Vatican Scorecard: American Civil War Edition
The first in a new series in which Assembly editor Steven Garbas examines the many instances in which the Pope has been on the wrong side of history.
In 1861, southern states attacked the north at South Carolina’s Fort Sumter, setting off the American Civil War. Although the roots of the conflict are complex, it was largely fought over money. The Confederacy was the major world exporter of cotton and textiles and stood to lose massive revenues if its source of free labor was cut off through the abolition of slavery proposed by the federal government. The Union, on the other hand, had never developed as strong a slave-owning culture, due in part to a shorter growing season which made the keeping of year-round slaves impractical. In addition, the increasing industrialization of the north made it less dependent upon cheap human labor. However, despite the economic realities at the heart of the war, the Confederacy consistently framed the dispute as one of the power of the Federation over the rights of states (the main use of contentious power, obviously, being abolition).
After the war began, the Confederacy began sending agents abroad looking for support. It hoped to find an ally in Britain, believing that that country’s huge appetite for the South’s exports would make it a natural supporter of the Confederacy. Southern spokesman made the case that the abolition of slave labor would lead to significantly higher costs for Britain.
Their arguments did not sway London, however. Recognition of the Confederacy meant war with the United States, something Britain was not eager to jump into. Moreover, accepting access to cheap Confederate cotton and textiles would cost Britain imports of American grain, endanger its North American colonies, and run contrary to popular antislavery sentiment among its citizens.
Both Britain and France began increasing imports from their respective colonies in response to the Union blockade of Confederate exports. The Confederacy found itself effectively isolated in its cause.
Or so it seemed.
In November 1863, two and a half years in the conflict, the Confederacy received unconditional recognition and support from an unlikely source: the Vatican.
Hand-delivered to Confederate diplomat A. Dudley Mann, the letter from Pope Pius IX was addressed “to the Illustrious and Honorable Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate States of America”: de facto recognition of the rebel union of the South. At the time, the Pope was recognized as “King of the Papal States,” and would therefore provide the lone exception to the global diplomatic freeze that united the world against the Confederacy.
From November 1863 on, it was the world against the Confederacy—and God. The Pope’s letter to Jefferson concluded with a promise to “shed abroad upon you the light of His grace, and attach you to us by a perfect friendship.” Some believed that the Pope had provided Davis (and the South) with God’s infinite protection. Accompanying the letter was a small, hand-woven crown of thorns (believed to be made by the Pope himself) along with autographed portrait.
Pius harbored a longstanding hatred of the United States because of its involvement in the Italian revolution of 1848, which overthrew the Italian monarchy. Some historians go so far as to argue that the Pope had a personal hatred for Lincoln, and that Pius IX was eager to oppose him politically by turning the tide of the Civil War in the Confederacy’s favor.
Davis wasted no time publishing the Pope’s letter, and both sides immediately understood its impact. Lincoln and the Union were astonished by the content of the letter and wrote the Vatican demanding clarification. The response from the Vatican (not the Pope) merely stated that the Pope’s letter was not meant to be considered official recognition of the South, in a “formal sense.” Lincoln sought counsel from his long-time faith advisor and former priest, Charles Chiniquy. Chiniquy famously called the letter “a poisoned arrow thrown by the Pope at [Lincoln] personally” and said that this was Lincoln’s “death warrant.”
Lincoln began taking greater precautions to protect himself from the Pope’s men in America. He spoke directly of the concern posed by fanatics over the Pope’s letter and involvement. (Of course, Lincoln would be assassinated by the purportedly non-religious John Wilkes Booth at the war’s end.)
In the second half of the war, Catholic desertions were rampant. The desertion rate of Irish soldiers alone shot up to 33 times its pre-letter rate. Some of this can certainly be attributed to the rampant anti-Irish and anti-Catholic bigotry that saturated the US at the time. But some deserters even re-enlisted and fought for the Confederacy (although most simply refused to fight at all.)
Ultimately, the Pope’s support for the Confederacy had little effect on the course of the war. Recognition from the Papal States could cause desertions, but didn’t contribute battalions or offer economic relief. The Confederacy was defeated, and slavery was abolished.
Although he never signed an official statement of support or created a proper alliance with the Confederacy, Pope Pius IX was hated in Rome for his controversial politics. He was often accused of exploiting religious propaganda to increase his personal power. However, he remained immensely popular in the post-war South, and Robert E. Lee is known to have remarked that Pius was “the South’s only true friend in her time of need.”
In 1869 Pius convened the First Vatican Council and issued the doctrine of papal infallibility, which states that the Pope, as an instrument of the Holy Spirit, is incapable of error. However, it has not been officially stated whether the recognition of the Confederacy and the friendship between the South and the Vatican were based on direct orders from God.
In 1870, Pius lost sovereignty in the Papal States. He died in 1878 as the longest-serving Pope in history. After three “recommencements” (all officially opposed by the Italian government), Pope Pius IX was beatified on September 3rd, 2000.
Read more at www.assemblyjournal.comImage: Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, cwpb 02007
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