CHAPTER XIV

THE RESTORATION

In the brief of suppression Clement XIV. had enumerated a series of religious congregations which the papacy had abolished on account of their decay. Most of these had faded from the memory even of ecclesiastics. Their members had bowed to the papal command, and either directed their steps to some other religious body or quietly enjoyed the pensions allotted them out of their property. But there can have been little expectation that the members of the Society of Jesus, who were especially pledged to obey the Pope, would submit to the sentence passed on them. They would, in some form, await the toll of the bells over the remains of Clement XIV., and, if necessary, over the remains of the Catholic monarchs. The form which their resistance actually took, however, was more audacious than their keenest critic could have anticipated. They persuaded two non-Catholic rulers to prevent the publication of the brief in their dominions, persuaded themselves that by this device they escaped the heavy spiritual penalties laid on rebels by the brief, and flouted every command of the Pope and his representatives to change at least their name and costume.

So much has been written on the conduct of Frederick the Great and Catherine in patronising the Jesuits that we do not share the astonishment of contemporaries. In his correspondence with the free-thinker D'Alembert at Paris, Frederick lightly advances one reason after another for his action. He scouted D'Alembert's warnings. The Pope had "pared the claws" of the dangerous animals; he had "cut off the tails of the foxes," and they could not again carry torches into the cornfields of the Philistines. On the other hand, they were excellent teachers, and it was immaterial to Frederick what orders the Pope gave about their costume and domestic arrangements. Pressed more seriously, he pleaded that when he annexed Silesia he had solemnly pledged himself to respect the religious _status quo_, and he was bound in honour to leave the Jesuits there, since they were part of the situation he had sworn to respect. Even this ostensibly serious argument was too ridiculous to satisfy his friends. A Protestant ruler swearing to respect the Catholic arrangements naturally supposes that he is to do so only as long as the head of the Church desires. The truth is that, in the first place, the Jesuits provided his State with a comparatively good scheme of education without cost to his treasury; and, since they could have taught just as effectively whether or no they continued to call themselves Jesuits, it is further clear that Frederick deliberately protected and encouraged their rebellion in order to secure a larger service from them than merely teaching arithmetic. They were, as they had so often done for Catholic monarchs in outlying dominions, to teach loyalty to Prussia and disarm rebels. Add the fact that the Inquisition had put his writings on the Index, and the Vatican had obstinately refused to recognise his royal title, so that he was not indisposed to annoy Rome, and we have a sufficient explanation of his conduct.

Until the year 1740 Prussia had remained almost entirely Protestant, so that it now almost makes its first appearance in the chronicle of the Jesuits. A small Catholic community existed here and there, but there was little proselytism, and there was not even a Catholic bishop. In 1742 Frederick won Silesia from Austria, and thus included in his dominions a large and disaffected Catholic population. As D'Alembert reminded Frederick, the Jesuits had done all in their power to hinder his occupation of Silesia, and they long continued to foster the Catholic wish to return to Austria. They were, he said in his _Testament Politique_ (1751), "the most dangerous of all monks," and "fanatically attached to Austria." But they were a mighty power in Silesia. The Breslau University and nearly all the schools were under their control, and a large proportion of the population, having passed through their schools or enjoyed their ministration, were vehemently attached to them. Frederick decided that they must remain, and be watched carefully. In 1746 he examined their system of education and advised them to send for a number of French Jesuits, who would raise their standard. We can quite believe that their schools needed improvement, but Frederick had another advantage in view. A leaven of French Jesuits would help to counteract the Austrian bias.

Silesia was still in this condition when, in the year 1772, the Jesuits found themselves fighting for the life of their Society. Frederick had privately written that it "ought to be rooted out of the whole world," and ten years before he had seriously considered a proposal to expel the Jesuits from his dominions. It now, apparently, occurred to him that he had a splendid opportunity of conciliating Catholic Silesia and destroying the pro-Austrian sentiment. Joseph II. had abandoned the Jesuits to their enemies; Frederick of Prussia would espouse their cause, and not allow his subjects to be robbed of their ministers. We saw that the Jesuit General was well informed as to his attitude, and asked him to pose openly as protector of the Society. He probably answered that, while a Protestant dare not interfere in the discussions at Rome, he would keep the doors of Prussia open to them. When the brief of suppression appeared, he forbade the bishops to publish it in Silesia, and he offered General Ricci and his colleagues the hospitality of his dominions.

