandoned the cause of civil and religious freedom. Eighteen millions of Englishmen live, we will not say in perpetual fear—they are too brave for that—but not without apprehension of seeing their shores invaded by the same army which conquered Rome, and which would carry with it the blessing and the good wishes of Pius IX.—God forbid that it should also have the support of the most fanatical and ignorant portion of the Irish Papists, led by priests and Jesuits. We hope that this will not be the case; yet we must remind our readers, that every time the French speak of a war with England, they count on the Irish as their natural allies.

We are not of those who, possessed by the fixed idea that impending dangers threaten the Protestant religion, believe and affirm that Louis Napoleon will be ready, at the bidding of the Jesuits, to send an expedition against heretic England. On the contrary, we think that, having once possessed himself of the imperial diadem, and having firmly established himself on the throne, through the instrumentality of the priests, and by the magic power which he seems to possess, of making the electoral urn yield exactly the amount of votes asked from it, he will soon put a stop to the insolence of the clergy, which, we are sure, will increase in the direct ratio of the services they are rendering to the usurper, and of the favours he has lavished upon them. But at the same time, we firmly believe that, should Napoleon, in order to give employment to his troops, and to gratify the national animosity, attempt to invade Great Britain, or should he succeed in landing his adventurous battalions on the British shore, then, though England may not have to lament the treachery of the fanatic Papists of Ireland, she must expect to find in her bosom as many spies and allies of her enemy as she has Jesuits on her soil. All this is the result of the indifference shewn by England to the affairs of the peninsula. Had she interfered when the Romans were bravely struggling for their liberties, the Pope and Louis Napoleon would not have cemented with our blood their anomalous alliance, and the before-mentioned disastrous results would have been averted with less difficulties and sacrifices than are now required to check the insolence of that monstrous coalition. And let no one affirm that England could not have justly interfered with the internal policy of other nations. What! shall then intervention only be lawful and commendable when employed to oppress a nation awakened to a sense of its rights, and to extinguish every spark of freedom and patriotism? Shall it only be permitted to outrage humanity, and never to benefit it? And to apply the rule to the case now in question, we ask, shall the ferocious bands of Croats, and the degraded soldiers of Louis Napoleon, trample upon our unfortunate country, and dispose of its destinies at their pleasure, and England remain an indifferent spectatress of their atrocious proceedings? These are considerations which we beg leave to submit to the meditation not only of the statesmen of Great Britain, but also of every free and enlightened English citizen.

To return to our narrative: the French entered Rome (3d July 1849), and with them priests and Jesuits, who had concealed themselves, or assumed different disguises (not unfrequently that of patriots), re-appeared, to enjoy their triumph, and the groans of the unfortunate country. Oudinot, covered with the blood of the brave Romans, hastened to Gaeta to receive the Pope’s blessing and acknowledgment, and was hailed there as an angel of deliverance. The vindictive priests rejoiced at the recital of the slaughter of the flock committed to their paternal care, and made the General repeat the names and the numbers of the victims. Then, when the hero of St Pancrace[448] returned to Rome, the priests, to enjoy a barbarous pleasure, ordered a solemn _Te Deum_ to be sung in all the churches of the state; and those of the unfortunate Italians whose sustenance and liberty were in the power of their relentless enemy, were obliged to assist at the ceremony, and with their lips, at least, thank the Almighty for the slaughter of their best friends and nearest relations.[449] Blasphemous profanation! Then began that ceaseless persecution which is still continued; and the priests gratified their thirst for revenge by crowding the dungeons with victims, and by driving thousands into exile in foreign lands.

I will not prolong the painful history of our miseries. I will not speak of ruined families—of forlorn and wandering children. I will not dwell upon the fate of the ten thousand captives taken by Papal sbirri and French gens-d’armes, and who fill the prisons of the state. I will not implore the reader’s compassion for the many victims who have been again immured in the dungeons of the Inquisition, some of whom, for the last three years, have never seen a friendly face or heard a compassionate word. I will not point out the inhuman and hypocritical conduct of the so-called Vicar of Jesus Christ, who, while speaking with devout emotion of his clemency, his paternal heart, and the mercies of the Christian religion, has not granted a single pardon, dried a single tear, shortened for a single day the torments to which he has condemned thousands of his subjects. I shall only give an account of the wholesale execution which, in the last month, took place at Sinigallia and Ancona, and which has filled Italy and Europe with horror and amazement. As the Jesuits are notoriously the soul and spirit of Popery, and are at the present moment the recognised advisers and ministers of the Court at Rome, this short narrative will not, we hope, be considered extraneous to our subject.

