The
History of Protestantism |
Chapter 1 | . . . | IGNATIUS LOYOLA. Rome's New Army–Ignatius Loyola–His Birth–His Wars–He is Wounded–Betakes him to the Legends of the Saints–His Fanaticism Kindled–The Knight-Errant of Mary–The Cave at Manressa–His Mortifications–Comparison between Luther and Ignatius Loyola–An Awakening of the Conscience in both–Luther turns to the Bible, Loyola to Visions–His Revelations. |
Chapter 2 | . . . | LOYOLA'S FIRST DISCIPLES. Vision of Two Camps–Ignatius Visits Jerusalem–Forbidden to Proselytise–Returns to Spain–Resolves to make Christendom his Field–Puts himself to School–Repairs to Paris–His Two Companions–Peter Fabre–Francis Xavier–Loyola subjects them to a Severe Regimen–They become his Disciples–Loyola's First Nine Followers–Their Vow in the Church of Montmartre–The Book of Spiritual Exercises–Its Course of Discipline–Four Weeks of Meditation–Topic of each Week–The Spiritual Exercises and the Holy Spirit–Visits Venice–Repairs to Rome–Draft of Rules–Bull Constituting the Society. |
Chapter 3 | . . . | ORGANIZATION AND TRAINING OF THE
JESUITS. Loyola's Vast Schemes–A General for the Army–Loyola Elected– "Constitutions"–Made Known to only a Select Few–Powers of the General–An Autocrat–He only can make Laws–Appoints all Officers, etc.–Organization–Six Grand Divisions–Thirty-seven Provinces– Houses, Colleges, Missions, etc.–Reports to the General–His Eye Surveys the World–Organization–Preparatory Ordeal–Four Classes–Novitiates–Second Novitiate–Its Rigorous Training–The Indifferents–The Scholars–The Coadjutors–The Professed–Their Oath–Their Obedience. |
Chapter 4 | . . . | MORAL CODE OF THE JESUITS–PROBABILISM,
ETC. The Jesuit cut off from Country–from Family–from Property–from the Pope even–The End Sanctifies the Means–The First Great Commandment and Jesuit Morality–When may a Man Love God?– Second Great Commandment–Doctrine of Probabilism–The Jesuit Casuists–Pascal–The Direction of the Intention–Illustrative Cases furnished by Jesuit Doctors–Marvellous Virtue of the Doctrine–A Pious Assassination! |
Chapter 5 | . . . | THE JESUIT TEACHING ON REGICIDE, MURDER,
LYING, THEFT, ETC. The Maxims of the Jesuits on Reglcide–M. de la Chalotais' Report to the Parliament of Bretagne–Effects of Jesuit Doctrine as shown in History– Doctrine of Mental Equivocation–The Art of Swearing Falsely without Sin–The Seventh Commandment–Jesuit Doctrine on Blasphemy– Murder–Lying–Theft–An Illustrative Case from Pascal–Every Precept of the Decalogue made Void–Jesuit Morality the Consummation of the Wickedness of the Fall. |
Chapter 6 | . . . | THE "SECRET INSTRUCTIONS" OF THE
JESUITS. The Jesuit Soldier in Armor complete–Secret Instructions–How to Plant their First Establishments–Taught to Court the Parochial Clergy–to Visit the Hospitals–to Find out the Wealth of their several Districts– to make Purchases in another Name–to Draw the Youth round them–to Supplant the Older Orders–How to get the Friendship of Great Men–How to Manage Princes–How to Direct their Policy– Conduct their Embassies–Appoint their Servants, etc.–Taught to Affect a Great Show of Lowliness. |
Chapter 7 | . . . | JESUIT MANAGEMENT OF RICH WIDOWS AND THE
HEIRS OF GREAT FAMILIES. How Rich Widows are to be Drawn to the Chapels and Confessionals of the Jesuits–Kept from Thoughts of a Second Marriage–Induced to Enter an Order, and Bequeath their Estates to the Society–Sons and Daughters of Widows–How to Discover the Revenues and Heirs of Noble Houses –Illustration from Spain–Borrowing on Bond–The fastructions to be kept Secret–If Discovered, to be Denied–How the Instructions came to Light. |
