This is the next chapter after Chapter IV. Rise and Progress of the Temporal Supremacy.

This is the favourable point for taking a view of the character of the Papacy,–its lofty pretensions and claims, and the foundation on which all these are based. The conflict waged by the seventh Gregory, and which ended in disaster to himself, but in triumph to his system, brings out in striking relief the essential principles, the guiding spirit, and the unvarying aims, of the popedom. When intelligently contemplated, the Papacy is seen to be a monarchy of a mixed kind, partly ecclesiastical and partly civil, founded professedly upon divine right, and claiming universal jurisdiction and dominion. The empire which Gregory VII. strove to erect was of this mixed kind; the dominion he arrogated and exercised extended directly or indirectly to all things temporal and spiritual; and this vast power he claimed jure divino. This it now becomes our business to show.

The Pope had now made himself absolute master in the Church. There was, in fact, but one bishop, and Christendom was his diocese. From this one man flowed all ecclesiastical honours, offices, acts, and jurisdiction. The pontiffs presided in all councils by their legates; they were the supreme arbiters in all controversies that arose respecting religion or church discipline. “Gregory VII.,” remarks D’Aubigné, “claimed the same power over all the bishops and priests of Christendom that an abbot of Cluny exercises in the order in which he presides.”[1] And all this they claimed as the successor of St. Peter. But it is unnecessary to spend time on a point so universally admitted as that the popes now possessed ecclesiastical supremacy, and professed to hold it by divine right, that is, as the successors of St. Peter, the prince of the apostles. But the point to be demonstrated here is, that the popes, not content with being supreme rulers in the Church, and having all ecclesiastical persons and things subject to their absolute authority, claimed to be supreme in the State also; and, in the character of God’s vicegerents presumed to dispose of crowns and kingdoms, and to interfere in all temporal affairs. The foundation of this power was laid when the popes claimed to be the successors of St. Peter and the vicars of Christ, which they did, as we have already shown, as early as the middle of the fifth century; but the universal and uncontrolled dominion implied in this claim they did not seek to wield till towards the times of Gregory VII., in the eleventh century. But that they did then arrogate this power in the most open and unblushing manner, does not admit of doubt or denial. There exists a vast body of proof to the effect that the popes of the eleventh and succeeding centuries attempted to prostrate beneath their feet the temporal as well as the spiritual power, and that they succeeded in their attempt. The history of Europe from the era of Hildebrand to that of Luther must be blotted out before the condemnatory evidence–for condemnatory of the Papacy it certainly is, as irreconcileably hostile to the liberties of nations and the rights of princes–can be annihilated or got rid of. It has put this claim into a great variety of forms, and attempted in every possible way to make it good. It taught this claim in its essential principles; and, when the character of the times permitted, it advanced it in plain and unmistakeable statements. It spent five centuries of intrigue in the effort to realize this claim, and five centuries more of wars and bloodshed in the effort to retain and consolidate it. It was promulgated from the doctor’s chair, ratified by synodical acts, embodied in the instructions of nuncios, and thundered from the pontifical throne in the dreadful sentence of interdict by which monarchs were deposed, their crowns transferred to others, their subjects loosed from their allegiance, and their kingdoms not unfrequently ravaged with fire and sword.

Acts so monstrous may appear to be the mere wantonness of ambition, or the irresponsible doings of men in whom the lust of power had overborne every other consideration. The man who reasons in this way either does not understand the Papacy, or wilfully perverts the question. This was but the sober and logical action of the popedom; it was the fair working of the evil principles of the system, and no chance ebullition of the destructive passions of the man who had been placed at its head; and nothing is capable of a more complete and convincing demonstration. The foundation of our proof must of course be the constitution of the Papacy. As is the nature of the thing,–as are the elements and principles of which it is made up,–so inevitably must be the character and extent of its claims, and the nature of its action and influence. What, then, is the Papacy? Is it a purely spiritual society, or a purely secular society? It is neither. The Papacy is a mixed society: the secular element enters quite as largely into its constitution as does the spiritual. It is a compound of both elements in equal proportions; and, being so, must necessarily possess secular as well as spiritual jurisdiction, and be necessitated to adopt civil as well as ecclesiastical action. But how does it appear that the Church of Rome combines in one essence the secular and spiritual elements? for the point lies here. It appears from the fundamental axiom on which she rests. There are but a few links in the chain of her infernal logic; but these few links are of adamant; and they so bind up together, in one composite body, the two principles, the spiritual and the temporal, and, by consequence, the two jurisdictions, that the moment Rome attempts to cut in twain what her logic joins in one, she ceases to be the popedom. Her syllogism is indestructible if the minor proposition be but granted; and the minor proposition, be it remembered, is her fundamental axiom:–CHRIST IS THE VICAR OF GOD, AND, AS SUCH, POSSESSES HIS POWER; BUT THE POPE IS THE VICAR OF CHRIST; THEREFORE THE POPE IS GOD’S VICAR, AND POSSESSES HIS POWER. To Christ, as the Vicar of God, all power, spiritual and temporal, has been delegated. All spiritual power has been delegated to Him as Head of the Church; and all temporal power has been delegated to Him for the good of the Church. This power has been delegated a second time from Christ to the Pope. To the Pope all spiritual power has been delegated, as head of the Church, and God’s vicegerent on earth; and all temporal power also, for the good of the Church. Such is the theory of the popedom. This conclusively establishes that the Papacy is of a mixed character. We but perplex ourselves when we think or speak of it simply as a religion. It contains the religious element, no doubt; but it is not a religion;–it is a scheme of domination of a mixed character, partly spiritual and partly temporal; and its jurisdiction must be of the same mixed kind with its constitution. To talk of the popedom wielding a purely spiritual authority only, is to assert what her fundamental principles repudiate. These principles compel her to claim the temporal also. The two authorities grow out of the same fundamental axiom, and are so woven together in the system, and so indissolubly knit the one to the other, that the Papacy must part with both or none. The popedom, then, stands alone. In genius, in constitution, and in prerogative, it is diverse from all other societies. The Church of Rome is a temporal monarchy as really as she is an ecclesiastic body; and in token of her hybrid character, her head, the Pope, displays the emblems of both jurisdictions,–the keys in the one hand, the sword in the other.

Pope Boniface VIII. was a much more logical expounder of the Papacy than those who now-a-days would persuade us that it is purely spiritual. In a bull “given at the palace of the Lateran, in the eighth year of his pontificate,” and inserted in the body of the canon law, we find him claiming both jurisdictions in the broadest manner. “There is,” says he, “one fold and one shepherd. The authority of that shepherd includes the two swords,–the spiritual and the temporal. So much are we taught by the words of the evangelist, ‘Behold, here are two swords,’ namely, in the Church. The Lord did not reply, It is too much, but, It is enough. Certainly he did not deny to Peter the temporal sword: he only commanded him to return it into its scabbard. Both, therefore, belong to the jurisdiction of the Church,–the spiritual sword and the secular. The one is to be wielded for the Church,–the other by the Church; the one is the sword of the priest,–the other is in the hand of the monarch, but at the command and sufferance of the priest. It behoves the one sword to be under the other,–the temporal authority to be subject to the spiritual power.”[2] Whatever may be thought of this pontifical gloss, there can be no question as to the comprehensive jurisdiction which Boniface founds upon the passage.

