The Perpetual Instruction of the Alta Vendita: Between Historical Truth and Ideological Exploitation

Contra Mr Masciullo and in agreement with Msgr Lefebvre and John Vennari, I consider the Perpetual Instruction to be exactly that, perpetual.

From One Peter Five

By Gaetano Masciullo

Throughout the history of the Church, there have been numerous occasions when the faithful perceived they were living through the “worst moment” or even the precursors to the end of times, due to social unrest, the moral corruption of certain pastors, and widespread doctrinal confusion. This distorted view of the present largely stems from a lack of historical awareness, which has accompanied Catholics to varying degrees, intensifying during crises within ecclesiastical authority.

Today, we are certainly experiencing one of these difficult periods. However, we must not forget that the Church has endured other very dramatic eras—consider, for instance, the French Revolution, the Jacobin Terror, or the fall of the Papal States in 1870, an event many at the time interpreted as an eschatological sign, if not outright apocalyptic.

When a solid historical perspective is lacking, distorted interpretations of documents, prophecies, and testimonies from the past become frequent. This leads to the belief that every past announcement finds its fulfillment exclusively in our time, as if all sacred and secular history converges in the present. Such an interpretation carries serious risks, from historical decontextualization to a form of “mystical despair”—the inertia of those who, convinced that we have reached the end of times, abandon the commitment to spiritual battle and mission.

A striking example of a past document exploited in this way is undoubtedly the Perpetual Instruction of the Alta Vendita, a secret programmatic report that circulated among revolutionary and subversive para-Masonic circles in the early 19th century. From time to time, it resurfaces even today as the supposed “historical proof” of the Masonic origin of the Second Vatican Council and post-conciliar popes.

The American Catholic journalist John Vennari [1958–2017], for example, authored a pamphlet that became a bestseller,[1] in which he misinterpreted the adjective “permanent” in the document’s title, arguing that it is a Masonic blueprint—a detailed plan—to destroy Catholicism, a strategy that allegedly found its fulfillment in the “revolution” of the Second Vatican Council. It appears that this claim – that the Alta Vendita has some sort of causal relationship with Vatican II – originated with Archbishop Lefebvre.[2]

While this secret document is undoubtedly indicative of the modus operandi of Secret Societies against the Catholic Church, it is a serious hermeneutical error to consider it the single, decisive key for interpreting the Church’s recent history, even to the point of identifying it as the direct origin of complex and multifaceted events such as the Second Vatican Council. However, the fact that our Trad Godfathers gave credence to this oversimplification of history should be forgiven, due to their historical context – attempting to understand the mystery of iniquity which was the revolution in the Church.

But the fact is, this interpretative oversimplification has tangible consequences. On an intellectual level, it leads to an ideological reductionism that prevents a thorough understanding of Freemasonries (in the plural) and their relationship with the Church. Furthermore, it does not allow for a genuine comprehension of the dynamics and developments among the various actors that led to the Church’s latest ecumenical council. Additionally, there is a risk—one that indeed occurs—of labeling the entire Council not only as a historically and theologically inopportune, if not mistaken, event but even as deliberately erroneous and bordering on heresy, explicitly driven by forces hostile to the Church.

The conspiratorial approach, unfortunately very widespread even among Catholics today, tends to reduce every doctrinal, disciplinary, or pastoral change to a plot orchestrated by anti-Christian forces, thereby obscuring the numerous historical, theological, and cultural factors that genuinely shape the life of the Church. This is not to deny the real threat of anti-Christian conspiracies, like the Freemasons, but rather to submit to the truth of history – the reality that every historical event (especially an Ecumenical Council) has so many historical factors at play as to make any oversimplification of causes and effects an exercise in hubris at best and harmful ideology at worst. This also leads to a loss of the sense of the mystery of Divine Providence, which guides the Church even through trials and human weaknesses.

What is the Perpetual Instruction of the Alta Vendita?

To understand the true historical significance of this document, it is essential to consider its authors and the historical context in which it was drafted.