Chapter 8 | . . . | DIFFUSION OF THE JESUITS THROUGHOUT
CHRISTENDOM. The Conflict Great–the Arms Sufficient–The Victory Sure–Set Free from Episcopal Jurisdiction–Acceptance in Italy–Venice–Spain– Portugal–Francis Xavier–France–Germany–Their First Planting in Austria–In Cologne and Ingolstadt–Thence Spread over all Germany– Their Schools–Wearing of Crosses–Revival of the Popish Faith. |
Chapter 9 | . . . | COMMERCIAL ENTERPRISES AND
BANISHMENTS. England–Poland–Cardinal Hosius–Sigismund III–Ruin of Poland– Jesuit Hissions in the East Indies–Numbers of their Converts–Their Missions in Abyssinia–Their Kingdom of Paraguay–Their Trading Establishments in the West Indies–Episode of Father la Valette– Bankruptcy–Trial–Their Constitutions brought to Light – Banished from all Popish Kingdoms–Suppressed by Clement XIV–The Pope Dies Suddenly–The Order Restored by Plus VII–The Jesuits the Masters of the Pope. |
Chapter 10 | . . . | RESTORATION OF THE
INQUISITION. Failure of Ratisbon Conference–What Next to be Done?–Restore the Inquisition–Paul III–Caraffa–His History–Spread of Protestantism in Italy–Juan di Valdez–His Reunions at Chiaja–Peter Martyr Vermigli– Bernardino Ochino–Galeazzo CaraccioliVittoria Colonna, etc.–Pietro Carnesecchi, etc.–Shall Naples or Geneva Lead in the Reform Movement? |
Chapter 11 | . . . | THE TORTURES OF THE INQUISITION. A Stunning Blow–Three Classes in Italy–Flight of Peter Martyr Vermigli –of Ochino–Caraffa made Pope–The Martyrs, Mollio and Tisserano– Italian Protestantism Crushed–A Notable Epoch–Three Movements– The Inquisition at Nuremberg–The Torture-Chamber– Its Furnishings– Max Tower–The Chamber of Question–The various Instruments of Torture–The Subterranean Dungeons–The Iron Virgin–Her Office– The Burial of the Dead. |
BOOK
FIFTEENTH
THE JESUITS.
CHAPTER 1 Back to
Top
IGNATIUS
LOYOLA.
Rome's New Army–Ignatius Loyola–His Birth–His Wars–He is
Wounded–Betakes him to the Legends of the Saints–His Fanaticism Kindled–The
Knight-Errant of Mary–The Cave at Manressa–His Mortifications–Comparison between
Luther and Ignatius Loyola–An Awakening of the Conscience in both–Luther turns
to the Bible, Loyola to Visions–His Revelations.
PROTESTANTISM had marshalled its spiritual forces a
second time, and placing itself at the heart of Christendom–at a point where
three great empires met–it was laboring with redoubled vigor to propagate itself
on all sides. It was expelling from the air of the world that ancient
superstition, horn of Paganism and Judaism, which, like an opaque veil, had
darkened the human mind: a new light was breaking on the eyes and a new life
stirring in the souls of men: schools of learning, pure Churches, and free
nations were springing up in different parts of Europe; while hundreds of
thousands of disciples were ready, by their holy lives or heroic deaths, to
serve that great cause which, having broken their ancient fetters, had made them
the heirs of a new liberty and the citizens of a new world. It was clear that if
let alone, for only a few years, Protestantism would achieve a victory so
complete that it would be vain for any opposing power to think of renewing the
contest. If that power which was seated in Geneva was to be withstood, and the
tide of victory which was bearing it to dominion rolled back, there must be no
longer delay in the measures necessary for achieving such a result.