It cannot be argued, then, with the least amount of truth, or of plausibility even, that this claim was the result of a kind of accident,–that it originated solely in the ambition of an individual pope, and was foreign to the genius, or disallowed by the principles, of the Papacy. On the contrary, nothing is easier than to show that it is a most logical deduction from the fundamental elements of the system. It partakes not in the slightest degree of the accidental; nor was it a crotchet of Hildebrand, or a delusion of the age in which he lived; as is manifest from the fact, that its development was the work of five centuries, and the joint operation of many hundreds of minds who were successively employed upon it. It was the logical consequence of principles which had been engrafted in the Papacy, or rather, as we have just shown, which lie at the foundation of the whole system; and accordingly, it was steadily and systematically pursued through a succession of centuries, and engaged the genius and ambition of innumerable minds. As the seed bursts the clod and struggles into light, so we behold the principle of papal supremacy struggling for development through the slow centuries, and in its efforts overturning thrones and convulsing society. We can discover the supremacy in embryo as early as the fifth century, and can trace its logical development till the times of Hildebrand. We see it passing through the consecutive stages of the dogma, the synodical decree, the papal missive, and the interdict, which shook the thrones of monarchs, and laid their occupants prostrate in the dust. The gnarled oak, whose lofty stature and thick foliage darken the earth for roods around, is not more really a development of the acorn deposited in the soil centuries before, than were the arrogant pretensions and domineering acts of the Papacy in the age of Innocent the result of the principle deposited in the Papacy in the fifth century, that the Pope is Christ’s vicar.

The Pope’s absolute dominion over priests is not a more legitimate inference from this doctrine than is his dominion over kings. If the pontiffs have renounced the temporal supremacy, it is on one of two grounds,–either they are not Christ’s vicars, or Christ is not a King of kings. But they have claimed all along, and do still claim, to be the vicars of Christ; and they have likewise held all along, and do still hold, that Christ is Head of the world as well as Head of the Church. The conclusion is inevitable, that it is not only over the Church that they bear rule, but over the world also; and that they have as good a right to dispose of crowns, and to meddle in the temporal affairs of kingdoms, as they have to bestow mitres, and to make laws in the Church. The one authority is as essential to the completeness of their assumed character as is the other.

The popes have understood the matter in this light from the beginning. Some writers of name are at present endeavouring to persuade the world that the pontiffs (some few excepted, who, they say, transgressed in this matter the bounds of Catholicism as well as of moderation) never claimed or exercised supremacy over princes; that this is not, and never was, a doctrine of the Roman Catholic Church; and that she repudiates and condemns the opinion that the Pope has been invested with jurisdiction over temporal princes. But we cannot grant to Rome the sole right to interpret history, as her members grant to her the right to interpret the Bible. We can examine and judge for ourselves; and when we do so, we certainly find far more reason to admire the boldness than to confess the prudence of those who disclaim, on the part of Rome, this doctrine. The proofs to the contrary are far too plain and too numerous to permit of this disclaimer obtaining the least credit from any one, save those who are prepared to receive without scruple or inquiry all that popish writers may be pleased to assert in behalf of their Church. Popes, canonists, and councils have promulgated this tenet; and not only have they asserted that the power it implies rests on Divine right, but they have inculcated it as an article of belief on all who would preserve the faith and unity of the Church. “We,” says Pope Boniface VIII., “declare, say, define, and pronounce it to be necessary to salvation, that every human creature be subject to the Roman pontiff.[3] The one sword must be under the other; and the temporal authority must be subject to the spiritual power: hence, if the earthly power go astray, the spiritual shall judge it.”[4] These sentiments are re-echoed by Leo X. and his Council of Lateran. “We,” says that pope, “with the approbation of the present holy council, do renew and approve that holy constitution.”[5] To that doctrine Baronius heartily subscribes: “There can be no doubt of it,” says he, “but that the civil principality is subject to the sacerdotal, and that God hath made the political government subject to the dominion of the spiritual Church.”[6]

“He who reigneth on high,” says Pius V., in his introduction to his bull against Queen Elizabeth, “to whom is given all power in heaven and in earth, hath committed the one holy Catholic Church, out of which there is no salvation, to one alone upon earth, that is, to Peter, the prince of apostles, and to the Roman pontiff, the successor of Peter, to be governed with a plenitude of power. This one he hath constituted prince over all nations, that he may pluck up, overthrow, disperse, destroy, plant, and rear.” The Italian priest, therefore, thunders against the English monarch in the following style:–“We deprive the Queen of her pretended right to the kingdom, and of all dominion, dignity, and privilege whatsoever; and absolve all the nobles, subjects, and people of the kingdom, and whoever else have sworn to her, from their oath, and all duty whatsoever in regard of dominion, fidelity, and obedience.”[7]

“Snatch up, therefore, the two-edged sword of Divine power committed to thee,” was the address of the Council of Lateran to Leo X., “andenjoin, command, and charge, that a universal peace and alliance, for at least ten years, be made among Christians; and to that bind kings in the fetters of the great King, and firmly fasten nobles with the iron manacles of censures; for to thee is given all power in heaven and in earth.”[8]

So speak the popes and councils of Rome. Here is not only the principle out of which the supremacy springs enunciated, but the claim itself advanced. Not in words only have they held this high tone; their deeds have been equally lofty. The supremacy was not permitted to remain a theory; it became a fact. For several centuries together we see the popes reigning over Europe, and demeaning themselves in every way as not only its spiritual, but also its temporal lords. We see them freely distributing immunities, titles, revenues, territories, as if all belonged to them; we see them sustaining themselves arbiters in all disputes, umpires in all quarrels, and judges in all causes; we see them giving provinces and crowns to their favourites, and constituting emperors; we see them imposing oaths of fidelity and vassalage on monarchs; and, in token, of the dependence of the one and the supremacy of the other, we see them exacting tribute for their kingdoms in the shape of Peter’s pence; we see them raising wars and crusades, summoning princes and kings into the field, attiring them in their livery, the cross, and holding them but as lieutenants under them. In fine, how often have they deposed monarchs, and laid their kingdoms under interdict? History presents us with a list of not less than sixty-four emperors and kings deposed by the popes.[9] But it is improper to despatch in a single sentence what occupies so large a space in history, and has been the cause of so much suffering, bloodshed, and war to Europe. Nothing can convey a better or truer picture of the insufferable arrogance and pride of the pontiffs than their own language on these occasions.

“For the dignity and defence of God’s holy Church” says Gregory VII. (Hildebrand), “in the name of the omnipotent God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I depose from imperial and royal administration, Henry the king, the son of Henry, formerly emperor, who, too boldly and rashly, has laid hands on thy Church; and I absolve all Christians subject to the empire from that oath by which they were wont to plight their faith unto true kings; for it is right that he should be deprived of dignity who doth endeavour to diminish the majesty of the Church.