Those who, in times of calm and tranquillity, judge of events that occur in epochs of commotion and revolution, when the passions of men are excited to the highest paroxysm, and the voice of reason imposes a feebler restraint upon their actions, leaving them little liberty to judge of the character of their actions, are apt to commit serious injustice; for they are too prone to brand as criminal, and deserving the highest reprobation, deeds which, although culpable in themselves, were yet committed under the impulse of heroism and devotedness. We do not intend by this to approve or countenance crime, no matter under what pretext it may have been committed. But assuredly there are circumstances that ought to be taken into account which might render it, if not excusable, at least less heinous and worthy of reprobation; and whoever would form a just judgment in such cases, will never lose sight of these considerations.

The first two years of Pius IX.’s pontificate are remarkably characteristic of the nobleness and generosity of the liberal party. Though the liberals had been, for the thirty years previous, so cruelly and mercilessly treated, and though they were now the dominant party in the state, they cannot be reproached with having offered an insult to their late oppressors, nor with a single act of revenge. But it is, unfortunately, true that, latterly, when the Pope had fled to Gaeta for the very purpose of exciting civil war, when the priests were plotting against the republic, calling in strangers to their aid, and menacing us with foreign invasion, many political assassinations were committed in Ancona and Sinigallia. This cannot be denied or palliated; only it is to be remarked, that the crimes were confined to these two towns—the latter the Pope’s birthplace; and both places being the residence of his family, relations, and friends, a suspicion naturally arose in the minds of many that these crimes were committed by persons misled by the advice of some hidden Jesuits and partisans of the Pope, whose endeavour it was to bring matters to the worst. The suspicion acquired strength from the circumstance, that nobody belonging to the Mastai family was injured. Although, as we have already reported, we were witness of the fact that those who, during the late commotion in Rome, proposed the most energetic and revolutionary measures, were, in the end, discovered to be the agents or the tools of the Jesuits, nevertheless we would not like to affirm that the political murders committed at Sinigallia were due to the perfidious instigation of the priests. We do not like to believe in the reality of such hellish perfidy; yet why had Sinigallia and Ancona the sad preference of seeing their streets stained with fraternal blood? Were there not exasperated minds also in other places? Had no other populations of the state good grounds for calling to a strict and severe account the agents and supporters of the past tyrannical government? Why, we repeat, was the sad pre-eminence in guilt assigned to the native town of the Pope?

However it were, after the Papal restoration, about 150 individuals were thrown into prison, accused of being the accomplices or the abettors of these crimes. Some of the accused, perhaps the guilty, were never taken, having fled from the country. About eighty were condemned to the galleys for life, the remainder to death.[450] Forty of the unfortunates have already been executed, and the rest will meet the same fate when the Pope shall find executioners as clement and humane as himself;—the garrison of Ancona having to a man refused to be any longer the accomplices of the Papal revenge.

What is of more importance than all this, is to place before the eyes of our readers and civilised Europe the manner in which political trials are conducted in the Roman states, in order that they may be aware of the justice, charity, and humanity which characterise the acts of him who blasphemously calls himself a god upon earth, the representative of Christ.