It
was further clear that armies would never effect the overthrow of Protestantism.
The serried strength of Popish Europe had been put forth to crush it, but all in
vain: Protestantism had risen only the stronger from the blows which, it was
hoped, would overwhelm it. It was plain that other weapons must be forged, and
other arms mustered, than those which Charles and Francis had been accustomed to
lead into the field. It was now that the Jesuit corps was embodied. And it must
be confessed that these new soldiers did more than all the armies of France and
Spain to stem the tide of Protestant success, and bind victory once more to the
banners of Rome.
We have seen Protestantism renew its energies: Rome,
too, will show what she is capable of doing.
As the tribes of Israel were
approaching the frontier of the Promised Land, a Wizard-prophet was summoned
from the East to bar their entrance by his divinations and enchantments. As the
armies of Protestantism neared their final victory, there started up the Jesuit
host, with a subtler casuistry and a darker divination than Balaam's, to dispute
with the Reformed the possession of Christendom. We shall consider that host in
its rise, its equipments, its discipline, its diffusion, and its
successes.
Don Inigo Lopez de Recalde, the Ignatius Loyola of history,
was the founder of the Order of Jesus, or the Jesuits. His birth was nearly
contemporaneous with that of Luther. He was the youngest son of one of the
highest Spanish grandees, and was born in his father's Castle of Loyola, in the
province of Guipuzcoa, in 1491. His youth was passed at the splendid and
luxurious comfort of Ferdinand the Catholic. Spain at that time was fighting to
expel the Moors, whose presence on her soil she accounted at once an insult to
her independence and an affront to her faith. She was ending the conflict in
Spain, but continuing it in Africa. The naturally ardent soul of Ignatius was
set on fire by the religious fervor around him. He grew weary of the gaieties
and frivolities of the court; nor could even the dalliances and adventures of
knight-errantry satisfy him. He thirsted to earn renown on the field of arms.
Embarking in the war which at that time engaged the religious enthusiasm and
military chivalry of his countrymen, he soon distinguished himself by his feats
of daring. Ignatius was bidding fair to take a high place among warriors, and
transmit to posterity a name encompassed with the halo of military glory–but
with that halo only. At this stage of his career an incident befell him which
cut short his exploits on the battlefield, and transferred his enthusiasm and
chivalry to another sphere.
It was the year 1521. Luther was uttering his
famous "No!" before the emperor and his princcs, and summoning, as with
trnmpet-peal, Christendom to arms. It is at this moment the young Ignatius, the
intrepid soldier of Spain, and about to become the yet more intrepid soldier of
Rome, appears before its. He is shut up in the town of Pamplona, which the
French are besieging. The garrison are hard pressed: and after some whispered
consultations they openly propose to surrender. Ignatius deems the very thought
of such a thing dishonor; he denounces the proposed act of his comrades as
cowardice, and re-entering the citadel with a few companions as courageous as
himself, swears to defend it to the last drop of his blood. By-and-by famine
leaves him no alternative save to die within the walls, or to cut his way sword
in hand through the host of the besiegers. He goes forth and joins battle with
the French. As he is fighting desperately he is struck by a musket-ball, wounded
dangerously in both legs, and laid senseless on the field. Ignatius had ended
the last campaign he was ever to fight with the sword: his valor he was yet to
display on other fields, but he would mingle no more on those which resound with
the clash of arms and the roar of artillery.
The bravery of the fallen
warrior had won the respect of the foe. Raising him from the ground, where he
was fast bleeding to death, they carried him to the hospital of Pamplona, and
tended him with care, till he was able to be conveyed in a litter to his
father's castle. Thrice had he to undergo the agony of having his wounds opened.
