Pope Benedict's Letter and the Future of the Churches

WHEN Pope Benedict made his appeal to the leaders of the belligerent peoples in August, critics of the Vatican’s policy said very openly that it was a pro-German tract; that the Vatican had been pro-German since the outbreak of the war, uttering no protest, against the breaking of treaties, the outrageous violation of Belgium, the atrocities in Serbia and Armenia, the desecration of churches in France; and that Pope Benedict intervened now with an overture of peace, because peace now meant practical victory for Germany, a breathing spell to prepare for ‘ the next war.’ These critics added that, influenced by the Vatican, certain Roman Catholic organizations, certain overwhelmingly Roman Catholic regions, had been notoriously pro-German; that, throughout the British Empire, while the Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, and Mohammedans had been enthusiastically loyal to the Entente, and to the Entente’s ideals of liberty and mercy and justice, in only two places had there been violent manifestations of hostility to the Entente, with a strong pro-German coloring — in Roman Catholic Ireland, and in Roman Catholic Canada. It was noted, too, that the Irish in America, members of the Roman Catholic Church, had been hostile to France, and had attacked England with blind ferocity, quite unrebuked by their spiritual heads. It was said, finally, that the Vatican’s pro-German partisanship had been purchased by the crudest of bribes: a formal promise, by Kaiser Wilhelm, to restore the temporal power of the Pope in case of German victory, whether this victory should come now or after ‘the next war.’ There were even persistent rumors that Kaiser Wilhelm had been converted to Roman Catholicism; just as, throughout the Moslem world, there were persistent rumors that both Kaiser Wilhelm and the Crown Prince had been converted to Islam; as, beyond controversy, there had been vigorous efforts to incite a jehad, a Moslem war against Christians in Mohammedan countries governed by France and England, and in unhappy Armenia.

Nevertheless, it may be maintained that Pope Benedict’s appeal for peace is not pro-German; even that it is, in a definite and profound sense, anti-German; that it has a political significance of the first importance, as well as a definite bearing upon the temporal power of the Papacy, but that the solution outlined above is not the true solution.

Perhaps we can best approach the solution of the enigma by trying to occupy Pope Benedict’s point of view; by trying, with sympathetic understanding, to see the whole field of conflict as Pope Benedict may see it; by trying to divine the motives which have really led him to act, the ideals which really inspire him. And we shall be wise, without doubt, to credit Benedict XV with the possession of the keenest possible political insight and instinct, with the farsighted political vision which he inherits, both as the scion of an ancient noble family of Italy, and as the successor of the Italian men of genius — the Orsini, the Conti, the Medici, the Borghese — who have occupied the Papal throne for more than three centuries.

That double heredity of necessity confers on Pope Benedict a quite definite ideal, a quite definite policy; and that policy is clearly expressed in the second sentence of his appeal for peace: ‘perfect impartiality toward all belligerents as is suitable for him who is the common Father.’ Pope Benedict here regards himself, not as a priest, not as Bishop of Rome or Patriarch of Italy alone; not even as Head of the Roman Catholic Church only; not alone as Supreme Head of Christendom; but as Supreme Spiritual Head of the whole world, of all mankind, ‘and that without exception of person, without distinction of nationality or religion.’ And it is precisely as Supreme Spiritual Head of mankind, that Pope Benedict made his appeal, not only to loyal Roman Catholic Austria and Roman Catholic Italy and Belgium, but also to Lutheran Germany, to Anglican and Protestant England, to France, secularist at least so far as its present government is concerned, to the ‘ schismatic ’ nations adhering to the Eastern Catholic Church, like Russia, Serbia, Rumania, Bulgaria, Greece, and even to the greatest independent Moslem power in the world, the Turkish Empire; for, for our present purpose, we may ignore the Prussian suzerainty at Constantinople.

By his appeal, Pope Benedict has, therefore, already attained this much: in the greatest of all wars, involving every quarter of the earth, Europe, Asia, Africa, North and South America and Australasia, in which four fifths of the human race are enrolled as combatants or belligerents, representing nearly every people, nation, and language under heaven, and involving the profoundest questions of human right and international law, he has, addressing all belligerents, proclaimed himself the Supreme Spiritual Head of all mankind, ‘the common Father .... without exception of person, without distinction of nationality or religion.’ He has approached all belligerent powers on that ground; and, while few replies have, as this is written, been made public, it is safe to say that no belligerent nation will reject Pope Benedict’s appeal on that ground — on the ground that he has no authority to address them as Supreme Spiritual Arbiter. Needless to say that this will not mean, on the part of Moslem or ‘schismatic’ or ‘heretic’ countries, that they formally accept that spiritual authority; but it will mean that this world-embracing claim has been made, and has at no point been formally rejected. To have accomplished this, therefore, is already to have accomplished much.