Whoever has the misfortune to incur the displeasure or the hatred of his Holiness, his ministers, a policeman, a sbirro, the bishop, the curate, a monk, or any other of such rabble, which form an integral part of the biform Papal government, is thrown into a dungeon, helpless, comfortless, alone, and during several months hears and sees nothing else than the grating sound of the rusty bolts, and the inauspicious face of his guardian, who comes to bring his miserable pittance of food, and to ascertain that the victim cannot make his escape. After a longer or shorter space of time, but never shorter than three or four months, according to the hatred or fear the prisoner has inspired, or the interest possessed by his friends without, he is brought before a _cancelliere o giudice processante_, a sort of scribe, by whom he is interrogated.[451] In that examination all the care of the man of police—we cannot call him a magistrate—is directed to elicit from the victim a confession of his crime, or the name of his accomplices, if he is supposed to have had any. Promises of liberty, favour, and recompence, are held out to him as an inducement to dishonour or perjure himself. These examinations are repeated every three or four months; and when at last the man of the law has, after some years, obtained what he wished, or despairs of obtaining it, the process is announced to be closed, and the judgment is going to be delivered. Then, and not till then, the accused may confer with a legal adviser, generally assigned to him, _ex officio_, by the tribunal; and some little space of time is granted to him to prepare his defence. But how can he defend himself? He knows neither the names of his accusers nor of the witnesses who have made the accusation good. He is not allowed to confront and cross-examine them. Even his answers to the different questions put to him by the _cancelliere_ are noted down, not as actually given by him, but as it was desired that they should be given, in order that he may appear a criminal, the only result which the judges wish to obtain. When the advocate has delivered his defence, the secret tribunal pass judgment without even seeing the face of the prisoner; and this judgment is without appeal. Such is the general practice observed in political trials. Robbers are a little better treated. In the peculiar case which we are considering, we have to add, that, as far as has transpired, all the witnesses who were called to give evidence against the accused belonged to the adverse party—the party of the Jesuits, thirsting for revenge, and eager to shew their devotion to the sect. It may be easily understood that those witnesses were not very scrupulous as to the charges they brought against the accused, being assured, as they were, that their names would never be made public, and that they would not be confronted with the prisoner, nor be cross-examined by anybody.

And nevertheless, it was upon such testimony that the tribunal of the _Consulta_, composed of cardinals and prelates, condemned sixty unfortunate young men to suffer the last punishment of the law. We must further observe that, had those men who composed the tribunal, which they call SACRED, been judges, and not persecutors, had they had any sentiment of humanity in passing the sentence, even though the crime had been proved, they would have borne in mind the time and the motives which led the culprits to commit the murder, and would not have added another red page to the annals of their Church, already overcharged with innocent blood.[452]

Sinigallia, in which the executions were the most numerous, had not yet recovered from the horror inspired by such a bloody tragedy, and had not dried its tears for the cruel fate of its butchered citizens, and especially for the innocent and unfortunate Simoncelli,[453] when, to complete its miseries and insult its grief, there appeared a Papal ordinance, granting to the Jesuits £40,000 sterling to erect a college in the desolate city. Ah! so they reign in the Papal states!

When the Jesuits re-entered Naples in 1849, the superior held a sort of levee, when the generals of the army, the first magistrates of the kingdom, and all the civil and military authorities, went to pay their respects to those very humble monks. The addresses which were delivered on the occasion in praise of these men of Providence, these messengers of God, these restorers of all moral and sainted institutions, were, from their hyperbolical style, amusing in the extreme; and it is curious to find that some of them were repeated almost literally (plagiarism seems to become very fashionable now-a-days) by some bishops to Louis Napoleon, the saviour of society, the man of Providence, the pearl of chastity and virtue—just as was done to the fathers themselves.

If in Rome the Jesuits must shew deference to the chair of St Peter, in Naples they are masters of the situation. St Ignatius has superseded even St Januarius, and both have almost obliterated the name of Christ. The superstition and bigotry of that part of the peninsula exclusively under the sway of the Jesuits is almost incredible; and the government, conducted on those principles, has reached the highest point of immorality and corruption, and is held up by every honest person, no matter of what party, to the execration and contempt of Europe; while, to leave no doubt as to the influence which predominates there, the Pope, the Jesuits, and the priests, their abettors, represent Ferdinand II. as a model of Christian perfection, and the kingdom of the two Sicilies as the best governed in the world; the Roman states being of course excepted.

Unfortunately, the wretched Neapolitans, and the noblest and best amongst them, have to pay with their liberties and their lives for the eulogium awarded by the Jesuits to the merciless Bourbon. The policy of the Neapolitan governments is a disgrace to civilisation. A band of ruffians, under the name of police or government, seize upon all persons who have had the misfortune to displease them; their victims are thrown into prison, and are accused of imaginary crimes; while the accusers, changing themselves into witnesses, often into judges, in order to make good the charge, keep them chained for three or four years in Ischia, as in the case of Poerio and Dragonetti, and finally pass a sentence of death upon them, in order to give the pious and clement Ferdinand and his Jesuit confessor the merit of having commuted the infamous sentence into a horrid and perpetual imprisonment; and to all this complication of iniquities they give the name of a state trial. Such is the Neapolitan government under the conduct of the sons of Loyola.

