Loyola

Rubens. Hinchliff.

HISTORY OF THE JESUITS:
THEIR ORIGIN,
PROGRESS, DOCTRINES, AND DESIGNS.

BY
G. B. NICOLINI,
OF ROME,
AUTHOR OF “THE HISTORY OF THE PONTIFICATE OF PIUS IX.,”
“THE LIFE OF FATHER GAVAZZI,” ETC.

LONDON:
HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
1854.

PRINTED BY HARRISON AND SONS:
LONDON GAZETTE OFFICE. ST. MARTIN’S LANE.

PREFACE.

I trust that in the following pages I have succeeded in the task I proposed to myself, of conveying to my readers a just and correct idea of the character and aims of the brotherhood of Loyola. At least I have spared no pains to accomplish this end. I honestly believe that the book was wanted; for liberal institutions and civil and religious freedom have no greater enemies than that cunning fraternity; while it is equally true, that although the Jesuits are dreaded and detested on all sides as the worst species of knaves, there are few who are thoroughly acquainted with their eventful history, and with all those arts by which the fathers have earned for themselves a disgraceful celebrity. The fault does not altogether lie with the public; for, strange to say, there is no serious and complete history of this wonderful Society. I have done my best to supply the deficiency; and I indulge the hope that, if the book is fortunate enough to challenge public attention, it may be productive of some good. In no other epoch of history, certainly, have the Jesuits been more dangerous and threatening for England than in the present. I am no alarmist. I refuse to believe that England will relapse under the Papal yoke, and return to the darkness and ignorance of the middle ages, because some score of citizens pass over to the Romish communion; but at the same time I do believe that many bold and less reflective persons make too light of the matter, and are wrong in refusing to countenance vigorous measures, not for religious persecution, but to check the insolence and countermine the plots of these audacious monks. It is true that there exists a great difficulty in deciding what measures are to be adopted for accomplishing this end. It is repugnant, doubtless, to a liberal and generous mind, and it is unworthy of a free and great nation, to persecute any sect, and to make different castes in the same body of citizens. But, it may fairly be asked, are monks, and especially Jesuits, really English citizens, in the strictest sense of the word? Do they recognise Queen Victoria as their legitimate sovereign? Are they prepared to yield a loyal obedience to the laws of the land? To all these questions I answer, No! Even when born in England, they do not consider themselves Englishmen. They claim the privileges which the name confers, but will not accept the obligations it imposes. Their country is Rome; their sovereign the Pope; their laws the commands of their General. England they consider an accursed land; Englishmen heretics, whom they are under an obligation to combat. The perusal of this work will, I imagine, prove beyond the possibility of contradiction that, from their origin, the Jesuits have constantly and energetically laboured towards this object. I cannot too much impress upon the minds of my readers that the Jesuits, by their very calling, by the very essence of their institution, are bound to seek, by every means, right or wrong, the destruction of Protestantism. This is the condition of their existence, the duty they must fulfil, or cease to be Jesuits. Accordingly, we find them in this evil dilemma. Either the Jesuits fulfil the duties of their calling, or not. In the first instance, they must be considered as the bitterest enemies of the Protestant faith; in the second, as bad and unworthy priests; and in both cases, therefore, to be equally regarded with aversion and distrust.

Can no measure, then be taken against these aliens, who reside in England purposely to trouble her peace? Cannot a nation do something to protect itself, without incurring the reproach of being intolerant? What! When some English writers and newspapers insist that measures should be taken against certain other foreigners, who trouble not the peace of Great Britain, though they may disturb the imperial dreams of a neighbouring tyrant; and when the local authorities in Jersey have, to a certain extent, resorted to such measures, shall England be denied the right to take steps against the enemies of her faith, her glory, and her prosperity? The important point of the question which I submit to the consideration of those who, indifferent in matters of religion, care very little whether Jesuits convert a half of the nation to Romanism, is this: In England, the religious question involves also the question of national peace, greatness, and prosperity. If one-half of England were Papists, Queen Victoria, in given circumstances, could not depend upon the allegiance of her subjects, nor the Parliament on the execution of the laws. It may be that the priests (to be liberal in my hypothesis) will teach the ignorant and bigoted Popish population to respect and obey the Queen—but most assuredly they will also command them, and, moreover, under penalty of eternal damnation, to obey, in preference, the orders of the Pope, if they are in contradiction to those of the Sovereign. Their cry will be:—the Pope before the Queen; the canon laws before the civil code! Now, I ask, if the Pope were sure of being obeyed by half the English population, would England long enjoy her liberties, would she prosper in her enterprises, and continue to be, without contradiction, the first and most powerful nation of Europe? Can it be imagined that that admirable combination of rights and duties embodied in the constitution, that respect of the Sovereign for the rights of the citizens, and that unaffected love of the people for the Sovereign, which form the real strength and power of Britain, could long be preserved? I need not insist further on this point. I believe, however, I have said enough to shew that, whether any other measures can be taken against this insidious Order or not, the clause in the Emancipation Act concerning the religious communities should be rigorously executed.

I am sensible that the above remarks would perhaps have been more appropriate to the Conclusion of the work; but, as they have not a general character, but are considerations more particularly submitted to an English public, I have thought it better to consign them to the Preface, which may be modified, according to place and circumstances, without altering the general features of the work to which it belongs.

In the compilation of this work, I have studiously kept my promise not to advance a single fact for which I could not produce unquestionable authority; and, while I expect that my deductions will be impugned, I can safely defy any one to contradict the facts upon which they are based. When I have quoted original authors, on the authority of others, I have never done so without ascertaining, by my own inspection, or by that of friends—when the works were not to be had here—that the quotations were correct. I have entered somewhat minutely into details in the first part of the History, partly, perhaps, a little influenced by the interminable prolixity of the Jesuit authors I consulted, and partly because I deemed it necessary, in order that my readers might form a correct idea of the mechanism, the principles, and the proceedings of the Society. Once persuaded that the reader was acquainted with the acts and ways of the fraternity, I have abandoned detail, and given such broad features of the principal events as might afford instructive lessons. I have endeavoured to reject from the narrative all that is extraneous to the subject. I have overlooked embellishments. I do not claim the merit of being an elegant or eloquent writer, still less in a language which is not my own, and in which I was often at a loss to express my ideas. But I must confess that I have some hope that in the eyes of an indulgent reader the consequences I have deduced from the facts will be found to be logical, the language intelligible, and the work not altogether wanting in order.

In the course of the publication, I have received many letters—some friendly, others insulting; but, as they were all anonymous, I could answer neither. In any case, I should only have answered my friends, and thanked them for their advice; while, in regard to the second class of my correspondents, even although the “modest authors” had not deemed it prudent “to conceal their names,” I should assuredly not have condescended to furnish a reply, contenting myself with the simple reflection that it is naturally unpalatable to the culprit to have his crimes dragged into the light of day.

I cannot conclude this Preface without expressing my warmest gratitude to the librarians of the different public establishments in Edinburgh, and especially to the librarian of the Advocates’ Library, and his assistants, for the liberal manner in which they have put at my disposal the books contained in their collections.

Finally, as I am sensible (from a conviction of my own insufficiency) that the work cannot be productive to me of either renown or consideration, my chief hope is, that it may prove useful and beneficial to some portion at least of the English community, otherwise I should indeed have cause immensely to regret my pains and my labour.

Edinburgh, December 4, 1852.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

INTRODUCTION.

When I first intimated to some of my friends my intention of writing the History of the Jesuits, most of them dissuaded me from the enterprise, as from a task too difficult. I am fully aware of all the difficulties I have to encounter in my undertaking. I am sensible that to write a complete and detailed history of the Jesuits would require more time and learning than I have to bestow: neither could such a history be brought within the compass of six or seven hundred pages. It will be my endeavour, however, to give as faithful an account of the Society as I can, to furnish an accurate narrative of facts, and an outline of the principal members of the order. Thus much, at least, with the aid of time, patience, and study, may be achieved by any one.

I confess, too, that I am encouraged by a sense of the intrinsic interest of the subject itself, which may well do much to cast a veil over my own imperfect treatment of it: for, amidst the general wreck and decay of all human things, amidst the rise and fall of dynasties, nay, of empires themselves and whole nations of men, the inquiry may indeed give us pause—Wherein lay the seeds of that vitality in the original constitution of the Jesuits, which has served during three centuries to maintain the ranks of the Society, under many shocks, still unbroken? A sufficient answer to this inquiry will, I trust, be developed during the course of my narrative.

The main difficulty of my subject, as will be readily understood, lies in discovering and delineating the true character of the Jesuits: for, take the Jesuit for what he ought or appears to be, and you commit the greatest of blunders. Draw the character after what the Jesuit seems to be in London, and you will not recognise your portrait in the Jesuit of Rome. The Jesuit is the man of circumstances. Despotic in Spain, constitutional in England, republican in Paraguay, bigot in Rome, idolater in India, he shall assume and act out in his own person, with admirable flexibility, all those different features by which men are usually to be distinguished from each other. He will accompany the gay woman of the world to the theatre, and will share in the excesses of the debauchee. With solemn countenance, he will take his place by the side of the religious man at church, and he will revel in the tavern with the glutton and the sot. He dresses in all garbs, speaks all languages, knows all customs, is present everywhere though nowhere recognised—and all this, it should seem (O monstrous blasphemy!), for the greater glory of God—ad majorem Dei gloriam.

According to my opinion, in order to form a correct estimate of the Jesuits, we must, first, study their code, and, disregarding its letter, endeavour to discover the spirit in and by which it was dictated; secondly, we must be ever on our guard against the deception of judging them simply by their deeds, without constant reference to the results flowing from them—for we may rest assured that, in their case, it will be too often found that the fruit which externally may be fair and tempting to the eye, yields nothing at its core but vileness and corruption.

It is under the guidance of such principles of criticism as these that I shall write my history.

My readers, however, must not look to find my book thick-sown throughout with nothing but vehement and indiscriminate abuse against the order. Such is not the vehicle through which, in the judgment of the impartial, I shall be expected to manifest my disapproval, whenever the occasion for such disapproval shall present itself. It will be my endeavour not to be led astray by any feeling whatsoever, but to give every one his due. Whatever I shall advance against the Jesuits, I shall prove upon their own authority, or by notorious, incontestable facts. Alas! these will prove to be too numerous, and of too dark a character, to require the addition of anything that is untrue; and the Society numbers among its members too many rogues to prevent its historian (if, indeed, one so unjust could be found) from making creditable mention, for poor humanity’s sake, of the few honest, if misguided, ones he may chance to meet on his way.

I hope my readers will be indulgent to me, if I promise that I will spare neither trouble nor exertion to surmount all the difficulties that lie in my path, and to present in as true a light as possible the crafty disciples of the brotherhood of Loyola.

HISTORY OF THE JESUITS.

CHAPTER I.
1500-40.
ORIGIN OF THE ORDER.

The sixteenth century presents itself pregnant with grave and all-important events. The old world disappears—a new order of things commences. The royal power, adorned with the seignorial prerogatives snatched from the subjugated barons, establishes itself amidst their ruined castles, beneath which lies buried the feudal system. Mercenary armies, now constantly maintained by the sovereign, render him independent of the military services of his subjects, and formidable alike to foreign foes and to turbulent nobles. The monarchs advance rapidly towards despotism—the people subside into apathetic submission, Europe has become the appanage of a few masters. Henry VIII. of England, Francis I. of France, and Charles V. of Spain, share it among them; but, not content with their respective dominions, they fight among themselves for the empire of the whole, or at least for supremacy of power. Henry having retired from the contest after the Electoral Congress of Frankfort, the other two continue the strife with varying success. The gold of the recently discovered western world, and his immense possessions, give to Charles an enormous power. The bravery of a warlike nation makes formidable the chivalrous spirit of the indomitable Francis. Their wars redden Europe with blood, yet produce no decided result.

Meanwhile, as a compensation for these evils, the human mind, casting off the prejudices and ignorance of the Middle Ages, marches to regeneration. Italy becomes, for the second time, the centre from whence the light of genius and learning shines forth over Europe. Leonardo da Vinci, Tiziano, Michael Angelo, are the sublime, the almost divine interpreters of art. Pulci, Ariosto, Poliziano, give a new and creative impulse to literature, and are the worthy descendants of Dante. Scholasticism, with its subtle argumentations, vague reasonings, and illogical deductions, is superseded by the practical philosophy of Lorenzo and Machiavelli, and by the irresistible and eloquent logic of the virtuous but unfortunate Savonarola. Men who for the last three centuries had been satisfied with what had been taught and said by Aristotle and his followers—who, as the last and incontrovertible argument, had been accustomed to exclaim, Ipse dixit—now begin to think for themselves, and dare to doubt and discuss what had hitherto been considered sacred and unassailable truths. The newly-awakened human intellect eagerly enters upon the new path, and becomes argumentative and inquiring, to the great dismay of those who deprecated diversity of faith; and the Court of Rome, depending on the blind obedience of the credulous, anathematising every disputer of the Papal infallibility, views with especial concern this rising spirit of inquiry, and has to tremble for its usurped power.

Fortunately, the three last Popes had bestowed little or no attention on the spiritual affairs of the world, and made no effort to combat the new ideas. Borgia, amid his incestuous debaucheries, had been solely intent upon suppressing by poniard and poison the refractory spirit of the Roman barons, and upon acquiring new territories for his cherished Cæsar—a son worthy of such a father. Julius, in his noble enterprise of ridding Italy from foreign domination, was a great deal fonder of casque and cuirass than of the Somma of St Thomas or any other theological book. Leo, son of that Lorenzo rightly called “Magnifico,” had inherited his father’s love of art and literature, and of every noble pursuit. Magnificent, generous, affable yet dignified in his manners, living amidst every luxury, the centre of the most splendid court in the world, he exhibited the characteristics of a temporal prince rather than those of the supreme pontiff. He took a greater interest in a stanza of Ariosto or a statue by Michael Angelo than in all the writings of the scholastics, of which, in fact, he knew very little. The impartial and accurate Sarpi says of him—“He would have been a perfect pontiff, if to so many excellencies he had united some knowledge in the matter of religion, and a little more inclination to piety, two things about which he seemed to care but little.”[1] He laughed heartily when some of his more bigoted prelates pointed out to him the imminent perils to religion and the Church from the rapid spread of the new and dangerous doctrines. He viewed the quarrels between the Dominican and Augustine Friars much in the same light in which Homer is supposed to have regarded the battle of the frogs and mice, and was at last roused from his indifference only when Luther attacked—not any article of faith, but his pretended right of selling indulgences to replenish his coffers and provide his sister’s dowry. Yet even then he would have preferred a compromise to a religious war. Had his fanatical courtiers participated in his prudent scruples, the Roman Church might have long retained Germany and many other European countries under her yoke. But God in his wisdom had ordained otherwise.

To a very submissive letter which the Reformer addressed to the Pope, appealing to him as to a judge, the Court of Rome replied by a bull of excommunication. Upon this Luther renewed his anxious investigation of the Holy Scriptures with increased ardour; and, becoming more and more powerfully convinced that he had been propounding nothing but the Word of God, fearlessly cast aside all idea of a reconciliation, and stood firm in support of his doctrines. Previously he might have been inclined to keep in abeyance some of his private opinions, but now he had come to consider it a deadly sin not to preach the truth as expressed by God in his Holy Word.

The German princes, partly persuaded of the truth of Luther’s doctrines, partly desirous to escape the exacting tyranny of Rome which drained their subjects’ pockets, supported the Reformer. They protested at Spires, and at Smalkaden made preparations to maintain their protest by arms. In a few years, without armed violence, but simply by the persuasive force of truth, the greater part of Germany became converted to the Reformed faith. The honest indignation of Zuinglius in Switzerland, and, conspiring with the diffusion of the truth, the unbridled passions of Henry VIII. in England, alike rescued a considerable portion of their respective countries from the Romish yoke. In France and in Navarre the new doctrines found many warm adherents; whilst in Italy itself, at Brescia, Pisa, Florence, nay, even at Rome and at Faenza, there were many who more or less openly embraced the principles of the Reformation. Thus, in a short time, the Roman religion—founded in ancient and deep-rooted prejudices—supported by the two greatest powers in the world, the Pope and the Emperor—defended by all the bishops and priests, who lived luxuriously by it—was overturned throughout a great part of Europe.

And let us here admire the hand of Divine Providence! As if with the special view of facilitating the rapid diffusion of the Reformed religion, there was given to the world but a few years before, and in that same Germany where it took its rise, the most wonderful and efficient instrument for the purpose—the Art of Printing. Without the press, Luther’s doctrines would never have spread so widely in so very few months. As at that time this beneficent invention was a powerful agent in advancing religious reformation, so has it since become an effective means of political as well as religious enfranchisement. Hence the hatred of the Popes and their brother despots towards this staunch supporter of liberty.

But while the Word of God was thus rescuing such multitudes from idolatry, the Spirit of Evil, furious at the escape of so many victims whom he had already counted his own, made a desperate effort to retrieve his past, and prevent future losses. He saw, with dismay, Divine truth, like a vast and ever-extending inundation, rapidly undermining and throwing down, one by one, his many strongholds of superstition and ignorance; and, with the despairing energy of baffled malignity, he set about rearing up a bulwark which should check the tide ere its work of destruction was completed. For this bulwark he devised the since famous order of the Jesuits, which arose almost simultaneously with the establishment of the Reformation. So we may say. The Roman Catholic writers, however, ascribe the origin of the Jesuits to a far different influence. They declare, “that, as from time to time new heresies have afflicted the Church of God, so He has raised up holy men to combat them; and as He had raised up St Dominic against the Albigenses and Vaudois, so He sent Loyola and his disciples against the Lutherans and Calvinists.”[2]

It is of this renowned and dreaded Society that I purpose to write the history. As a matter of course, the first few pages will contain a biographical sketch of its bold and sagacious founder, to whom altars have been consecrated, and who is still regarded as the type and soul of the order.

Iñigo, or, as commonly called, Ignatius Loyola, the youngest of eleven children of a noble and ancient family, was born in the year 1491, in his father’s castle of Loyola at Guipuscoa in Spain. He was of middle stature, and rather dark complexion; had deep-set piercing eyes, and a handsome and noble countenance. While yet young he had become bald, which gave him an expression of dignity, that was not impaired by a lameness arising from a severe wound. His father, a worldly man, as his biographer says, instead of sending him to some holy community to be instructed in religion and piety, placed him as a page at the court of Ferdinand V. But Ignatius, naturally of a bold and aspiring disposition, soon found that no glory was to be reaped in the antechambers of the Catholic king; and, delighting in military exercises, he became a soldier—and a brave one he proved. His historians, to make his subsequent conversion appear more wonderful and miraculous, have represented him as a perfect monster of iniquity; but, in truth, he was merely a gay soldier, fond of pleasure no doubt, yet not more debauched than the generality of his brother officers. His profligacy, whatever it was, did not prevent him from being a man of strict honour, never backward in time of danger.