Let us return for a moment to the question of the temporal power. This phrase, it would seem, may be used in two quite different senses. First, there is the immediate historical sense; the Pope’s sway, as a temporal prince, over a section of mid-Italy, including the tract which used to be called ‘the patrimony of Peter’—a region of some 16,000 square miles, which had at one time a population of over three millions. In this aspect, the ‘temporal power’ may be said to be a purely Italian question, except that the possession of a temporal sovereignty in Italy would give the Pope a different diplomatic standing, establishing his right to maintain, at the seats of government of foreign nations, his ambassadors and ministers, who would, without question, wield a spiritual as well as a political authority.

In its local, Italian aspect, the temporal power of the Papacy was, of course, one of the greatest obstacles in the path of United Italy; and it is of deep significance that, in resisting the union of Italy, in resisting the formation of the young Italian nation, Austria and the Vatican were close allies. If space permitted, it would be interesting to see how close this alliance has been. Napoleon I, who, in 1796-97, struck a heavy blow at Austrian dominance in Italy, shortly thereafter limited the Pope’s authority in certain important ways, by the terms of the Concordat, and exercised a definite political influence over Rome. The Congress of Vienna restored the Papal States, still in close sympathy with Austria. Victor Emmanuel II and Cavour found their path blocked equally by Rome and Austria. But Napoleon III, who, at Magenta and Solferino, helped to break Austria’s power over Lombardy, nevertheless sent his armies to Rome, to uphold the Pope, and, while the Adriatic part of the Papal States was incorporated in the new Italy, the western part, Saint Peter’s Patrimony, continued under the Pope’s temporal rule. In 1866, the Prussian attack on Austria gave Italy the opportunity to win back Venetia; and when, in 1870, the Prussian invasion of France compelled Napoleon III to recall his troops from Rome, King Victor Emmanuel at last occupied the ancient capital of Italy.

The following arrangement was then made: by an Italian law dated May 13, 1871, the Pope and his successors were guaranteed perpetual possession of the Vatican and Lateran palaces and the villa of Castel Gandolfo, with a yearly income of 3,225,000 lire (or about $600, 000), which allowance — amounting with arrears to about 150,000,000 lire ($30,000,000) — still remains unclaimed and unpaid. Since this allowance was in lieu of the revenues of the Papal States, the fact that it has not been accepted proves that the Popes still maintain their claim to temporal sovereignty over the Papal States, the realization of which would mean the dismemberment of the Kingdom of Italy.

Yet it is not necessary to suppose that Pope Benedict XV expects, or even desires, the immediate realization of this plan; although we can hardly doubt that he would joyfully accept, not as a concession, but as a right, the restoration of his temporal authority over Saint Peter’s Patrimony, with Rome as his capital; we may even add the Romagna on the Adriatic ; and there may well survive the mediaeval dream of a United Italy with the Pope as its temporal and spiritual sovereign.

But there is no immediate likelihood of this, even in its most restricted sense; nor should we suppose that a statesman so competent as Benedict XV contemplates it, at least as a present possibility. For it is certain that in no peace which is likely to be made now would the Central Empires have the power to enforce the dismemberment of Italy.

So that, so far as the purely local application of the idea of temporal power goes, it is, for the present at least, not ‘practical politics.’ But the phrase has another and a far wider significance; and we may well believe that, in inditing his appeal to the leaders of the belligerent peoples, Pope Benedict was looking back far beyond 1870 or 1860, to the golden age of the Papacy, the seven centuries between 800 and 1500, when the occupant of the Holy See exercised temporal power in a sense far different from that of lordship over a tiny Italian principality.

This is hardly the place to discuss the origin of the Papacy; to recall that, in part for political reasons, the See of Rome claimed to outrank the two older Sees of Jerusalem and Antioch; to consider how Constantine’s withdrawal to the new Rome on the Bosphorus secured to the bishop of the old Rome the imperial tiara with the pagan title of Pontifex Maximus, ‘supreme bridgebuilder’; to trace the relations between the popes and the new invading sovereigns of Italy. Nor can we here do more than call to mind the cardinal fact, which began a new era for the Papacy, that Charlemagne received his crown from the Pope, on Christmas Day, in the year 800.