Clenching his teeth and closing his fists he bade defiance to pain. Not a groan
escaped him while under the torture of the surgeon's knife. But the tardy
passage of the weeks and months during which he waited the slow healing of his
wounds, inflicted on his ardent spirit a keener pain than had the probing-knife
on his quivering limbs. Fettered to his couch he chafed at the inactivity to
which he was doomed. Romances of chivalry and tales of war were brought him to
beguile the hours. These exhausted, other books were produced, but of a somewhat
different character. This time it was the legends of the saints that were
brought the bed-rid knight. The tragedy ofthe early Christian martyrs passed
before him as he read. Next came the monks and hermits of the Thebaic deserts
and the Sinaitic mountains. With an imagination on fire he perused the story of
the hunger and cold they had braved; of the self-conquests they had achieved; of
the battles they had waged with evil spirits; of the glorious visions that had
been vouchsafed them; and the brilliant rewards they had gained in the lasting
reverence of earth and the felicities and dignities of heaven. He panted to
rival these heroes, whose glory was of a kind so bright, and pure, that compared
with it the renown of the battlefield was dim and sordid. His enthusiasm and
ambition were as boundless as ever, but now they were directed into a new
channel. Henceforward the current of his life was changed.
He had lain
down "a knight of the burning sword"–to use the words of his biographer,
Vieyra–he rose up from it "a saint of the burning torch." The change was a
sudden and violent one, and drew after it vast consequences not to Ignatius
only, and the men of his own age, but to millions of the human race in all
countries of the world, and in all the ages that have elapsed since. He who lay
down on his bed the fiery soldier of the emperor, rose from it; the yet more
fiery soldier of the Pope. The weakness occasioned by loss of blood, the
morbidity produced by long seclusion, the irritation of acute and protracted
suffering, joined to a temperament highly excitable, and a mind that had fed on
miracles and visions till its enthusiasm had grown into fanaticism, accounts in
part for the transformation which Ignatius had undergone. Though the balance of
his intellect was now sadly disturbed, his shrewdness, his tenacity, and his
daring remained. Set free from the fetters of calm reason, these qualities had
freer scope than ever. The wing of his earthly ambition was broken, but he could
take his flight heavenward. If earth was forbidden him, the celestial domains
stood open, and there worthier exploits and more brilliant rewards awaited his
prowess.
The heart of a soldier plucked out, and that of a monk given
him, Ignatius vowed, before leaving his sick-chamber, to be the slave, the
champion, the knight-errant of Mary. She was the lady of his soul, and after the
manner of dutiful knights he immediately repaired to her shrine at Montserrat,
hung up his arms before her image, and spent the night in watching them. But
reflecting that he was a soldier of Christ, that great Monarch who had gone
forth to subjugate all the earth, he resolved to eat no other food, wear no
other raiment than his King had done, and endure the same hardships and vigils.
Laying aside his plume, his coat of mail, his shield and sword, he donned the
cloak of the mendicant. "Wrapped in sordid rags," says Duller, "an iron chain
and prickly girdle pressing on his naked body, covered with filth, with
un-combed hair and untrimmed nails," he retired to a dark mountain in the
vicinity of Manressa, where was a gloomy cave, in which he made his abode for
some time. There he subjected himself to all the penances and mortifications of
the early anchorites whose holiness he emulated. He wrestled with the evil
spirit, talked to voices audible to no ear but his own, fasted for days on end,
till his weakness was such that he fell into a swoon, and one day was found at
the entrance of his cave, lying on the ground, half dead.
The cave at
Manressa recalls vividly to our memory the cell at Erfurt. The same austerities,
vigils, mortifications, and mental efforts and agonies which were undergone by
Ignatius Loyola, had but a very few years before this been passed through by
Martin Luther. So far the career of the founder of the Jesuits and that of the
champion of Protestantism were the same. Both had set before them a high
standard of holiness, and both had all but sacrificed life to reach it. But at
the point to which we have come the courses of the two men widely diverge. Both
hitherto in their pursuit of truth and holiness had traveled by the same road;
but now we see Luther turning to the Bible, "the light that shineth in a dark
place," "the sure Word of Prophecy." Ignatius Loyola, on the other hand,
surrenders himself to visions and revelations. As Luther went onward the light
grew only the brighter around him. He had turned his face to the sun. Ignatius
had turned his gaze inward upon his own beclouded mind, and verified the saying
of the wise man, "He who wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain
in the congregation of the dead."