At the defence of Pampeluna against the French, in 1521, Ignatius, while bravely performing his duty on the walls, was struck down by a ball, which disabled both his legs. With him fell the courage of the besieged. They yielded, and the victors entering the town, found the wounded officer, and kindly sent him to his father’s castle, which was not far distant. Here he endured all the agonies which generally attend gunshot wounds, and an inflammatory fever which supervened brought him to the verge of the grave—when, “Oh, miracle!” exclaims his biographer, “it being the eve of the feast of the glorious saints Peter and Paul, the prince of the apostles appeared to him in a vision, and touched him, whereby he was, if not immediately restored to health, at least put in a fair way of recovery.” Now the fact is, that the patient uttered not a syllable regarding his vision at the time; nevertheless we are gravely assured that the miracle was not the less a fact. Be this, however, as it may, Ignatius undoubtedly recovered, though slowly. During his long convalescence, he sought to beguile the tedious hours of irksome inactivity passed in the sick chamber by reading all the books of knight-errantry which could be procured. The chivalrous exploits of the Rolands and Amadises made a deep impression upon his imagination, which, rendered morbidly sensitive by a long illness, may well be supposed to have been by no means improved by such a course of study. When these books were exhausted, some pious friend brought him the Lives of the Saints. This work, however, not suiting his taste, Ignatius at first flung it aside in disgust, but afterwards, from sheer lack of better amusement, he began to read it. It presented to him a new phase of the romantic and marvellous, in which he so much delighted. He soon became deeply interested, and read it over and over again. The strange adventures of these saints—the praise, the adoration, the glorious renown which they acquired—so fired his mind, that he almost forgot his favourite paladins. His ardent ambition saw here a new career opened up to it. He longed to become a saint.

Yet the military life had not lost its attractions for him. It did not require the painful preparation necessary to earn a saintly reputation, and was, moreover, more in accordance with his education and tastes. He long hesitated which course to adopt—whether he should win the laurels of a hero, or earn the crown of a saint. Had he perfectly recovered from the effects of his wound, there is little doubt but that he would have chosen the laurels. But this was not to be. Although he was restored to health, his leg remained hopelessly deformed—he was a cripple for life. It appeared that his restorer, St Peter, although upon the whole a tolerably good physician, was by no means an expert surgeon. The broken bone of his leg had not been properly set; part of it protruded through the skin below the knee, and the limb was short. Sorely, but vainly, did Ignatius strive to remove these impediments to a military career, which his unskilful though saintly surgeon had permitted to remain. He had the projecting piece of bone sawn off, and his shortened leg painfully extended by mechanical appliances, in the hope of restoring it to its original fine proportions. The attempt failed; so he found himself, at the age of thirty-two, with a shrunken limb, with little or no renown, and, by his incurable lameness, rendered but slightly capable of acquiring military glory. Nothing then remained for him but to become a saint.

Saintship being thus, as it were, forced upon him, he at once set about the task of achieving it, with all that ardour which he brought to bear upon every pursuit. He became daily absorbed in the most profound meditations, and made a full confession of all his past sins, which was so often interrupted by his passionate outbursts of penitent weeping, that it lasted three days.[3] To stimulate his devotion, he lacerated his flesh with the scourge, and abjuring his past life, he hung up his sword beside the altar in the church of the convent of Monserrat. Meeting a beggar on the public road, he exchanged clothes with him, and, habited in the loathsome rags of the mendicant, retired to a cave near Manreze, where he nearly starved himself. When he next re-appeared in public, he found his hopes almost realised. His fame had spread far and wide; the people flocked from all quarters to see him—visited his cave with feelings of reverent curiosity—and, in short, nothing was talked of but the holy man and his severe penances. But now the Evil Spirit began to assail him. The tender conscience of Ignatius began to torment him with the fear that all this public notice had made him proud; that, while he had almost begun to consider himself a saint, he was, in reality, by reason of that very belief itself, the most heinous of sinners. So embittered did his life become in consequence of these thoughts, that he went wellnigh distracted. “But God supported him; and the Tempter, baffled in his attempts, fled. Ignatius fasted for seven days, neither eating nor drinking; went again to the confessional; and, receiving absolution, was not only delivered from the stings of his own conscience, but obtained the gift of healing the troubled consciences of others.”[4] This miraculous gift Ignatius is believed to have transmitted to his successors, and it is in a great measure to this belief that the enormous influence of the Company of Jesus is to be attributed, as we shall see hereafter.

Now that Ignatius could endure his saintship without being overwhelmed by a feeling of sinfulness, he pursued his course with renewed alacrity. Yet it was in itself by no means an attractive one. In order to be a perfect Catholic saint, a man must become a sort of misanthrope—cast aside wholesome and cleanly apparel, go about clothed in filthy rags, wearing haircloth next his skin—and, renouncing the world and its inhabitants, must retire to some noisome den, there to live in solitary meditation, with wild roots and water for food, daily applying the scourge to expiate his sins—of which, according to one of the disheartening doctrines of the Catholic Church, even the just commit at least seven a day. The saint must enter into open rebellion against the laws and instincts of human nature, and consequently against the will of the Creator. And although it cannot be denied that some of the founders of monastic orders conscientiously believed that their rules were conducive to holiness and eternal beatitude, nevertheless, we may with justice charge them with overlooking the fact, that as the transgression of the laws of nature invariably brings along with it its own punishment—a certain evidence of the Divine displeasure—true holiness cannot consist in disregarding and opposing them.

Ignatius, however, continued his life of penance, made to the Virgin Mary a solemn vow of perpetual chastity, begged for his bread, often scourged himself, and spent many hours a day in prayer and meditation. What he meditated upon, God only knows. After a few months of this ascetic life, he published a little book which much increased his fame for sanctity. It is a small octavo volume, and bears the title of Spiritual Exercises.[5] As this work, the only one he has left, is the acknowledged standard of the Jesuits’ religious practice, and is by them extolled to the skies, we must say some few words about it.

First of all, we shall relate the supernatural origin assigned to it by the disciples and panegyrists of its author.

“He” (Ignatius) “had already done much for God’s sake, and God now rendered it back to him with usury. A courtier, a man of pleasure, and a soldier, he had neither the time nor the will to gather knowledge from books. But the knowledge of man, the most difficult of all, was divinely revealed to him. The master who was to form so many masters, was himself formed by Divine illumination. He composed the Spiritual Exercises, a work which had a most important place in his life, and is powerfully reflected in the history of his disciples.”

This quotation is from Crétineau Joly (vol i. p. 18), an author who professes not to belong to the Society, but whose book was published under the patronage of the Jesuits, who, he says, opened to him all the depositories of unpublished letters and manuscripts in their principal convent, the Gesù, at Rome; he wrote also a virulent pamphlet against the great Pontiff Clement XIV., the suppressor of the Jesuits. Hence we consider ourselves fairly entitled to rank the few quotations we shall make from him as among those emanating from the writers that belong to the order; and we are confident that no Jesuit would ever think of repudiating Crétineau Joly. This author proceeds to state, that in the manuscript in which Father Jouvency narrates in elegant Latin those strange events, it is said—‘This light shed by the Divine will upon Ignatius shewed him openly and without veil the mystery of the adorable Trinity and other arcana of religion. He remained for eight days as if deprived of life. What he witnessed during this ecstatic trance, as well as in many other visions which he had during life, no one knows. He had indeed committed these celestial visions to paper, but shortly before his death he burned the book containing them, lest it should fall into unworthy hands. A few pages, however, escaped his precautions, and from them one can easily conjecture that he must have been from day to day loaded with still greater favours. Chiefly was he sweetly ravished in contemplating the dignity of Christ the Lord, and his inconceivable charity towards the human race. As the mind of Ignatius was filled with military ideas, he figured to himself Christ as a general fighting for the Divine glory, and calling on all men to gather under his standard. Hence sprang his desire to form an army of which Jesus should be the chief and commander, the standard inscribed—‘Ad majorem Dei gloriam.’

With deference to M. Joly, we think that a more mundane origin may be found for the “Exercises” in the feverish dreams of a heated imagination. Be this as it may, however, we shall proceed to lay before our readers a short analysis of it, extracted from Cardinal Wiseman’s preface to the last edition. He says—“This is a practical, not a theoretical work. It is not a treatise on sin or on virtue; it is not a method of Christian perfection, but it contains the entire practice of perfection, by making us at once conquer sin and acquire the highest virtue. The person who goes through the Exercises is not instructed, but is made to act; and this book will not be intelligible apart from this view.”

“The reader will observe that it is divided into Four Weeks; and each of these has a specific object, to advance the exercitant an additional step towards perfect virtue. If the work of each week be thoroughly done, this is actually accomplished.[6]

“The first week has for its aim the cleansing of the conscience from past sin, and of the affections from their future dangers. For this purpose, the soul is made to convince itself deeply of the true end of its being—to serve God and be saved, and of the real worth of all else. This consideration has been justly called by St Ignatius the principle or foundation of the entire system.” The Cardinal assures us that the certain result of this first week’s exercises is, that “sin is abandoned, hated, loathed....

“In the second, the life of Christ is made our model; by a series of contemplations of it we become familiar with his virtues, enamoured of his perfections; we learn, by copying him, to be obedient to God and man, meek, humble, affectionate; zealous, charitable, and forgiving; men of only one wish and one thought—that of doing ever God’s holy will alone; discreet, devout, observant of every law, scrupulous performers of every duty. Every meditation on these subjects shews us how to do all this; in fact, makes us really do it.[7] ... The third week brings us to this. Having desired and tried to be like Christ in action, we are brought to wish and endeavour to be like unto him in suffering. For this purpose his sacred passion becomes the engrossing subject of the Exercises.... But she (the soul) must be convinced and feel, that if she suffers, she also shall be glorified with him; and hence the fourth and concluding week raises the soul to the consideration of those glories which crowned the humiliations and sufferings of our Lord.” Then, after a highly figurative eulogium upon the efficacy of the Exercises “duly performed,” the reverend prelate proceeds to shew that the one “essential element of a spiritual retreat” (for so the Exercises reduced to action are popularly called) “is direction. In the Catholic Church no one is ever allowed to trust himself in spiritual matters. The sovereign pontiff is obliged to submit himself to the direction of another, in whatever concerns his own soul. The life of a good retreat is a good director of it.” This director modifies (according to certain written rules) the order of the Exercises, to adapt them to the peculiar character of the exercitant; regulates the time employed in them, watches their effects, and, like a physician prescribing for a patient, varies the treatment according to the symptoms exhibited, encouraging those which seem favourable, and suppressing those which are detrimental, to the desired result. “Let no one,” says the Cardinal, “think of undertaking these holy Exercises without the guidance of a prudent and experienced director.”

“It will be seen that the weeks of the Exercises do not mean necessarily a period of seven days. The original period of their performance was certainly a month; but even so, more or less time was allotted to each week’s work according to the discretion of the director. Now, except in very particular circumstances, the entire period is abridged to ten days; sometimes it is still further reduced.”

It will be observed from the above extracts, that the Cardinal, ignoring the fact that the sinner’s conversion must be effected entirely by the operation of the Holy Spirit, seems to regard the unregenerate human soul merely as a piece of raw material, which the “director” may, as it were, manufacture into a saint, simply by subjecting it to the process prescribed in the Exercises.

In regard to the merits of the book, I cannot agree either with Wiseman or a very brilliant Protestant writer,[8] who, speaking of the approbation bestowed on it by Pope Paul III., says—“Yet on this subject the chair of Knox, if now filled by himself, would not be very widely at variance with the throne of St Peter.” The book certainly does not deserve this high eulogium. However, it cannot be denied that, amidst many recommendations of many absurd and superstitious practices proper to the Popish religion, the little volume does contain some very good maxims and precepts. For instance, here are two passages to which I am sure that not even the most anti-Catholic Protestant could reasonably object. At page 16 it is said—

“Man was created for this end, that he might praise and reverence the Lord his God, and, serving him, at length be saved.[9] But the other things which are placed on the earth were created for man’s sake, that they might assist him in pursuing the end of creation; whence it follows, that they are to be used or abstained from in proportion as they benefit or hinder him in pursuing that end. Wherefore we ought to be indifferent towards all created things (in so far as they are subject to the liberty of our will, and not prohibited), so that (to the best of our power) we seek not health more than sickness, nor prefer riches to poverty, honour to contempt, a long life to a short one. But it is fitting, out of all, to choose and desire those things only which lead to the end.” And again, at page 33—“The third” (article for meditation) “is, to consider myself; who, or of what kind I am, adding comparisons which may bring me to a greater contempt of myself; as, if I reflect how little I am when compared with all men; then, what the whole multitude of mortals is, as compared with the angels and all the blessed: after these things I must consider what, in fact, all the creation is in comparison with God the Creator himself; what now can I, one mere human being, be? Lastly, let me look at the corruption of my whole self, the wickedness of my soul, and the pollution of my body, and account myself to be a kind of ulcer or boil, from which so great and foul a flood of sins, so great a pestilence of vices, has flowed down.

“The fourth is, to consider what God is, whom I have thus offended, collecting the perfections which are God’s peculiar attributes, and comparing them with my opposite vices and defects; comparing, that is to say, his supreme power, wisdom, goodness, and justice, with my extreme weakness, ignorance, wickedness, and iniquity.”

But then the above “Exercises” are followed by certain “Additions,” which are recommended as conducing to their “better performance.” Some of these are very strange; for instance—“The fourth is, to set about the contemplation itself, now kneeling on the ground, now lying on my face or on my back; now sitting or standing, and composing myself, in the way in which I may hope the more easily to attain what I desire. In which matter, these two things must be attended to: the first, that if, on my knees or in any other posture, I obtain what I wish, I seek nothing further. The second, that on the point in which I shall have attained the devotion I seek, I ought to rest, without being anxious about pressing on until I shall have satisfied myself.” “The sixth, that I avoid those thoughts which bring joy, as that of the glorious resurrection of Christ; since any such thought hinders the tears and grief for my sins, which must then be sought by calling in mind rather death or judgment.” “The seventh, that, for the same reason, I deprive myself of all the brightness of the light, shutting the doors and windows so long as I remain there” (in my chamber), “except while I have to read or take my food.” At page 55 we find, in the Second Week—“The Fifth Contemplation is the application of the senses to those” (contemplations) “mentioned above. After the preparatory prayer, with the three already mentioned preludes, it is eminently useful to exercise the five imaginary senses concerning the first and second contemplations in the following way, according as the subject shall bear.

“The first point will be, to see in imagination all the persons, and, noting the circumstances which shall occur concerning them, to draw out what may be profitable to ourselves.

“The second, by hearing, as it were, what they are saying, or what it may be natural for them to say, to turn all to our own advantage.

“The third, to perceive, by a certain inward taste and smell, how great is the sweetness and delightfulness of the soul imbued with Divine gifts and virtues, according to the nature of the person we are considering, adapting to ourselves those things which may bring us some fruit.

“The fourth, by an inward touch, to handle and kiss the garments, places, footsteps, and other things connected with such persons; whence we may derive a greater increase of devotion, or of any spiritual good.

“This contemplation will be terminated, like the former ones, by adding, in like manner, Pater noster.”

At page 52, among things “to be noted” is—

“The second, that the first exercise concerning the Incarnation of Christ is performed at midnight; the next at dawn; the third about the hour of mass; the fourth about the time of vespers; the fifth a little before supper; and on each of them will be spent the space of one hour; which same thing has to be observed henceforward everywhere.”

Loyola’s next step towards holiness was a pilgrimage to Palestine to convert the infidels. What he did in the Holy Land we do not know; his biographer tells us only that he was sent back by the Franciscan friar who exercised there the Papal authority.[10]

On his homeward voyage, Ignatius conceived that a little learning would perhaps help him in the task of converting heretics, and thus furnish him with an additional chance of rendering himself famous; so after his return he attended a school at Barcelona for two years, where, a full-grown man of thirty-four, he learned the rudiments of the Latin language, sitting upon the same bench with little boys.

Having failed to make any proselytes to his extravagances at Barcelona, he went to Alcala, and studied in the university newly erected there by Cardinal Ximenes. Here he attracted much public notice by the eccentricities of his fanatical piety. He wore a peculiar dress of coarse material, and by his fervid discourse contrived to win over to his mode of life four or five young men, whom he called his disciples. But he was regarded with suspicion by the authorities, who twice imprisoned him. He and his converts were ordered to resume the common garb, and to cease to expound to the people the mysteries of religion.[11] Indignant at this, Ignatius immediately set out for Paris, where, in the beginning of 1528, he arrived alone, his companions having deserted him.

His persecutions at Alcala had taught him prudence; so that, although his attempts at notoriety in Paris, in the way of dress, manners, and language, brought him before the tribunal of the Inquisition,[12] he nevertheless had managed matters so cautiously as to escape all punishment. Here, while contending with the difficulties of the Latin grammar,[13] he was ever revolving in his vast and capacious mind some new scheme for fulfilling his desires and gratifying his passion for renown. But as yet he knew not what he was destined to accomplish. There seems no ground for supposing that he could already have formed the gigantic and comprehensive project of establishing, on the basis on which it now stands, his wonderful and powerful Society. No; he only contrived, as he had done in Spain, to enlist some followers, over whom he could exercise an absolute control, for the furtherance of any future project. In this his success had far exceeded his expectations. The magnanimous and heroic Xavier, the intelligent and interesting Le Fevre, the learned Lainez, the noble and daring Rodriguez, and some three or four others, acknowledged him as their chief and master.

It may at first sight appear strange that such privileged intelligences should have submitted themselves to a comparatively ignorant ex-officer. But when it is borne in mind that Ignatius had a definite end, towards which he advanced with steady and unhesitating steps, whilst his companions had no fixed plan—that he was endowed with an iron will, which neither poverty, nor imprisonment, nor even the world’s contempt, could overcome—that, above all, he had the art to flatter their respective passions, and to win their affections by using all his influence to promote their interests—it is less surprising that he should have gained an immense influence over those inexperienced and ingenuous young men, on whose generous natures the idea of devoting their lives to the welfare of mankind had already made a deep impression. Loyola’s courage and ambition were strongly stimulated by the acquisition of disciples so willing and devoted—so efficient for his purpose—so attached to his person; and he began to consider how he might turn their devotion to the best account.

After some conferences with his companions, he assembled them all on the day of the Assumption, 16th August 1534, in the church of the Abbey of Montmartre, where, after Peter Le Fevre had celebrated mass, they each took a solemn vow to go to the Holy Land and preach the gospel to the infidels. Ignatius, satisfied for the present with these pledges, left Paris, in order, as he asserted, to recruit his health by breathing his native air at Loyola before setting out on his arduous mission, and doubtless also to find solitude and leisure in which to meditate and devise means for realising his ambitious hopes. His disciples remained in Paris to terminate their theological studies, and he commanded them to meet him again at Venice in the beginning of 1537, enjoining them, meanwhile, if any one should ask them what religion they professed, to answer that they belonged to the Society of Jesus—since they were Christ’s soldiers.[14]

Our saint preceded them to Venice, where he again encountered some difficulties and a little persecution; but he endured all with unflinching patience. Here he became acquainted with Pierre Caraffa (afterwards Pope Paul IV.) This harsh and remarkable man had renounced the bishopric of Theate, to become the companion of the meek and gentle Saint Gajetan of Tyenne, and with his assistance had founded the religious order of the Theatines. The members of this fraternity endeavoured, by exemplary living, devotion to their clerical duties of preaching and administering the sacraments, and ministering to the sick, to correct the evils produced throughout all Christendom by the scandalous and immoral conduct of the regular and secular clergy. To Caraffa, who had already acquired great influence, Ignatius attached himself, became an inmate of the convent he had founded, served patiently and devotedly in the hospital which he directed, and shortly became Caraffa’s intimate friend. This fixed at once the hitherto aimless ambition of Loyola. He conceived the idea of achieving power and fame, if not as the founder of a new order, at least as the remodeller of one already existing. With this design, he submitted to Caraffa a plan of reform for his order, and strongly urged its adoption. But Caraffa, who perhaps suspected his motive, rejected his proposal, and offered to admit him as a brother of the order as it stood. This, however, did not suit Ignatius, whose proud nature could never have submitted to play even the second part, much less that of an insignificant member in a society over which another had all power and authority. He therefore declined the honour, and at once determined to found a new religious community of his own. Aware, however, of the difficulties he might have to overcome, he resolved to proceed with the utmost caution.

