Clement XIII
After the death of Pope Benedict XIV, a bewildered wealthy Venetian –Cardinal Carlo della Torre Rezzonico—was appointed pope, taking the papal name of Clement XIII. He was a humble and meek person, and therefore a deeply flawed leader. “The one thing he lacked was self-confidence. Shy and timid to a fault, he was incapable of making his own decisions” (364). As a consequence, he became dependent on his Secretary of State, Cardinal Luigi Torrigiani, who possessed a deep admiration for the “Society of Jesus” (Jesuits). And this was to prove significant as the Jesuits would overshadow Clement’s reign. In Portugal, the Jesuits had been accused of scandalous commercial trade abroad which quickly led to a ban on foreign trade and the Jesuits were suspended from preaching and hearing of confession by a rogue cardinal named Saldanha. Next came an assassination attempt on King Joseph by a group of dissatisfied noblemen, many of whom were publicly executed in gruesome fashion, but it was the Jesuits who were blamed.
All eyes turned toward Rome for retribution, but the pope (and his secretary of state) controversially defended the Jesuits. The feverish anti-Jesuit sentiment then spread to France, a country which was the philosophical beneficiary of thinkers like Voltaire, Rousseau, and Diderot who likened modern religion to “rogues and fools” with Christianity being “the most ridiculous, absurd, and bloodthirsty that ever infected the earth” (as mentioned in a letter from Voltaire to Frederick). By this point in France, the papacy was detested as were its foot-soldiers, the Jesuits. Their near-universal stranglehold over education was met with contempt by the philosophes. But it was ironically the crusade of a recalcitrant Jesuit (Father Antoine Lavalette) and activities during the Seven Years’ War that led to the banishment of the Jesuits from France and Spain followed shortly thereafter. In Madrid there were crackdowns on citizens wearing long cloaks and broad-brimmed sombreros which led to widespread “hat and cloak riots” which were blamed on the Jesuits. They were then banished from Naples and Sicily, as well.
Meanwhile, the pope clumsily ran into trouble when he tried to reclaim the duchy of Parma and its growing anticlerical laws, but the pope’s actions only drew more ire toward the declining papacy. Soon, the three great Bourbon monarchies of France, Spain, and Naples excoriated the pope –the French foreign minister called the pope a “complete ninny” and a “first-class fool.” In response, the countries of Europe placed their armies on centuries-old papal fiefdoms and decided to break off diplomatic relations with Rome entirely for the rest of the pope’s tenure. It was a strident triumph for the state over and against the waning power of the church. But the pope was now ensconced in a growing problem of his own –what to do with the thousands of exiled Jesuits? He led a disastrous attempt to house them all on Corsica (which was then acquired by France), which left these thousands of penniless, emaciated preachers somewhat reluctantly welcomed back to Italy (though not inside Rome). It was a horrid problem that remained unresolved for years.
Regarding the pontificate of Clement XIII, John Julius Norwich says:
“His had been a sad pontificate, poisoned by the implacable hatred of the House of Bourbon for the Society of Jesus, for which he could hardly be blamed. He was, however, unimaginative and –for a Venetian—surprisingly narrow-minded. Perhaps, had he been a greater pope than he was, more self-confident and more decisive, he might have been able to defend the Society rather more effectively –but even then he would have been unlikely to make much difference. The fault was in the age; the Enlightenment approved of the pope as little as the pope approved of the Enlightenment. The Papacy had lost its prestige, and with it much of its power. Christian Europe might pay it lip service but very little more” (369).
Notably, Clement XIII had continued the church’s vandalization efforts that began under Paul V of classical and renaissance works of art.
Clement XIV
The next pope came to power in 1769, a humble Franciscan named Lorenzo Ganganelli. He was appointed after a three-and-a-half-month-long conclave which saw Emperor Joseph II of Austria pay a visit. It became clear that anyone who was conciliatory toward the Jesuits would be vetoed by the Catholic powers of Europe. Thus, Ganganelli quietly made it clear that he might support the complete suppression of the order, and that was enough. He became Pope Clement XIV on May 19, 1769.
