and the power—of this Ultramontane habit of thought, he will find ample material in the performances of the notorious swindler Leo Taxil under Leo XIII., and in the acceptance of his blasphemous effusions by the highest ranks of the clergy.
In the fourth place, Ultramontanism is the embodiment of intolerance towards other creeds. The general presupposition involved is that a man cannot be saved except within the Catholic Church. Since, however, on the one hand—in virtue of a theory advanced by Pius IX. against the emperor William I. of Germany, in a letter which has since become famous—every Christian, whether he will or no, belongs to that Church by baptism, and is consequently pledged to obey her, and, on the other hand, since the state lies under the obligation to place the “secular arm” at her disposal whenever one of her members wishes to secede, the most far-reaching consequences result. In the past this principle led to the erection of the Inquisition (q.v.) and, even at the present day, there exists in the Curia a special congregation charged with its application (see Curia Romana). On the Roman Catholic side the employment of compulsion against heretics has never been acknowledged as a blunder; and this method of silencing opposition has found champions in the bosom of the Church down to the most recent years. But the development of modern culture has rendered these exploits of an unbridled fanaticism impossible, and no government would consent to enforce the once obligatory sentences of ecclesiastical courts. As a result of this situation, the Catholic condemnation of heresy—though as stringent as ever in principle—has assumed less dangerous forms for the heretic. Nevertheless, it proved capable, even in the 19th century, of imposing onerous restrictions on the heterodox, and practical exemplifications of this hostile attitude persist to the present day. The embittering influence of Ultramontanism may be further traced in its attitude towards the baptism of non-Catholics, for it seeks to establish the rule that baptism conferred by Protestants is invalid through defect of form or matter, or even of intention, and that, consequently, the rite must be readministered, at least conditionally, to proselytes joining the Roman Church. Finally, ample scope for the display of tolerance—or intolerance—is found in the mixed marriages between Protestants and Catholics, which, as a result of the modern facilities for intercommunication and the consequent greater mobility of the population, have shown a large increase during the last few decades—in Germany, for instance. Here, again, Ultramontanism has done much to aggravate the pernicious feud between the two creeds, by exacting a promise before marriage from the Roman Catholic party that all the children shall be brought up as members of the Roman Catholic Church (see Marriage: Canon Law). A like result has been produced when, in response to Ultramontane agitation, interdicts have been placed on churchyards in which non-Catholics have found their last resting-place.
Lastly, Ultramontanism is the foe of the nationalization of Catholicism. This peculiarity is connected, though not identical, with the above-mentioned tendency towards the Romanization of the Church. Just as in Protestant countries there has often been an amalgamation of evangelical belief with national feeling, to the great gain of both, Catholics demand that Catholicism shall enter into the sphere of their national interests, and that the activities of the Catholic Church should rest on a national basis. These aspirations have been proclaimed with especial emphasis in France, in Germany (Reformkatholizismus) and in the United States (Americanism; see Hecker, I. T.) but are everywhere met with a blank refusal from the Ultramontane side. For Ultramontanism fears that any infusion of a national element into ecclesiastical life would entail the eventual independence of the people in question from papal control, and lead to developments opposed to its papalistic mode of thought. It endeavours, therefore, to undermine all aspirations of this nature and, its own tendency being essentially international, strives to ensure that national sentiment and national interests shall not find over-zealous champions among the clergy.
The relationship of Ultramontanism to Catholicism is a much-disputed problem. The Ultramontane, indeed, maintains that there is no justification for distinguishing between the two: but the motives underlying this attitude are obvious. For, by representing the prosecution of its party-political objects as a championship of the Catholic Church, Ultramontanism seeks to acquire the support of the official organs of that Church, and the good will of all circles interested in her welfare; while at the same time it strives to discredit any attempt at opposition by branding it as an assault on the orthodox faith. But, even within the pale of the Roman Church, this identification provokes emphatic dissent, and is repudiated by all who are shocked by the effects of a one-sided accentuation of political Catholicism on the inner life of the church, and are reluctant to see the priest playing the part of a political agitator. It was on these grounds that Count May, in January 1904, proposed in the chamber of the Bavarian Reichsrath that the clergy should be deprived of the suffrage. In Germany, again, the last few years have witnessed a growing aversion from Ultramontanism on the part of those Catholics who cannot reconcile its tenets with their patriotic sentiments, and are disinclined to submit to a limitation of their share in the intellectual life of the times, particularly in art, science and literature. It may be admitted that, in many cases, the distinction between Ultramontanism and Catholicism cannot be clearly traced; and it is impossible to draw a sharp line of severance between the two, which could be absolutely valid under all circumstances and in relation to all questions. For there are many almost imperceptible stages of transition from the one to the other; and, for all the principal contentions of Ultramontanism, analogies may be found in the past history of the Catholic Church. Thus, in the middle ages, we find extremely bold pronouncements with respect to the position of the papacy in the universal Church; while political Catholicism had its beginnings in antiquity and found very definite expression, for instance, in the bull Unam sanctam of Boniface VIII. Again, the attempt to subordinate all intellectual life to ecclesiastical control was a feature of the medieval Church, and the fundamental attitude of that Church towards heresy was fixed during the same period. But since then much has been altered both in the Church and her secular environment. The state has become independent of the Church, legislates on its own sole authority, and has recognized as falling within its own proper sphere the civilizing agencies and social questions formerly reserved for the Church. Again, education, science, art and literature have been secularized: the printing-press carries knowledge into every house, the number of illiterates diminishes from year to year in every civilized country, and the clergy are no longer the exclusive propagators of culture, but merely one factor among a hundred others. Finally, the Roman Catholic Church has long forfeited the privileged position formerly accorded as her due. The days when she was the Christian Church are past: and now the civic rights of a man in a modern state are not curtailed, though he may neglect his duty to the Church or flatly refuse to acknowledge the existence of any such duty. The struggle for religious freedom has suffered no intermission since the beginning of the Reformation; and the result is that to-day its recognition is considered one of the most precious trophies won in the evolution of modern civilization; nor can these changes be reversed, for they stand in the closest connexion and reciprocity one with another, and represent the fruits of centuries of co-operation on the part of the European peoples. But Ultramontanism ignores this latest page of history and treats it as non-existent, aspiring to the erection of a new order of society, similar to that which Rome created—or, at least, endeavoured to create—in the halcyon days of medievalism. For the justification of this enterprise, it is considered sufficient to point out that the several elements of its programme once enjoyed validity within the Church. But Cyprian of Carthage said long ago, Consuetudo sine veritate vetustas erroris est; and the bare fact of previous existence is no argument for the re-introduction of obsolete