“Go to, therefore, most holy princes of the apostles, and what I said, by interposing your authority, confirm; that all men may now at length understand, if ye can bind and loose in heaven, that ye also can upon earth take away and give empires, kingdoms, and whatsoever mortals can have; for if ye can judge things belonging unto God, what is to be deemed concerning these inferior and profane things? And if it is your part to judge angels who govern proud princes, what becometh it you to do towards their servants? Let kings now, and all secular princes, learn by this man’s example what ye can do in heaven, and in what esteem ye are with God; and let them henceforth fear to slight the commands of holy Church, but put forth suddenly this judgment, that all men may understand, that not casually, but by your means, this son of iniquity doth fall from his kingdom.”[10]

“We therefore,” says Innocent IV. in the Council of Lyons (1245), when pronouncing sentence of excommunication upon the Emperor Frederick II.,[11] “having had previous and careful deliberation with our brethren and the holy council respecting the preceding and many other of his wicked miscarriages, do show, denounce, and accordingly deprive of all honour and dignity, the said prince, who hath rendered himself unworthy of empire and kingdoms, and of all honour and dignity; and who, for his sins, is cast away by God, that he should not reign nor command; and all who are bound by oath of allegiance we absolve from such oath for ever, firmly enjoining that none in future regard or obey him as emperor or king; and decreeing, that whoever yields him in these characters advice, assistance, or favours, shall immediately lie under the bond of excommunication.”

The following bull of Sixtus V. (1585) against the King of Navarre and the Prince of Conde,–the two sons of wrath,–is conceived in the loftiest pontifical style. “The authority given to St. Peter and his successors by the immense power of the Eternal King, excels all the power of earthly princes; it passes uncontrollable sentence upon them all; and if it find any of them resisting the ordinance of God, it takes a more severe vengeance upon them, casting them down from their throne, however powerful they may be, and tumbling them to the lowest parts of the earth, as the ministers of aspiring Lucifer. We deprive them and their posterity of their dominions for ever. By the authority of these presents, we absolve and free all persons from their oath [of allegiance], and from all duty whatever relating to dominion, fealty, and obedience; and we charge and forbid all from presuming to obey them, or any of their admonitions, laws, or commands.”[12]

But it were endless to bring forward all that might be adduced on the point. The history of the middle ages abounds with instances of the exercise of this tremendous power, of the disgrace and disaster it entailed on monarchs, and the confusion and calamity it occasioned to nations. But instead of citing instances of these,–of which the history of Europe, not excepting that of our own country, is filled,–we think it of more consequence here to observe, that the most high-handed of these acts grew directly out of the fundamental principle of the Papacy,–that the Pope is Christ’s vicar. If this be granted, the pontiff is as really the temporal as the spiritual chief of Europe; and in dethroning heretical kings, and laying rebellious kingdoms under interdict, he is simply exercising a power which Christ has lodged in his hands; he is doing what he is not only entitled, but bound to do. Nothing could display greater ignorance of the essential principles of the Papacy, or greater incompetence to deduce legitimate inferences from these principles, than to hold, as some do, that the supremacy was an accident, or had its origin in the ambition of Gregory, or in the superstitious and slavish character of the times. True, it was only at times that the Papacy dared to assert or to act upon this arrogant claim. In itself the claim is so monstrous, and so destructive of both the natural rights of men and the just prerogatives of princes, that the instinct of self-preservation overcame at times the slavish dictates of superstition, and princes and people united to oppose a despotism that threatened to crush both. When the state was strong the Papacy held its claims in abeyance; but when the sceptre came into feeble hands, that moment Rome advanced her lordly pretensions, and summoned both her ghostly terrors and her material resources to enforce them. She trampled with inexorable pride upon the dignity of princes; she violated without scruple the sanctity of oaths; she repaid former favours with insult; and treated with equal disdain the rights and the supplications of nations. Nothing, however exalted, nothing, however venerable, nothing, however sacred, was permitted to stand in her way to universal and supreme dominion. She became the lady of kingdoms. She was God’s vicegerent, and could bind or loose, build up or pull down, as seemed good unto her. In disposing of the crowns of monarchs, she was disposing of but her own; and in assuming the supreme authority in their kingdoms, she was exercising a right inherent in her, and with which she could no more part than she could cease to be Rome.

Such is the principle viewed logically. The most arrogant acts of Gregory and Innocent did not exceed by a single hairbreadth the just limits of their power, judged according to the fundamental axiom out of which that power springs. But we are not to suppose that Romanists have all been of one mind respecting the nature and extent of the supremacy. On this, as on every other point, they have differed widely. By a curious but easily explained coincidence, the Romanist theory of the supremacy has been enlarged or contracted, according to the mutations which the supremacy itself, in its exercise upon the world, has undergone. The papal sceptre has been a sort of index-hand. Its motions, whether through a larger or a narrower space, have ever furnished an exact measure of the existing state of opinion in the schools on the subject in question. In fact, the risings and fallings of theory and practice on the head of the supremacy have been as coincident, both in time and space, as the turnings of the vane and the wind, or as the changes of the mercury and the atmosphere; furnishing an instructive specimen of that very peculiar infallibility which Rome possesses. We distinctly recognise three well-defined and different opinions, not to mention minute shades and variations, among Romish doctors on this important question. The first attributes temporal power to the Pope on the ground of express and formal delegation from God. We are, say they, Peter’s representative, God’s vicegerent, possessors of the two keys, and therefore the rulers of the world in both its spiritual and temporal affairs. This may be held, speaking generally, as the claim of the popes who lived from Gregory VII. to Pius V., as expressed in their bulls, and interpreted (little to the comfort of sovereigns) in their acts. They were the world’s priest and monarch in one person. And, we repeat, this, which is the high ultra-montane theory, appears to us to be the most consistent opinion, strictly logical on Romanist principles, and, indeed, wholly impregnable if we but grant their postulate, that the Pope is Christ’s vicar. Prior to the Reformation there was scarce a single dissentient from this view of the supremacy in the Romish Church, if we except the illustrious defenders of the “Gallican liberties.” Theologians, canonists, and popes, with one voice claimed this prerogative. “The first opinion,” says Bellarmine, when enumerating the views held respecting the Pope’s temporal supremacy, “is, that the Pope has a most full power, jure divino, over the whole world, in both ecclesiastical and civil affairs.”[13] “This,” he adds, “is the doctrine of Augustine Triumphus, Alvarus Pelagius, Hostiensis, Panormitanus, Sylvester, and others not a few.” The same doctrine was taught by the “Angelical Doctor,” as he is termed. Aquinas held, that “in the Pope is the top of both powers,” and “by plain consequence asserting,” says Barrow, “when any one is denounced excommunicate for apostacy, his subjects are immediately freed his dominion, and from their oaths of allegiance to him.”[14]

The second opinion is, that the Pope’s immediate and direct jurisdiction extends to ecclesiastical matters only, but that he possesses a mediate and indirect authority over temporal affairs also. This opinion found its best expositor and its ablest champion in the redoubtable Cardinal Bellarmine. The Cardinal had sense to see, that the monstrous and colossal Janus, which turned a cleric or laic visage to the gazer, according to the side from which he viewed it,–which sat upon the seven hills, and was worshipped in the dark ages,–could no longer be borne by the world; and accordingly he set himself, with an adroitness and skill for which he had but little thanks from the reigning pontiff,–for the Cardinal narrowly escaped the Expurgatorius,–to show that the Pope had but one jurisdiction, the spiritual; and could exercise temporal authority only indirectly, that is, for the good of religion or the Church. The Pope, however, lost nothing, in point of fact, by the Cardinal’s logic; for Bellarmine took care to teach, that that indirect temporal power would carry the pontiff as far, and enable him to do as much, as the direct temporal authority. This indirect temporal power, the Cardinal taught, was supreme, and could enable the Pope, for the welfare of the Church, to annul laws and depose sovereigns.[15] This was dexterous management on the part of the Jesuit. He professed to part the enormous power which had before centred in Peter’s chair, between the kings and the pope, giving the temporal to the former and the spiritual to the latter; but he took care that the lion’s share should fall to the pontiff. It was a grand feat of legerdemain; for this division, made with such show of fairness, left the one party with not a particle more power, and the other with not a particle less, than before. Bellarmine had not broken or blunted the temporal sword; he had simply muffled it. He had left the pope brandishing in his hand the spiritual mace, with the temporal stiletto slung conveniently by his side, concealed by the folds of his pontificals. He could knock monarchs on the head with the spiritual bludgeon; and, having got them down, could despatch them with the secular poignard. What was there then in Bellarmine’s theory to prevent the great spiritual freebooter of Rome doing as much business in his own peculiar line as before? Nothing.