We must content ourselves with referring, as briefly as possible, to the great central epoch of that period of seven centuries, the epoch of Hildebrand, as Gregory VII, and of Innocent III. Here are Pope Gregory’s own words, as keynote of that epoch: ‘The Pope may depose emperors. He may absolve subjects from their allegiance to wicked men. He himself may be judged by no one.’

Theory was turned into practice a few years later when Gregory VII replied to the attacks of the Emperor Henry III in these words: ‘In the name of Almighty God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I withdraw, through thy power and authority, from Henry, the king, who has risen against thy church with unheard-of insolence, the rule over the whole kingdom of the Germans and over Italy. And I absolve all Christians from the bonds of the oaths which they have taken and shall take to him; and I forbid any one to serve him as king.’

We need only remind ourselves further that that truly great Pope, Innocent III, set forth the papal claim to world-suzerainty in even stronger terms than those of Gregory; that he compelled King John of England to surrender to him his kingdom, and to receive it back as a fief of the Holy See, for which annual tribute must be paid.

These are but the mountain peaks in the great epoch of the Papacy. That golden age came to a close shortly after the year 1500; in 1517, Martin Luther posted his protest on the church door at Wittenberg; twenty years later, the Act of Supremacy asserted the independence of the Church of England.

It is not without interest to remember that in 1493, a few years before the close of that golden age, a Papal award practically gave a monopoly of most of the world’s seas to Spain and Portugal, a grant whose results are still written large on the face of the world. Thus the Pope’s dividing line ran across what is now Brazil; everything to the east of this went to Portugal; everything to the west went to Spain. So it happens that Brazil still speaks Portuguese, while the rest of South America speaks Spanish. To the same award is due the presence of Portuguese colonies in both East and West Africa, on the Bombay coast, at Macao in China, at Timor in the East Indies — an empire still girdling the globe. Interest is added to this award of 1493 by the fact that, in his appeal to the belligerent nations, Pope Benedict XV makes a special plea for ‘the freedom of the seas.’

But the essence of the whole matter is that, according to the theory of that whole epoch, as summed up by Pope Gregory VII, the Pope, as the immediate representative of God, was to be the final arbiter between kings.

‘The final arbiter between kings’ — that is the larger idea of the temporal power. And, while it seems to be clear that Pope Benedict XV has not at present in view the lesser temporal power, to derive from a small princedom in Italy, he has very clearly in view this larger, more magnificent temporal power, which includes a general suzerainty of the world. This would appear to be the real meaning of the sentences we have quoted, with the sentence which immediately follows: ‘Perfect impartiality toward all belligerents, as is suitable for him who is the common Father of all and who loves all his children with equal affection; continually to attempt to do all the good possible and without exception of person, without distinction of nationality or religion as is dictated to us by the universal law of charity which the Supreme Spiritual charge has confided to us with Christ.’ (I quote without change from the somewhat inadequate published translation.)

It is not an imperative claim, like that of Gregory VII and Innocent III, but it is a very persuasive claim to exactly the same authority. This much, therefore, Pope Benedict XV has already gained by his appeal, quite regardless of its final result. By the fact that they reply, belligerent nations to that degree accept his claim.

We are justified, therefore, in saying that the policy which underlies this appeal is not pro-German; it is, in the largest sense, pro-Roman. It is a practical furtherance of a policy which is laid as a solemn obligation on Pope Benedict, by the very fact of his position, as successor of Gregory VII and Innocent III. It is the largest constructive policy which has emanated from the Holy See for many a day, and it reveals Benedict XV as a great papal statesman.

But we ventured to say more than that his appeal is not pro-German. We said that, in a certain definite sense, it is anti-German — and this, even though it does not favor the Entente Powers. We find the justification of this in the concrete suggestions for peace.

At the head of these, Pope Benedict XV sets a ‘simultaneous and reciprocal diminution of armament,’ the substitution of arbitration for armies, the creation of a court of arbitration, like that which was proposed by Emperor Nicholas II of Russia, nearly twenty years ago. But Pope Benedict knows very well that this policy of disarmament, of diminution of armament, has been put forward again and again, especially by France and England; and that the impediment has always been the flat refusal of Germany to consider any diminution of armament whatever, whether on land or on the sea. We do not know whether Pope Benedict has the slightest expectation that Germany will now consent to disarm — or promise to disarm, which is not exactly the same thing. It is far more likely that he has no such expectation; that his proposal of disarmament (he himself uses the word) was not made with the hope that Germany would accept it and carry it out, but was really made from a different motive. But the practical effect of it, if Germany meets it, as she is certain to meet it, with evasions and attenuations, if not with flat refusal, will be to put Germany in the wrong; or we may say, in this instance, to put militant Prussia in the wrong.