From that moment Frederick smiled at the anger of Rome and of the Catholic nations. The cynical humour of his attitude does not concern us, but the behaviour of the Jesuits themselves is a grave chapter in their history. At first, with their wonted casuistry, they declared that the brief was not binding, as it had not been addressed personally. When this supposed canonical irregularity was ridiculed, they, as I have said, pleaded that Frederick conscientiously believed himself bound to maintain the _status quo_, that he therefore refused to allow them to change their name, and that the interest of religion forbade them to ignore the commands of a powerful secular monarch. They were warned by their own colleagues in Italy that this hypocritically veiled rebellion was of itself a strong justification of Clement's indictment of the Society; they were reminded by the papal Nuncio at Warsaw that they had in fact incurred the penalties specified in the brief. Of all these warnings they took not the least notice, and the Catholic world had the singular spectacle of a band of priests who were understood to be the Pope's body-guard sheltering from his anathemas behind the shield of a free-thinker. Indeed, they went further, and, cynically ignoring their plea that they must obey their monarch, they sought to use Prussia for maintaining or restoring the full organisation of the Society. The Prussian representative at London helped them to communicate with the ex-Jesuits of England, and they proposed that a Congregation should be held at Breslau and a Vicar-General of the Society elected, as Ricci was still in S. Angelo. The English ex-Jesuits were, however, too scattered and helpless to join with them.

The Nuncio had reported to Clement that it would be unsafe to take drastic action, as Frederick would be inspired to retaliate. It was therefore directed that the bishops should refuse to ordain their growing members or give the usual spiritual powers, and the Jesuits felt that a serious situation would arise. With their Catholic flocks they had little difficulty. Clement XIV. was represented as a corrupt pontiff who had purchased the tiara by a simoniacal promise to destroy the Society, and who now wandered, almost insane, about the galleries of the Vatican moaning and crying: "I did it under compulsion." But they could not live long without the co-operation of the bishops, and an envoy was sent to Rome, in the name of Frederick, to arrange a compromise. They were to change their name and dress, modify their domestic arrangements as little as could be helped, and continue in their houses and colleges.

At this juncture, on 22nd September 1774, Clement XIV. died. He was in his seventieth year and had a chronic ailment (piles). The strain of the last four years and an acute disappointment in regard to the return of Avignon, Benevento, and Ponte Corvo had deeply affected his health. In April, moreover, he had been caught in a shower of rain, and, although he seemed to recover in the early summer, his condition became grave in July. By the end of August the succession to the papal throne was openly discussed. He sank slowly and continuously during the month of September, and died on the 22nd. It does not seem necessary to examine minutely the rumour that he was poisoned. His illness cannot be regarded as other than natural, and the repulsive details about the corpse which are given in St. Priest seem to be an echo of Roman gossip. If we decline to accept popular stories concerning Clement's mental condition--his administration is to the end marked by great sobriety and prudence--we must also decline to consider these rumours of poison. The two physicians declared that the death and the condition of the corpse were, in a sultry September, natural. It would hardly require much extension of Jesuit principles to sanction the poisoning of Clement XIV.; historically, however, we have not very serious ground to charge them with the crime.

On 15th February 1775 Pius VI. ascended the papal throne. The power and attitude of the Catholic monarchs was still such that there could be little chance of restoring the Society, and it seemed safe to admit a pope who was well disposed toward the ex-Jesuits. It was to Pius VI. that the Prussian envoy made his proposals, and they were gladly admitted. Directions were issued that the bishops of Silesia might grant powers to former members of "the extinct Society," and they entered upon a new phase of their rebellion. Instead of welcoming this regularisation of their position, they complained that Frederick had "gone over to their enemies" (the bishops), as he really had. In the course of the year 1776 the Silesian Jesuits were practically secularised. They were forced to abandon their costume, depose their superiors, and hand over their property to the State in exchange for a salary. They still lived in communities and enjoyed a certain immunity from episcopal control, but they were now "Priests of the Royal Scholastic Institute."

Frederick invited other ex-Jesuits to join his Institute, and a salary of 700 florins a year was assigned to each. In this condition the hundred ex-Jesuits continued to control education in Silesia, and quarrel with the secular clergy, until Frederick died in 1786. When the bishops objected to the fathers living in community, Frederick genially replied that at Rome one hundred and twenty of these ex-Jesuits were living in community, and he might be permitted to imitate the indulgence of the Pope. He remained to the end proud of his economical system of education and his triumph over the Papacy. His successor modified the Institute in some respects, but the changes were slight until the year 1800, when it was converted into the "Royal Prussian Catholic School Direction" and lay teachers were admitted to it. That was the end of one of the most famous and curious rebellions against the Papacy.