In the early 19th century, numerous revolutionary societies and circles emerged across Italy. Among them was La Carboneria, founded in the Kingdom of Naples, whose primary goal was the unification of Italy under a constitutional government and resistance against the Austrian Empire, seen as the main adversary of Italian unity and a key ally of the papal temporal power. From Naples, the Carbonari quickly expanded into other Italian states, including the Papal Kingdom. The organization had strong ties to Freemasonry, drawing inspiration from its hierarchical structure and rituals. Both secret societies shared Liberal and anticlerical ideals, opposing monarchical rule and the Church.

One could indeed consider La Carboneria as the operational counterpart of Freemasonry in Italy during the Risorgimento. The various Masonic obediences are still divided into territorial cells called lodges. Similarly, the territorial cells of La Carboneria were called vendite, with the Alta Vendita at the head of them all. The Carbonari of northern Italy closely collaborated with a mysterious initiatory society founded by Filippo Buonarroti [1761–1837], known as the Society of Sublime Perfect Masters. Its members (presumably all aristocrats) remained unknown even to their subordinates and worked to spread the most radical socialist ideals.

On May 20, 1846, Pope Gregory XVI [1765-1846] summoned the historian Jacques Crétineau-Joly [1803–1875] to the Quirinal Palace and personally handed him the secret correspondence seized by the papal police during a raid on Carbonari conspiracy centers. Based on these revelations, the historian later published a fundamental two-volume work, L’Église romaine en face de la Révolution (1859).

The Alta Vendita was composed of forty members who signed with pseudonyms, as is typical in Masonic circles. From April 3, 1824, its leadership was assumed by an Italian aristocrat and anti-Mazzinian figure who signed as Nubius (possibly derived from Latin nubĭlus, meaning “cloudy”). He claimed to have contacts with bishops, cardinals, and chancellors across Europe. Previously, in 1817, the leaders of the Alta Vendita had drafted a Permanent Instruction, a secret programmatic document outlining an anti-Catholic strategy. This strategy primarily aimed at corrupting the clergy—including its highest ranks—with Liberal ideas. According to the conspirators, this alone would be sufficient to destroy the Church. Nubius had to carry out this war.

(A small clarification to avoid conceptual misunderstandings: when discussing Liberalism within 19th-century Catholic theology, the term specifically refers to a particular school of thought advocating the separation of Church and State, as well as complete freedom of conscience, speech, and press — nothing more. This doctrine, born from Lutheran subjectivism, was solemnly condemned by Pope Gregory XVI in Mirari Vos (1832) and later by Pope Pius IX in the Syllabus of Errors (1864), as it paved the way for indifferentism — a Masonic-origin philosophy that promotes the equality of all religions.)

Here are the key points from the Instruction:

We must reach the triumph of the revolutionary idea through the Pope by means of small, carefully calibrated steps, though never explicitly defined. […] The work we are undertaking is not the task of a day, a month, or even a year. It may last many years, perhaps a century: but in our ranks, the soldier dies, and the war continues. […] What we must seek and await, as the Jews await the Messiah, is a Pope suited to our needs. […] With him alone, we will more assuredly launch our assault on the Church.

From the perspective of the revolutionaries, they awaited the rise of a “reformist” Pope to the Throne of Peter—someone perhaps weak in character, not necessarily initiated into Masonic lodges or Carbonari circles, but preferably unaware of the conspiratorial dynamics. While authors like the aforementioned Vennari and controversial clerics such as Marcel Lefebvre [1905–1991] identified John XXIII [1881–1963] as the “Pope suited to Masonic needs,” the Carbonari of that era believed such a not-initiated-but-Liberal Pope would soon emerge.

This belief stemmed from the fact that, since the French Revolution, numerous Catholic priests and religious figures—despite ecclesiastical censorship—had absorbed revolutionary pamphlets and had even authored them. Liberal ideas were indeed widespread within the clergy, often underground and clandestine, making it challenging for authorities to suppress them.