But the malignant spirit of the Jesuits, in breaking forth from Naples and Rome, has lately made an inroad into a province which, till then, had been spared its pernicious influence. Among all the other provinces of Italy, Tuscany had been favoured with a comparatively just and tolerant government; and this, it was openly asserted, was owing to the absence of the Jesuits from the country. Now, whoever has followed the march of events there, must have been struck by the wide difference that exists between the former policy of the government and the new one introduced after Leopold II. had been some time at Gaeta, under the influence of Antonelli and the Jesuits. From that moment all things changed in Tuscany. The priests re-acquired an influence which they had never possessed since the time of Leopold I., and made it subservient to their unworthy ends. Madonnas became again miraculous. Feasts and processions were got up with the greatest pomp, and were numerously attended by all those who had anything to hope or fear from the government. A furious war was declared against all doctrines but those harmonising with the strictest ultra-Popish principles. Books and newspapers were interdicted, and no efforts were spared to bring the enlightened, lively, and intellectual people of Tuscany to limit their literary pursuits to the perfect knowledge of the Catechisms.

The influence of the too notorious Bocella, by his own confession a Jesuit, was, above all, fatal to the country. While he was the chief adviser of the Grand Duke, the Grand Duchess went in procession to worship a miraculous Madonna at Rimini, and Leopold himself ordered a sumptuous and extraordinary feast for another Madonna in Florence, to whose church he repaired in state. But at the same time, the most respectable citizens of Florence, Count Guicciardini and others, were prosecuted and exiled for the heinous crime of reading the Bible; and two unfortunate and inoffensive creatures—the Madiais—have been condemned to the punishment of malefactors (hard labour), for having in their possession the sacred volume, and for discussing and endeavouring to prove its veracity. Later still, an ordinance of the Grand Duke re-establishes capital punishment, which had long since been abolished; while another ordinance of the minister of police expels from the hospitable soil of Tuscany hundreds of unfortunate Italians, who had sought there a refuge against the ferocious and relentless persecution of the Roman Court. Such are the effects of the influence of the Jesuits.

What will become of Lombardy, already so wretched, now that Austria has decided on re-establishing the Jesuits there on an extended scale, it is disheartening to contemplate; while, on the other hand, it is cheering in the extreme for an Italian, and for every true friend of civil and religious liberty, to see the conduct of the Piedmontese government towards the Jesuits and the priesthood.

The Jesuits, after their expulsion, were never permitted to re-enter the kingdom, and the priests are now subjected, like other citizens, to the laws of the land, and are obliged to submit to that equality which they consider as a disgrace to their privileged caste. For it must be borne in mind that the priest, and the conscientious one more than others, considers himself a superior being, a man far above any layman, even though he were a king. He imbibes this idea from childhood, when he begins to dress in a peculiar garb, and is accosted by a respectful appellation. According to the canonical law (and in Italy that law is universally respected and strictly enforced, except, indeed, in Piedmont), the moment an infant assumes the garb of a priest, and receives the first order (tonsura), he is no more subject to the civil authorities; he is henceforth only amenable to the ecclesiastical court, and whoever strikes him, incurs _de facto_ excommunication. After he has been consecrated priest, he pretends, or in reality believes, that it is in his power to oblige the Almighty to descend from heaven into his hands, and that at his bidding the flesh and blood of the Divine Redeemer is transubstantiated into bread and wine, and in that form goes to sanctify his breast. Again, he believes, or feigns to believe, that it rests with him to open or shut the gates of heaven, and that he has the power of bestowing everlasting beatitude or dooming to eternal damnation, according as he absolves from sin or refuses absolution. In fact, he puts himself in the place of God, of whom he calls himself the Anointed, and whose name he often usurps. When we consider all this, we do not wonder that the priests cannot endure equality of rights with other citizens. We are rather astonished that serious and enlightened people of this country can for a moment entertain the idea that the Irish Roman Catholic priests are sincere when they ask for equality of rights. Look to Piedmont; there the Romish priesthood enjoy this equality—nay, more than equality. Their religion is acknowledged to be the religion of the state; and many are the writers who have lately been condemned for disparaging it. They possess, also, some other less considerable privileges over the other citizens; and yet they are far from being satisfied. On the contrary, they accuse the government of tyranny. The bishops are in open rebellion against the sovereign; priests and curates oppose the laws of the country. The pulpit, the confessional, are made subservient to their hatred of the new state of things; and all this because the legislature attempts, not to deprive them of any right, or subject them to any incapacity, but to introduce equality, and to subject ecclesiastics of all sorts to the common law. The rage of the priesthood at this sacrilegious audacity on the part of the parliament, in seeking to assimilate them to other men, is such, that they have launched a solemn act of excommunication against all those who shall read the newspapers advocating such infamous measures. The Jesuits are at the bottom of all this, and their intrigues brought Piedmont but the other day to the brink of ruin. Fortunately, public opinion declared itself so strongly, and the king shewed such firmness, that their machinations proved abortive. It must be remarked in all this, that when the liberal newspapers reproach the clerical party with their acts or words, they always stigmatise them with the name of Jesuits—so universally is the abhorred name coupled with all that is bad, cunning, and criminal!