Some of the discontented ex-Jesuits passed in 1800 from Silesia to Russia, and we must now retrace our steps to consider the equally remarkable rebellion of the Jesuits in that country. Catherine II. had, like Frederick, sound political reason to patronise the Jesuits. In August 1772 Prussia, Russia, and Austria took the fragments of Poland which they had long coveted, and Catherine entered Polish Livonia and Lithuania with her troops. The ancient kingdom had decayed, as we saw, in proportion to the prosperity of the Jesuits, and it suffered the dismemberment with the impotent anger of an aged man. When the schismatical Catherine came to claim their allegiance, the Catholic clergy generally stood aloof in patriotic sullenness until the Jesuits took the lead. The admirable excuse is made for them that they were indifferent to politics and terrestrial arrangements of government, and recognised only a duty to obey the sovereign who actually held power. In point of fact, they knew that Poland had not the faintest hope of evading its hard destiny, and they hastened to greet the new ruler.

Catherine's searching eye at once realised the situation. These two hundred Polish Jesuits had an immense influence over her million and a half new subjects, and their advances must be met generously. Peter the Great had excluded Jesuits from Russia for ever; Catherine at once decreed that this prohibition was repealed as far as her Polish dominion was concerned, and she expressed a flattering admiration of their colleges. Her feeling was, obviously, that they would prove excellent teachers of loyalty to the Poles, but within a few months the Society was abolished by Clement and a new situation arose. Playing one of those little comedies which adorn their annals, the Polish Jesuits addressed to their new sovereign a most respectful entreaty that she would permit them to obey the command of the Pope. There is no doubt that this letter, which is reproduced with admiration in complimentary histories of the Jesuits, is genuine; it is, however, not explained how the Jesuits would lessen their usefulness to Catherine by changing their name and costume, and why they needed this imperial permission to make a change which did not concern her.

Catherine and the Jesuits had enough in common to understand each other. They wished her to forbid them to obey the Pope, and they would prove grateful. Catherine at once refused to allow them to change their names and their coats, and they reported to Rome that the secular power forbade them to comply with the brief, and, in the interest of religion, they must obey her. The situation was so scandalous, since the Papal Nuncio insisted on the dissolution of the province, that some of the more scrupulous of the fathers were abandoning their houses and seeking secularisation. To meet these secessions a letter from Clement to the Bishop of Warmie (an ex-Jesuit) was published, and in this letter Clement was represented as approving the existence of the Society in Russia. Although this letter is reproduced seriously by the French historian of the Society, it is a flagrant forgery. Clement and his Nuncio protested to the end against the position of the Polish Jesuits, and the course of the story will show that they themselves took no serious notice of this supposed authorisation. It is not the only untruth we shall have to trace to them.

When Pius VI. was elected, they at once applied to him for counsel in their difficult situation, but the representatives of France and Spain were closely watching the new Pope, and he did not venture or deign to reply. Their uncanonical position was now causing the Jesuits the same concern about the future as it had given their colleagues in Prussia, and Catherine made a direct application to Rome for a remedy of their inconvenience. The Pope thought that he might escape the importunities of the ambassadors by conferring on the Bishop of Mohilow full power to deal with the fathers. This friendly prelate had, no doubt, been suggested by them, as he at once granted them the desired permission to establish a house for novices. To complete the comedy, the Pope, through his Secretary of State, protested that he had not contemplated this step when the representatives of France and Spain complained. The Jesuits paid no heed to his diplomatic protest, opened the novitiate, and entertained Catherine herself at their new foundation.

The powers of the Bishop of Mohilow had now served their purpose, and the Jesuits asked Catherine to curtail them and permit them to elect a General as their constitutions directed. Catherine (in 1782) issued a ukase in accordance with their wish, but the bishop was alienated by their duplicity, and he appealed to the Senate and secured an order that the Jesuits were to obey him. Strong in the favour of the Empress and of Prince Potemkin, the Jesuits ignored the decree of the Senate, and went on to elect a Vicar-General and Assistants. In order to obtain papal indulgence of this conduct they induced Catherine to send the ex-Jesuit Bishop Benislawski to Rome. Pius VI. dare not issue a written authorisation of their position--another proof that the letter of Clement was a forgery--but Benislawski reported that the Pope had said emphatically to him: "I approve the Society in White Russia. I approve it." Again the French historian reproduces this statement unreservedly as fact. But the mendacious bishop was so indiscreet as to make his statement before he left Rome and have it published at Florence, and the Pope indignantly denied it. The bishop was ordered to leave Rome, and, as Theiner shows, Pius VI. issued two briefs denying that he had approved the Society (29th January and 20th February). M. Crétineau-Joly seems to prefer to think that it was the Pope who lied.

To the remote wilds of Lithuania the Roman quarrel had little chance of penetrating, and Bishop Benislawski presently returned with the happy assurance that the Pope approved their position; the monarchs prevented him from issuing a brief, but he sent this oral message to justify the fathers in their consciences. The lie was propagated among the ex-Jesuits of Europe, and many of them abandoned their pensions or positions and made their way to Russia. It seems that there were other features of the Society retained besides the art of mental reservation. Crétineau-Joly generously observes that after 1785 the Russian fathers "construct cloth-factories, a printing press, and all that is necessary for such exploitations": a complete business-system, in other words. It is remarkable that even in these circumstances, when they were pressing for a restoration of their Society, the Jesuits would not abandon their improper practices.