Given the circumstances, from the perspective of the aristocratic leaders of La Carboneria, it was not unreasonable to hope for the imminent arrival of a Pope who would be a “friend of the Revolution”—one secretly shaped by Liberalism, who, upon reaching the pinnacle of the Church, would reveal his true intentions and inadvertently dismantle Catholicism. Indeed, as discovered by the papal police, Nubius’ extensive network within Gregory XVI’s Curia and the chancelleries of Catholic states across Europe—including Metternich’s—seemed to further confirm, in the eyes of many devout Catholics (including Pope Gregory himself), the inevitability of this looming tragedy. As we shall soon see, the Carbonari identified this “revolutionary Pope” as none other than Blessed Pius IX, who ascended to the Throne of Peter at a remarkably young age, on June 16, 1846. However, history would soon disappoint them, as Pope Mastai-Ferretti would become the fiercely opposed Pope of the Syllabus. But let’s proceed in an orderly fashion.

The Perpetual Instruction of the Alta Vendita must be read alongside other works of the time to fully grasp its true historical significance. One such work is undoubtedly Del primato morale e civile degli italiani (1843) by Vincenzo Gioberti [1801–1852], a Liberal Catholic priest who sympathized with many of the ideas of Giuseppe Mazzini [1805–1872], future Grand Master of the Grand Orient of Palermo.[3] In his book, Gioberti advocated for Italian unification through a federal system and the expulsion of the despised Austrians from its borders. At the head of this Italian confederation, he envisioned the Pope.

However, for this vision to materialize, the Papacy would need to undergo a republican transformation, and Catholicism would have to submit to the authority of the state. This notion provoked strong opposition from the most rigorous Catholics, especially the Jesuits, who were at the time regarded as champions of orthodoxy and staunch adversaries of the revolutionary Abbé Gioberti.

Pius IX, the “Liberal Pope” of La Carboneria?

On June 1, 1846, Gregory XVI died suddenly from a swift fever. As historian Roberto de Mattei notes,[4] chancelleries across Europe anxiously wondered whether his successor would be the dreaded Pope suited to the revolutionary sects’ needs. Hopes rested on the staunchly anti-Liberal Cardinal Luigi Lambruschini [1776–1854], the former Secretary of State, fervent Austrophile, and firm supporter of the post-Napoleonic restoration of monarchical absolutism.

However, to the surprise of some and the shock of others, after just four ballots, the young Bishop of Imola, Giovanni Maria Mastai-Ferretti [1792–1878], appeared on the Loggia of the Blessings, having chosen the name Pius IX in honor of Pius VII (another  Pope who initially tried to adopt strategies of “adaptation” to the Revolution), who had previously governed his diocese. Mastai-Ferretti was well known for his reformist stance and his noble family’s Liberal inclinations. Additionally, he was closely associated with Cardinal Tommaso Pasquale Gizzi [1787–1849], another prominent reformist, who would later become Pius’ Secretary of State. Giovanni Mastai-Ferretti was also known for his notable sympathy toward the aforementioned Vincenzo Gioberti, Antonio Rosmini [1797-1855], and Gioacchino Ventura [1792-1861]. In an era marked by ideological ferment and Liberal expectations, the Pope seemed willing to listen to voices calling for a serious revolution in the temporal order.

The Carbonari rejoiced at the announcement of the new Pope, believing that he would finally cast aside all the illiberal norms of his predecessors. As Roberto de Mattei keenly observes, Pius IX’s first public acts only reinforced the conviction of many that the time had come to reconcile the Church with the Revolution.

Historians—especially Catholic historians—often overlook the fact that one of the sparks that ignited the famous Revolutionary Movements of 1848 stemmed from an act of Pius IX. Indeed, his first action as Pope—following the customary practice upon a new pontiff’s election—was a general amnesty. What was unprecedented, however, was Pius IX’s decision to extend this amnesty to political prisoners. Specifically, 894 detainees were offered clemency in exchange for a simple declaration of loyalty to the Pope. In the end, only 564 agreed to sign. This amnesty was granted on July 16, 1846.