Being under a vow to go to convert the infidels in the Holy Land, he gave out that to this work alone were the lives of himself and his companions to be devoted. Accordingly, as soon as they arrived in Venice, he sent them to Rome to beg the Pope’s blessing on their enterprise, as he said; and also, no doubt, to exhibit them to the Roman court as the embryo of a new religious order. The reason assigned by his historians for his not going to Rome along with them, is, that he feared that his presence there might be prejudicial to them.[15] It is just as likely that he was afraid lest, beneath his cloak of ostentatious humility, the discerning eye of Pope Paul might detect his unbounded ambition.

At Rome his disciples were favourably received;—the Pontiff bestowed the desired benediction, and they returned to Venice, whence they were to sail for Palestine.

Here Ignatius prevailed upon them to take vows of perpetual chastity and poverty, and then, under pretext of the war which was raging at the time between the emperor and the Turks, they abandoned their mission altogether. So ended their pious pilgrimage.

Taking with him Lainez and Le Fevre, Loyola then proceeded to Rome, and craved audience of the Pope.

The chair of St Peter was at this time occupied by Paul Farnese—that same Pope who opened, and in part conducted, the Council of Trent; who instigated the emperor to the war against the Protestants; who sent, under his grandson’s command, 12,000 of his own troops into Germany to assist in that war; and who lifted up his sacrilegious hand to bless whoever would shed Protestant blood. He had been scandalously incontinent; and if he did not, like Alexander VI., entirely sacrifice the interests of the Church and of humanity to the aggrandisement of his own family, nevertheless, his son received the dukedom of Placentia, and his grandsons were created cardinals at the age of fourteen, and one of them was intended to be Duke of Milan. However, Paul had some grandeur in his nature. He was generous, and therefore popular, and his activity was indefatigable. But Sarpi says of him, that of all his own qualities, he did not appreciate any nearly so much as his dissimulation.[16]

By this amiable pontiff, Ignatius and his companions were kindly received. He praised their exemplary and religious life, questioned them concerning their projects, but took no notice of the plan they hinted at, of originating a new religious order.

But Loyola was not to be thus discouraged. He summoned to Rome all his followers (who had remained in Lombardy, preaching with a bigoted fanaticism and calling the citizens to repentance), and gave them a clearer outline than he had hitherto done of the society he proposed to establish. This they entirely approved of, and took another vow (the most essential for Loyola’s purpose) of implicit and unquestioning obedience to their superior. Admire here the cautious and consummate art by which Ignatius, step by step, brought his associates to the desired point.

Notwithstanding the repeated refusals of the Court of Rome to accede to his wishes, neither the courage nor the perseverance of Ignatius failed him. After much reflection, he at last thought he had discovered a way to overcome the Pope’s unwillingness. Consulting with his companions, he persuaded them to take a fourth vow, viz., one of obedience to the Holy See and to the Pope pro tempore, with the express obligation of going, without remuneration, to whatever part of the world it should please the Pope to send them. He then drew up a petition, in which were stated some of the principles and rules of the order he desired to establish, and sent it to the Pope by Cardinal Contarini.

This fourth vow made a great impression on the wily pontiff; yet so great was his aversion to religious communities, some of which were just then the objects of popular hatred and the plague of the Roman court, that he refused to approve of this new one until he had the advice of three cardinals, to whom he referred the matter. Guidiccioni, the most talented of the three, strenuously opposed it; but Paul, who perhaps had by this time penetrated the designs of Loyola, and perceived that the proposed Society could not prosper unless by contending for and maintaining the supremacy of the Holy See, thought it would be his best policy to accept the services of these volunteers, especially as it was a time when he much needed them. Consequently, on the 27th of September 1540, he issued the famous bull, regimini militantis Ecclesiæ, approving of the new order under the name of “The Society of Jesus.” We consider it indispensable to give some extracts from this bull.

“Paul, Bishop, Servant of the Servants of God, for a perpetual record. Presiding by God’s will over the Government of the Church, &c.... Whereas we have lately learned that our beloved son Ignatius de Loyola, and Peter Le Fevre, and James Lainez; and also Claudius Le Jay, and Paschasius Brouet, and Francis Xavier; and also Alphonso Salmeron and Simon Rodriguez, and John Coduri, and Nicolas de Bobadilla; priests of the Cities, &c.... inspired, as is piously believed, by the Holy Ghost; coming from various regions of the globe; are met together, and become associates; and, renouncing the seductions of this world, have dedicated their lives to the perpetual service of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of us, and of other our successors, Roman Pontiffs; and expressly for the instruction of boys and other ignorant people in Christianity; and, above all, for the spiritual consolation of the faithful in Christ, by HEARING CONFESSIONS; ... We receive the associates under our protection and that of the Apostolic See; conceding to them, moreover, that some among them may freely and lawfully draw up such Constitutions as they shall judge to be conformable to, &c.... We will, moreover, that into this Society there be admitted to the number of sixty persons only, desirous of embracing this rule of living, and no more, and to be incorporated into the Society aforesaid.”

The above-named ten persons were the first companions of Loyola, and, with him, the founders of the Society. But the merit of framing the Constitution which was to govern it belongs solely to Ignatius himself. He alone among them all was capable of such a conception. He alone could have devised a scheme by which one free rational being is converted into a mere automaton—acting, speaking, even thinking, according to the expressed will of another. There is no record in history, of any man, be he king, emperor, or pope, exercising such absolute and irresponsible power over his fellow-men as does the General of the Jesuits over his disciples. In the Spiritual Exercises Loyola appears to be merely an ascetic enthusiast; in the Constitution he shews himself a high genius, with a perfect and profound knowledge of human nature and of the natural sequence of events. Never was there put together a plan so admirably harmonious in all its parts, so wonderfully suited to its ends, or which has ever met with such prodigious success.

Prompt, unhesitating obedience to the commands of the General, and (for the benefit of the Society, and ad majorem Dei gloriam) great elasticity in all other rules, according to the General’s goodwill, are the chief features of this famous Constitution, which, as it constitutes the Jesuits’ code of morality, we shall now proceed to examine, doing our best to shew the spirit in which it was dictated.

CHAPTER II.
1540-52.
CONSTITUTIONS OF THE SOCIETY.[17]

The times in which Ignatius wrote the Constitutions were, for the Court of Rome and the Catholic religion, times of anxiety and danger. The Reformation was making rapid progress, and all Christendom, Catholic[18] as well as Protestant, resounded with the “Hundred Complaints” (Centum gravamina) brought forward at the Diet of Nuremberg against the Roman court—complaints and accusations which the wonderfully candid Adrian VI. acknowledged to be too well founded. This pontiff, by his nuncio, frankly declared to the Diet, “that all this confusion was originated by men’s sins, and, above all, by those of the clergymen and prelates—that for many years past the Holy See had committed many abominations—that numerous abuses had crept into the administration of spiritual affairs, and many superfluities into the laws—that all had been perverted—and that the corruption, descending from the head to the body, from the Sovereign Pontiff to the prelates, was so great, that there could hardly be found one who did good.”[19] When a pope confessed so much to Protestant ears, it may well be imagined to what a degree of rottenness the moral leprosy must have arrived.

But, besides this corruption, great confusion reigned throughout the Roman Catholic world. The different monastic orders were at war with one another. The bishops accused the Pope of tyranny; the Pope denounced the bishops as disobedient. The mass of the people were deplorably ignorant, and general disorder prevailed.

Now, mark with what admirable art, what profound sagacity, Ignatius modelled a society, which, by displaying the virtues directly opposed to the then prevailing vices, should captivate the affections and secure the support of the good and the pious, whilst, by underhand practices, and, above all, by shewing unusual indulgence in the confessional, it should obtain an influence over the minds of the more worldly believers.

In order that diversity of opinion and the free exercise of individual will should not produce division and confusion within this new Christian community, Loyola enacted that, in the whole Society, there should be no will, no opinion, but the General’s. But, in order that the General might be enabled profitably to employ each individual member, as well as the collective energy and intelligence of the whole Society, it was necessary that he should be thoroughly acquainted with his character, even to its smallest peculiarities. To insure this, Ignatius established special rules. Thus, regarding the admission of postulants, he says—

“Because it greatly concerns God’s service to make a good selection, diligence must be used to ascertain the particulars of their person and calling; and if the superior, who is to admit him into probation, cannot make the inquiry, let him employ from among those who are constantly about his person some one whose assistance he may use, to become acquainted with the probationer—to live with him and examine him;—some one endowed with prudence, and not unskilled in the manner which should be observed with so many various kinds and conditions of persons.”[20] In other words, set a skilful and prudent spy over him, to surprise him into the betrayal of his most secret thoughts. Yet, even when this spy has given a tolerably favourable report, the candidate is not yet admitted—he is sent to live in another house, “in order that he may be more thoroughly scrutinised, to know whether he is fitted to be admitted to probation.”[21] When he is thought suited for the Society, he is received into the “house of first probation;” and after a day or two, “he must open his conscience to the superior, and afterwards make a general confession to the confessor who shall be designed by the superior.”[22] But this is not all, for—“in every house of probation there will be a skilful man to whom the candidate shall disclose all his concerns with confidence; and let him be admonished to hide no temptation, but to disclose it to him, or to his confessor, or to the superior; nay, to take a pleasure in thoroughly manifesting his whole soul to them, not only disclosing his defects, but even his penances, mortifications, and virtues.”[23] When the candidate is admitted into any of their colleges, he must again “open his conscience to the rector of the college, whom he should greatly revere and venerate, as one who holds the place of Christ our Lord; keeping nothing concealed from him, not even his conscience, which he should disclose to him (as it is set forth in the Examen) at the appointed season, and oftener, if any cause require it; not opposing, not contradicting, nor shewing an opinion, in any case, opposed to his opinion.”[24]

The information thus collected, regarding the tastes, habits, and inclinations of every member, is communicated to the General, who notes it down in a book, alphabetically arranged, and kept for the purpose, in which also, as he receives twice a year a detailed report upon every member of the Society, he from time to time adds whatever seems necessary to complete each delineation of character, or to indicate the slightest change. Thus, the General knowing the past and present life, the thoughts, the desires of every one belonging to the Society, it is easy to understand how he is enabled always to select the fittest person for every special service.

But this perfect knowledge of his subordinates’ inmost natures would be of but little use to the General, had he not also an absolute and uncontrolled authority over them. The Constitution has a provision for insuring this likewise. It declares that the candidate “must regard the superior as Christ the Lord, and must strive to acquire perfect resignation and denial of his own will and judgment, in all things conforming his will and judgment to that which the superior wills and judges.”[25] To the same purpose is the following: “As for holy obedience, this virtue must be perfect in every point—in execution, in will, in intellect; doing what is enjoined with all celerity, spiritual joy, and perseverance; persuading ourself that everything is just; suppressing every repugnant thought and judgment of one’s own, in a certain obedience; ... and let every one persuade himself that he who lives under obedience should be moved and directed, under Divine Providence, by his superior, just as if he were a CORPSE (perinde ac si cadaver esset), which allows itself to be moved and led in any direction.”[26] And so absolutely is this rule of submissive obedience enforced, that the Jesuit, in order to obey his General, must not scruple to disobey God. The warnings of conscience are to be suppressed as culpable weaknesses; the fears of eternal punishment banished from the thoughts as superstitious fancies; and the most heinous crimes, when committed by command of the General, are to be regarded as promoting the glory and praise of God.

Read and consider the following blasphemy:—“No constitution, declaration, or any order of living, can involve an obligation to commit sin, mortal or venial, unless the superior command it in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, or in virtue of holy obedience; which shall be done in those cases or persons wherein it shall be judged that it will greatly conduce to the particular good of each, or to the general advantage; and, instead of the fear of offence, let the love and desire of all perfection succeed, that the greater glory and praise of Christ, our Creator and Lord, may follow!”[27]

I shudder at the thought of all the atrocities which have been perpetrated at the order of this other “old man of the mountain,” who presents to his agents the prospects of eternal bliss as the reward of their obedience.

But this is not enough. Not content with having thus transferred the allegiance of the Jesuit from his God to his General, the Constitution proceeds to secure that allegiance from all conflict with the natural affections or worldly interests. The Jesuit must concentrate all his desires and affections upon the Society. He must renounce all that is dear to him in this life. The ties of family, the bonds of friendship, must be broken. His property must, within a year after his entrance into the Society, be disposed of at the bidding of the General; “and he will accomplish a work of greater perfection if he dispose of it in benefit of the Society. And that his better example may shine before men, he must put away all strong affection for his parents, and refrain from the unsuitable desire of a bountiful distribution, arising from such disadvantageous affection.”[28]

He must, besides, forego all intercourse with his fellow-men, either by word of mouth or by writing,[29] except such as his superior shall permit. “He shall not leave the house except at such times and with such companions as the superior shall allow. Nor within the house shall he converse, without restraint, with any one at his own pleasure, but with such only as shall be appointed by the superior.”[30] Such was the strictness with which these rules were enforced, that Francis Borgia, Duke of Candia, afterwards one of the saints of the Society, was at first refused admittance into it, because he delayed the settlement of the affairs of his dukedom, and refused to renounce all intercourse with his family; and although, by a special rescript from the Pope, he was enrolled as a member, Ignatius for three years sternly denied him access to the house of the community, where he was not admitted till he had renounced all intercourse with the external world.

But not only is all friendly communication forbidden to the Jesuit, but he is also placed under constant espionage. He is never permitted to walk about alone, but, whether in the house or out of doors, is always accompanied by two of his brethren.[31] Each one of this party of three acts, in fact, as a spy upon his two companions. Not, indeed, that he has special instructions from his superior to do so, but, knowing that they, as well as himself, have been taught that it is their duty to inform the General of every suspicious or peculiar expression uttered in their hearing, he is under constant fear of punishment, should either of them report anything regarding the other which he omits to report likewise. Hence it is very seldom that a Jesuit refrains from denouncing his companion. If he does not do so at once, his sinful neglect becomes revealed in the confessional, to the special confessor appointed by the superior.

Then, in order that these members, so submissive in action to their General, should not differ in opinion among themselves and so occasion scandal in the Catholic world, and to oppose an uniformity of doctrine to that of the free examen of the Protestants, the Constitution decrees as follows:—“Let all think, let all speak, as far as possible, the same thing, according to the apostle. Let no contradictory doctrines, therefore, be allowed, either by word of mouth, or public sermons, or in written books, which last shall not be published without the approbation and the consent of the General; and, indeed, all difference of opinion regarding practical matters should be avoided.”[32] Thus, no one but the General can exercise the right of uttering a single original thought or opinion. It is almost impossible to conceive the power, especially in former times, of a General having at his absolute disposal such an amount of intelligences, wills, and energies.

Now, it must not be imagined that all, willing implicitly to obey the behests of the superior, are indiscriminately admitted into the Society. Such, indeed, is the case with all other monastic orders (I speak more particularly of Italy and Spain). Vagabonds, thieves, and ruffians, often became members of those communities, in whose convents they had found an asylum against the police and the hangman. Ignatius wisely guarded his Society from this abuse. Its members must be chosen, if possible, from among the best. The wealthy and the noble are the fittest for admission; although these qualifications are not essential, and the want of them may be supplied by some extraordinary natural gift or acquired talent.[33] Besides this, the candidate must possess a comely presence, youth, health, strength, facility of speech, and steadiness of purpose. To have ever been a heretic or schismatic, to have been guilty of homicide or any heinous crime, to have belonged to another order, to be under the bond of matrimony, or not to have a strong and sound mind, are insurmountable obstacles to admission. Ungovernable passions, habit of sinning, unsteadiness and fickleness of mind, lukewarm devotion, want of learning and of ability to acquire it, a dull memory, bodily defects, debility and disease, and advanced age—any of these imperfections render the postulant less acceptable;[34] and, to gain admission, he must exhibit some very useful compensating qualities. It is evident that persons so carefully selected are never likely to disgrace the Society by any gross misbehaviour, and will perform with prudence and success any temporal or worldly service they may be put to by the General. I say worldly service, because I should suppose that it must matter very little for the service of God should the servant be lame or of an “uncomely presence.”

But in no part of the Constitution do Loyola’s genius and penetration shine so conspicuously as in the rules regarding the vow of poverty, and the gratuitous performance of the duties of the sacred ministry. The discredit and hatred which weighed upon the clergy and the monastic orders was in great part due to the ostentatious display of their accumulated wealth, and to the venality of their sacred ministry. To guard against this evil, Ignatius ordained that “poverty should be loved and maintained as the firmest bulwark of religion.” The Jesuit was forbidden to possess any property, either by inheritance or otherwise. He was required to live in an inexpensive house, to dress plainly, and avoid all appearance of being wealthy. The churches and religious houses of the order were to be without endowments. The colleges alone were permitted to accept legacies or donations for the maintenance of students and professors. No limit was assigned to these gifts, the management of which was intrusted entirely to the General, with power to appoint rectors and administrators under him. These functionaries, generally chosen from among the coadjutors and very rarely from the professed Society, although debarred by their vow of perpetual poverty from the possession of the smallest amount of property, are yet, by this ingenious trick, enabled to hold and administer the entire wealth of the Society. We shall afterwards see, and especially in the famous process of Lavallette, in what a large sense they understand the word administer. So much for the display of wealth. With respect to the venality of the sacred ministry, they declared that “no Jesuit shall demand or receive pay, or alms, or remuneration, for mass, confessions, sermons, lessons, visitations, or any other duty which the Society is obliged to render; and, to avoid even the appearance of covetousness, especially in offices of piety which the Society discharges for the succour of souls, let there be no box in the church, into which alms are generally put by those who go thither to mass, sermon, confession,” &c.[35] Thus the Jesuit refuses to accept a few paltry sixpences for performing mass, or a fee of some shillings per quarter for teaching boys. He disdains to appear mercenary. He would much rather be poor. He looks for no reward. Yet, those little boys whom he instructs gratuitously, and with such affectionate tenderness that he cannot bring himself to chastise them, but must have the painful though necessary duty performed by some one not belonging to the Society;[36]—these boys, I say, will become men, many of them religious bigots, strongly attached to their kind preceptors, to whom they will then pay the debt of gratitude incurred in their youth.