The death of Catherine in 1796 did not affect the position of the fathers. She had entrusted the education of her son to Father Gruber, one of the ablest members of the Society in Russia, and when Paul came to the throne he declared that he would maintain the patronage which his mother had given to the Society. It is true that Paul gave them some concern from the beginning. The Vatican had now so far reconciled itself to the anomalous situation as to take advantage itself of the influence of the Jesuits and send a Nuncio to St. Petersburg. The Russian laws strictly forbade proselytism, as it is important to realise. Paul, like Catherine, tolerated the Jesuits only on condition that they ministered to their co-religionists, educated youth, and made no effort to disturb the faith of members of the Greek Church. Under these conditions he regarded them as a useful aid in carrying out the national reforms which had been initiated by Peter the Great. But Paul was tempted to interfere in the spiritual government of his Catholic subjects, and, when the Nuncio politely protested, the autocrat bade him leave Russia. Gruber tactfully mediated between the two, and the Nuncio was allowed to return. One is almost tempted to think that Gruber, an exceedingly astute Jesuit, arranged the quarrel for the purpose of mediating, as we find him afterwards speaking of the "debt" of the Holy See to him and his colleagues, and a very remarkable understanding between the _zelanti_ cardinals and the irregular Jesuits can be traced at this time.

Pius VI. died in 1799, refusing with his last breath to disturb the Church in Europe by sanctioning the Jesuits, even in Russia. After his death the Venetian senator Rezzonico was sent by the ultramontane party to St. Petersburg to ask the protection of Paul for the forthcoming conclave; and the only meaning we can attach to this embassy is that the schismatical Tsar was to counteract the intimidation of the Catholic monarchs and enable the cardinals to elect a pope who would restore the Society. By this time the French Revolution had run its tragic course, and the ex-Jesuits were loudly proclaiming everywhere that it was the natural development of the forces which had demanded the suppression of the Society; that, if these wild and devastating forces were not to wreck civilisation in Europe, they must be recalled to put a check on them. There was a growing disposition to listen to their plausible sermon, or at least to perceive that if the Jesuits were restored on condition that they checked the new spirit, they might prove a powerful auxiliary to the legitimate monarchs. The Bourbons had been swept from France; Charles III. had gone the way of his fathers and D'Aranda was powerless; Naples was beginning to desire a fence of Jesuits to protect itself from the northern pestilence.

The Tsar was greatly flattered by the proposal that he should assert his power in the metropolis of Christendom, but it is difficult to find that he had any material influence. Portugal and Austria alone still resisted the design of restoring the Society, and Austria was fully occupied in meeting the troops of Napoleon. Hence the cardinals had little difficulty in securing the election of Chiaramonti, who, as Bishop of Tivoli, had openly expressed his reluctance to carry out the brief of suppression. Pius VII. was now a feeble and retiring old man, a former member of the Benedictine Order: a strange figure to place upon a throne which was presently to be exposed to such violent storms. But Napoleon was not yet Emperor, and the Papacy was still a quiet and puzzled spectator of the extraordinary developments in Europe. Within six months of his election Pius VII. received from the Tsar a pressing request for the approval of the Society, and on 7th March 1801 he solemnly recognised its existence in Russia. We shall see presently that the Russian fathers had already, with the connivance of Pius VI., sent a colony into Parma, at the request of the duke, and that various groups of thinly disguised Jesuits had appeared in different parts of Europe. The Jesuits had now a substantial hope of recovering their power.

We have already seen that the Jesuits were not in the least chastened by their severe punishment, and the position of Gruber at the Russian court is an interesting illustration of this. He had much the same relation to Paul I. as La Chaise to Louis XIV. or Lamormaini to the Emperor. Matters of pure Russian politics were submitted to him, and he was hated and flattered by the Russian courtiers. Indeed, about 1800 we find him engaged in just such an intrigue as the older Jesuits loved. Napoleon wished to detach the Tsar from his English alliance, and was rapidly developing the idea of his middle career--the proposal to divide Europe between the thrones of France and of Russia. He wrote confidentially to Gruber, artfully suggesting that a co-operation with his plan would be to the advantage of the Society, and Gruber, who could see the future of Napoleon, entered zealously into his part. One wonders whether the history of Europe might not have run differently if Napoleon had followed up this idea, and restored the Society of Jesus as the chief element of his "spiritual gendarmery." On the other hand, Paul instructed his representatives in the Near East to obtain access for the Jesuits, and the first step was taken in the restoration of the foreign missions.