But Bellarmine’s opinion has become antiquated in its turn. The papal sceptre now describes a narrower political circle, and the opinions of the Romish doctors on the subject of the supremacy have undergone a corresponding limitation. A third opinion is that of those who hold the pope’s indirect temporal power in its most mitigated and attenuated form,–in so very attenuated a form, indeed, that it is all but invisible; and accordingly the authors of this opinion take leave to deny that they grant to the pope any temporal power at all. There are the views propounded by Count de Maistre and Abbe Gosselin on the Continent, and by Dr. Wiseman in this country, and now generally received by all Roman Catholics. De Maistre strongly condemns the use of the term temporal supremacy to indicate the power which the popes claim over sovereigns; and maintains that it is in virtue of a power entirely and eminently spiritual that they believe themselves to be possessed of the right to excommunicate sovereigns guilty of certain crimes, without, however, any temporal encroachment, or any interference with their sovereignty. He instances the case of the present Pope, who is possessed of so little temporal power, that he is compelled to submit to the ridicule of the Roman citizens.[16] De Maistre conveniently forgets that the question is not what the popes possess, but what they claim, either directly or by implication. The matter is stated in almost precisely similar terms by Dr. Wiseman, in his “Lectures on the Doctrines and Practices of the Catholic Church.” “The supremacy which I have described,” says he, “is of a character purely spiritual, and has no connexion with the possession of any temporal jurisdiction. . . . Nor has this spiritual supremacy any relation to the wider sway once held by the pontiffs over the destinies of Europe. That the headship of the Church won naturally the highest weight and authority, in a social and political state, grounded on catholic principles, we cannot wonder. That power arose and disappeared with the institutions which produced or supported it, and forms no part of the doctrine hold by the Church regarding the papal supremacy.”[17] What sort of power, then, is it which these writers attribute to the Pope? A purely spiritual power, which, however, may, as they themselves admit, and must, as we shall show, carry very formidable temporal consequences in its train. A single term expresses the modern view of the supremacy, direction. It is not, according to this view, jurisdiction, but direction, which rightfully belongs to the pontiff. He sits upon the Seven Hills, not as the world’s magistrate, but as the world’s casuist. He is there to solve doubts and guide the consciences, not to coerce the bodies, of men. It is not as the dictator, but as the doctor of Europe that he occupies Peter’s chair. But this is just Bellarmine’s theory in a subtler form. The mode of action is changed, but that action in its result is the very same: we are led, in no long time, and by no very indirect path, to the full temporal supremacy. If the Pope be the director and judge of all consciences; if he be, as Romanists maintain, an infallible director and judge; must he not require submission to his judgment,–implicit submission,–seeing it is an infallible and supreme judgment? Suppose this infallible resolver had such a case of conscience as the following submitted to him,–it is no hypothetical case:–The Grand Duke of Tuscany solicits the papal see to direct his conscience as to whether it is lawful to permit his subjects to read the Word of God in the vernacular tongue, or to permit Protestant worship in the Italian language in his dominions; and he is told it is not. The Pope does not send a single sbirri to Florence; he simply directs the ducal conscience. But the Grand Duke, as an obedient son of the church, feels himself bound to act on the advice of infallibility. Immediately the gens d’armes appear in the Protestant chapel, the Waldensian ministers are banished, and a count[18] of the realm, along with others, whose only crime is attendance at Protestant worship, and reading the Word of God in Italian, are thrown into the Bargello or common prison. The sentence of excommunication thundered from Gaeta against the Romans was the precursor of the French cannon which the Jesuits of the cabinet of the Elysee sent to Rome. The excommunication was a purely spiritual act; but the gaps in the Roman wall, filled with gory masses of Roman and French corpses, had not much of a spiritual character. Laws favourable to toleration and Protestantism, the succession of Protestant sovereigns, and all other acts of the same kind, must be condemned by this supreme spiritual judge, as hostile to the interests of religion. Of course, every Catholic conscience throughout the world is directed by the judgment of the pontiff, and must feel bound to carry that judgment out to the best of his power. Were the Catholics of Ireland to propound such a case of casuistry as this to the papal see,–whether it is for the good of the Church in Ireland that a heretic like Queen Victoria should bear sway over that island,–who can doubt what the reply would be? Nor can it be doubted that Irish Catholic consciences would take the direction which infallibility indicated, if they thought they could do so to good purpose. This autocrat of all consciences in and out of Christendom may disclaim all temporal power, and affect to be head of but a spiritual organization; but well he knows that, on the right and left of Peter’s chair, as turnkey and hangman to the holy apostolic see, stand Naples and Austria. The knife of De Maistre, fine as its edge is, has but lopped off the branches of the tree of supremacy; the root is in the earth, fastened with a band of iron and brass. The artillery of Romanist logic plays harmlessly upon the fabric of the papal power. It veils it in clouds of smoke, but it does not throw down a single stone of the building. The spectator, because it is blotted from his sight, thinks it is demolished. Anon the smoke clears away, and it is seen standing unscathed, and strong as ever.