Alas for such gratitude! How many families have had cause to deplore it! How many children have been reduced to beggary by it! How many ancient and noble houses has it precipitated from the height of affluence and splendour into the depth of poverty and wretchedness! Who can number the crimes committed in the madness of despair occasioned by the loss of the family inheritance? That the parent may suffer a few years less of purgatory, the child has been too often condemned to misery in this life, and perhaps to eternal punishment in the next. But all this is of no consequence. The man who has been led thus to disregard one of his most sacred parental duties, in order to found a Jesuits’ college or endow a professorship, will be saved, because they promise him—“In every college of our Society, let masses be celebrated once a week for ever, for its founder and benefactor, whether dead or alive. At the beginning of every month, all the priests who are in the college ought to offer the same sacrifice for them; and a solemn mass, with a commemorative feast, shall be celebrated on the anniversary of the donation, and a wax candle offered to the donor or his descendants.” Besides this, “the donor shall have three masses while alive, and three masses after his death, by all the priests of the Society, with the prayers of all its members; so that he is made partaker of all the good works which are done, by the grace of God, not only in the college which he has endowed, but in the whole Society.”[37]

By such allurements do these crafty priests, with diabolical cunning, snatch princely fortunes from the credulous and superstitious believers. And so assiduous and successful were they even at the very beginning, that, only thirteen years after the establishment of the order, during Loyola’s lifetime, they already possessed upwards of a hundred colleges very largely and richly endowed.

Now, let not my Protestant readers wonder how sensible men can be induced, by such ephemeral and ill-founded hopes, to disinherit their families in order to enrich these hypocritical monks. They must remember that the Romish believer views these matters in quite a different light from that in which they see them. Masses and prayers are, in his belief, not only useful, but indispensable. For lack of them he would writhe for centuries amid the tormenting fires of purgatory, the purifying pains of which are described by his priest, with appalling eloquence, as being far more excruciating than those of hell. According to the doctrine of his Church, every soul (one in a million only excepted) who is not eternally damned, must, ere it enter heaven, pass a certain time in this abode of torture for the expiation of its sins. And let him not take comfort from the fact that his conscience does not reproach him with the commission of any heinous crime. The catalogue of sins by which he may be shut out from eternal blessedness is made artfully long, and detailed with great minuteness. The most upright and pious of men must condemn himself as a presumptuous sinner if he for an instant harbours the hope of escaping the purifying fire. So he becomes quite resigned to his fate, and all his care in this life is, how to appease the Divine anger, and shorten the period of his exclusion from heaven. This he is taught to do—not by trusting to the righteousness of Jesus Christ, with the true repentance which manifests itself through a holy life, but by accumulating on his head hundreds of masses and millions of days of indulgence. Hence the innumerable masses and prayers which he sends before him during his life, as if to forestall his future punishment, and bribe the Divine justice. And when the terrible moment arrives—that moment in which he is about to appear before the awful Judge, beneath whose searching eye his most secret thoughts lie bare—when, trembling at the strict account that is about to be demanded of him, his fears represent to his excited imagination the most trifling shortcomings as mortal sins—when, with the decline of bodily strength, his enfeebled mind becomes more easily worked upon—then does his Jesuit confessor, his generous master, his kind, disinterested friend, come to give him the last proof of his ever-growing affection. He seats himself at his bedside, and, serpent-like, under pretence of inducing him to repent of his sins, he draws him a fearful and impressive picture of the torments which await the damned. He descants to him with oily sanctity upon the enormity of offending the Divine Saviour, who shed his precious blood to redeem us. He terrifies him with the Almighty’s implacable vengeance; and when his victim, choked with heart-rending agony, distracted, despairing of his ultimate salvation, is ready to curse God, and set his power and anger at defiance—then, and not till then, does the Jesuit relent. Now he raises in the sufferer’s heart the faintest hope that the Divine justice may possibly be disarmed, and mercy obtained by means of masses and indulgences. The exhausted man, who feels as if he were already plunged amid the boiling sulphur and devouring flames, grasps with frantic eagerness at this anchor of salvation; and, did he possess tenfold more wealth than he does, he would willingly give it all up to save his soul. It may be that his heart, yearning with paternal affection, shrinks at the thought of condemning his helpless ones to beggary; but nevertheless, as if the welfare of his family were necessarily connected with his own perdition, and that of the Jesuits with eternal beatitude, the family is invariably sacrificed to the Jesuits.

It is notorious that the most diabolical tricks have been resorted to in the case of dying men whose better judgment and natural sense of duty have withstood such perfidious wiles.

Alas! the punishment of such criminal obstinacy was always near at hand; the sick-chamber has been suddenly filled with flames and sulphureous vapour as a warning to the impenitent sinner. And if he still resisted, the Evil Spirit himself, in his most frightful shape, has appeared to the dying man, as if waiting for his soul. Ah!—one’s hair stands on end while listening to such sacrilegious manœuvres. The immense wealth of the Jesuits has been bequeathed to them by wills made at the last hour!

In order that all classes of Jesuits may better attend to their peculiar occupations, Ignatius relieved them from the obligation, incumbent on all other religious communities, of performing the Church service at the canonical hours.

Jesuits of every class may be expelled from the order, either by the general congregation or by the all-powerful General. In such cases, however, it is enacted, that great care be taken to keep secret the deeds or crimes which necessitate the dismissal, in order that the ex-Jesuit may suffer the least possible disgrace; also, that he shall be assisted by the prayers of the community, together with something more substantial, to the end that he may harbour no resentment against the order.[38]

No Jesuit, without the consent of the General, is allowed to accept any ecclesiastical dignity or benefice; and the General is required to refuse such consent, unless the Pope command him in the name of holy obedience to grant it. By this rule Ignatius designed to avoid exciting the animosity and jealousy of the other monastic orders, and of the clergy in general. Besides, Ignatius knew well that any ecclesiastical dignity would confer lustre and power on the individual, but be detrimental to the order. A bishop or a cardinal would be less disposed than a poor priest, to obey the General, and to work for the Society. He himself most rigidly enforced it, and would permit neither Lainez nor Borgia to receive the cardinal’s hat, which the Pope offered them. Since his time, the Jesuits have very seldom broken this rule, and that most often only to undertake some bishopric in far distant countries where no one else would desire to go.

The dress of the Jesuits consists of a long black vest and cloak, and of a low-crowned broad-brimmed hat, all of the greatest simplicity, and of good but common material. In their houses and colleges there reigns the most perfect order, the most exemplary propriety. The banqueting, revelling, and licence which so disgrace the establishments of the other monastic orders, are strictly prohibited.[39] They are very frugal in their habits, and prudently avoid all display of wealth. It is said that the General occasionally relaxes the rules in favour of some of the most trusty of the professed and coadjutors, in order that, disguised as laymen, they may enjoy a few holidays as they please, in some distant place where they are not known.

We shall now proceed to examine that part of the Constitutions which concerns the hierarchy. Our readers must always bear in mind what we have already said, that the Constitutions were not finished till the year 1552, and it may perhaps be that some rules were added even after. The Society at first consisted only of professed members, and of scholastics or scholars, a sort of Jesuit aspirants who were trained up for the Society, into which they were admitted or not, according to the proofs which they had given of their fitness. In the year 1546, Paul III. approved of the introduction of the class of the Coadjutors, and in the year 1552 was erected at Lisbon the first house for the novices. We may further observe that, under the first three Generals, those Constitutions were scrupulously observed. And those were the heroic times of the Society. But from that moment, internal discord at first, and afterwards the more worldly and political character assumed by the Society, were its ruin, and the cause of its suppression as well as of its re-establishment. But let us not anticipate events.

CHAPTER III.
1540-53.
HIERARCHY.

The government of the Company of Jesus is purely monarchical, and the General is its absolute and uncontrollable king.

The members of the Society are divided into four classes,—the Professed, Coadjutors, Scholars, and Novices. There is also a secret fifth class, known only to the General and a few faithful Jesuits, which, perhaps more than any other, contributes to the dreaded and mysterious power of the order. It is composed of laymen of all ranks, from the minister to the humble shoe-boy. Among the individuals composing this class are to be found many ladies, who, unknown and unsuspected, are more dangerous in themselves, and more accurate spies to the Company. These are affiliated to the Society, but not bound by any vows. The Society, as a noble and avowed reward, promises to them forgiveness for all their sins, and eternal blessedness, and, as a more palpable mark of gratitude, protects them, patronises them, and, in countries where the Jesuits are powerful, procures for them comfortable and lucrative places under government, or elsewhere. If this is not sufficient, they are paid for their services in hard cash, according to an article of the Constitution, which empowers the General to spend money on persons who will make themselves useful. In return for these favours, they act as the spies of the order, the reporters of what goes on in those classes of society with which the Jesuit cannot mix, and serve, often unwittingly, as the tools and accomplices in dark and mysterious crimes. Father Francis Pellico, brother to the famous Silvio, in his recent quarrel with the celebrated Gioberti, to prove that the order is not so very deficient of supporters as his opponent asserts, candidly confesses that “the many illustrious friends of the Society, prelates, orators, learned and distinguished men of every description, the supporters of the Society, remain occult, and obliged to be silent.”[40] This avowal, coming from the mouth of a Jesuit, must be specially noted. Now, reversing the order of the classes, we shall begin by describing

I. THE NOVICES.

We have already seen the process a candidate must go through before being admitted into the House of First Probation. After undergoing a still more searching scrutiny there, he passes to the House of Noviciate. The noviciate lasts two years, and may be shortened or prolonged at the General’s pleasure. There are six principal exercises by which the Novice is tried; they are as follows:—

“1. The Novices are to devote a month to the spiritual exercises, self-examination, confession of sins, and meditation, and to a contemplation of the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ.

“2. They are to serve for another month in one or more of the hospitals, by ministering to the sick, in proof of increasing humility and entire renunciation of the pomps and vanities of the world.

“3. They must wander during a third month without money, begging from door to door, that they may be accustomed to inconvenience in eating and sleeping, or else they may serve in an hospital for another month, at the discretion of the Superior.

“4. They must submit to be employed in the most servile offices of the house into which they have entered, for the sake of shewing a good example in all things.

“5. They are to give instruction in Christian learning to boys, or to their untaught elders, either publicly, privately, or as occasion may be offered.

“6. When sufficient proof has been given of improvement in probation, the Novice may proceed to preach, to hear confessions, or to any exercise in which circumstances may direct him to engage.”[41]

“While a Jesuit is thus fulfilling the several trials of his fitness, he may not presume to say that he is one of the Society.[42] He must only describe himself as wishing to be admitted into it; indifferent to the station which may be assigned to him, and waiting in patient expectation until it be determined how his services may be most advantageously employed.”

At the expiry of the biennium, if he has gone through all his trials satisfactorily, he takes the vows, of which the following is the formula:—

“Almighty, everlasting God, I, N., albeit every way most unworthy in Thy holy sight, yet relying on Thine infinite pity and compassion, and impelled by the desire of serving Thee, in the presence of the most holy Virgin Mary, and before all Thine heavenly host, vow to Thy divine Majesty perpetual poverty, chastity, and obedience in the Society of Jesus, and promise that I will enter the same Society, to live in it perpetually, understanding all things according to the Constitutions of the Society. Of Thy boundless goodness and mercy, through the blood of Jesus Christ, I humbly pray that Thou wilt deign to accept this sacrifice in the odour of sweetness, and, as Thou hast granted Thine abundant grace to desire and offer, so Thou wilt enable me to fulfil the same. At Rome, or elsewhere, in such a place, day, month, and year.”

“Then shall they take, as the others, the most holy body of Christ, and the rest of the ceremony shall proceed as before.”[43]

After the Novice has taken the vows, he must remain in an undeterminate state until the General has decided in what capacity he can best serve the Society. To this he must be wholly indifferent, and on no account endeavour to obtain, either directly or indirectly, any particular employment, but must await in silence the General’s decision.

Those are the written precepts; but the sly and abominable acts to which the Jesuits resort in order to model the man to the standard of the Society, are numerous, and differ according to circumstances and to the character of the Novice. But, in all cases, before the biennium is elapsed, either the man is dismissed, or he has lost all ideas, all hopes, all desires of a personal nature; he is a man without will, submitting blindly to obey any order, and devoting soul and body to the aggrandizement of the Society.

II. THE SCHOLARS.

To promote the objects of their Society, the Jesuits rely in a great measure upon the talent and learning of its members. Hence their decided preference for candidates with superior mental endowments, and their assiduous attention to the prosperity and good management of their colleges and universities, which were at one time the best regulated and most efficient in Europe. Their judicious arrangement of the studies, their admirable superintendence, their exemplary discipline, their many inducements to application, rendered the Jesuit colleges the resort of all those who aspired to eminence in the literary or learned world. The greatest men in all the Catholic countries of Europe during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were educated by the Jesuits.

All the property bequeathed or given to the Society is made over to the colleges and universities, which, however, have not the power of administering it. In these colleges are trained the Scholars, of whom there are two sorts—the Received and the Approved. The former are candidates for membership, who are being tried for their skill in learning previous to entering upon the noviciate; the latter are those who have completed their noviciate, and taken the vows. Every Novice and Scholar aspires to enter the class of the Coadjutors, or that of the Professed, in which two classes reside all the power and authority of the order. The vows of the Scholars are the same as those of the Novices.

III. COADJUTORS.

The third class of Jesuits consists of Temporal and Spiritual Coadjutors. The Temporal Coadjutors, however learned they may be, are never admitted to holy orders. They are the porters, cooks, stewards, and agents of the Society. The Spiritual Coadjutors are priests, and must be men of considerable learning, in order that they may be qualified to hear confessions, to teach, preach, &c. The rectors of the colleges, and the superiors of the religious houses, are appointed from this class. They are sometimes permitted to assist in the deliberations of the general congregation, but have no voice in the election of the General.

Besides undergoing the first probation, and the noviciate, the Coadjutors must submit to a third year of trial, in order to afford a stronger proof of their aptitude. It is here worthy of remark, that in the case of a porter or a cook, there is required a year of trial more than is thought necessary to qualify the scholar who is to preach, and teach the Catechism. The porters and cooks must know something of worldly business, and, consequently, there is the greater need that they should be faithful and trustworthy. Here is the formula of the vow taken by the Coadjutors:—“I, N., promise Almighty God, before His Virgin Mother, and before all the heavenly host, and you, reverend father, General of the Society of Jesus, holding the place of God, and of your successors; or you, reverend father, Vice-General of the Society of Jesus, and of his successors, holding the place of God, perpetual poverty, chastity, and obedience, and therein, peculiar care in the education of boys, according to the manner expressed in the Apostolical Letters, and in the Constitutions of the said Society. At Rome, or elsewhere, in such a place, day, month, and year.

“Then let him take the most holy body of Christ; and let the rest of the ceremony be the same as in the case of the Professed.”[44] The clause, “peculiar care in the education of boys,” is omitted in the vow when taken by the Temporal Coadjutors.

IV. THE PROFESSED.

This fourth class, the first in order of power and dignity, may be said to constitute, alone, the Society. The probation required for it is longer and more rigorous than that of any of the other classes. Two additional years of trial must be endured, in order to gain admission into it. This is partly to prevent the class becoming too numerous. The Professed must, in terms of the Constitutions, be priests, above twenty-five years of age, eminent in learning and virtue. In addition to their acquirements in literature and philosophy, they must devote four years specially to the study of theology. Their admission is the immediate act of the General, who seldom delegates his power for that purpose, as he generally does for admitting to the other classes. Solemn vows are taken by this class only; those of the other classes are designated merely as simple vows. Besides the three ordinary vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, the Professed take a fourth—to obey the Holy See, and to go, as missionaries, into whatever part of the world the Pope pro tempore chooses to send them. My readers will remember, that it was this fourth vow which overcame the crafty Pope Paul’s objections to sanction the order. But this pontiff, with all his cunning, was no match for Loyola, who quite nullified this vow by the formula in which he embodied it. According to this formula, the vow is made only in accordance with the spirit of the Constitution. Now, the Constitution enacts, “that the General shall have all power over every individual of the Society, to send any one on a mission, to recall missionaries, and to proceed in all things as he thinks will be best for the greater glory of God.”[45] Thus, obedience to the Pope depends entirely on the will and pleasure of the General. Hence the General’s preponderating influence with the Court of Rome.

The ceremony of taking the vows of the Professed is more solemn than that of the others. It must take place in the church, which with the others is not imperative. “First of all, the General, or some one empowered by him to admit to Profession, when he has offered the sacrifice of the public Mass in the church, before inmates and others there present, shall turn to the person who is about to make profession with the most holy sacrament of the Eucharist; and he, after the general confession and the words which are used before the communion, shall, with a loud voice, pronounce his written vow (which it is meet that he should have meditated on for several days), whereof this is the form:—

“I, N., make profession, and promise Almighty God, before His Virgin Mother, and before all the heavenly host, and before all bystanders, and you, reverend father, General of the Society of Jesus, holding the place of God, and your successors; or you, reverend father, Vice-General of the Society of Jesus, and of his successors, holding the place of God, perpetual poverty, chastity, and obedience, and therein peculiar care in the education of boys, according to the form of living contained in the Apostolic Letters of the Society of Jesus, and in its Constitutions. Moreover, I promise special obedience to the Pope in missions, as is contained in the same Apostolic Letters and Constitutions. At Rome or elsewhere, on such a day, month, and year, and in such a church.

“After this, let him take the most holy sacrament of the Eucharist. Which being done, the name of him who makes profession shall be written in a book which the Society shall keep for that purpose; the name of the person to whom he made it—the day, month, and year, being also set down; and his written vows shall be preserved, that an account of all the particulars may appear for ever, to the glory of God.”[46]

It is this class, and that of the Coadjutors, who are wont to live by alms, and who, for appearance’ sake, sometimes go begging from door to door—(this is the case in Italy, at least). But, either from pride or roguery, they never ask, in our day, anything in their own name, but always in the name of the poor, the hospitals, and the prisoners, and thus they win for their order the veneration of the credulous and the ignorant.

To the Professed alone are confided the missions, and the management of the more important affairs of the order, into the secrets of which they are admitted farther than any other class. Hence they were never, except in urgent cases, to be appointed rectors of colleges, or superiors of the House of Probation. It was the strict observance of this rule which, perhaps more than anything else, contributed to the ruin of the order.

The General, as we have already said, is at the head of the hierarchy, the absolute master of persons and things. He is elected for life, by a General Congregation of the Society, the decision requiring a majority of votes, and the observance of certain rules. But sometimes, when “elected by general inspiration, those rules may be dispensed with,” for the Holy Ghost, who inspires such an election, supplies the want of every form of election.[47] To this Congregation there are convened two Jesuits of the Professed class residing in Rome, all the Provincials, and also two Professed members chosen in every province by a Provincial Congregation. The formalities of the election are very much the same as those observed in the election of the Pope.[48] After attending mass, the electors are confined in an apartment, where they cannot communicate with any one from without; and, to compel them to decide within a reasonable time, they are allowed no better aliment than bread and water until a General is chosen. When this fortunate occurrence takes place, and the new General is proclaimed, every one present must come forward to do him reverence, and, kneeling on both knees, kiss his hand.[49] The same Congregation which elects the General appoints also four assistants, to reside near him in Rome. At the period when the Constitution was ultimately defined, toward 1552, the Jesuits had divided the world into four provinces, viz. India, Spain and Portugal, Germany and France, and Italy and Sicily. Each of the four assistants attend separately to the affairs of one of these four provinces, and all of them together, when required, assist the General in the general business of the Society. At the same Congregation there is also appointed a pious man as admonitor to the General, whose duty is to be near the General, to watch him, and, “should he perceive him swerving from the right path, with all possible humility to advise him, after earnest and devout prayer to God, what he considers to be the best course to follow.”