Paul died in the spring of 1801, and the warier Alexander came to the throne. He quietly assured the fulsome Jesuits that he approved and would maintain the Russian patronage of the Society, but it is clear that he kept a more critical eye on their conduct than his predecessors had done. And the fathers now embarked on enterprises which it was certainly expedient to watch. Paul had assigned to the Jesuits the Roman Catholic church at St. Petersburg, and to this church was attached the privilege of opening a school. In the course of 1801 and 1802 some of the ablest fathers were sent there from the chief centre at Polotzk, and a school for the sons of the nobles was opened and obtained large numbers of pupils, Russian and Catholic. There also appeared at St. Petersburg, as Sardinian envoy, the famous French writer, Joseph de Maistre, who was at that time in his first fervent admiration of the Society which he knew so little. Whether or no the Jesuits had secured this appointment, he proved a valuable auxiliary. There was as yet, under the able leadership of Gruber, no cause for dissatisfaction. In the new provinces which Alexander was developing the Jesuits worked devotedly and usefully among the colonists; the great Tsar had no more zealous and effective apostles of loyalty. In the schools, also, their teaching was irreproachable. Provision was made even for the training of the youths in the doctrines of the Greek Church.

The work of the restoration of the Society proceeded smoothly. In October 1801 the older fathers had met in Congregation and elected Gruber General of the Society. From this month we may plausibly date the restoration of the Society, since its former members were free, and were invited, to come from all parts of Europe and place themselves under the authority of Gruber. In the summer of 1803 Gruber sent a father to Rome, "to watch the interests" of the Society. Being a member of an authorised body, he retained his costume, flaunted it in the eyes of the astonished Romans, and visited the Vatican in it. Men felt that the ghost would soon be followed by a resurrection. In the following summer Gruber received from the Pope a genial notification that Ferdinand of the Two Sicilies desired to have a number of fathers for the education of youth in his kingdom, and Pius was willing to oblige him. On 6th August 1804 the Society was restored in the Two Sicilies. In the meantime other Societies which were more or less secretly Jesuit, and various communities of ex-Jesuits in different parts of Europe, were returning to the obedience of the General, but we will dismiss the Russian episode before dealing with these.

In the year 1805 Gruber lost his life in a fire, and the Russian Society fell under a less astute leader. Father Bzrozowski was elected General, and for a few years he was content with a quiet development of the policy of his predecessor. In 1811, however, he requested the Tsar to raise their chief college at Polotzk to the rank of a university, and allow it to control all the schools maintained by the Society. This would remove them from the control of the Minister of Cults, and make them an integral part of the system of education under the Minister of Public Instruction; it would also emancipate their schools from the control of the St. Petersburg or the Vilna University. Alexander seemed to be impressed by their specious argument that a healthy rivalry would raise the standard of education, and their promise that _their_ education would be both cheaper and sounder (less liberal and cosmopolitan) than the purely Russian. But the proposal raised the first great storm against the Jesuits in Russia. For some time there had been a growing resentment against them. Russian nobles and officials and priests angrily recalled the power which a Jesuit priest had had at the court, and lamented the growth of Roman Catholicism. The Jesuits retorted that they had not received a single one of their pupils into the Roman Church; it will appear that they had discreetly sent to other priests the pupils in whose minds they had sown the seeds of conversion.

Then Joseph de Maistre took up his eloquent pen in their behalf and the battle was won. In 1812 the Polotzk college was raised to the rank of a university, and began to educate the sons of noble or wealthy Russians. In the course of time there were as many as two hundred noble youths, of the Greek faith, sitting on its benches, and, as usual, the interest of the fathers in their pupils led to a respectful concern about their mothers and sisters. It was noticed that many were received into the Roman Church: though never by Jesuits. European politics had for some years distracted the attention of the Tsar, but the critics of the Society had in 1812 received a powerful reinforcement in the shape of agents of the English Bible Society. Alexander was at war with Napoleon and in close alliance with England, and the Bible Society took advantage of the political situation to enter St. Petersburg. They brought a rich supply of information about the Jesuits and stimulated the vigilance of the Russians. The mysterious growth of secessions to Rome since the opening of the Jesuit college for nobles in the capital led to fiery discussions.

At last, in 1814, the young Prince Galitzin, nephew of the Minister of Instruction of that name, joined the Church of Rome. He was in his sixteenth year, and had been attending the Jesuit classes for two years. His uncle, a stern critic of the Jesuits, now entered upon a violent campaign against the Society, and the city rang with denunciation of their secret machinations. It was discovered that the real number of conversions to Rome had been concealed, as the converts had been instructed to practise their new religion only in secret. There was an intense agitation, and the Jesuits thought it prudent to close their schools to all but the sons of Roman Catholics. It was too late. Priests and professors maintained the stormy agitation and nervously endeavoured to unveil the secret Catholics.