History is a great bar in the way of the reception of this theory, or rather of the general conclusion to which its authors seek to lead the public mind, namely, that the pontifical direction is not connected, either directly or consequentially, with temporal power; and that the popes simply pronounce judgment in abstract questions of right and wrong, leaving their award, as any other moral and religious body would do, to exercise its legitimate influence upon the opinion and action of the age. The reception of such a view of the supremacy as this is much impeded, we say, by the monuments of history. But what can be neither blotted out nor forgotten, it may be possible to explain away; and this is the task which De Maistre, and especially Gosselin and other modern Romanist writers, have imposed upon themselves. De Maistre admits, as it would be madness to deny, that the popes of a former age did depose sovereigns and loose subjects from their oath of allegiance;[19] but to the amount to which these acts embodied temporal jurisdiction, or differed in their mode from direction, the adherents of the modern theory maintain that they grew out of the spirit and views of the middle ages, and that they were founded, not on divine right, but on public right, that is, on the general consent of the sovereigns and people of those days.[20] Now, to this view of the subject there are many and insuperable objections. The popes themselves give quite a different account of the matter. When they pronounced sentence of excommunication on monarchs, in the middle ages, on what ground did they rest their acts? On the constitutional law of Europe? On rights made over to them by a convention, express or tacit, of sovereigns and people? No; but on the highest style of divine right. They gave and took away crowns, as the vicars of Christ and the holders of the keys. These popes did not act as casuists, but as rulers. They did not decide a point of morality, but a point of policy. One can easily imagine the measureless indignation of Gregory or Innocent, had any one then dared to propound such a theory,–how quickly they would have smelt heresy in it, and summoned the pontifical thunders to purge out that heresy. Jurisdiction they did claim then, and on the theory of infallibility they claim it still; nor does it mend the matter though one should grant that that jurisdiction is of a spiritual nature, with the indirect temporal power attached; for, as we have already shown, this is but adding one step more to the logic, without adding even a step more to the process by which the act becomes thoroughly temporal. Nay, it does not mend the matter though we should drop the attached indirect temporal power, and retain only the spiritual jurisdiction. That jurisdiction is infallible and supreme, and extends to all things affecting religion, that is, the Church, the popes being the judges. We have had a modern proof how little this would avail to curb the excesses of pontifical ambition. We have seen the Pope, solely by the force of the spiritual jurisdiction, endeavouring to compel Piedmont to alter its laws, and to restore the lands to monasteries, and again extend to the clergy immunity from the secular tribuinals. Even De Maistre grants the right of excommunicating sovereigns guilty of great crimes. But the Pope is to be the judge of what crimes do and do not merit this dreadful punishment; and the notions of pontiffs on this grave point are apt to differ from those of ordinary men. Innocent III. threatened to interrupt the succession to the throne of Hungary because his legate had been stopped in passing through that kingdom. Wherever duty is involved, there the Pope has the right to interfere. But what action is it that does not involve duty? There is nothing a man can do,–scarce anything he can leave undone,–in which the interests of religion are not more or less directly concerned, and in which the Pope has not a pretext for thrusting in his direction. He can prescribe the food a man is to eat, the person with whom he is to trade, the master whom he is to serve, or the menial whom he is to hire. One can marry only whom the priest pleases; and can send one’s children to no school which the Pope has disallowed; he must be told how often to come to confession, and what proportion of his goods to give to the Church; above all, his conscience must be directed in the important matter of his last will and testament. He cannot bury his dead unless he is on good terms with the Church. Whether as a holder of the franchise, a municipal councillor, a judge, or a member of parliament, he must give an account of his stewardship to Rome. From his cradle to his grave he is under priestly direction. That direction is not tendered in the shape of advice, and so left to guide the man by its moral force: it is delivered as an infallible decision, the justice of which he dare not question, and to hesitate to obey which would be to peril his salvation. Thus, in every matter of life and business the Church comes in. But the Church can as thoroughly direct a whole kingdom as she can direct the individual man. The whole affairs of a nation, from the state secret down to the peasant’s gossip, lie open before her eye. Her agents ramify everywhere, and can at a given signal commence simultaneously a system of opposition and agitation over the whole kingdom. Any decision in the cabinet, any law in the senate, unfriendly to the Church, is sure in this way to be met and crushed. In directing national affairs, Rome has dropt the bold, blustering tone of Hildebrand: she now intimates her will in blander accents and politer phrase, but in a manner not less firm and irresistible than before. She has only to hint at withholding the sacraments, as the Archbishop Franzoni lately did to the minister Rosa, and the threat generally is successful. Governments cannot move a step but they are met by this tremendous spiritual check. They cannot make laws about education or about church lands,–they cannot regulate monasteries or take cognizance of the clergy,–they cannot extend civil privileges to their subjects, or conclude a treaty with foreign states,–without coming into collision with the Church. Every matter which they touch is Church, and before they can avoid her they must step out of the world. Under the plea of directing their consciences, their power, they find, is a nullity, and the real master of both themselves and their kingdom is the Bishop of Rome, or his cowled or scarlet-hatted representative at their court. Thus there is nothing of a temporal kind which is not drawn within the jurisdiction of the Pope’s constructive empire; and the “purely spiritual power” is felt in practice to be an intolerable secular thraldom. Under Rome’s scheme of infallible spiritual direction things sacred and civil are inseparably and hopelessly blended; and the attempt to separate the two would be as vain as the attempt to separate time from the beings that live in it, or space from the bodies it contains, or, as it is well expressed by a writer in the Edinburgh Review,[21] to cut out Shylock’s pound of flesh without spilling a drop of blood. The recent concordat between the Pope and the Spanish government[22] shows what a powerful engine the “spiritual jurisdiction” is for the government of a nation in all its affairs, temporal and spiritual. That concordat puts both swords into the hands of Pius IX. as truly as ever Gregory VII. or Innocent III. held them. Let the reader mark its leading provisions, and see how it subjects the temporal to the spiritual power:–

“Art. 1 declares that the Roman Catholic religion, being the sole worship of the Spanish nation, to the exclusion of all others, shall be maintained for ever, with all the rights and prerogatives which it ought to enjoy, according to the law of God and the dispositions of the sacred canons.

“Art. 2 deposes that all instruction in universities, colleges, seminaries, and public or private schools, shall be conformable to Catholic doctrine; and that no impediment shall be put in the way of the bishops, &c. whose duty is to watch over the purity of doctrine and of manners, and over the religious education of youth, even in the public schools.

“Art. 3. The authorities to give every support to the bishops and other ministers in the exercise of their duties; and the government to support the bishops when called on, whether in opposing themselves to the malignity of men who seek to pervert the minds of the faithful and corrupt their morals, or in impeding the publication, introduction, and circulation of bad and dangerous books.'”

The 29th article provides for the establishment by the government of certain religious houses and congregations, specifying those of San Vicente Paul, San Felipe Neri, and “some other one of those approved by the Holy See;” the object being stated to be, that there may be always a sufficient number of ministers and evangelical labourers for home and foreign missions, &c., and also that they may serve as places of retirement for ecclesiastics, in order to perform spiritual exercises and other pious works.

Art. 30 refers to religious houses for women, in which those who are called to a contemplative life may follow their vocation, and others may follow that of assistance to the sick, education, and other pious and useful works; and directs the preservation of the institution of Daughters of Charity, under the direction of the clergy of San Vicente Paul, the government to endeavour to promote the same; religious houses in which education of children and other works of charity are added to a contemplative life also to be maintained; and, with respect to other orders, the bishops of the respective dioceses to propose the cases in which the admission and profession of noviciates should take place, and the exercises of education or of charity which should be established in them.

The 35th article declares that the government shall provide, by all suitable means, for the support of the religious houses, &c. for men; and that, with respect to those for women, all the unsold convent property is at once to be returned to the bishops in whose dioceses it is, as their representatives.[23]

Here, then, is the supremacy, not as portrayed in the ingenious theories of De Maistre and Gosselin, but as it exists at this moment in fact. Stript of the sanctimonious phraseology with which it has always been the policy of Rome to veil her worst atrocities and her vilest tyrannies, the document just means that the Pope is the real sovereign of Spain, that his priests are to rule it as they list, and that the court at Madrid, and the other civil functionaries, are there merely to assist them. The first article of this concordat declares freedom of conscience eternally proscribed in the realm of Spain; the second decrees the extinction of knowledge and the perpetual reign of ignorance; the third takes the civil authorities bound and astricted to aid the clergy in searching for Bibles, hunting out missionaries, and burning converts; and the following articles grant license for the erection of sacerdotal stews, and the institution of clubs all over the country, the better to enable the clergy to coerce the citizens and beard the government. The concordat means this, and nothing else. It is as detestable and villanous an instrument as ever emanated from the gang of conspirators which has so long had its head-quarters on the Roman hill. It is meant to bind down the conscience and the manhood of Spain in everlasting slavery; and it shows that, despite all the recent exposures of these men,–despite all the disasters which have befallen them, and the yet more terrible disasters that lower over them,–their hearts are fully set upon their wickedness, and that they are resolved to present to the last a forehead of brass to the wrath of man and the bolts of heaven. This concordat has been shelved, meanwhile,–no thanks to the imbeciles who exchanged ratifications with Rome, but to the revolution which broke out at that moment in Portugal, and to the mutterings, not loud, but deep, which began to be heard in Spain itself, and which convinced its rulers that even a concordat with the Pope might be bought at too great a price.