Take another concrete proposal: ‘ Consequently on the part of Germany there should be the complete evacuation of Belgium with the guaranty of her full political, military, and economic independence toward it. The evacuation of French territory—’

Pope Benedict does not specifically mention Courland and Livonia, with the occupied parts of Volhynia and Podolia; but, as he speaks of the return of the German colonies, it is a fair inference that he contemplates the return to Russia of the regions mentioned.

Pope Benedict does make a special plea for Poland, which has always been the great frontier stronghold of the Western, the Roman Catholic Church: ‘The territories making a part of the ancient kingdom of Poland, whose noble and historical sufferings, especially during the present war, ought to conciliate the sympathies of nations.’

But these proposals also, and particularly the evacuation of Belgium and occupied France, once more put Germany in the wrong. Germany must either refuse them, and so admit that her policy of conquest is the real barrier to peace; or accept them, and thus surrender the Pan-German dream, which lays claim to these very territories.

Again, the proposal to arbitrate ‘territorial questions between Germany and France . . . taking into consideration the aspirations of the peoples,’ — meaning, of course, Alsace-Lorraine, — may fairly be called an anti-German proposal, since Germany has repeatedly declared that the question of Alsace-Lorraine is not arbitrable: ‘Non possumus.’

But let us take another group of questions, the questions which particularly concern, not Germany, or rather Prussia, but Austria.

Pope Benedict does not declare that Serbia, like Belgium,should be evacuated and completely restored. On the contrary, the whole Balkan question should, he says, be submitted to arbitration. In this way, some solution, involving a diminished Serbia, might be reached, which would be favorable to Austrian ambitions; some solution of the Macedonian question might be reached, which would be acceptable to the Roman Catholic ruler of Bulgaria, who is said to be seeking an alliance, for his son and heir, with the imperial House of Hapsburg.

Again, the disposition of Trieste and the Trentino is to be submitted to arbitration. It will be remembered that, to keep Italy out of the war, Austria was ready, in the spring of 1915, to make some concessions in both these regions; she might well accept the war map as it stands to-day — for Austria has read the story of the Sibylline books. Finally, Austria, far from rejecting disarmament, would welcome it gladly, provided only she were allowed to retain her present territories—with such additions as the Pope’s conference might win for her in Serbia and in Poland.

We may here recall the recent cable report that a settlement concerning Poland had been reached between Germany and Austria, under which Germany would take merely a strategic strip a few miles wide, while all the rest should go to Austria, to be united with Austrian Poland (Galicia) under the Austrian Emperor, as King of Poland. This would, of course, form a strong counter-weight to aggressive Hungary; it would further, by withdrawing the Polish delegation from the Reichsrath at Vienna, give the Germans there a distinct preponderance over the Slavs, and thus thwart the uncomfortable ambitions of the Czechs. In a word, it would be an ideal solution for Austria; ideal, that is, for the House of Hapsburg. Austria has, especially at this point in the world-war, no great desire to expand; she has a lively apprehension that she may be compelled to contract. If, therefore, her present territory, augmented by the magnificent prize of Russian Poland, even though diminished by strips of the Trentino and the region about Gorizia, were guaranteed to her, she would accept with alacrity and disarm with joy.

The concrete proposals, therefore, in the Pope’s appeal, while putting Germany in the wrong in vital matters, offer an ideal issue for Austria, which needs peace even more than Germany.

Pope Benedict has constructed a proposal which Austria could accept in full, deeming herself singularly fortunate to get the opportunity of accepting it, but which Germany could not accept as it stands, without surrendering all her national ambitions. Further, Germany cannot very well say so; she can neither frankly accept nor frankly decline.

This justifies, perhaps, the view that Pope Benedict’s peace proposal is not, as has been charged, pro-German; for even an immediate peace, with disarmament, would checkmate Germany. It is not pro-German. It is, first, proRoman, in the widest sense; but it is also distinctly and very strongly proAustrian. Pope Benedict has, in fact, marked a line of cleavage, which may at any moment become a line of fracture, not so much between Austria and Germany as between South Germany, including Austria, and North Germany, dominated by Prussia. For, while cutting the claws of Prussia, — a not unfair way of describing the disarmament of the supremely militarist state, — the Pope’s proposals work no detriment at all to Bavaria, Württemberg, Silesia, and other Roman Catholic sections of South Germany.