In the midst of this agitation Alexander returned from France, after the final defeat of Napoleon, and both parties appealed to him. His answer was a _ukase_, issued in December, sternly ordering the Jesuits to close their schools and quit St. Petersburg. In cold and measured language he recalled that they had been admitted on the strict understanding that they were not to proselytise, and he denounced their "breach of confidence." They were expelled for ever from St. Petersburg and Moscow, and in the Catholic Provinces they were to return to the subject condition they had had up to the year 1800. On the night of 20th-21st December the police entered their colleges and read the Tsar's order. On the following day they were compelled to abandon the noble ladies of St. Petersburg, and, in the depth of winter, set out on the long sledge-ride to Polotzk. Alexander kindly provided them with furs and directed that they should be treated with consideration, but he was convinced of their guilt. In a later letter, indeed, the General admits that some of the fathers had been making converts among the ladies of the capital; and the Jesuit maxims in regard to truthfulness are such that we may question whether this was done without his knowledge, as he says, and may be pardoned if we entirely ignore the assurance of the Jesuits that they had nothing to do with the numerous conversions of their pupils. Not only the general law of Russia, but a special imperial decree of the year 1803 forbade proselytism, and this decree had been forced on the attention of the Jesuits. "For the greater glory of God" they had once more trampled upon a strict and honourable human engagement.

Bzrozowski died five years afterwards, and they appealed for permission to elect another General. By this time, as we shall see, the Society had been restored, and the Italians were impatiently awaiting the death of the Russian General, but Alexander spared them the evil of a schism in the Society. It was reported to him that the Jesuits continued to break their engagement. Prince Galitzin drew up a long memoir in which he showed that they had been busy proselytising, sometimes with violence, since 1801; the local authorities had had to restrain them in some of the outlying provinces. They had, he alleged, told their converts in the capital to continue externally to observe the Greek religion, as the Pope had given permission for them to do so. They had continued to proselytise among their pupils and among the soldiers in Lithuania and in the other provinces, and they managed their estates so unskilfully or so unjustly that swarms of their peasants wandered as mendicants over the roads of Russia. We cannot control these statements. The memoir was printed and published by the imperial authorities, and the Jesuits were ordered to evacuate Russian territory. From their estates and princely colleges in Lithuania and Livonia, as well as from the poor colonies in the Caucusus and Siberia, where many of them had worked in the finer spirit of the Society, they sadly turned their faces toward the west from which they had been driven.

The third element in the restoration of the Society takes us back to the year 1794, when a few young priests, refugees from revolutionary France, attempt in Belgium to set up a purified Jesuitism under another name. The most prominent was the Abbé Count de Broglie (son of the famous marshal). He and a few others discussed a plan of covertly embodying the principles of Ignatius in a new society, and consulted some of the ex-Jesuits. Father Pey, of Louvain, became their director, and in February 1794 they took possession of a country house given them by a Louvain banker and entitled themselves the "Congregation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus." Two nobles from the "emigrant" regiment joined them, but the six recluses were presently swept out of Belgium by the army of the French Republic, and they made their way on foot--the Society was to be restored on its purest models--to Augsburg. A few more were added to their number, and simple vows were taken. Ex-Jesuits watched them with interest, and they sought to be admitted to the Russian Society. Then they were minded to go to Rome, as Ignatius and his companions had done, and offer their services to the Pope, but the French blocked the way and soon forced them to fly to Vienna.

They were now seventeen in number, and they induced a score of refugee bishops to appeal to the Pope for his approval of the Congregation. Meantime they founded a novitiate at Prague and a house at Hagenbrunn, near Vienna. The whole structure of the late Society of Jesus was copied, and the studies were re-established. At last, in 1798, the Vienna Nuncio brought them to the notice of the Pope. They had not forgotten the counsel of Ignatius to cultivate wealthy ladies, and the Emperor's sister, the Archduchess Marianne, was an ardent supporter. Pius VI. was, however, as we saw, not bold enough to restore the Society, or the times were not yet ripe. He expressed a warm interest in the community and suggested that they should enter into relations with a similar body, the "Society of the Faith," which had been founded in Italy.