In the event of the death or prolonged absence of any of these officials, the General may appoint some one to the vacant post, provided his choice be approved by the majority of the Provincials. All these officials are given to the General by the Constitution, partly to assist him in the fulfilment of his duties, and partly to be constant and keen surveyors of his conduct. “And should the General sin in copula carnalis, wounding any one, applying to his own use or giving away any of the revenues of the colleges, or holding depraved doctrines, as soon as the charge is proved by adequate evidence, the four assistants immediately call forth the General Congregation.”[50] However, with the exception of alienating any real property of the colleges, the General has full and unlimited power, even to the granting of a dispensation for any of the rules of the Constitution. He appoints and disposes of all the subaltern officials of the Society, and receives into it, or dismisses from it, any person whom he pleases, and that at any time he may choose. He buys or exchanges property for the order by his own authority, and has the superintendence of its whole administration.

The Provincials send him, once a year, an elaborate and detailed account of every member of the order, the correctness of which is ascertained by private investigation through different and opposite sources, because (as is thought) he does not place implicit confidence even in them. The Constitutions say—“The General scrutinises as far as possible the character of those who are under his control, and especially Provincials, and others to whom he intrusts matters of importance.”[51]

V. THE PROVINCIALS.

The Provincials are elected by the General from the class of the Professed. They are appointed for three years, but may be confirmed or dismissed at the General’s will. The importance of the province over which he is set depends upon the number of houses or colleges established within its bounds. The Rectors, Administrators, or local Superiors, write to the Provincials monthly a full and correct account of the inclinations, opinions, defects, propensities, and characters of every individual under their charge. Confidential persons, and especially Confessors, are of great assistance to them in the drawing up of their reports, from which the Provincials extract theirs, which are yearly sent to the General.

VI. RECTORS, SUPERIORS, AND ADMINISTRATORS.

The Rectors are intrusted with the superintendence of the colleges. The General chooses them from the class of the Spiritual Coadjutors, but appoints them for no determinate period, which leaves him at liberty to dismiss them whenever he pleases.

The Superiors, elected from the same class and by the same authority, have the oversight of the Houses of the First and Second Probation. Each of these officials, Superior, Rector, and Provincial, has in his respective sphere as absolute a power over his subordinates as the General has over any member of the Society.

The Administrators are chosen by the General from the Temporal Coadjutors under his control. They have the entire management of the temporal concerns both of houses and colleges.

The Rectors and Superiors are forbidden to have anything to do with any temporal matter whatever; because it forms a conspicuous part of the admirable Jesuitical system, to have prescribed for every class of Jesuits its particular duties, from which it is not to be diverted by any occupation whatever. This has largely contributed to the aggrandisement and success of the Society, as long as the rules were observed.

All these functionaries have subaltern officers, who assist them in the discharge of their duties. Provincials, Rectors, Superiors, and some of the Professed, compose the Provincial Congregations, where the affairs of the district are discussed, and whence the delegates which are to be sent to the General Congregation are chosen.

Having thus given a general outline of the origin and constitutions of the Society, and the limits of this work forbidding me to enlarge to any great extent upon this part of my subject, I shall now proceed to examine its progress.

CHAPTER IV.
1541-48.
THE PROGRESS OF THE ORDER, AND ITS FIRST GENERAL.

Ignatius had no sooner obtained a bull from the Pope approving of the Society, than he thought it expedient to give it a chief, or, to speak more correctly, to be himself formally elected as such, being de facto its master already. In order, therefore, to proceed to the election of the General, he summoned to Rome his companions, who were scattered through different parts of Europe. Six came. Bobadilla, Xavier, and Rodriguez sent their votes written. Both absent and present were unanimous in their choice, which (as one may well imagine) fell upon Ignatius. He, however, had the modesty (so we are told) to refuse the honour, and insisted that they should proceed to a new election. The second trial had the same result, but Ignatius still declined to accept of the office. At last, however, on being much importuned to do so, he exclaimed—“Since you persist in choosing me, who know well my infirmities, I cannot in conscience subscribe to your judgment. It only remains, then, that we refer the contested point to my confessor, whom, as you know, I consider the interpreter of the Divine will.”[52] The good fathers consented to this arrangement the more willingly, as they had no doubt whatever (I should think not) that Father Theodose would approve of their selection. Nor were they deceived.[53]

On Easter-day, therefore, in the year 1541, he assumed the government of the Society, and on the following Friday he and his disciples, in the magnificent Basilica of St Paul’s at Rome, renewed the four vows to which they had bound themselves, with extraordinary pomp and ceremony.

We candidly admit, however, that Ignatius, after reaching the height of his ambition, relaxed nothing in the strictness of his conduct, nor allowed that zeal which he had manifested in order to attain it, to cool down. On the contrary, he seemed to redouble his energy, and gain additional strength in his new dignity. The days in which he lived were days of battle, and Ignatius, not forgetting his first vocation, was impatient to enter the melée. Protestantism, a giant in its infancy, standing in a menacing attitude, with the Bible in one hand and the sword in the other, bid defiance to the impugners of the Sacred Volume. Catholicism, old in the debauch of power, discredited by the vices of its ministers, could only oppose his formidable antagonist with a scattered and undisciplined army of monks and priests, rendered effete by a life of effeminacy and debauchery. At this critical moment, Ignatius rushed to the rescue with an army, small indeed in number, but composed of brave and resolute souls, learned, eloquent, passionate, trained to fight, fully persuaded, as almost every soldier is, that theirs was the just cause, and that to them the victory ought to belong. The disciples of Ignatius took the field high in spirits, and prepared, if need be, to sacrifice their liberty, their blood, their lives, their all, for the cause they had embraced, which was in their eyes the cause of God. They dispersed to every part of Europe. Lefevre, from the Congress of Worms, proceeded to Spain; Lainez and Lejay succeeded him in Germany. Bobadilla went to Naples, Brouet and Salmeron to Ireland, Rodriguez and Xavier to Portugal. Everywhere these rigid and fanatic monks were, on the one hand, engaged in theological discussion, while, on the other, they preached repentance to the people and reform to the clergy, and paid no regard to the hatred evinced towards them both by Protestants and Catholics. It seems as if they courted persecution, and wished to wear the martyr’s crown. When the infuriated populace of Vienna threatened to throw Lejay into the Danube, he smiled scornfully, and calmly answered—“What do I care whether I enter heaven by water or land!”

From Rome, Ignatius, as an able general, directed the movements of all those soldiers of Christ, as they styled themselves. He praised one, admonished another, inspired all with his zeal and fanaticism. Nor was this enough for his ardent and indefatigable spirit. He turned his attention to less unquestionable acts of religion and charity. Many of the hospitals erected in the middle of Rome, were the fruits of his zealous exertions. The Convent of Santa Martha was opened for abandoned women, who wished to repent, and pass an upright and easy life. In that of Santa Catherine, poor and honest young girls found an asylum against temptation and seduction; fatherless children of both sexes were received, and carefully educated, in two hospitals which yet exist in Rome; and the inmates of which, on the 31st of July of every year, go in procession to the Church of Gesù, to pray to the shrine of the saint, and to give thanks to their benefactor.

However, the gratitude which we owe to Loyola for those charitable institutions cannot restrain our indignation and abhorrence towards the man who had so great a share in reviving the infamous tribunal of the Inquisition. The Jesuits reckon it among the glories of their order, that Loyola supported, by a special memorial to the Pope, a petition for the reorganising of that cruel and abhorred tribunal.

In the 13th century, the Inquisition had been diabolically active. 25,000 Albigenses perished for bearing testimony to the Word of God. Dominique, that wholesale butcher of these unfortunate Christians, by his barbarous inhumanities, struck horror throughout Europe, and gained for himself a place among the Roman saints. But, as is always the case, its very excess prepared a reaction. The tribunal, as if satiated with human suffering, gradually relented, and, in the epoch of which we are speaking, had almost fallen into decay. Besides, the inquisitors, chosen from among the monastic orders, were little inclined to enforce strict and severe laws against practices or opinions with which they themselves were in many cases chargeable.[54] Above all, the See of Rome, under the Alexanders, the Juliuses, the Leos, plunged in political affairs, and, extremely lax in matters of religion and morality, had little or no inclination to enforce the almost forgotten edicts of the Inquisition. But the new doctrines spread in Germany with amazing rapidity; and the outcry raised against the morals of the Catholic clergy produced two immediate effects—the partial reform of the more flagrant abuses of which the clergy were guilty, and the revival of a tribunal, which should destroy by fire and sword whoever dared to impugn the doctrines of the Popes, and the canonical laws. Caraffa, whom we have already mentioned, was the principal author of this dreadful tribunal. Through his exertions, and those of Loyola, an edict appeared on the 21st of July 1542, appointing six cardinals commissioners of the Holy See and general inquisitors, with power to delegate their authority to any person they pleased. All ranks of citizens, without exception, were subjected to these inquisitors. Suspected persons were immediately imprisoned, the guilty punished with death, and their property confiscated. No book could be printed or sold (and such is still the case through nearly the whole of Italy) without the authority of the inquisitor. Hence a catalogue of prohibited books, the first issue of which, containing seventy works, appeared at Venice.

In order that the tribunal might be made more efficient, Caraffa drew up, himself, the following stringent rules:—

First, When faith is in question, there must be no delay; but, on the slightest suspicion, rigorous measures must be resorted to with all speed.

“Secondly, No consideration is to be shewn to either prince or prelate, however high his station.

“Thirdly, Extreme severity is to be exercised against all those who attempt to shield themselves under the protection of any potentate; and those only are to be treated with gentleness and fatherly compassion, who make a full and frank confession of the charges laid against them.

“Fourthly, No man must debase himself by shewing toleration towards heretics of any kind, and above all to Calvinists.”[55]

This terrible tribunal, in the hands of the relentless and unforgiving Caraffa, spread desolation and dismay throughout Italy, from its very commencement. Thousands were arraigned before it, whose only crime consisted in becoming the unhappy victims of such as were actuated by the fell rage of revenge, or the thirst for power or wealth—in a word, by any or all of those foul passions which degrade and brutalise humanity. As sacerdotal ferocity then called to its aid the might of the secular arm, and thus became all-powerful, death assumed a new and more terrible aspect. And he who should invent new instruments of torture to dislocate the limbs of the victims with the most exquisite and excruciating pains possible would be rewarded!!! Throughout Italy, and in various parts of Europe, you might have seen, whilst the infernal flames of the pile were ascending, the sinister and diabolical smile of the Jesuits, who were aiming at the increase of their order, under the shade of this all-mastering power!

But we must resume our history. The first college of the order was founded in Coimbra, in 1542, by John III. of Portugal. The same year twenty-five of his subjects were admitted into it under the superintendence of Rodriguez.

Lainez, aided by the Lipomana family, erected another at the same time in Venice. A third was built in Padua. After that Italy became studded with them. Those youth whom Loyola, in the beginning of 1540, had sent to Paris to study, and receive a degree in its university, being expelled from France, went to Louvain, and there, under the direction of Lefevre, became the inmates of a college afterwards famous. The Jesuits had already many colleges established in Germany, one of which was nursing in its bosom Peter Canisius, who became most notorious for his cruelties. In Spain, also, the new order met with prodigious success. Besides being the birthplace of Ignatius and six of the founders of the order, it succeeded, at its very commencement, in making a conquest of no less a person than Francis Borgia, Duke of Candia, and vice-king of Barcelona. The authority of his name, his exertions, and the eloquence of Father Araoz, soon covered Spain with houses and colleges. Since the year 1543, the order already counting nine houses, and more than eighty Professed members, Paul III., who at first had limited the number of the Jesuits to sixty, being highly satisfied with these new champions of the Roman See, issued another bull on the 15th of March 1543, by which he empowered the order to receive an unlimited number of members.

In speaking of the different countries into which the Jesuits had intruded themselves, we have purposely passed over England; and that for two reasons:—First, Because, writing in England, and for English readers, we consider it but fair to expatiate all the more on what particularly concerns their own country. Secondly, Because the two first Jesuits who entered England were intrusted with a special political mission—the first one of the kind, and which we are going to relate:—

The severe and somewhat capricious edicts of Henry VIII., even after Moore and Fisher had perished by the hands of the executioner, while but partially obeyed in England, were totally disregarded in Ireland. True it is, that a great part of the aristocracy, for fear of proscription and confiscation, had yielded to Henry’s orders, and even supported him in his despotic policy; but the bulk of the nation, more perhaps out of hatred to their oppressors than from real attachment to their religion, refused to subscribe to a creed violently enforced by a hated and despotic power. Not content with opposing Henry in his religious ordinances, they, under the very pretence of religion, caused partial insurrections, with the view of shaking off the yoke of their masters. But the power of Henry bore down all opposition; and, as Dr Lingard says, “the English domination over Ireland never appeared to be more firmly established.” In such a state of things, the Archbishop of Armagh, a Scotchman by birth, abandoning the flock confided to his care, fled to Rome to implore the assistance of his master the Pope. Paul had already evinced great anger against Henry for his apostacy. His anger was increased by the fact, that not only was he unable to prevail on either Francis I. or Charles V. to invade England, but, that these monarchs had, in the face of his express commands, made, successively, a treaty with the excommunicated king. Accordingly his resentment knew no bounds. However, the means which Paul had at command to contend with Henry were inadequate to gratify the hate which rankled in his bosom towards him. Determined, nevertheless, not to remain inactive, he thought of despatching some emissaries into Ireland, in order that, by working upon the ignorant and bigoted minds of its fanatic inhabitants, he might excite them to a civil war. With this pious end in view, he turned his eyes to this newly established society, and asked from the General two of its members, to be sent thither. From that day, down to the recent mission of Cardinal Wiseman, the Court of Rome has striven, more or less openly, more or less eagerly, to exasperate the Irish Catholics against the English Protestants, and has made Ireland a sore thorn to the sister island. Many a time did Pius V. exclaim, that he would willingly shed his blood in a war against England; and Gregory XIII. was seriously meditating to march in person, and head the insurrection which broke out in Ireland during the reign of Elizabeth!

The two Jesuits whom Ignatius gave to the Pope for this mission were Salmeron and Brouet, who received secret instructions from the Pope, and were honoured with the name of Papal Nuncios. “They accepted with joy the perils of the embassy, but were in no way ambitious of the lustre and honour which the title conferred.”[56] So modest they were, according to Mr Crétineau.

The fact is, that they could not and would not have dared to assume in public the title of the Pope’s Legates, or Nuncios, and were obliged to content themselves to be simple and secret emissaries. Ignatius also gave them private instructions, and we may thank Orlandini for having sent down this document, which, if well examined, clearly shews that the crafty and mysterious policy for which the Society has earned such merited notoriety and execration, is as old as the order. Here is the precious document, which, however, shews a remarkable knowledge of human nature:—

“I recommend you to be, in your intercourse with all the world in general—but particularly with your equals and inferiors—modest and circumspect in your words, always disposed and patient to listen, lending an attentive ear till the persons who speak to you have unveiled the depth of their sentiments. Then you will give them a clear and brief answer which may anticipate all discussion.

“In order to conciliate to yourselves the goodwill of men in the desire of extending the kingdom of God, you will make yourselves all things to all men, after the example of the apostle, in order to gain them to Jesus Christ. Nothing, in effect, is more adapted than the resemblance of tastes and habits to conciliate affection, to gain hearts.

“Thus, after having studied the character and manners of each person, you will endeavour to conform yourselves to them as much as duty will permit,—so that, if you have to do with an excitable and ardent character, you should shake off all tedious prolixity.

“You must, on the contrary, become somewhat slow and measuring in speech, if the person to whom you speak is more circumspect and deliberate in his speech.

“For the rest, if he who has to do with a man of irascible temperament has himself that defect, and if they do not agree thoroughly in their opinion, it is greatly to be feared lest they permit themselves to be hurried into passion. Therefore, he who recognises in himself that propensity ought to watch himself with the most vigilant care, and fortify his heart with a supply of strength, in order that anger should not surprise him; but rather that he may endure with equanimity all that he shall suffer from the other, even should the latter be his inferior. Discussions and quarrels are much less to be apprehended from quiet and slow tempers than from the excitable and ardent.

“In order to attract men to virtue, and fight the enemy of salvation, you shall employ the arms he uses to destroy them—such is the advice of St Basil.

“When the devil attacks a just man, he does not let him see his snares; on the contrary, he hides them, and attacks him only indirectly, without resisting his pious inclinations, feigning even to conform to them;—but by degrees he entices him, and surprises him in his snares. Thus it is proper to follow a similar track to extricate men from sin.

“Begin with praising what is good in them, without at first attacking their vices; when you shall have gained their confidence, apply the remedy proper for their cure.

“With regard to melancholy or unsettled persons, exhibit whilst addressing them, as much as you can, a gay and serene countenance—give the greatest sweetness to your words, in order to restore them to a state of mental tranquillity—combating one extreme by another extreme.

“Not only in your sermons, but also in your private conversation, particularly when you reconcile people at variance, do not lose sight of the fact that all your words may be published—what you say in darkness may be manifested in the light of day.

“In affairs anticipate the time, rather than defer or adjourn it; if you promise anything for to-morrow, do it to-day. As to money, do not touch even that which shall be fixed for the expenses which you shall pay. Let it be distributed to the poor by other hands, or employ it in good works, in order that you may be able, in case of need, to affirm on oath that in the course of your legation you have not received a penny. When you have to speak to the great, let Pasquier Bruet have the charge. Deliberate with yourselves in all the points touching which your sentiments might be at variance. Do what two persons out of three would have approved, if called upon to decide.

“Write often to Rome during your journey—as soon as you shall have reached Scotland, and also when you shall have got over to Ireland. Then give an account of your legation monthly.”[57]

Now, examine well these instructions, and you will find that the true Jesuit must be crafty, insinuating, deceitful, even whilst pretending to be a most sincere Christian, and as if raised by God to defend his holy religion. Their sacrilegious maxim, “that no means can be bad when the end is good,” sanctifies in their eyes the most atrocious crimes.

At first sight, these precepts which Ignatius gave to the two emissaries of Paul, although not very honest, appear in themselves prudent instructions for proceeding in what they considered a most holy cause—the maintenance of the Catholic religion. But apply them to political purposes—and Ignatius knew that this was the case—and you will at once perceive the extent of the Jesuit immorality, and the artful way in which, in the name of the most sacred of all things—religion, they accomplish the most heinous offences.

But listen to the ingenious Mr Crétineau:—“In these instructions,” says he, “Loyola takes care to be silent about those which the Pope had given them; he keeps aloof from politics. Salmeron and Brouet are the Pope’s legates, and have his confidence. Ignatius endeavours to make them worthy of it, but he does not go beyond.”[58] Good! You confess, then, that Paul—Christ’s vicegerent—is plotting revenge under the garb of religion, and that he has sent the Jesuits on a political mission. Ignatius, confident in Paul’s abilities, confined himself to the prescribing of rules calculated to insure success in their undertaking; you prize him for that, and boast that he keeps aloof from politics? Good!

Salmeron and Brouet set out on their mission, and, as they were ordered, visited Holyrood on their way to Ireland. James V. was then on the throne of Scotland, who, “there is reason to believe,” says the author of the Tales of a Grandfather, “was somewhat inclined to the Reformed doctrines—at least he encouraged the poet Lindsay to compose bitter satires against the corruptions of the Roman Catholic clergy.” His uncle, Henry VIII., encouraged him in this disposition, strongly advised him to take possession of the immense wealth of the religious orders; and desired an interview with him at York in the beginning of the year 1542. Henry went there, and waited six days for his nephew, but he never made his appearance. There can be little doubt that the Jesuits, who had arrived in Scotland some time before with the Pope’s letter for the king, to whom they were introduced by Beaton, of cruel and tragic memory, who had known Loyola at Rome, used their utmost influence to prevent this meeting. Nor do I think it presumption to assert that the two Jesuits, and the letter which they brought from Paul, who exhorted the king to remain faithful to the religion of his fathers, were the chief cause that detained him at home. The war which followed soon after, with disastrous consequences to both nations, and especially to Scotland, as well as the torrents of blood shed during a long course of religious struggles, would, in all likelihood, have been avoided had James resisted the influence of the Jesuits.