Nubius, the leader of the Alta Vendita, apparently convinced that the “Pope suited to our needs” had finally arrived, wrote the following:

We will use the real tears of the family and the alleged sorrows of exile to turn amnesty into a popular weapon. We will always demand it, happy to obtain it as late as possible, but we will demand it loudly.[5]

The conspirators, taking advantage of the wave of novelty and astonishment spreading among the people, skillfully crafted propaganda portraying the new Supreme Pontiff of the Catholic Church as one of the fiercest supporters of Liberalism. Thus, the myth of the Liberal Pope Pius IX was born. However, Mastai-Ferretti’s additional reformist actions only reinforced this conviction. Besides appointing the previously mentioned Cardinal Gizzi as the new Secretary of State, Pius IX also named Giovanni Corboli-Bussi as his personal advisor. Corboli-Bussi was the son of a revolutionary who had conspired against Pope Gregory XVI, a sympathizer of socialist ideas, and sensitive to various Liberal demands among the population.

The publication of the encyclical Qui Pluribus (November 9, 1846), in which Pius IX outlined the program of his pontificate and condemned the “unbridled license of thought, speech, and writings,” did little to change public perception. Many believed that what Pius IX condemned in words, he approved through actions and reforms. Despite the encyclical’s condemnation of press freedom, for instance, just four months later, on March 15, 1847, a law allowing free circulation of newspapers was enacted. Additionally, more religious freedom was granted to Jews, preventive censorship procedures were simplified and entrusted to more tolerant officials, appeals against censorship were permitted, and the powers of the Holy Office were reduced. Furthermore, Pius IX established the Municipality of Rome, on July 5, 1847, seemingly encouraging greater political participation among the people and democratizing governance, precisely as Italian Liberals had envisioned. On April 19, 1847, Pius IX established the State Council, a consultative body that Gregory XVI had consistently refused to implement. Later, on July 30, he created the Civic Guard, a citizen militia tasked with maintaining public order.

These reforms were groundbreaking, not only for their institutional innovation but also because they marked the first true opening of the Church’s temporal power to forms of civilian participation. While they generated enthusiasm, they also provoked deep anxieties. The resignation of Cardinal Gizzi, despite his reformist leanings, revealed that these changes were beginning to exceed the bounds of prudence. Meanwhile, the revolutionaries were not satisfied; they aspired to transform the State Council into a legislative parliament, gradually stripping the Pope of actual governing power. Toward the end of 1847, Pius IX instituted a formal government with nine ministries, each holding authority equivalent to his own—an attempt at an impossible balance between papal sovereignty and constitutional dynamics.

This apparent triumphant march toward Liberalism alarmed the Austrian Empire. Metternich decided to occupy Ferrara preemptively, while fabricated rumors spread across Rome, fueling hostility against Austria and nostalgic sentiments for Gregory XVI’s governance. Then, in 1848, Europe erupted in flames—from Paris to Vienna, Berlin to Milan, revolutionary movements swept across the continent. The Papal States also demanded a constitution, and, yielding to the pressures, Pius IX granted the Fundamental Statute on March 14, 1848.

The Revolution was not yet satisfied. The people, incited by conspirators, demanded war against Austria and the expulsion of the Jesuits, who were always despised by the sectarians. A striking example of this turmoil was when Giuseppe Galletti, a Freemason[6] and revolutionary who had been among the amnestied in 1846, managed to secure the position of Minister of Pontifical Police in November 1848 — a tragic paradox illustrating the gravity of the situation. Giuseppe Mazzini even went so far as to write a letter on September 8, 1847, praising the Pope and urging him to publicly renounce the faith.