The ex-Jesuit Caravita at Rome had amongst his followers an enterprising young man named Paccanari, the ambitious son of a Tyrolese tailor. Paccanari was the leader of a group of young men who, under the inspiration of Caravita, went out to visit the sick and instruct the ignorant, as the early Jesuits had done. They presently formed a "Society of the Faith of Jesus," and, to make their meaning plainer, adopted the costume and constitutions of the ex-Jesuits. The Roman authorities demanded a slight change in their costume, but otherwise connived at their growth. It was 1798: Louis and Charles III. were dead, and the aristocratic world was sighing for a Jesuit bridle on revolution. At the end of that year they opened a novitiate at Spoleto, took the three vows, and added a fourth vow to obey the Pope. The Pope needed a special regiment just as much as he had done in the days of Luther. The new pestilence from the north had descended upon Italy, and Pius VI. was in exile at Florence. Paccanari visited him, with the connivance of the Pope's ex-Jesuit secretary, and told him of the "Fathers of the Faith" who had enlisted in his special service. Pius approved, and told Paccanari that a similar body already existed in Austria.

In the early months of 1799 Paccanari set out for Vienna, to explore the rival community and see if it could be brought under his authority. His voyage through the Austrian dominions taught him how ripe the time was for such an enterprise, as prelates and ex-Jesuits received him with gladness. At Padua the Count San Bonifacio (an ex-Jesuit) provided a house for ten of his companions; at Venice the higher clergy caressed him. The only feature that restrained the enthusiasm of the old Jesuits was that Paccanari hinted that the Society had become corrupt and it was necessary to build again on the primitive foundation. In their view Europe was again prepared for political Jesuitry, and there was no need to go through the laborious preliminary stages of nursing the sick and travelling afoot. At Vienna the new Emperor, Francis II., received him graciously, and the Archduchess Marianne contracted a lasting regard for him.

The energy and ability of Paccanari soon removed the hesitations of the Sacred Heartists; they abandoned their name, fused with the Society of the Faith, and repeated their vows to Paccanari as their superior. A regular Province was now constituted, with Father Sineo as Provincial, and Paccanari went on to visit Prague, where the Archduchess and the novitiate were. Here the ambitious youth made the first mistake of his singular career. Ignatius had strictly enjoined that the Jesuit order should never have a feminine branch, as so many of the religious orders had, but the Archduchess and other noble dames were so devoted to the new enterprise that Paccanari permitted or persuaded them to take vows and promise obedience to the General of the Society of the Faith. Many of the ex-Jesuits now regarded him as an innovator and began to watch his career with distrust. He found many wealthy patrons, however, and little colonies were sent to England (to which I will refer later), France, and Holland. There were in a few years several hundred members of the new Society, and, as the Russian Jesuits had now been recognised by Pius VII., Paccanari was urged to combine with them.

He refused, or procrastinated, and from that time the members of his Society began to abandon their obedience to him and seek incorporation in the genuine order. The Archduchess clung to Paccanari for many years, and the prestige of her association won respect for him. At Rome, where she and her companions had turned her palace into a convent, she bought a house and church for her esteemed director, and he set up a community of thirty fathers under the eyes of the papal authorities. He was now at open war with the ex-Jesuits, who swarmed at Rome, and, when they slighted his title of General, he retorted that the brief approving the Society in Russia had been extorted from Pius VII. He might now have accepted the idea of fusion, but the Russian General, to secure his authority, insisted that he would only admit the Paccanarists--as they were popularly called--singly, and would not entertain the idea of a corporate union. Paccanari fought resolutely for his fading authority. In 1803 the London Fathers of the Faith deserted him and transferred their obedience to Gruber. In 1804 the more numerous French fathers renounced his authority and joined the Russians; in the same year the Society was restored at Naples, and many of the Paccanarists joined it. The Pope remained indulgent to the falling "General," in consideration of his archiducal friend, and his Society lingered in Italy, Austria, and, especially, Holland. At last definite charges were formulated against Paccanari, probably by the older Jesuits, and the would-be reformer was committed to the papal prison for a luxury of manners that was inconsistent with his professions. He was released by the French troops when they invaded Rome, but his prestige had gone, and, flying to the hills from his Jesuit persecutors, the second Ignatius perished ignobly at the hands of brigands. The Society of Jesus was formally restored soon afterwards, and the Paccanarists threw off their thin disguise and joined it.

We have already seen the various steps by which the restoration of the Society was prepared in Italy. In 1793, Ferdinand of Parma had boldly invited the Russians to send him some Jesuits for the education of youth in the Duchy, and Pius VI. had genially closed his eyes when they set up five colleges and began to attract old members of the Society. Then came the French campaign in Italy and a more bitter resentment than ever of the new spirit which was invading Europe and shaking the legitimate thrones. In 1804, when it was realised that Napoleon had destroyed the pestilential Republic only to set up an even more dangerous power, Ferdinand of Sicily applied to General Gruber for a band of Jesuits to instil "sound" ideas into the minds of his subjects. Then came Austerlitz, and a French army was set free to put Joseph Bonaparte on the throne of the Two Sicilies. Once more the Jesuits had to fly from Naples with their protecting King (and, especially, their protecting Queen), but the presence of the English fleet confined the French to the mainland and the Jesuits of Sicily were unassailable. In a few years they attained enormous wealth and power, and it would not be unjust to connect the long somnolence of that beautiful island with the profound influence the Jesuits had on it in the first half of the nineteenth century.