He was a friendly and intelligent pope, however he was painfully inexperienced when it came to the art of politics. As one contemporary put it: “he lacks courage and stability; he unbelievably slow in taking any decision. He deceives people with fine words and promises, weaves his web around them and enchants them.” Many in the Sacred College grew distrustful of the pope’s timidity and secrecy. He also surrounded himself with men of low repute, angering the Roman nobility. Then in 1773, the pope –bowing to immense internal pressure—finally dissolved the Society of Jesus. Jesuit leaders’ art collections and wine cellars were confiscated by the church, the general order leaders were locked up without cause, and they were forbidden communication with the outside world.
“The inhuman treatment of these men, all priests, against whom no evidence was ever found of any wrongdoing, leaves a permanent stain on the record of Clement XIV –which, it must be said, was stained enough already. He himself had nothing against the Jesuits; why, otherwise would he have delayed his action against them for three years? He had always been aware, however, that their suppression was the price he would have to pay for the Papacy, and he was fully prepared to sacrifice them. He might have argued by then that he had no choice, that the Holy See could never hope to regain the respect of Catholic Europe while the order survived; alas, after it had gone the Papacy was, if anything, even less respected than before, its international prestige lower than at any time since the Middle Ages” (373).
The final year of the pope’s life was miserable –he had a worsening skin condition and became paranoid and depressed, fearing there were various assassination attempts being made against his person (he even refused to kiss the feet of his favorite crucifix in the event that the crucifix was laced with poison). He quickly grew emaciated and devoid of color until he finally died in September 1774, much to the relief of everyone around him.
Pius VI
After a four-month conclave, Cardinal Giovanni Angelo Braschi was elected as Pope Pius VI in February 1775. He was a genial aristocrat who was once engaged to be married before deciding to enter the priesthood instead. His pontificate was to last for twenty-five years –the longest papal reign at that time. But as John Julius Norwich notes: “it was unfortunate indeed that for so fateful a quarter century the Church should have fallen into such feckless hands” (374).
He reigned like a Renaissance pope, embracing all the lavish pomp and circumstance of centuries past, unleashing nepotism once again, and greatly enriching his family at the church’s expense. Whereas Pius’s predecessors battled the Bourbon monarchies, the new pope squabbled with Emperor Joseph II of Austria, who forced the church to bow the knee before the state. If there was one skill the papacy had, it was in earning enemies. Pius’s reign would likely have been mired in controversies while desperately hoping to scrape back some dignity for the papacy, if not for the storm which was to strike France in 1789. The gulf between the aristocracy and the Third Estate had grown so great that the new Jacobin sentiment sought revolution, not reform. At first in the French Revolution, the Catholic Church remained unblemished, but soon the ire of the French crowds was turned against religion itself in favor of ”temples of reason” and a religion of “Fertility” or Robespierre’s “Supreme Being.” Violence and fanaticism ruled the day and soon more rapid changes were to cause upheaval in every major European nation with the arrival of Napoleon Bonaparte.
Amidst the revolutionary chaos when centuries-old denominations in France very nearly collapsed, Pope Pius VI simply vacillated. A powerless, paralyzed, and frivolous figure, the pope was carried around to various safe houses throughout Europe while armies marched over the papal states until, at last, the pope died in August 1799.
“Pius VI was indeed a martyr. Few popes in history had been made to suffer so much and so unnecessarily. And the courage and fortitude with which he bore his tribulations do much to redeem his reputation –because he had, after all, much to answer for. It is unlikely that he could have saved the Catholic Church in France from insensate fury of the Revolution. The fact remains, however, that when called upon to give a lead, he failed to do so; he dithered –and French Christianity very nearly died” (379-380).
For this reading I used John Julius Norwich’s 2011 single volume history of the papacy Absolute Monarchs: A History of the Papacy.