Victorian Crusaders: British and Irish Volunteers in the Papal Army, 1860-1870
by Nicholas Schofield
Helion & Co, 223 pages, £29.95
If one wants to understand why the shibboleth of Papal Infallibility intruded itself into European affairs in the last third of the 19th century, then one has to take seriously the matter of Italian reunification, the rise of Garibaldi and the loss of the Papal States. A Punch cartoon of 1870 summed it up perfectly: Pius IX clutched St Peter’s keys to his chest while handing over a sword marked “Temporal Power” to Victor Emmanuel II, saying “I must needs surrender the sword, my son, but I keep the keys!”
The loss of the temporal power of the pope came after a bitter fight; John Carr treated it in The Pope’s Army in 2019. Thousands of Catholics, mainly from Europe but not exclusively so, signed up to fight in the papal divisions against the forces that would deprive the papacy of its territories, and by association its authority.
Fr Nicholas Schofield is the archivist of the Archdiocese of Westminster; this impressive volume focuses on the British men who left home and hearth to defend the pope’s dignity and rights as a temporal sovereign. It is important to understand their motives; as Nicholas Wiseman, the first Archbishop of Westminster, put it: “the ‘States of the Church’ [were] truly such: a gift to her, for securing her rightful position in the world”.
Schofield leads his readers authoritatively through the broad issues that meant that a defence of the Papal States became necessary in the first place, and also the organisational and tactical considerations that came to the fore. He also examines some of the major battles that took place – to Catholics the names of Castelfidardo and Mentana should be as familiar as Trafalgar and Waterloo, but probably aren’t – but he is at his most impressive when it comes to the personal stories that unfold alongside the broader narrative.
Away from political and strategic considerations he looks with human eyes at the backgrounds and motivations of those men who travelled to fight (and in many cases to die) for the pope and what remained of the Patrimony of St Peter. We meet the Irishmen who fought under the banner of St Patrick – because an attack upon the pope was also an attack upon Catholic Ireland – and their transmarine co-religionists who joined the Papal Zouaves, with their glamour and immediately recognisable, if eccentric, uniform.
If their backgrounds varied, their motives did not; if their cause was doomed, there can be little doubt about their piety. There was a martyr-like quality to their service; one of the first English Zouaves to be mortally wounded uttered his own epitaph: “The Lord has granted me the favour I asked – to die for the Holy Father. Oh yes, may God accept my death and my blood for the triumph of the Holy Church and conversion of England!” It became an oft-repeated theme.
Backed up at home by the work of the Papal Defence Committee, each member of the Zouaves entered in the ranks, which meant that princes and paupers – literally – served alongside each other. Nor did the recusant families stint themselves, even if among them there lingered shades of Cisalpine reserve. Schofield notes that “there were enough volunteers from the old Catholic families to show a marked continuity with the values and traditions of their forefathers and the potency of the inter-connections among the Catholic aristocracy and gentry”. However quixotic the attempt may have been, especially once it came down to the final defence of Rome itself in September 1870, the rallying of English Catholics to the papal pennant may well be interpreted as something of a coming of age. As Schofield concludes, “their presence in Rome showed that the British and the Irish could stand alongside their continental neighbours in defending the centre of Christendom and the visible head of the Church.”
The last surviving Zouave died as a centenarian in 1952; this is not ancient history, then, but it has up to now not formed a major strand of Catholic historical studies. Perhaps that omission will soon be corrected, for Schofield’s splendid book is as original as it is meticulously researched and convincingly presented. With it he has proved his mettle not only as an ecclesiastical historian, but as a military historian as well.
Serenhedd James is the Herald’s Acting Literary Editor
Areas of Catholic Herald business are still recovering post-pandemic.
However, we are reaching out to the Catholic community and readership, that has been so loyal to the Catholic Herald. Please join us on our 135 year mission by supporting us.
We are raising £250,000 to safeguard the Herald as a world-leading voice in Catholic journalism and teaching.
We have been a bold and influential voice in the church since 1888, standing up for traditional Catholic culture and values. Please consider donating.