Meanwhile Paul’s two emissaries arrived in Ireland about the month of February 1542. There, according to Jesuitical historians, they wrought prodigies, reforming and stirring up the people, and confirming them in the tenets of the true religion; celebrating masses, hearing confessions, and especially granting many indulgences;[59] exacting from the people a very moderate tax, which, according to the instructions of Ignatius, was not gathered by themselves, but by a stranger.[60] The people flocked around them, and poured out benedictions upon their head. Their adversaries, on the other hand, assert that they plotted to stir up one class of citizens against another, and drained the pockets of the credulous Irishmen so forcibly, that at last they became so odious in the eyes of the people, that they threatened to deliver them into the hands of Henry’s officers.[61] We ourselves believe that both of these versions are in part true. No doubt they, to keep up appearance, said masses, heard many confessions, granted millions of indulgences, but there is as little doubt that they excited the people against their excommunicated sovereign, whom, to be faithful to their religion, they must execrate, and use all their efforts to dethrone. That they collected money from the people, either party confess; but whether that money was employed for the repairing of the churches and the supporting of widows and orphans, as the one pretends, or as an aliment to foment civil war, as the other asserts, is not sufficiently ascertained. We leave our readers to judge for themselves. Certain it is, however, they only continued in Ireland for thirty-four days, and during that time they wandered about from place to place in disguise, never sleeping two successive nights under the same roof, afraid every moment of being seized. Upon leaving, they formed the noble complot (says Mr Crétineau, illustrating Orlandini) of going to London, and finding means of being admitted into Henry’s presence, when, by their eloquence and tenderness, they would disarm the anger of the king, in pleading the cause of the Catholic religion at the tribunal of his conscience.[62] It was as well for Henry, and England too, that their plan was found to be “impracticable.” We must not forget that they were the emissaries of that Paul who thought the sword and the stake, for the conversion of heretics, to be the most effectual and conclusive arguments. Neither must we forget, that some years after, James Clement and Ravaillac adopted a more expeditious way than eloquence for the converting of Henrys III. and IV. Salmeron and Brouet thought it advisable, in the circumstances, to retire into France, and being ordered by Paul to return again into Scotland, they refused to obey, and went direct to Rome.

Thus ended the first mission into England. Would to God it had been the last!

CHAPTER V.
1547-1631.
THE FEMALE JESUITS.

Before proceeding further, we think it proper to make a few observations on the Female Jesuitical Institution which was established at this period, especially as the order still exists, though under a different name.

When Ignatius was living at Barcelona, he received many kindnesses and favours at the hand of a lady called Rosello. But after he had left this place, his mind was so absorbed in devising so many and lofty projects, that he entirely forgot her. She did not, however, forget Ignatius. Hearing of his increasing sanctity, of his having become the founder and general of a new order, and “being then a widow, she resolved to abandon the world, and live in accordance with his evangelical councils, and under the authority of the Society. With this pious resolution, and being joined in her holy enterprise by two virtuous and noble Roman ladies, she asked and received from Paul permission to embrace this kind of life.”[63] Ignatius had the perception to see that these ladies would be an incumbrance to him and his order, “yet the gratitude which he owed to his kind benefactress weighed so much upon his heart, that he consented to receive them under his protection.” But he soon had reason to repent of this act of condescension; the annoyance was so great, that he confessed himself that they gave him more trouble than the whole community, because he could never get done with them. At every moment he was obliged to resolve their strange questions, to allay their scruples, to hear their complaints, or settle their differences;[64] and as, notwithstanding all his sagacity, Ignatius did not foresee of what advantage women could one day be to the order, he applied to the Pope to be relieved of this charge, writing, at the same time, the following letter to Rosello:—

“Venerable Dame Isabella Rosello—my Mother and my Sister in Jesus Christ,—In truth I would wish, for the greater glory of God, to satisfy your good desires, and procure your spiritual progress by keeping you under my obedience, as you have been for some time past; but the continual ailments to which I am subject, and all my occupations which concern the service of our Lord, or his vicar on earth, permit me to do so no longer. Moreover, being persuaded, according to the light of my conscience, that this little Society ought not to take upon itself, in particular, the direction of any woman who may be engaged to us by vows of obedience, as I have fully declared to our Holy Father the Pope, it has seemed to me for the greater glory of God, that I ought no longer to look upon you as my spiritual daughter, and only as my godmother, as you have been for many years, to the greater glory of God. Consequently, for the greater service, and the greater honour of the everlasting Goodness, I give you as much as I can into the hands of the sovereign Pontiff, in order that, taking his judgment and will as a rule, you may find rest and consolation for the greater glory of the Divine Majesty.—At Rome, the first of October 1549.”

The Pope complied with the request, and exempted the order from the superintendence of women; and Ignatius enacted in the Constitutions, “that no member of the Society should undertake the care of souls, nor of Religious, or of any other women whatever” [Loyola’s disciples thought proper to differ from him], “so as frequently to hear their confessions, or give them directions, although there is no objection to their receiving the confession of a monastery once, and for a special reason.”[65]

Dame Rosello and her two companions, being deprived of their spiritual father, not wishing to change him for another—so faithful were they—desisted at once from their pious undertaking, and for a time nothing more was heard of female Jesuits; but, about the year 1622, some females, more meddling than devoted, took upon themselves the task of reviving the institution, although they were not authorised to do so. Nevertheless, they united into different communities, established houses for noviciates and colleges, chose a general under the name of Proposta, and made vows into her hands of perpetual chastity, poverty, and obedience. Not being restrained by any law of seclusion, they went from place to place, bustling with gossip, and causing confusion and scandal throughout the Catholic camp. The community soon spread over a great part of lower Germany, France, Spain, and was especially numerous in Italy, where it originated.

Urban VIII., after vainly endeavouring to impose upon them some rules of discipline, by a brief of the 21st May 1631, suppressed them.[66]

Thus ended the Society of Female Jesuits under this name and form. But another afterwards sprung up in its place, under the appellation of Religieuse du Sacre Cœur, having special rules very like those of the Jesuits, under whose absolute directions they now are.

In Catholic countries—above all, in France, and, we are sorry to say, in Piedmont also—very many of the highest rank in society send their daughters to be educated in these monasteries. Had Ignatius known what powerful auxiliaries these worthy nuns were likely to prove to his order, he would, in all likelihood, have borne with those petty annoyances caused to him by good Dame Rosello. Ladies educated by these nuns bring into their homes all those dissensions and cause all those evils which are so ably described by the French professor, Michelet, who lost his chair the other day for daring to attack these all-powerful auxiliaries of Napoleon—the Jesuits.

CHAPTER VI.
1548-56.
THE FIRST OPPOSITION TO THE ORDER, AND DEATH OF LOYOLA.

The order of Jesuits, which had hitherto progressed so favourably, was now surrounded with difficulties and enemies. While the rapid increase of the Society, the influence it had acquired, and the wealth which it had already accumulated, combined to render the Jesuits less cautious and more authoritative, they caused also a great deal of envy, especially among those classes menaced by the company in some of their privileges. At the first opportunity an attempt was made to crush the order in the bud.

This opportunity was offered by the emperor, Charles V., who had at no time been very favourable to the institution, and who, no matter how bigoted a Catholic he may have become in his latter days, was then just as much Catholic as was necessary to extend his dominions and to consolidate his despotic power.

In 1548, Charles, indignant at the cunning policy of Paul III., who set the emperor to war with the Reformers, and who deserted him when he feared that, being master of the Protestant league, he would also become his dictator—Charles, we say, when the Pope recalled his troops, not wishing to drive the Protestant princes to extremities, published the famous Interim, a sort of compromise between the two creeds, and a tacit acquiescence in the more commonly received doctrines of the Reformers, leaving, besides, in their hands, the confiscated ecclesiastical properties. Paul became furious at the audacity of a layman mingling in matters of faith, and loudly exclaimed against the prince. Cardinal Farnese, the Pope’s legate and nephew, told the emperor that his book contained at least ten propositions which were heretical, and for which he might be called to account. Besides his legate, the Pope had in Germany a staunch and faithful partisan in the person of Bobadilla. Bobadilla was a bold and thorough Jesuit. He went to the war, and attached himself as a sort of commissary to the troops which the Pope’s grandson had led into Germany. At the battle of Mulberg he received a wound, but this gave him little concern. Some days afterwards, he was to be seen at Passau, a Protestant town, preaching the Catholic tenets, and announcing a day of thanksgiving for the victory that the Catholics had gained over the Protestants.

You may well believe that such a man would not hesitate to attack the Interim. In fact, by writing, by preaching publicly and privately, Bobadilla boldly denounced the book, and that even in the presence of the emperor himself, as a sacrilegious composition. The emperor, frustrating the Jesuit’s desire to gain renown by means of persecution, simply expelled him from all his estates.

Bobadilla hastened to Rome to receive, he hoped, the deserved ovation. But, alas! how bitterly was he deceived! Ignatius, “fearing that Bobadilla in impugning the Interim may have gone beyond due bounds, thought it better at first not to receive him into the house.”[67] So Orlandini. Our Mr Crétineau, who generally transcribes literally, here, with more zeal than prudence, thus reports the passage of the Jesuit writer:—“Loyola seized hold of this circumstance to revenge the majesty of kings, which, even in the height of the dispute, one ought never to attain.”[68] We understand you well, Mr Crétineau! you have lost much of your influence over the people, too well educated to repose much faith, either in your sanctity or your miracles, and you intend to preserve some of your domineering influence, by clinging to these same kings against whom, when they were adverse to you, you directed the poniard of the assassin!

Bobadilla’s expulsion seemed to have been the signal for the outburst of a violent war against the order, especially in Spain. The fight began at Salamanca. Three Jesuits, Sanci, Capella, and Turrian, arrived there in 1548, for the purpose of establishing their Society. They entered the town in the most pitiable condition, and were so poor, that, “having no image to adorn the altar of their private chapel with, they in its stead put a piece of paper, upon which was delineated, I do not know what figure—‘Impressam nescio,’ says Orlandini, ‘quam in papyro figuram, pro scite picta tabula collocarent.’”[69] And Crétineau thus translates it:—“In consequence” (of having no picture), “one of them simply sketched on a piece of paper an image of the Virgin, and this paper, stuck on the wall, was the only ornament of the high altar.”[70]

I must say I feel surprised at their candour! You confess, then, that you worship a dirty scrap of paper, upon which you do not know what sort of figure was represented, or you scratch four lines and make it the object of your cultus—the indispensable ornament of your altar, upon which you are going to renew the sacrifice of the Cross! Ah! we already knew that your religion only consisted in externalities—in blind and absurd superstitions. Yet we register this other example to prove your own idolatry, and your constant practice, to represent Christ the Lord in the background, while adoring images and statues which you have made according to your hearts’ wishes, as our great poet says, of gold and silver—

“Fatto v’avete Dio d’oro e, d’argento.”—Dante, Inferno, cant. xix.

However, there lived at that time at Salamanca a Dominican friar, famous for his eloquence, his learning, and particularly for his uprightness of purpose—Melchior Cano. He had known Loyola, and formed a bad opinion of him, because he never ceased speaking of his revelations, his visions, his virtues, his undeserved persecutions.

After his disciples came to Salamanca, equipped only with their bigoted fanaticism, and of doubtful morality, he resolved to oppose them, and poured forth against them, from his chair and pulpit, torrents of eloquent invectives. He represented them as crafty, insinuating; living in palaces, deceiving the kings and the great; declaring them to be soiled by every species of crime; capable of all kinds of excesses; and dangerous both to religion and society.

We may perhaps say that the picture which he, in his passionate eloquence, drew of the members of the order, which he also called the pioneers of Antichrist, was then somewhat exaggerated. The Jesuits at that time were not so perverse as he represented them to be, for they had as yet only existed for a few years. But it would seem that Cano had spoken in the spirit of prophecy, of the character which it assumed in after generations, the germ of which he may have seen beginning to develop itself.

If the letter which we are about to transcribe, written by him in 1560, two days before his death, is not to be numbered among the prophecies, it is nevertheless an extraordinary prediction, which came to be fulfilled in every point. Here is this remarkable letter:—“God grant that it may not happen to me as is fabled of Cassandra, whose predictions were not believed till Troy was captured and burned. If the members of the Society continue as they have begun, God grant that the time may not come when kings will wish to resist them, but will not have the means of doing so.”[71]

But we have anticipated.—The hideous colours in which he pourtrayed the disciples of Loyola made such an impression in Salamanca, that the Jesuits were not allowed to establish themselves in it. In vain did the Pope, taking up the cause of the Jesuits, by a bull reprove the conduct of Cano. In vain did the General of the Dominicans issue a circular to all his subordinates, in which, after a long eulogium on the Society, he says that “it ought to be praised and imitated, and not assailed with calumnies.”[72] Cano, disregarding both the Papal brief and his general’s circular, and being supported, at least secretly, by the civil authorities, boldly held out against the order. What could his adversaries do? Persecution and revenge were impossible against a subject of the emperor, who was then at war with the Pope, and yet Cano must be got rid of. Well, one fine morning he was strangely and agreeably surprised with the news, that that same Pope who had threatened and censured him had now conferred upon him the bishopric of the Canaries. Dazzled and flattered, the friar yielded at first to the temptation, and left Salamanca for his bishopric. But soon, very soon, he perceived why he had been sent so far away. Resolved, therefore, to baffle his enemies’ cunning, he resigned the Episcopal dignity, and returned to Salamanca, the undoubted and indefatigable adversary of the order. He died Provincial of his order, and much respected.

About the same epoch, 1548, the University of Alcala also declared against the order. The contest lasted for a considerable time; and even after many of the doctors were, by the usual mysterious arts, gained over to the cause of the company, Dr Scala persisted in his opposition, and did not refrain from attacking them till he was called before the Inquisition, and threatened with an auto-da-fé.[73]

The opposition which the Jesuits encountered in Toledo, where they had already established themselves, was a more serious affair. They had found here the population docile, and easy to be imposed upon. They had introduced sundry abuses, and many superstitious practices. Nay, their devotees—horrid to say!—went to the communion table twice a day! In the year 1550, these scandalous enormities forced themselves upon the attention of the authorities. Don Siliceo, Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo, once tutor to Philip of Spain, wishing to repress them, published an ordinance, reproving and condemning them, and in which, after bitterly reproaching the Jesuits for their many usurpations, he forbids the people, under pain of excommunication, to confess to any Jesuit, and empowers all curates to exclude them from the administration of all sacraments; furthermore, laying an interdict upon the Jesuit College of Alcala.

This ordinance produced a great excitement among the Jesuits and their partisans, and nothing was left untried to make the archbishop relent. But neither the influence that the Society already possessed, nor the intercession of the Papal nuncio, and of the Archbishop of Burgos, nor even the Pope’s own authority, could vanquish the archbishop’s hostility. Then the bold Loyola had the impudence to institute a process against the archbishop, before the Royal Council of Spain. Paul III. was dead, and was succeeded by Julius III., who, as Ignatius well knew, was on the best terms with Charles. The Royal Council condemned the prelate, who thereupon recalled the interdict[74]—not that his opinions were changed, but to avoid, perhaps, the fate which encountered his successor, the learned but unfortunate Carranza—twelve years of torture in the dungeons of the Inquisition.

A still fiercer tempest was gathering over the heads of the Jesuits at Saragossa. Instructive is the cause of the quarrel. The town of Saragossa was so full of convents and monasteries, that, to observe the rule which forbade any religious house to be built within a certain distance of another, it was impossible for the Jesuits to find a spot unforbidden. However, after thoroughly surveying the town, they imagined they had found a spot at the requisite distance. They there erect a house and a chapel, which is to be consecrated on Easter Tuesday 1555. Great preparations are made to make the pageant pompous and attractive, when, alas! Lopez Marcos, Vicar-general of Saragossa, on the complaint of the Augustine Friars, who pretend that the chapel was built on their grounds, intimated to Father Brama, the superior of the house, that the ceremony might be deferred. Brama refused to obey. Lopez, at the very moment the Jesuits were performing the solemn ceremony, issued a proclamation forbidding the chapel to be entered under pain of excommunication. Anathemas were poured upon the fathers, and the clergy, accompanied by a great crowd of people, march through the town, singing the 109th Psalm, the people repeating—“As he clothed himself with cursing like as with his garment, so let it come into his bowels like water, and like oil into his bones;” and, to unite the ludicrous with the terrible, they carry along images with hideous faces, representing the Jesuits dragged to hell by a legion of demons still more hideous. A funeral procession, with the image of Christ covered with a black veil, singing lugubrious songs, march towards the house of the Jesuits. From time to time, the cry, “Mercy! Mercy!” burst from the crowd, as they wished to avert the curse of God from an interdicted city. The poor Jesuits, shut up in their own house, patiently wait for a fortnight, until the tempest should pass away. But this ignoble goblin representation, worthy only of Jesuits and of their opponents, not yet ending, Loyola’s disciples, as usual, gave way, feeling assured that, if actual force would be of no avail in making good their claim, intrigues and cunning would in the end win the day. Nor were they deceived.[75]

In Portugal, dangers of another kind menaced the Society. It seemed as if Portugal were to be the theatre where the Jesuits were to perform the principal act of their ignoble drama.

The protection of John III., united with the zeal of Rodriguez, had made this country one of the most flourishing provinces of the Society. But its very prosperity nearly caused its ruin. Having possessed themselves of immense wealth, the Jesuits, yielding to the common law, relaxed in the strictness of their conduct, pursued a life of pleasure and debauchery; above all, their principal college (Coimbra) resembled more a garden of academics than a cloister.[76] Scandal became so great, that the court began to frown upon them, and the people were losing that respect and veneration with which they had before regarded them. Ignatius, of course, was soon informed of the state of things, and took at once the most energetic measures for repressing the evil (in 1552). Rodriguez was recalled and sent to Spain, and a new provincial and rector were sent to Coimbra.