Not in the high despotic countries of Italy and Spain only do we meet these lofty notions of the sacerdotal power: in constitutional and semi-Protestant Germany we find the bishops of the Church of Rome advancing the same exclusive and intolerant claims. The triumph of Austrian arms and of Austrian politics in the south of Germany has already made the Romish priesthood of that region predominant, and led them to aspire to the supremacy. Accordingly, demands utterly incompatible with any government, and especially constitutional and Protestant government, have been put forth by the bishops of the two Hesses, Wurtemberg, Nassau, Hamburg, Frankfort,–all Protestant States; and of Baden, a semi-Protestant State. The document in which these demands are contained is entitled, “The Assembled Bishops of the Ecclesiastical Province of the Haut-Rhin, to the several Governments.” A copy has been sent over by our ambassador, Lord Cowley, and published by order of Parliament.[24] Its leading claims are as follows:

“The repeal of all religious concessions made since March 1848.

“The free nomination to all ecclesiastical employments and benefices by the several bishops in their respective dioceses.

“The right of the bishops to subject their subordinates to a special examination, and to punish them according to the canon law.

“The abolition, in the exercise of the ecclesiastical penal jurisdiction, of the right of appeal to the secular tribunals. This shall extend from the simple remonstrance to the removal from office and the loss of emolument. Every attempt to appeal in these matters to the secular authority shall be looked upon as an act of disobedience to the legal authority of the Church, and shall be punished by excommunicatio latae sententiae.

“The establishment of seminaries for young boys.

“Episcopal sanction for the nomination of masters for religious education in the colleges and universities.

“Abolition of the right of placet of the secular authority as regards the publication of papal bulls, of briefs, and pastoral letters of the bishops to the members of the clergy.

Permission for the bishops to preach to the people in public, and to hold exercises for the instruction of priests.

“Permission to collect men and women for prayer, for contemplation, and for self-denial.

“The re-instatement of the bishops in the entire enjoyment of their ancient penal jurisdiction as against such of the members of the Church as shall manifest contempt for ecclesiastical ordinances.

“Free communication between the bishops and Rome.

“No interference of the secular power in questions of filling up the appointment to the chapter of canons.

“Independent administration of the property of the Church and of foundations.”

Can any man peruse these two documents, appearing as they do at the same moment in widely-separated quarters of Europe, yet identical in their spirit and in the claims they put forth, and fail to see that the Papacy has plotted once more to seize upon the government of the world; and that its priests in all countries are working with dauntless audacity and amazing craft, on a given plan, to accomplish this grand object? In every country they insolently claim independence of the government and of the courts of law, with unlimited control of the schools. They would override all things, and be themselves controlled by no one. Rome, through her organs, bids Europe again crouch down beneath the infallibility. How strikingly also do these documents teach that Popery is as unchangeable in her character as in her creed. Amid the liberal ideas and constitutional governments of Germany she retains her exclusive and intolerant spirit, not less than amid the medieval opinions and barbaric despotism of Spain. The glacier in the heart of the Swiss valley lies eternally congealed in the midst of fruit, and flowers, and sunshine. In like manner, an eternal congelation holds fast the Papacy, let the world advance as it may. In the middle of the nineteenth century it starts up grizzly, ferocious, and bloodthirsty, as in the fifteenth. As a murderer from his grave, or a wild beast from his lair, so has it come back upon the world. The compilers of these documents breathe the very spirit of the men who, in former ages, covered Spain with inquisitions and Germany with stakes. They lack simply opportunity to revive, and even outdo, the worst tragedies of their predecessors. In Germany they attempt by a single stroke of the pen to sweep away all the guarantees which flowed from the treaty of Westphalia; and in southern Europe they strike down with the sabre the rights of conscience and the liberties of states. How long will princes and statesmen permit themselves to be misled by the wretched pretext that these men have a divine right to commit all these enormities and crimes,–that heaven has committed the human race into their hands,–and that neither the rights of man nor the prerogatives of God must come into competition with their sacerdotal will? How long is the world to be oppressed by a confederacy of fanatics and ruffians, who are only the abler to play the knave, that they rob under the mask of devotion, and tyrannize in the awful name of God?

But we have no need to go so far from home as to Spain and Germany, for an instance of “a purely spiritual jurisdiction” transmuting itself immediately and directly into temporal supremacy. Let us look across St. George’s Channel. The British government, pitying the deep ignorance of the natives of Ireland, wisely resolve to erect a number of colleges in that dark land, in the hope of mitigating the wretchedness of its people. The priesthood discover that this scheme interferes with the Church, whose vested right in the ignorance of the natives it threatens to sweep away. The Pope does not throw down a single stone of any of these colleges. His interference takes a purely spiritual direction, but a direction that accomplishes his object quite as effectually as could be done by a physical intervention. He issues a bull, denouncing the Irish colleges as godless, and forbidding every good Catholic, as he values his salvation, to allow his child to enter them. This bull, given at the Quirinal, makes frustrate the intention of the Queen, and renders the colleges as completely useless to the Irish nation,–at least to that large portion of it for whose benefit they were specially intended,–as if an army had been sent to raze the obnoxious buildings, and not leave so much as one stone upon another. It matters wonderfully little whether we term the Pope the director of Ireland or the dictator of Ireland: while Ireland is Catholic, the pontiff is, and must be, its virtual sovereign. The British power is limited in that unhappy island to the work of imposing taxes,–imposing, not gathering, for the taxes are taken up by the priests and sent to Rome; while to us is left the duty of feeding a country which clerical rapacity and tyranny has made a country of beggars. Thus the Pope’s yoke is not whit lighter that, instead of calling it temporal supremacy, we call it “spiritual jurisdiction,” or even “spiritual direction.” It would yield, we are disposed to think, wonderfully little consolation to the unhappy sovereign whose throne is struck from under him, and whose kingdom is plunged into contention and civil war, to be told that the Pope in this has acted, not by jurisdiction, but by direction; that he exercises this power, not as lord paramount of his realm, but as lord paramount of his conscience; that, in fact, it is his conscience, and not his territory, that he holds as a fief of the papal see; and that he is enduring this castigation from the pontifical ferula, not in his capacity of king, but in his capacity of Christian. The unhappy monarch, we say, would find but little solace in this nice distinction; and, even at the risk of adding to both his offence and his punishment, might denounce it as a wretched quibble.[25]