Finding him half exanimate at the mouth
of his cave, sympathizing friends carried Ignatius to the town of Manressa.
Continuing there the same course of penances and self-mortifications which he
had pursued in solitude, his bodily weakness greatly increased, but he was more
than recompensed by the greater frequency of those heavenly visions with which
he now began to be favored. In Manressa he occupied a cell in the Dominican
convent, and as he was then projecting a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, he began to
qualify himself for this holy journey by a course of the severest penances. "He
scourged himself thrice a day," says Ranke, "he rose up to prayer at midnight,
and passed seven hours of each day on his knees.[1]
It will hardly do
to say that this marvellous case is merely an instance of an unstrung bodily
condition, and of vicious mental stimulants abundantly supplied, where the
thirst for adventure and distinction was still uuquenched. A closer study of the
case will show that there was in it an awakening of the conscience. There was a
sense of sin–its awful demerit, and its fearful award. Loyola, too, would seem
to have felt the "terrors of death, and the pains of hell." He had spent three
days in Montserrat in confessing the sins of all his past life [2] But on a more searching
review of his life, finding that he had omitted many sins, he renewed and
amplified his confession at Manressa. If he found peace it was only for a short
while; again his sense of sin would return, and to such a pitch did his anguish
rise, that thoughts of self-destruction, came into his mind.
Approaching
the window of his cell, he was about to throw himself from it, when it suddenly
flashed upon him that the act was abhorrent to the Almighty, and he withdrew,
crying out, "Lord, I will not do aught that may offend thee."[3]
One day he awakened
as from a dream. Now I know, said he to himself, that all these torments are
from the assaults of Satan. I am tossed between the promptings of the good
Spirit, who would have me be at peace, and the dark suggestions of the evil one,
who seeks continually to terrify me. I will have done with this warfare. I will
forget my past life; I will open these wounds not again. Luther in the midst of
tempests as terrible had come to a similar resolution. Awaking as from a
frightfnl dream, he lifted up his eyes and saw One who had borne his sins upon
His cross: and like the mariner who clings amid the surging billows to the rock,
Luther was at peace because he had anchored his soul on an Almighty foundation.
But says Ranke, speaking of Loyola and the course he had now resolved to pursue,
"this was not so much the restoration of his peace as a resolution, it was an
engagement entered into by the will rather than a conviction to which the
submission of the will is inevitable. It required no aid from Scripture, it was
based on the belief he entertained of an immediate connection between himself
and the world of spirits. This would never have satisfied Luther. No
inspirations–no visions would Luther admit; all were in his opinion alike
injurious. He would have the simple, written, indubitable Word of God alone.[4]
From the hour that
Ignatius resolved to think no more of his sins his spirtual horizon began, as he
believed, to clear up. All his gloomy terrors receded with the past which he had
consigned to oblivion. His bitter tears were dried up, and his heavy sighs no
longer resounded through the convent halls. He Was taken, he felt, into more
intimate communion with God. The heavens were opened that he might have a
clearer insight into Divine mysteries. True, the Spirit had revealed these
things in the morning of the world, through chosen and accredited channels, and
inscribed them on the page of inspiration that all might learn them from that
infallible source. But Ignatius did not search for these mysteries in the Bible;
favored above the sons of men, he received them, as he thought, in revelations
made specially to himself. Alas! his hour had come and passed, and the gate that
would have ushered him in amid celestial realities and joys was shut, and
henceforward he must dwell amid fantasies and dreams.