Miron, the provincial, attempted a reform, but the Jesuits—spoiled children—refused to submit to it. Some he dismissed from the college—a greater number abandoned it. Insubordination and disorder were at their height. Fortunately, Ignatius had in the rector Godin a man according to his heart. Godin proved a worthy disciple of the author of the Spiritual Exercises. Stripping his shoulders of their garments, arming himself with a scourge, he rushed, demoniac-like, out into the streets of Coimbra, and flagellated himself, crying for mercy. Breathless, covered with dust and blood, running and screaming, he returned to the college church, where the brethren were assembled, and here he again lashed himself. Strange and uncommon examples fire the imagination and prejudices of imitators. The Jesuits were at first surprised; then, all on a sudden, they beg to be allowed to undergo the same public penance. Godin feigns to refuse; he speaks of the scandal given—he paints in strong colours the enormities of their sins, and dwells at length upon the sufferings and passion of Christ. When he had wrought their feelings to the highest pitch, he granted them the permission solicited, and, like a crowd of Bacchanti, when their deity rages within them, they all rush out of the church, and with lamentable cries run through the streets, scourging themselves in a most merciless manner. When they reached the Church of the Misericordia, they knelt down, whilst the rector begged pardon of the multitude for the scandal they had given them. Some of the people are moved—others laugh loudly—but the intent of the rector is obtained. The disciples become more tractable; the college submits to the necessary reform, and the Jesuits regain their influence.[77]

The Society met with a more serious and durable opposition in France. After their first banishment they had returned to Paris, but there they had no house of their own, neither could they find any. They therefore took up their abode in the College des Lombards, till Du Prat, Bishop of Clermond, offered them his own hotel, to which they immediately repaired. As yet, however, this establishment was neither a house for professed members, since there were none of them, nor a noviciate, since the rules for the noviciate were not established till six or seven years afterwards. The members who repaired to Clermond hotel were only students, or priests aspiring to become members of the Society; but we are told that they were so conspicuous for their learning and piety, that three of them were chosen by Ignatius to establish a new college in Sicily, while Viole, the chief of those aspirants, was named by the university, Procurator of the College des Lombards. This nomination, however, appeared to Ignatius to be of a rather doubtful character, since it proceeded from the university, which had been adverse to the order from the first. It seems as if he feared that these students, seduced by the allurements of honour and emoluments, would renounce their pious determination to become Jesuits; he therefore ordered Viole to give up the appointment, and to take the vows of the order before Du Prat, enjoining at the same time, that all students who may receive any pension from the College des Lombards should instantly renounce it. Although these orders were absolute, they were promptly obeyed. The great secret of Loyola’s influence and power lay in the inflexibility of his character, and in his military education, which rendered him absolute and imperative, and excluded the possibility of others disputing his orders.

Meanwhile the Society in France—we should say in Paris—the only place where it had tried to establish itself, lived in a most precarious state, until the year 1550, when Henry II., stimulated by the too famous cardinal of Guise, thought of establishing the Jesuits in his kingdom, and issued patent letters authorising them to do so.

The ordinances of the French king were not at this time considered binding, until they were registered by the parliament.[78] When those concerning the Jesuits were brought before them, the parliament, after hearing the conclusions of their Advocate-General, refused to register them, on the ground “that the new institute would be prejudicial to the monarchy, the state, and the ecclesiastical hierarchy.”

The contest lasted for two years, when the king, in 1552, sent an order to the parliament to register the patent letters of 1550, authorising the establishment of the Jesuits. The order was formal and imperative, yet the parliament refused to comply with it, although, out of deference to the sovereign will, they advised that further inquiries be made concerning the Society.

After other two years of serious consideration and strict inquiry, the parliament, in 1554, enacted that “the bull establishing the Society, and the king’s patent letters, shall be communicated both to the Archbishop of Paris, and to the Faculty of Theology there, in order that, their opinion heard, the court may come to a sentence.” The archbishop and the faculty were thus called to decide upon a question of their exclusive competence, since the one was the ecclesiastical superior, and the other the natural judge in matters of faith. Both took the case in hand, and after due consideration, they respectively decided against the establishment of the Society. The archbishop, Eustache de Bellay, belonging to one of the most illustrious parliamentary families of France, after mature deliberation, gave out all the reasons why he thought it his duty to oppose the introduction of the order, and concluded in this remarkable and logical way:—“Since the order pretends to be established for the purpose of preaching to the Turks and infidels, to bring them to the knowledge of God; they ought to establish their houses and societies in places near the said infidels, as in the times of old had been done by the Knights of Rhodes, who were placed on the frontiers of Christendom, not in the midst thereof.” But the severe and bitter censure of the Doctors of the Sorbonne was a more explicit condemnation of the order. Here is the document of their famous “conclusion:”—

“As all the faithful, and principally the theologians, ought to be ready to render an account to those who demand the same, respecting matters of faith, morals, and the edification of the Church; the faculty has thought, that it ought to satisfy the desire, the demand, and the intention of the court.

“Wherefore, having perused, and many times re-perused, and well comprehended all the articles of the two bulls, and after having discussed and gone to the depths of them, during several months, at different times and hours, according to custom, due regard being had to the subject, the Faculty has, with unanimous consent, given this judgment, which it has submitted with all manner of respect to that of the Holy See.

“This new Society, which arrogates to itself in particular the unusual title of the name of Jesus—which receives with so much freedom, and without any choice, all sorts of persons, however criminal, lawless, and infamous they may be—which differs in nowise from the secular priests in outward dress, in the tonsure, in the manner of saying the canonical hours in private, or in chaunting in public, in the engagement to remain in the cloister and observe silence, in the choice of food and days, in fasting, and the variety of rules, laws, and ceremonies which serve to distinguish the different institutes of monks;—this Society, to which have been granted and given so many privileges and licences, chiefly in what concerns the administration of the sacraments of penance and the eucharist, and this without any regard or distinction being had of places or persons; as also in the function of preaching, reading, and teaching, to the prejudice of the ordinaries and the hierarchical order, as well as of the other religious orders, and even to the prejudices of princes and lords temporal, against the privileges of the universities,—in fine, to the great cost of the people;—this Society seems to blemish the honour of the monastic state; it weakens entirely the painful, pious, and very necessary exercises of the virtues of abstinences, ceremonies, and austerity. It even gives occasion very freely to desert the religious orders; it withdraws from the obedience and submission due to the ordinaries; it unjustly deprives lords, both temporal and ecclesiastical, of their rights, carries trouble into the government of both, causes many subjects of complaint amongst the people, many lawsuits, strifes, contentions, jealousies, and divers schisms and divisions.

“Wherefore, after having examined all these matters, and several others, with much attention and care, this Society appears dangerous as to matters of faith, capable of disturbing the peace of the Church, overturning the monastic order, and more adapted to break down than to build up.”[79]

Here, as in the denunciations of Cano, the faculty seem to have got a glimpse of the future history of the Jesuits, since, at that epoch at least, the accusation of receiving into the Society indiscriminately was not well founded.

The apologists of the Jesuits have said—and we are partly inclined to admit the truth of their assertion—that as the Jesuits were then in possession of the education of youth in many parts of Europe, the university, jealous of its privileges, condemned the order of the Jesuits, not as an infamous and sacrilegious community, but as a dangerous rival. They have also affirmed, that the expulsion of the famous Postel[80] had irritated the Sorbonne, of which he was a doctor. But this we believe to be a gratuitous supposition.

However, the decisions of the parliament, archbishop, and university, were hailed throughout France with a shout of jubilee. The Jesuits were obliged to leave Paris, and as all the parliaments of France had echoed the resolution of that of the capital, they would be nowhere received, and, as a last and momentary refuge, they went and hid themselves in the Abbey of St Germain des Près.

The more warlike and inconsiderate members of the order would have replied to the terrible sentence of the Sorbonne, but Ignatius was too consummate a politician to yield to their imprudent desires. For open wars, the Jesuits had no predilection. When their opponents were too strong for them, their practice was, and still is, to give way, as if in submission; but then they begin a hidden and mysterious war of intrigues and machinations, that in the end they are always the victors. So acted Ignatius in this affair in France. The Jesuits contented themselves with living for some time in obscurity and complete seclusion from all society, and preparing the way for future triumph. Nor had they long to wait. Soon were they called into France to help and cheer that atrocious and cruel hecatomb, that bloody debauch of priests and kings—the Saint Bartholomew.

But what is worthy of more serious reflection, is the fact, that in Rome—the centre of their power and glory—the Jesuits were also publicly accused as a set of heretics, dangerous and immoral persons; and the famous book of The Spiritual Exercises was submitted to the Inquisition. It is indeed true that this little manual got a certificate for orthodoxy, and that the priest who had traduced them before the tribunal, having to struggle alone against the Society, was condemned (we don’t wonder at it) as a calumniator; but how can you, you subtle sons of Ignatius, explain this concurrence; this accumulation of accusations and hostilities? How is it that nations, separated from one another by diversities of interest, custom, opinion—that citizens of different classes, characters, principles, interests—that all men and nations, widely separated in every thing else, united only by a common tie—the Catholic religion—should exactly agree in this one thing—hatred to and abhorrence of the avowed champion of Catholicism? And remember we don’t speak of Protestant countries, or Protestant opponents. All your adversaries were bigoted Catholics. There is but one way to explain this strange coincidence. We fear that from the very beginning, the Jesuits, notwithstanding all their prudence, could not conceal from the eye of the observer those subtle arts, that duplicity of character, that skill in accomplishing dark and mysterious exploits, for which they were in later times opposed, and at length abolished.

What is still more remarkable, is the fact that the greatest part of those persons who were foremost in opposing the Jesuits, knew Loyola, and, if not as intimately as Caraffa and Cano, at least well enough to be able to appreciate him. We shall adduce as the last, though not the least fact, militating against the order—that Caraffa, a man of the most rigid Catholicism, nay, bigotry—who had nothing so near his heart as the furtherance of the Roman religion—the former friend of Loyola, both as cardinal and as Pope, was constantly and firmly adverse to the order. I should like if some of the reverend fathers would explain this almost inexplicable fact.

However, all these oppositions were sooner or later got rid of by Jesuitical craft; and the Society, in 1556, only sixteen years after its commencement, counted as many as twelve provinces, a hundred houses, and upwards of a thousand members, dispersed over the whole known world. Their two most conspicuous and important establishments were the Collegio Romano and the German College. They already were in possession of many chairs, and soon monopolised the right of teaching, which gave them a most overwhelming influence. We shall speak of the colleges, and of their method of study, after it had received from Acquaviva, the fifth General, a farther development, and nearly the same form in which it is at the present day. The Jesuits also derived great importance from their missions, to the consideration of which we shall devote the next chapter. The reason of the immense success of the Jesuits is the fact, that their order was established in direct opposition to the rising Protestantism, and that both the court of Rome, and those princes whose interest it was to maintain the Catholic religion, and oppose that of the Reformed, were very eager to introduce and uphold the Society of Jesuits into their states. Yet even with this preponderant favourable circumstance, the Society would have either succumbed under the many obstacles it encountered in its beginning, or at least would not have progressed so rapidly, had it not been for Ignatius Loyola. This extraordinary man seems to have united in his own person all the qualities indispensable for succeeding in any undertaking;—unbounded ambition—inflexibility of character—unwearied activity, and a thorough and profound knowledge of the human heart. With such qualities, he could hardly fail to succeed in the accomplishment of any project. Almost every writer of Loyola’s life (I do not speak either of the miracle-tellers or of the pamphleteers) has represented him as most sincere, fervidly devout, and pious. On this point, however, we must observe, that all the historians, not excluding even the Protestant, copied from his two first biographers, Maffei and Rybadaneira.

We also beg to be permitted to give the humble opinion which we have formed of him, after having carefully perused what has been said regarding him—and much more, after a dispassionate examination of the facts connected with his life. Without doubt, Ignatius, during his illness, felt disposed to change his dissipated course of life, and, as happens in every sudden reaction, he, from being a profligate freethinking officer, went to the other extreme, and became a rigid and bigoted anchorite. No penances were too severe to expiate his numerous sins, and no devotion was too fervent to atone for his past irreligion. So he thought at the moment, and, we think, conscientiously. But after the first burst of his devotion—after the deep contemplation into which he was plunged had given place to the felt necessity of acting in one way or another, we are led to believe, and have already expressed that belief, that his natural ambition rose, and that all his thoughts were turned upon the surest method of accomplishing some great and uncommon exploit, by which he might render himself famous. As devotion was the principal requisite for success in the path which he had chosen, Ignatius was a fervent devotee, first by calculation, and then by habit—but not the less zealous for all that. Had his whole thoughts been absorbed with that one object—the salvation of his soul—his devotion would have been less ostentatious, and, without wavering between one project and another, he would have been contented with an humble and retired life, or would have spent it in unquestionable works of charity—in ministering to the sick, as he had begun in the Hospital of the Theatines. It cannot be denied, however, that Ignatius, after his conversion, was very humane, compassionate, and charitable, and that his private conduct, in the later part of his life, was moral and unimpeached. He treated his disciples with much kindness, and never denied them what he could grant without inconvenience. On the other hand, he was imperious to the last degree, and could not endure the slightest contradiction. An old Jesuit priest, who had been once guilty of disobedience, was scourged in his own presence. One instance will perhaps serve to depict Loyola more effectively than words can. He had sent Lainez as provincial to Padua. Lainez, who had had an immense success at the Council of Trent, and who was in fact superior to any one then belonging to the Society, at first refused this secondary post, but at last obeyed. Hardly had he, however, entered upon his functions, before Ignatius drained his province of all the best professors, whom he summoned to Rome. The provincial remonstrated. It was the Lainez, Ignatius’ bosom friend—his right hand—the glory of the company—the man who had been chosen to be a cardinal. But Ignatius disregarded all these considerations, and without even entering into any discussion, simply wrote to him, thus: “Reflect on your proceedings; tell me if you are persuaded of having erred, and if so, indicate to me what punishment you are ready to undergo for the expiation of your fault.”[81] This letter pourtrays the man!

We are also assured, that the general was so humble, that you might have seen him carrying wood on his shoulders—lighting the common fire—or going to the well with a pitcher in his hand. We should be inclined to call such humility ostentation, or, if you prefer it, good policy. Ignatius was, above all, anxious to curb the spirit of his disciples. In his eyes, they could not be humble and submissive enough. The Jesuit ought to value himself, individually, as nothing—the Society as everything. Now, which of his disciples would have dared refuse any undertaking, however humble, after he had seen his general engaged in the meanest services?

But while Ignatius affected these acts of humility, he was seriously giving his attention to the state affairs of different nations. He was holding correspondence with John III. of Portugal, the cardinal his son, Albert of Bavaria, Ferdinand of Austria, Philip of Spain, Ercole of Est, and many other princes. He was the spiritual director of Margaret of Austria. He went to Tivoli, purposely to allay the quarrels of two neighbouring towns, and to Naples to make peace between an angry husband and his wife of rather doubtful morals. All these things tend to prove what we have said regarding his devotion, viz. that it was of a rather meddlesome and ambitious character.

But his career was now drawing to an end. These different occupations—the direction of both the spiritual and temporal matters of the order, which was already widely spread—the anxiety caused by the many conflicts in which the Society was engaged—the fear of defeat—the joy arising from success—his unrelenting activity—his uneasiness at seeing the pontifical chair occupied by Caraffa, always adverse to the order—all these things contributed to shorten his days. His constitution, which had been impaired in his youth, and in the cavern of Manreze, now gradually gave way; and although no symptom of his approaching end was yet visible, “no paleness of countenance, not a sign in all his body,”[82] nevertheless he felt the vital principle fading away within him, and that his last hour was rapidly drawing near. He tried the country air, and for this purpose went to a villa lately given by some friends for the use of the Roman college,[83] but he found no relief. His strength was fast failing him; an unconquerable lassitude crept over his whole frame, and his intellect only remained clear and unchanged. He spoke of his illness, nay, of his approaching end, to nobody. He returned to Rome, and threw himself upon a bed. A doctor was sent for by the alarmed fathers, but he bade them be of good cheer, “for there was nothing the matter with the general.” Ignatius smiled; and when the physician was gone, he gave orders to his secretary, Polancus, to proceed to the holy father straightway to recommend the Society to his care, and to obtain a blessing for himself (Ignatius), and indulgences for his sins.[84] Perhaps he made this last attempt to disarm, by his humility, the inflexible Paul IV. (Caraffa), and so render him favourable to the Society. He was mistaken. Paul sent the requested benison, but he did not change his mind toward the Society. However, Polancus, reassured by the doctor, and not seeing any danger himself, disregarded the order, postponing the fulfilment of his mission till next day. Meanwhile, after Ignatius had attended till very late to some affairs concerning the Roman college, he was left alone to rest. But what was the surprise and consternation of the fathers, on entering his room next morning, to find him breathing his last! The noise and confusion caused by such an unexpected event were great. Cordials, doctor, confessor, were immediately sent for; but, before any of them came—before Polancus, who only now ran to the Pope, returned—Loyola had expired. His demise took place at five o’clock on the morning of the 31st of July 1556, in his sixty-fifth year. So ended a man who is extolled by the one party as a saint, execrated by the other as a monster. He was neither. Most assuredly, in the Protestant point of view, and by all those who advocate the cause of freedom of conscience, and of a return to the purity of the primitive religion of Christ, Ignatius ought to be detested above any other individual. To him and to his order belongs the mournful glory of having checked the progress of the Reformation, and of having kept a great part of Europe under the yoke of superstition and tyranny.

And here we are led to mention a fact which we think has hitherto been unnoticed—the indulgence, we should say the partiality, evinced by Protestant writers for these last ten years towards the Jesuits, and especially the founders of the order. The fact must be explained. The Jesuits, from 1830 to the end of ’48, seemed to have lost all public favour, all influence and authority. Persecuted and hooted in France, Switzerland, Russia, hated in their own dominion, Italy, they were considered as a vanquished enemy, deserving rather commiseration than hatred. A reaction ensued in their favour among their most decided opponents. Generous souls rose up to defend these persecuted men, and stretched out a friendly hand to them, thus trodden upon by all. Carried away with such chivalrous sentiments, they have embellished, with the colours of their fervid imaginations and the graces of their copious style, whatever the Jesuit writers have related of their chiefs, and have represented Loyola and his companions as heroes of romance rather than real historical characters. We leave these writers to reflect whether the Jesuits are a vanquished enemy, or whether they are not still redoubtable and menacing foes. But, with deference to such distinguished writers as Macaulay, Taylor, Stephen, and others, we dare to assert that in writing about the Jesuits they were led astray by the above romantic sentiments; and we should moreover warn them that their words are quoted by the Jesuit writers, Crétineau, Pellico, &c., as irrefragable testimony of the sanctity of their members.

CHAPTER VII.
1541-1774.
MISSIONS.

Before we proceed any further, we feel obliged to say a few words regarding the missions which were undertaken by the Jesuits soon after the establishment of their order. To write a complete history would be almost interminable. To analyse Orlandini, Sacchini, Bartoli, Jouvency, the Litteræ Annuæ, and Les Lettres Edifiantes, not to speak of a hundred others, would take up a great many volumes.[85] We think we may fill our pages with more instructive matter.