These, then, are the two points between which the supremacy oscillates–direction and divine right. It never sinks lower than the former; it cannot rise higher than the latter. But it is important to bear in mind that, whether it stands at the one or at the other of these points, it is supremacy still. We have already indicated[26] that the temporal and spiritual jurisdictions are co-ordinate. This, we believe, is the only rational, as it is undoubtedly the scriptural view of the subject. The liberties of society can be maintained only by maintaining the divinely-appointed equilibrium between the two. If we make the temporal preponderate, we have Erastianism, or the slavery of the Church. If we make the spiritual preponderate, we have Popery, or the slavery of the State. The popish element entered into the jurisdiction of the Church when spiritual independence was transmuted into spiritual supremacy. This happened about the sixth century, when the Bishop of Rome claimed to be Christ’s vicar. From that time the popes began to interfere in temporal matters by direction; for it is curious to note, that the supremacy, as defined in the modern theory, has come back to its beginnings, to run, of course, the same career, should the state of the world permit. At the period of Gregory VII. it ceased to be direction, and became a jurisdiction, and so continued down till the Reformation. Since that time it has been slowly returning through the intermediate stages of indirect temporal power,–of purely spiritual jurisdiction,–to its original form of direction, at which it now stands. But the root of the matter is the claim to be Christ’s vicar; and till that is torn up, the evil and malignant principle cannot be eradicated. The supremacy may change shapes; it may go into a nutshell, as some philosophers have held the whole universe may do; but it can develope itself as suddenly; and, let the world become favourable, it will speedily shoot up into its former colossal dimensions, overshadowing all earthly jurisdiction, and claiming equality with, if not supremacy above, divine authority. We repeat, according to the modern theory, to go no higher, all Christendom holds its conscience as a fief of the Roman see; and we trust pontifical dignities will forgive the homely metaphor by which we seek to show them the extent of their own power. The governing power in the world is conscience, or whatever else may occupy its place; and he who governs it governs the world. But the pontiff is the infallible and supreme director of conscience. He sits above it, like the driver of a railway train behind his engine. An ingenious apologist might make out a case of limited powers in behalf of the latter, showing how little he has to do with either the course or velocity of the train. “He does not drag the train,” might such say; “he has not power enough to move a single carriage; he but regulates the steam.”Here is the Pope astride his famous ecclesiastical engine, with all the Catholic states of Europe dragging at his heels, and careering along at a great rate. Here is the Bourbon family-coach, which upset so recently, pitching its occupant in the mud, looking as new as it is possible for an old battered vehicle to do by the help of fresh tri-colour paint and varnish; here is the old imperial car which Austria picked up for a trifle when the Caesars had no longer any need for it,–here it is, blazoned with the bloody beak and iron talons of the double-headed eagle; here is the Spanish state-coach, hurtling along in the tawdry and tattered finery of its better days, its wheels worn to their spokes, and its motion made up of but a succession of jerks and bounds; here is the Neapolitan vehicle and the Tuscan vehicle, and others lumbering and crazy; and here, in front, is the famous engine St. Peter, snorting and puffing away; and here is Peter himself as engineer, with superstition for a propelling power, and excommunication for a steam-whistle, and tradition for spectacles, to enable him to keep on the rails of apostolic succession, and prevent his being bogged in heresy. It would be very wrong to say that he drags along this great train. No; he only turns the handle, to let on or shut off the steam; shovels in coals, manages the valves, blows his whistle at times with eldrich screech, and catches at his three-storied cap, which the wind blows off now and then. It is not jurisdiction, but direction, with which he favours the members of his tail: nevertheless, it moves where, when, and as fast as he pleases.

But something in a somewhat more classic vein would doubtless be deemed more befitting the pure and lofty function of the pontiff. The Romanists have exalted their Father, as the Pagans did their Jove, into an empyrean, far above sublunary affairs. In that eternal calm he issues his infallible decisions, thinking, the while, no more of this little ball of earth, or of the angry passions that contend upon it, than if it had yet to be created. Or if at times the thought does cross the pontifical mind that there are such things in the world beneath him as cannon and sabres, and that these are often had recourse to to execute the determinations of infallibility, how can he help it? He must needs discharge his office as the world’s spiritual director; he dare not refrain from pronouncing infallibly on those high questions of duty which are brought before him; and if others will have recourse to material weapons in carrying out his advice, he begs the world to understand that this is not his doing, and that he cannot be justly blamed for it. One cannot but wonder at the admirable distribution of parts among the innumerable actors by whom the play of the Papacy is carried on. From the stage-manager at Rome, to the lowest scene-shifter in Clonmel or Tipperary, each has his place, and keeps it too. When an unhappy monarch is so unfortunate as to incur the displeasure of mother church, the pontiff does not lay a finger upon him; he does not touch a hair of his head; no, not he; he only gives a wink to the bullies who, he knows, are not far off, and whose office it is to do the business; and thus the wretched farce goes.

---

[1] D’Aubigné’s History of the Reformation, vol. i. p. 48. [Back]

[2] Corpus Juris Canonici (Coloniae. 1631), Extravag. Commun. lib. i. tit. viii. cap. i. “Uterque ergo est in potestate ecclesiae, spiritalis, scilicet, gladius, et materialis. Sed is quidem pro ecclesia, ille vero ab ecclesia, exercendus.” [Back]

[3] First taught as an axiom by Thomas Aquinas, in his work against the Greeks; converted into law by Pope Boniface; and attempted to be applied by the same pope in the way of deposing King Philip of France.[Back]

[4] Extravag. Commun. lib. i. tit. viii. cap. i. “Porro subesse Romano pontifici omni humanae creaturae, declaramus, dicimus, finimus, et pronunciamus omnino esse de necessitate salutis .” [Back]

[5] Concil. Lateran. sess. xi. p. 153. [Back]

[6] Baron. anno 57, sec. 23-53. [Back]

[7] Pope Pius V. in bull contra Reg. Eliz., quoted from Barrow. [Back]

[8] Concil. Lateran. sess. x. p. 132. [Back]

[9] See a list of these sovereigns in Free Thoughts on the Toleration of Popery, pp. 50, 51; Edin. 1780. This work is from the pen of the late Professor Bruce of Whitburn. It displays immense research, sound learning, and great eloquence. [Back]

[10] Concil. Rom. vii. apud Bin. tom. vii. p. 491. (Barrow). [Back]

[11] Du Pin, Eccles. Hist. vol. ii. p. 400. [Back]

[12] Bulla Sexti V, contra Hen. Navarr. Rex. (Barrow). [Back]

[13] Bellarm. De Romano Pontifice, lib. v. cap. i.; Cologne edit. 1620. [Back]

[14] Barrow on the Supremacy, Barrow’s Works, vol. i. p. 539; Lond. 1716. [Back]

[15] “Pontificem, ut pontificem, non habere directe et immediate ullam temporalem potestatem, sed solum spiritualem, tamen ratione spiritualis habere saltem indirecte potestatem quamdam, eamque summam, in temporalibus.” (De Rom. Pont. lib. v. cap. i.) “Quantum ad personas, non potest papa, ut papa, ordinarie temporales principes deponere, etiam justa de causa, eo modo, quo deponit episcopos, id est, tamquam ordinarius judex: tamen potest mutare regna, et uni auferre, atque alteri conferre, tamquam summus princeps spiritualis, si id necessarium sit ad animorum salutem.” (Idem, lib. v. cap. vi.) [Back]