Appalling and ominous of incalculable consequences is the influence which the Jesuits have acquired in France—in that country which has prostrated all its past glory and its dignity as a nation, at the feet of an unscrupulous, merciless tyrant; endeavouring, at the same time, to forget its ignominy in the intoxication of feasts and champaigne. The Jesuits and priests are the firmest supporters of Louis Napoleon; and it is worthy of remark, that the bishops who are known for their ultramontane principles and their adherence to the Jesuitical discipline are those who lavish the highest eulogiums on the unprincipled usurper. This affords us another instance of the worldly spirit of the Popish clergy, and may be a salutary lesson for the future. For our own part, indeed, we are inclined to recognise in it the hand of Providence consummating the speedy downfall of the Popish religion. The conduct of Pius IX. has already extinguished in Italy the last lingering sentiments of respect and devotion towards the Papal religion. The Italians had hopes for a moment that Pius would reconcile them to the religion of their forefathers, by shewing that it is not a religion of blood and persecution, but of love and brotherhood, eminently liberal and national. They had hoped that Popery, to which Italy owes all its misfortunes, would now change, and restore to it part of its former glory. And this idea prevented them from renouncing altogether religion such as it is preached to them. But now that no doubt remains as to the true spirit of Popery, now that no one can reasonably entertain the least hope that it will ever change from what it has been—an institution founded on superstition, cemented with blood, and maintained by the axe of the executioner—now that the last testing experiment has shewn to all the world its utter helplessness against free physical force, it may be truly said that Popery has been irrevocably doomed in Italy. It may linger yet a while by the aid of despotic bayonets, but never again will the Italians, of their own free will, repose their faith in the religion of the Popes.

In precisely a similar manner are the priests and Jesuits now giving the last blow to the Popish religion in France. Let the present transient moment of delirium pass over, and the French nation will reconsider the servile and ignominious part played by the clergy in the recent immoral saturnalia. It will remember that the man who had perjured himself—who had caused thousands of citizens to be butchered because they were faithful to the laws—who had been a traitor to all governments from his youth—who had never kept his word—who had been distinguished for immorality and debauchery even among the unscrupulous _lions_ of London and Paris—that this man was exalted by the surpliced emissaries of Rome as the _man of Providence_, _the messenger of God_, _the restorer of morality and religion_, _and the benefactor of humanity_. Who, need it be asked, will once again believe them, when speaking of the things of heaven, after they have lied so impudently and deliberately in speaking of the things of this world? But till a reaction take place, the Jesuits triumph in France.

As we have had occasion to speak incidentally, in various parts of this work, of the arts and practices employed at the present moment by the Jesuits against England, and as our readers have daily so many means of ascertaining the manners of the fathers in the public prints, we do not think it necessary to add anything more in this place. We have also little to say about the actual missions of the Jesuits in both Indies. They are neither prosperous nor important, and are only distinguished by their intrigues and by the war which they keep up against all other missionaries, whether Popish or Protestant. The actual wealth of the Jesuits, though considerable, is far from approaching the fabulous amount it possessed before the suppression. If our information and calculation are correct, and we believe they are, the total number of the members _to be found on the register of the Order_ amounts to nearly six thousand—an enormous increase since 1814, and such, indeed, as to give to reflective minds serious apprehensions. But we have nearly exhausted the space we had allowed ourselves. We must pass to the conclusion.