In 1809 it was the Pope's turn to quail before this terrible incarnation of the new spirit. The Papal States were annexed, and Pius VII. set out for four years of bitter exile. He returned in 1813, and saw the allies closing round the falling monarch. In the spring of the following year Napoleon abdicated, and the restored monarchs set about the task of deleting the past twenty years from the history of Europe, and stamping out the last sparks of the liberalism which was understood to have led to the French Revolution. It was the moment for restoring the Society of Jesus. The monarchs who had pressed for its abolition were dead, the new generation had never realised its power and irregularities, and the Jesuits themselves had for twenty years confidently proclaimed that the terrors Europe had experienced were the direct result of taking from them the education of the young and the spiritual guidance of the adult. This fallacy was promptly answered, and need not detain us. The Revolution was due to the maintenance of mediæval injustices in a more enlightened age, and the Jesuits, with all their power over kings, had never uttered a syllable of condemnation of those old abuses. We shall see that they lent all their recovered influence to the task of maintaining them even in the nineteenth century.

The truth is that the restoration of the Jesuits was an act of the Papacy for which there was no justification in Catholic opinion. In the bull _Sollicitudo_, which contrasts so poorly with the reasoned and virile brief of Clement XIV., Pius VII. ventured to say that he was complying with "the unanimous demand of the Catholic world." This was, as the Pope knew, wholly untrue. Spain alone, of the great Powers--if we might still call her great--was interested in the restoration. Austria and France had no wish to see the Jesuits restored, and would not suffer them to return to power when the Pope willed it; Portugal protested vehemently against the restoration. Pius VII. acted on his own feeling and that of petty monarchs like the Kings of Sardinia and Naples. He believed that the Jesuits would be the most effective agency for rooting out what remained of liberalism and revolution. He initiated that close alliance between the Society and reaction which has been the disastrous blunder of the Jesuits for the last hundred years. But it was the price of their restoration.

The bull was issued on 7th August 1714, and read in the Gesù the same day. In presence of a distinguished gathering of ecclesiastics and nobles, the Pope said mass and then had the bull read. Some fifty members of the suppressed Society had been convoked for the occasion, and we can imagine that it was a touching spectacle to see these aged survivors of the mighty catastrophe--one was in his hundred and twenty-seventh year--return in honour to their metropolitan house. The Gesù and the house attached to it had been maintained in proper condition. The solid silver statue and the more costly ornaments of the church had been sold, to meet the demands of France on the papal exchequer, and the library of the house had disappeared. But the community of secular priests who had been in charge during the years of suppression were mostly ex-Jesuits, and they had reverently maintained the home until their scattered brothers could return. The novitiate also was restored; the old fathers were summoned from their vicarages and colleges and myriad professions; a Provincial and Vicar-General were elected; and the Jesuits spread rapidly over the Papal States. The cloud of Napoleon's return chilled their enthusiasm for a month or two, but they presently heard of Waterloo and settled down to the task for which they had been restored to life.

The response of the Catholic world was, as I said, a painful commentary on the Pope's words. The flamboyant bull, permitting and urging Catholic monarchs to re-establish the Society of Jesus, made its way over Europe in the course of the next few weeks. Parma and Naples already had their Jesuits. The Duke of Modena at once admitted the Society, and Victor Emmanuel, whose brother had surrendered the crown to him in order to enter the Society, naturally opened his kingdom to them. Ferdinand VII. of Spain, the most brutal and unscrupulous of the restored monarchs, abrogated the decree of expulsion, and warmly welcomed the Jesuits to co-operate with him in the sanguinary work which we will consider in the next chapter. John VI. of Portugal refused to admit "the pernicious sect" into his kingdom. Louis XVIII., even when urged by Talleyrand, refused to sanction the presence of the Jesuits in France. Austria refused to recognise them in its Empire, which still included Venice. Bavaria excluded them. And it took the Jesuits years of intrigue to penetrate the Catholic cantons of Switzerland.

This was the reply of Catholic Europe to Pius VII. In spite of the strident offer to combat liberalism which they made in tracing the Revolution to their absence, they were still excluded from three-fourths of the Catholic world. The indictment of them by Clement XIV. had not been answered by Pius VII., nor had their conduct in Russia and Prussia won esteem for them. They offered no serious guarantee of better behaviour. How they overcame this resistance and, in the course of a century, almost returned to their earlier number, and whether adversity had purified their character, are the two questions that remain for consideration.