[16] “L’exercise d’un pouvoir purement et eminemment spirituel, en vertu duquel ils se croyaient en droit de frapper d’excommunication des princes coupables des certains crimes, sans aucune usurpation materielle, sans aucune suspension de la souverainete, et sans aucune derogation au dogme de son origine divine. . . . Je crois que la verité no se trouve que dans la proposition contraire, savoir, que la puissance dont il s’agit est purement spirituelle.” (Du Pape, liv. ii. chap. viii. pp. 225, 226.) [Back]

[17] Wiseman’s Lectures, lect. viii. pp. 264, 265. [Back]

[18] Guicciardini (May 1851). His story is well known. He is the descendant of the great historian of that name. His ancestors had rendered important services to the Roman see. The present Count Guicciardini has been a Protestant for years; he is of unblemished reputation, has never meddled with politics; and simply for reading Diodati’s Bible with a few fellow-citizens, he was sentenced to die in the poisonous air of the Maremme. He was permitted, however, with six others, to make his escape. [Back]

[19] Du Pape, liv. ii. chap. ix. p. 230. [Back]

[20] Idem, pp. 231, 232. [Back]

[21] Number for April 1851. [Back]

[22] Ratifications were exchanged April 23, 1851. [Back]

[23] Gaceta de Madrid of May 12, 1851. [Back]

[24] June, 1851. [Back]

[25] In December last (1850), Lord Palmerston addressed from the Foreign Office to her Majesty’s representatives abroad, a circular, instructing them to transmit copies of any concordat or equivalent arrangement between the court of Rome and the particular government to which each representative was accredited. The replies form the substance of a Blue Book of about 350 pages, which has recently been published. We extract from the enclosures received by government in January last, from the Hon. Ralph Abercromby, our representative at Turin, the copy of the oath required to be taken by new cardinals in Sardinia. It entirely, and for all governments, settles the question of what a cardinal really is,-proving him to be the sworn emissary, spy, and creature of the court of Rome. He so pledges his allegiance to a foreign prince as palpably to rescind the allegiance due to his own sovereign.

THE CARDINAL’S OATH.

“I,—-, cardinal of the Holy Roman Church, do promise and swear that, from this hour until my life’s end, I will be faithful and obedient unto St. Peter, the Holy Apostolic Roman Church, and our Most Holy Lord the Pope and his successors, canonically and lawfully elected; that I will give no advice, consent, or assistance against the Pontifical Majesty and person; that I will never knowingly and advisedly, to their injury or disgrace, make public the counsels entrusted to me by themselves, or by messengers or letters (from them); also that I will give them any assistance in retaining, defending, and recovering the Roman Papacy and the Regalia of Peter, all my might and endeavour, so far as the rights and privileges of my order will allow it, and will defend against all, their Honour and state; that I will direct and defend, with due favour and honour, the legates and nuncios of the apostolic see, in the territories, churches, monasteries, and other benefices committed to my keeping; that I will cordially co-operate with them, and treat them with Honour in their coming, abiding, and returning; and that I will resist unto blood all persons whatsoever who shall attempt anything against them; that I will by every way, and by every means, strive to preserve, augment, and advance the rights, honours, privileges, the authority of the Holy Roman Bishop our Lord the Pope, and his before-mentioned successors; and that at whatever time anything shall be devised to their prejudice, which it is out of my power to hinder, as soon as I shall know that any steps or measures have been taken (in the matter), I will make it known to the same our Lord, or his before-mentioned successors, or to some other person by whose means it may be brought to their knowledge. “That I will keep and carry out, and cause others to keep and carry out, the rules of the Holy Fathers, the decrees, ordinances, dispensations, reservations, provisions, apostolical mandates, and constitutions, of the Holy Pontiff Sixtus, of happy memory, as to visiting the thresholds of the apostles, at certain prescribed times according to the tenor of that which I have just read through.

“That I will seek out and oppose (persecute and fight against?)* heretics, schismatics, against the same our Lord the Pope and his before-mentioned successors, with every possible effort. When sent for, from whatever cause, by the same our Most Holy Lord, and his before-mentioned successors, that I will set out to present myself before them, or, being hindered by a legitimate impediment, will send some one to make my excuses; and that I will pay them due reverence and obedience. That I will by no means sell, bestow away, or pledge, or give away in fee, or otherwise alienate, without the advice and knowledge of the Bishop of Rome, even with the consent of the said chapters, convents, churches, monasteries, and benefices, the possessions set apart for the maintenance of the churches, monasteries, and other benefices committed to my keeping, or in any way belonging to them. That I will for ever maintain the constitution of the blessed Pius V., which begins ‘Admonet,’ and is dated from Rome on the 4th of the calends of April, of the year of our Lord’s incarnation 1567, and the second of his pontificate; together with the declarations of the holy pontiffs his successors, particularly of Pope Innocent IX., dated at Rome the day before the nones of November, of the year of our Lord’s incarnation 1591, of the first of his pontificate, and of Clement VIII. of happy memory, dated at Rome on the 16th of the calends of March, in the year 1592, and the tenth of his pontificate, on the subject (in the matter) of not giving away in fee or alienating the cities and places of the Holy Roman Church. Also, I promise and swear to keep for ever inviolate the decrees and incorporations made by the same Clement VIII. on the 26th day of June of the before-mentioned year 1592, on the 2d day of November 1592, and on the 19th of January and the 11th day of February 1698, in the matter of the city of Ferrara and the whole duchy thereof, as well as respecting all other cities whatsoever, and places recovered by him, and which fell in by the death of Alphonso, of happy memory, the last Duke of Ferrara, or otherwise to the Holy Roman Church and apostolic see. Also the decrees and incorporations made by Urban VIII. of happy memory, on the 12th day of May 1631, respecting the cities of Urbino, Eugubio, Carlii, Jorisempronium, of the whole duchy of Urbino, as well as in the matters of the cities of Pisauri, Sinogallia, S. Leo, the state of Monte Feltro, the vicariate of Mondovi, and of the other cities and places whatsoever recovered by and having devolved to the Holy Roman Apostolic Church by the death of Francis Maria, the last duke, or otherwise. Also the decree of incorporation made in Consistory on the 20th day of December 1660, by Alexander VII. of happy memory, in the matter of the duchy of Castri and the state of Roncilioni, and other places, lands, and properties sold to the Apostolic Chamber by Raimuntius, duke of Parma; and the constitution of the same Alexander VII. of happy memory, with the reason of, and allocation upon, the decree for incorporations of this kind, published on the 24th of January 1660, together with the confirmation, innovation, extension, and declaration of the other decrees and constitutions of the holy pontiffs, issued in prohibition of parting with them in fee; and in no way and at no time, either directly or indirectly, whatever cause, colour, or occasion, even of evident necessity or utility may present itself, to act against them or to give advice, counsel, or consent against them in any way; but, on the contrary, always and constantly to dissent from, oppose, and reveal every device and practice against them, whatever may come to my knowledge by myself or by any messenger, immediately to his Holiness, or his successors, lawfully entering, under the penalties (in case of neglect or disobedience) contained in the said constitutions, or any other heavier ones that it may seem fit to his Holiness and his before-mentioned successors (to inflict). . . . . I will not seek absolution from any of the foregoing articles, but reject it if it should be offered me (or in no way accept it when offered). So help me God and these most holy gospels.”

*This double translation stands so in the Parliamentary Book: the original is omni conatu persecuturum et impugnaturum. [Back]

[26] See chap. ii. [Back]

Continued in Chapter VI. The Canon Law

All chapters History of the Papacy