We shall now confine ourselves to a short chapter on the missions of India. We shall next speak of those of America, and finally, in what condition the missions are at the present day. In speaking of the missions of India, we fear we shall incur the reproach we have addressed to others, because we frankly confess that we are partial to Francis Xavier; but our Protestant readers, to be impartial, must not judge those missions by too rigid a standard, or by too constant a reference to the doctrinal errors of those who undertook them, furthermore, by the consideration of what those missions subsequently became. All human institutions emanating from imperfect beginnings, are necessarily imperfect, and the further they recede from their origin, the more they lose of their primitive character, and the less are they calculated to answer the end for which they were established. The idle and immoral monk—this gangrene of Catholic countries—was at one time the most industrious of men; and Europe owes much to the monastic orders, not only for the preservation of the greatest part of the works of genius of our forefathers, but also for the tillage of its barren wastes. If the monks and priests now bring disorder, confusion, and often civil war into the countries where they are sent under pretence of missions, such was not the case at the discovery of the Western World, and at the conquest of India by the Portuguese. The first zealous and devoted missionaries attempted to civilise and Christianise savage and barbarous populations. And if you object that in their missions they preached the Popish creed, and destroyed one idolatry by introducing another, at least you ought to give them credit for their good intentions. Nor are you to suppose that they undertook the task of civilising these nations in order to acquire dominion over them. No. Such, indeed, has been the case in later times, but in the beginning they were actuated by worthier and more disinterested motives. In going thither they had before their eyes martyrdom rather than worldly establishments. They carried with them no theological books. Having no antagonist to dispute with, they had left behind the acrimony and hatred inherent in almost all theological controversies. They brought with them the essence of the Christian religion—the most consoling and sublime part of it—gratitude to the Creator, with charity and love to their fellow-creatures. Undoubtedly, when we speak of their missions, we must not blindly believe all that the Jesuitical historians, who are often the only chroniclers of these events, relate to us. We shall not give them credit for the prodigies and miracles said to be performed by their missionaries, even though that missionary be Xavier himself. We shall not believe that he raised from the tomb another Lazarus, or that at his bidding the salt waves of the ocean were changed into sweet and palatable water. Yet there are irrefragable proofs of the good done by their exertions, and of their success in introducing Christianity, or at least civilisation, into India and America. The man who first engaged in that glorious work was Francis Xavier—Xavier, whom, if Rome had not dishonoured the name by conferring it upon assassins and hypocrites, we would gladly call a saint.

Francis Xavier

Hinchliff.

He was the offspring of an ancient and illustrious Spanish family, and was born in 1506, at his father’s castle in the Pyrenees. He was about the middle size, had a lofty forehead, large, blue, soft eyes, with an exquisitely fine complexion, and with the manners and demeanour of a prince. He was gay, satirical, of an ardent spirit, and, above all, ambitious of literary renown. All his faculties, all his thoughts, were directed to this noble pursuit, and so efficiently, that at the age of twenty-two he was elected a professor of philosophy in the capital of France. There he lived on terms of intimacy with Peter Lefevre, a young Savoyard, of very humble extraction, of a modest and simple character, but of uncommon intelligence and industry. It was with Lefevre that Xavier first met Ignatius. Francis was shocked at his appearance, his affected humility, his loathsome dress; and when he spake of spiritual exercises, Xavier looked at his own fair, white arms, shuddered at the idea of lacerating them with the scourge—this principal ingredient of the spiritual exercises—and laughed outright in his face. But Ignatius, having cast his eyes upon such a noble being, was not to be discouraged by a first or second repulse in his endeavours to become intimate with him. He spared no exertions to ingratiate himself with Xavier; and at last, as Bartoli says, “he resolved to gain him over by firing his ambition, just as Judith did with feigned love to Holofernes, that she might triumph over him at the last.”[86] As we have already stated, Xavier was ambitious, and eager for literary renown. Ignatius made himself the eulogist of his countryman. He gathered around his chair a benevolent and an attentive audience, and gratified the young professor in his most ardent wishes. The generous heart of Xavier was touched by this act of kindness, and he began to look upon this loathsome man with other eyes. Ignatius redoubled his efforts. The improvident Xavier was often surrounded with pecuniary difficulties. Ignatius went begging, to replenish his purse. It was not wonderful that Xavier, having fallen under the influence of such a persevering assailant, who was admonitor at once and friend—who flattered and exhorted, rebuked and assisted, with such matchless tact—should gradually have yielded to the fascination. He went through the Spiritual Exercises, and from that moment became a mere tool in the hands of Loyola. This was the first missionary sent to India.

The order had not yet been approved by the Pope, when John III. of Portugal, by means of his ambassador D. Pedro de Mascaregnas, asked of him six missionaries to be sent to the East Indies. The Pope, who was undecided whether he should consent to the establishment of this new order or not, thought this a plausible pretext to get rid of them altogether, and asked Loyola for six of his companions. But Ignatius was not the man to consent to the suicide of the intended Society, and offered the Pope only two members for the undertaking. The choice fell upon Rodriguez and Bobadilla. The first set out immediately, but Bobadilla falling ill, Ignatius called Xavier, and said to him, “Xavier, I had named Bobadilla for India, but Heaven this day names you, and I announce it to you in the name of the Vicar of Jesus Christ. Receive the appointment which his Holiness lays upon you by my mouth, just as if Jesus Christ presented it himself. Go, brother, whither the voice of God calls you, and inflame all with the divine fire within you—Id y accendedlo todo y embrasadlo en fuego divino.” Ignatius often used these words, and in his mouth they were a talisman which fanned the flame of enthusiasm. It is impossible to describe the exultation of Xavier at the thought of the boundless regions which would open before him there, to exercise his unbounded charity and love of mankind. Xavier went to receive the Pope’s blessing, and the very next morning he left Rome—alone—penniless—clothed in a ragged cloak, but with a light heart and joyful countenance. He crossed the Pyrenees without even visiting his father’s castle, and hastened to Lisbon, where he joined his companion Rodriguez. Portugal at this epoch was experiencing the influence of the wealth brought from the recently conquered provinces of India. Eagerness for pleasure, effeminacy of manners, relaxation from every duty, had completely changed the aspect of the nation. These two Jesuits, by exhortation and preaching, endeavoured to stem the onward march of that fast spreading corruption. Their panegyrists assure us that they succeeded in their efforts, but the subsequent history of Portugal gives them the lie. To no man is given the power to stop the propensities or the vices of a nation, when they are in the ascendancy. Xavier may perhaps have made the Portuguese nobility for a moment ashamed of their luxurious and profligate life; but if so, a more complete abandonment to a life of idleness and pleasure succeeded a fugitive shame.

However, the King of Portugal, changing his mind, wished to retain in the capital the two Jesuits whom he had intended for India, but he could only prevail on Rodriguez to remain. Xavier was impatient to be sent on his mission. At length, on the 7th of April 1541, the fleet, having on board a thousand men to reinforce the garrison of Goa, left the Tagus, and spread her sails to the wind. It was under the command of Don Alphonso of Sousa, the vice-king of India. As the fleet sailed on, the eyes of the soldiers were bedimmed with tears; even the bravest of the host could not see without emotion and dismay the shores of their native land receding from their view. Xavier alone was serene, and his countenance beamed with delight. On sailed the fleet, and after five long and weary months, they reached the coast of Mozambique. Under a burning African sun, they found little relief from the fatigues of their tedious voyage, and an epidemic fever spread consternation and death among these European adventurers. Xavier was indefatigable among them, nursing the sick, consoling the dying, and cheering all with his joyful and placid countenance.

After six months’ stay, they left this inhospitable land, and arrived at Goa, the capital of the Portuguese dominions in India, thirteen months after their departure from Lisbon.

There Xavier was horror-struck at the indescribable degradation in which he found, not the Indian idolaters, but the Portuguese Catholics, their own priests foremost in the path of vice. The contempt that these proud conquerors had for a feeble and despised race, the charm of the East, the wealth they found, the climate inspiring voluptuousness—all combined to banish from their breasts every sentiment of justice, shame, and honesty. The history of their debauches and immoralities is really revolting. Thirst for gold and voluptuousness were their two predominant passions; and the gold, acquired by infamous and cruel means, was dissipated in revolting and degrading deeds. Bartoli gives us a fearful picture of the demoralised condition of the Portuguese in India.[87] But, without trusting implicitly to all this historian represents regarding their corruptions and licentiousness, we know by other sources that the corruption was extreme, and that it was their dissolute life that induced the Indians who had been converted to our religion, feeling ashamed of the name of Christian, to return to their idols. Xavier thought it would be useless to attempt converting the idolater before he had reformed the morals of the Christian; but he considered it neither prudent nor useful to attack so great an evil directly and openly. He rightly judged that the children would be most easily worked upon, and he resolved to reach this by exciting their love of novelties and unwonted sights. He arms himself with a hand-bell, which he swings with a powerful hand, throws away his hat, and calls in a loud and impressive tone on the fathers to send their children to be catechised. The novelty of the fact, the noble and dignified countenance of a man dressed in rags, could not fail to excite curiosity at least. Men, women, and children rush out to see this strange man, who draws along with him a crowd to the church, and there, with passionate and impressive eloquence, endeavours to inspire them with shame for their conduct, and lectures to them on the most essential rules of morality. Then he begins to teach the children the rudiments of the Christian religion, and these innocent creatures love to listen to a man who shews himself the kindest and gentlest companion, joyfully mixing in all their pastimes. A number of children soon became his constant auditors, and to say he did not work any good among them would be an untruth. Nor did he confine his apostolic ministry to the instruction of children. He was, on the contrary, indefatigable in his exertions to be of use to every one. He took up his abode in the hospital, visited the prisoner, assisted the dying. With a flexibility characteristic of the system, and often employed for the worst ends, he mixed with all classes, and spoke and acted in the most suitable manner to please them all. Often might you have seen him at the same table with the gamester—often did he by his gay humour rejoice the banquet table—often might he have been seen in the haunts of debauchees; and in all those places exquisite good taste, combined with jest or bitter sarcasm, à-propos to time and place, rendered the vice either ridiculous or loathsome. Many, to enjoy Xavier’s friendship, renounced their profligate habits, and fell back to the paths of virtue. But it is a gratuitous assertion, and contradicted by Xavier himself, that the aspect of the town was changed by his predications and catechisings. We repeat it again—no man has the power to work such miracles. After Xavier had spent twelve months in Goa, he heard that the pearl fishermen on the coast of Malabar were poor and oppressed. Thither Xavier went without delay. He took with him two Malabarese whom he had converted, as his interpreters. But finding this mode of communication slow and ineffectual, he committed to memory the creed, the decalogue, and the Lord’s Prayer in the Malabar language, and repeated them to the natives with passionate and eloquent eagerness. By degrees he began to be able to communicate with them; and here, as elsewhere, Xavier not only acted the indefatigable apostle, but also shewed himself the best friend, the kindest consoler of these poor people, and shared in their fatigues and privations. Many were the favours which he obtained for them from the vice-king, and these grateful fishermen willingly embraced the religion preached by their benefactor. He lived among them for thirteen months, and we are assured that at his departure he had planted no less than forty-five churches on the coast. From Cape Comorin he passed to Travancore, thence to Meliapore, to the Moluccas, to Malacca; and, in short, he visited a great part of India, always vigilant, zealous, and indefatigable in his endeavours to make these idolaters partake of the benefits of the Christian religion.

In 1547 he returned to Goa. Ignatius had sent him in the year 1545 three Jesuits. Xavier had directed two of them to go to Cape Comorin, and named the third, Lancillotti, Professor of the College of Saint Foi. Soon after, nine other Jesuits were sent to assist him. Xavier assigned a place and an occupation to each of them, and he himself returned to Malacca. Here he learned something about Japan. He was informed that the Japanese were moral, industrious, and very eager to acquire knowledge of every kind. Xavier at once determined that neither the distance nor the difficulties of the way should deter him from visiting Japan. Listening to no remonstrance which would have dissuaded him from this undertaking, he named the Jesuit, Paul of Camarino, Superior in his place, and with two companions set out for Japan.

Before leaving Malacca he wrote to Ignatius thus:—“I want words to express to you with what joy I undertake this long voyage, full of the greatest dangers. Although these dangers are greater than all I have yet encountered, I am far from giving up my undertaking, our Lord telling me internally that the cross once planted here will yield an abundant harvest.”

We shall not relate the various extraordinary incidents or miracles which we are told he performed whilst on the way, and we shall conduct him at once to that cluster of islands, with mountains barren of fruits and grain, but rich in mines of all sorts, which we call Japan, where he arrived in the summer of 1549. The Japanese of those days were partly atheists, partly idolaters. Xavier endeavoured to ingratiate himself with the Bonzes, those crafty priests of Japan. He succeeded in converting some of them, and by their influence a great many more of the idolaters, and prepared the ground which should afterwards have produced an abundant harvest, if this father’s successors had possessed a little more of his uprightness and charity.

But Xavier’s vivid imagination and restless activity made him soon desert Japan for a more ample and splendid theatre. He formed the project of penetrating into the Celestial Empire. Leaving his two companions in Japan, he returned to Goa to settle the affairs of the Society, which had increased in numbers, influence, and authority; and this duty performed, he returned to Malacca, to embark from thence for China.

Better to succeed in his undertaking, he had obtained for a Portuguese merchant, Pereyra, the title of ambassador to the emperor. Pereyra, according to custom, had purchased many presents, in order to obtain a more cordial reception for himself and his friend Xavier. The vessel in which the two friends were to take a passage was on the point of sailing, when Don Alvarez, Captain-General of Malacca, opposed their departure, and, effectually to prevent it, laid an embargo on the Saint Croix, the only vessel which was bent thither. Xavier remonstrated in vain. The captain persisted in opposing the embassy of Pereyra. Xavier shewed him the commission of John III., which conferred upon him great and almost unlimited power, and also his commission as the Pope’s legate. Alvarez still refused to consent to their departure, and Xavier fulminated against him the anathemas, but without any effect.

Pereyra was thus obliged to remain, and Xavier, after having lost much time, took a passage in this same vessel, which was now ordered for the island of Sancian. There they at length landed, to the inexpressible joy of Xavier, who saw himself within a few leagues of this promised land of his own. But, alas! his hopes were frustrated. It was ordained that his praiseworthy ambition should not be gratified, and that he should not see the vast empire he aspired to conquer to Christianity, but at a distance. Others might attempt this difficult mission; Xavier, a victim to fatigue and fever, lay powerless on the inhospitable shore of Sancian. In a very few days his illness made fearful progress, and on the 2d of December 1552, Xavier, in the forty-sixth year of his age, breathed his last. Thus ended the adventurous life of this noble and extraordinary man, which we have merely sketched.

We pass over the absurd and miraculous facts which the panegyrists of the saint have coupled with his name. We think they have injudiciously smothered, in ridiculous and supernatural legends, the many noble exploits and the great qualities of Xavier. In respect for his memory, we shall therefore make no mention of his miracles. Besides, Xavier’s miracles are as nearly as possible the same as those performed by other saints. We really believe that the biographers of any saint might do like that gentleman who, after having written a long letter without either comma, colon, period, or point of interrogation, put down a great quantity of these at the close of the epistle, and enjoined his correspondent to insert them in their requisite places. Our biographers should, in like manner, place at the end of their panegyrics some hundreds of miracles performed on the sick, or the blind, or those possessed with devils, and let the judicious reader insert them in those parts of the narrative they may think proper.[88]

No one, however, will deny to Xavier uprightness of purpose, sincerity of conviction, mildness and intrepidity of character, self-denial, and a fervid zeal for the propagation of the Christian religion. But while we gladly give him praise for his excellent qualities, we cannot overlook some of his defects. Thus, for example, we cannot approve of his continual wandering, and we think, that in undertaking his voyages, he was actuated, perhaps, as much by the love of novelty as by the desire of propagating Christianity. His way of making Christians was also in the highest degree inconsiderate and hasty; for, most assuredly, the 10,000 idolaters whom he christened in a single month, had no more of the Christian than the baptism.

But we must impute to him a still greater fault, and one which seems to be inherent in the character of the Romish priests—the absolute authority which they claim over all men, and their unscrupulous proceedings against any one who is bold enough to resist their orders—nay, their very wishes. Observe. Don Alphonso de Sonza, vice-king of India, although an exemplary Roman Catholic, because he does not yield to all Xavier’s wishes, the Jesuit writes to the king and procures his recall! Alvarez opposes the embassy of Pereyra, which Xavier had contemplated, and for this the Jesuit priest excommunicates him! These two acts are characteristic of the Romish priests, and we quote them to shew that even the mildest does not hesitate at anything, in order to carry his point.

However, in the time of Xavier, and for some fifty years afterwards, the missions, if they were far from what they ought to have been, as instrumental for propagating the gospel, were nevertheless conducted in a manner not altogether unpraiseworthy. The missionaries were laborious, energetic, indefatigable. They submitted to every kind of privation, persecution, even death itself, with a courageous and sometimes joyful and willing heart. Had they simply preached the gospel, and not mingled with it the diffusion of the superstitious practices of the Church of Rome, no praise would be adequate to their deserts. But, alas! the noble qualities which they brought to work were soon perverted, and directed to interested and impure motives, so that we fear the good which they did at first can hardly compensate for the evil which they at length produced.

The man who after Xavier had the greatest success in India, but who also perverted the character of the mission, and introduced the most abominable idolatry, was Father Francis Nobili. He arrived at Madura in 1606, and was surprised that Christianity had made so little progress in so long a time, which he attributed to the strong aversion which the Indian had for the European, and to the fact, that the Jesuits, having addressed themselves more especially to the Pariahs, had caused Christ to be considered as the Pariahs’ God.[89] He therefore resolved to play the part of a Hindoo and a Brahmin. After having learned with wonderful facility their rites, their manners, and their language,[90] he gave himself out as a Saniassi, a Brahmin of the fourth and most perfect class; and, with imperturbable impudence, he asserted that he had come to restore to them the fourth road to truth, which was supposed to have been lost many thousands of years before. He submitted to their penances and observances, which were very painful; abstained from everything that had life, such as fish, flesh, eggs;[91] respected their prejudices, and, above all, the maintenance of the distinction of classes. It was forbidden the catechumen Pariah to enter the same church with the Sudra or Brahmin converts. All this was the beginning of those heathen ceremonies and superstitions with which the Christian religion was contaminated.

Great care was taken by these Roman Saniassi that they might not be taken for Feringees,[92] and still greater care not to hurt the prejudices of the Hindoos. We might multiply quotations ad infinitum to prove our assertions, but we shall content ourselves with two. “Our whole attention,” writes Father de Bourges, “is taken up in our endeavour to conceal from the people that we are what they call Feringees; the slightest suspicion of this would prove an insurmountable obstacle to our success.”[93] And Father Mauduit writes,—“The catechist of a low caste can never be employed to teach Hindoos of a caste more elevated. The Brahmins and the Sudras, who form the principal and most numerous castes, have a far greater contempt for the Pariahs, who are beneath them, than princes in Europe can feel for the scum of the people. They would be dishonoured in their own country, and deprived of the privileges of their caste, if they ever listened to the instructions of one whom they look upon as infamous. We must, therefore, have Pariah Catechists for the Pariahs, and Brahminical catechists for the Brahmins, which causes us a great deal of difficulty.” “Some time ago, a catechist from the Madura mission begged me to go to Pouleour, there to baptize some Pariah catechumens, and to confess certain neophytes of that caste. The fear that the Brahmins and Sudras might come to learn the step I had taken, and thence look upon me as infamous and unworthy ever of holding any intercourse with them, hindered me from going! The words of the holy apostle Paul, which I had read that morning at mass, determined me to take this resolution,—‘Giving no offence to any one, that your ministry might not be blamed’ (2 Cor. vi. 3). I therefore made these poor people go to a retired place, about three leagues from here, where I myself joined them during the night, and with the most careful precautions, and there I baptized nine!”[94]

We appeal to every impartial man, if these were apostles and teachers of the gospel. But it seems by all their proceedings, that they considered the conversion of these idolaters to consist in the mere fact of their being baptized. To administer baptism to a man volens nolens, was the Jesuits’ utmost ambition, and this ambition they satisfied per fas et nefas. Let them relate the facts themselves:—

“When these children,” says Father de Bourges, “are in danger of death, our practice is to baptize them without asking the permission of their parents, which would certainly be refused. The catechists and the private Christians are well acquainted with the formula of baptism, and they confer it on these dying children, under the pretext of giving them medicines.”[95]