Therefore Pope Benedict has with consummate skill drawn up a peace proposal, which would give Austria more than she has any right to hope for, and would work no injury to Roman Catholic South Germany; but which would, on the other hand, hit Prussia exceedingly hard in the present, and, by disarmament, leave her helpless for the future. The line of possible fracture is very distinctly marked.

Is it necessary to revert to the agelong bond between the Empire and the Pope; to recall the days when popes made emperors, and when emperors, as in the instance of Henry III, made popes? Nor need we enter into intricacies concerning the ‘Holy Roman Empire’ or its legal lapse in 1806; the substantial fact is, that the bond between the Vatican and Vienna is as strong as ever; that nothing would so strengthen the political position of the Vatican as a revived and rejuvenated Austrian Empire. Nothing, therefore, would better enable the Pope to take the next step from the position of arbiter between kings by persuasion, which he has now assumed, to the position of an arbiter with authority; the kind of authority which Gregory VII and Innocent III contemplated—and exercised.

Any one who has lived long in Austria has had to recognize the fact that, while Prussia is — not very popular, let us say — in Paris or London, one must go to Vienna for really scathing criticism of Prussian idiosyncracies. Sedan, with all it has meant of spoliation and sacrifice for France, has not been forgotten. Sadowa will never be forgotten. Perhaps, for a really drastic characterization of the House of Hohenzollern one could not do better than apply to the House of Hapsburg. It is probably quite unnecessary to put this more clearly; whoever knows Austria will fully understand. Austria would like various things; she would, let us say, like to get back Venetia and Lombardy, perhaps all Italy. She would like to regain Silesia; she would like the whole Balkan region, including Saloniki and Constantinople, and much besides. But the dear desire of her heart, what she longs for infinitely more than any of these things, is to crush and subjugate the insolent upstart empire to the north, which has robbed her of the hegemony of Central Europe.

The practical effect, then, of Pope Benedict’s letter becomes clear: it aligns Roman Catholic South Germany on the side of Austria — against arrogant Prussia, as in the good old days before the god of Junkerthum smoked his first cigar under the nose of the Austrian delegate.

The treaty of alliance with Germany would not stand in Austria’s way for a minute, if she could only see some practical way of success. And things look more hopeful for her, with Prussia weakened and hemmed in, shorn of half her man-power, not beloved by Bavaria and Catholic South Germany, and now put in the position of compelling Catholic South Germany to continue a ruinous war, to further, not South German, but Prussian ambitions.

One remembers Schwarzenberg’s dictum, in 1849, when the South German States were organizing with Austria in an anti-Prussian league: ‘First humiliate Prussia, then destroy her.’ Nothing that has happened since, nothing, especially, that has happened during the present war, has canceled that wish in Austria’s heart. There have been many indications, since Pope Benedict made his appeal, that the line of fracture marked in it is developing — indications in the press of Vienna and Buda-Pesth, in Bavaria, in the whole South German region. The plan seems clear enough; it remains to be seen how far events will bring it to fruition.

The replies of Germany and Austria to the papal appeal have now been published. The outstanding fact about both, and it is said to be a cause of keen disappointment at the Vatican, is that they reveal no concrete peace terms whatever, not even a genuine consideration of the concrete terms suggested by Pope Benedict. It would appear that, even after the world-wide revelation of the enormous ineptitude of her diplomacy, Germany still hopes for a diplomatic victory — hopes to cheat the Entente Powers behind closed doors. The German document shows no grasp of realities. In tone, it is a “preachment,” a homily on the virtues of Kaiser Wilhelm, by the head of the German Church.

The Austrian reply is more subtle. It contains two substantive statements: an eloquent recognition of papal supremacy, and a plea for the integrity of the Hapsburg empire — both in line with what one conceives to be Pope Benedict’s purpose. And it is noteworthy that the really sharp criticisms of the German letter have come from the Roman Catholics of South Germany.

One thing more: In neither document is there the faintest shadow of real contrition or confession of wrong-doing; just as, in the Pope’s appeal there was not the slightest recognition that genuine repentance and confession must of necessity precede forgiveness.