Shaken by the escalating chaos and internally torn, Pius IX began to contemplate whether Italian unity and independence could truly be reconciled with the freedom and sovereignty of the Church. On April 29, 1848, during his historic allocution Non Semel before the College of Cardinals, the Pope solemnly declared that he could never wage war against a Catholic nation. With this decision, he effectively rejected the role of leader of the Italian Revolution. The Liberals cried out in betrayal.

These first three years of the pontificate of Blessed Pius IX, from 1846 to 1848, were among the most dramatic of 19th-century Europe. Forced to take refuge in Gaeta in response to the violent establishment of the Roman Republic, the Pope radically changed his approach to governance: he realized that there could be no peace between the Revolution and the Church of Christ. Thus emerged the Pope of the Counter-Revolution, the heroic Pontiff of the Immaculate Conception (1854), the Syllabus of Errors (1864), and papal infallibility (1870).

The Metahistorical Significance of the Instruction

When analyzing the Instruction in light of the historical context in which it was written, the imminent events, and the correspondence and statements of the Carbonari leaders of that time, it becomes clear how superficial it is to attempt to dissociate this secret document from the broader context of the Risorgimento — that is, the Italian Revolution.

The document is certainly highly indicative of the strategic approach used by revolutionaries against Catholicism. However, it is not evidence of a single, overarching master plan enduring from the 19th century to the present day. There is simply no evidence of this. There is no singular Freemasonry — rather, there are Masonic obediences, which have splintered over time, often engaging in violent lodge wars with each other. One notable example of this internal strife is the fate of Nubius, who was poisoned by Freemasons in 1848, an event that also marked the decline of La Carboneria. Those who claim that the Alta Vendita explains the history of the Church since 1958 (or since 2013) fail to distinguish that 1.) La Carboneria was not the same as Freemasonry and 2.) the Permanent Instruction was all about the Risorgimento. Yes, there are ideological similarities between 1846 and 1958, but that is where the relationship ends.

The Instruction of the Alta Vendita should not be understood as an apocalyptic prophecy destined to unfold in a linear and precise manner but rather as the expression of an ideological design that transcends centuries, continually taking new forms. From this perspective, rather than serving as a “key to interpreting” recent events, it should act as a permanent warning for the faithful — not to suspect conspiracies everywhere, but to remember that every era of the Church is marked by the mystery of iniquity, which operates from the beginning until the end of time (cf. 2 Thessalonians 2:7). The presence of liberal ideas within the clergy, the crisis of certain ecclesiastical institutions, and the ambiguities of some documents or pastoral choices should not lead the Catholic faithful to despair or disdain for Authority but rather to a deeper love for the truth, preserved in the living Tradition of the Church.

Ultimately, the error of those who take the Instruction as the “definitive proof” of postconciliar decline is not only historical error but, above all, theological error. This perspective reduces the history of the Church to an immanentistic and disincarnate interpretation, forgetting that even when the enemies of faith seem to prevail, Dominus regnavit, decorem indutus est (cf. Psalm 92:1). Divine Providence, though permitting evil, guides history toward the final triumph of the Mystical Body of Christ. Reading the Instruction in this light is the only truly Catholic way to understand it — not as a destiny but as a challenge; not as a revelation but as a temptation.

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[1] John Vennari, The Permanent Instruction of the Alta Vendita. A Masonic Blueprint of the Subversion of the Catholic Church, Rockford (Illinois, USA): Tan Books & Publishers, Inc. (1999). 

[2] See his text They Have Uncrowned Him (Angelus Press, 1988), 135-138.

[3] He will receive the 33rd Degree of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite in 1864. Cf. Giordano Gamberini, Mille volti di massoni, Roma: Erasmo (1976), p. 119.

[4] Cfr. Roberto de Mattei, Pio IX e la Rivoluzione italiana, Siena: Cantagalli (2012).

[5] Jacques Crétineau-Joly, L’Église romaine en face de la Révolution (1859), v. II, p. 139.

[6] Giuseppe Galletti was initiated in Bologna as early as the 1830s or 1840s in the Loggia Concordia, and later, in the 1860s, affiliated to the Loggia Galvani.