It was intimated to
him one day that he should yet see the Savior in person. He had not long to wait
for the promised revelation. At mass his eyes were opened, and he saw the
incarnate God in the Host. What farther proof did he need of transubstantiation,
seeing the whole process had been shown to him? A short while thereafter the
Virgin revealed herself with equal plainness to his bodily eyes. Not fewer than
thirty such visits did Loyola receive. One day as he sat on the steps of the
Church of St. Dominic at Manressa, singing a hymn to Mary, he suddenly fell into
a reverie, and had the symbol of the ineffable mystery of the Trinity shown to
him, under the figure of "three keys of a musical instrument." He sobbed for
very joy, and entering the church, began publishing the miracle. On another
occasion, as he walked along the banks of the Llobregat, that waters Manressa,
he sat down, and fixing his eyes intently on the stream, many Divine mysteries
became apparent to him, such "as other men," says his biographer Maffei, "can
with great difficulty understand, after much reading, long vigils, and
study."
This narration places us beside the respective springs of
Protestantism and Ultramontanism. The source from which the one is seen to issue
is the Word of God. To it Luther swore fealty, and before it he hung up his
sword, like a true knight, when he received ordination. The other is seen to be
the product of a clouded yet proud and ambitious imagination, and a wayward
will. And therewith have corresponded the fruits, as the past three centuries
bear witness. The one principle has gathered round it a noble host clad in the
panoply of purity and truth. In the wake of the other has come the dark army of
the Jesuits.
CHAPTER 2
Back to
Top
LOYOLA'S FIRST
DISCIPLES.
Vision of Two Camps–Ignatius Visits Jerusalem–Forbidden to
Proselytise–Returns to Spain–Resolves to make Christendom his Field–Puts himself
to School–Repairs to Paris–His Two Companions–Peter Fabre–Francis Xavier–Loyola
subjects them to a Severe Regimen–They become his Disciples–Loyola's First Nine
Followers–Their Vow in the Church of Montmartre–The Book of Spiritual
Exercises–Its Course of Discipline–Four Weeks of Meditation–Topic of each
Week–The Spiritual Exercises and the Holy Spirit–Visits Venice–Repairs to
Rome–Draft of Rules–Bull Constituting the Society.
AMONG the wonderful things shown to Ignatius Loyola
by special revelation was a vision of two great camps. The center of the one was
placed at Babylon; and over it there floated the gloomy ensign of the prince of
darkness. The Heavenly King had erected his standard on Mount Zion, and made
Jerusalem his headquarters. In the war of which these two camps were the
symbols, and the issues of which were to be grand beyond all former precedent,
Loyola was chosen, he believed, to be one of the chief captains. He longed to
place himself at the center of action. The way thither was long. Wide oceans and
gloomy deserts had to be traversed, and hostile tribes passed through. But he
had an iron will, a boundless enthusiasm, and what was more, a Divine call–for
such it seemed to him in his delusion. He set out penniless (1523), and begging
his bread by the way, he arrived at Barcelona. There he embarked in a ship which
landed him on the shore of Italy. Thence, travelling on foot, after long months,
and innumerable hardships, he entered in safety the gates of
Jerusalem.
But the reception that awaited him in the "Holy City" was not
such as he had fondly anticipated. His rags, his uncombed locks, which almost
hid his emaciated features, but ill accorded with the magnificence of the errand
which had brought him to that shore. Loyola thought of doing in his single
person what the armies of the Crusaders had failed to do by their combined
strength. The head of the Romanists in Jerusalem saw in him rather the mendicant
than the warrior, and fearing doubtless that should he offer battle to the
Crescent, he was more likely to provoke a tempest of Turkish fanaticism than
drive back the hordes of the infidel, he commanded him to desist under the
threat of excommunication. Thus withstood Loyola returned to Barcelona, which he
reached in 1524.
Derision and insults awaited his arrival in his native
Spain. His countrymen failed to see the grand aims he cherished beneath his
rags; nor could they divine the splendid career, and the immortality of fame,
which were to emerge from this present squalor and debasement. But not for one
moment did Loyola's own faith falter in his great destiny. He had the art, known
only to those fated to act a great part, of converting impediments into helps,
and extracting new experience and fresh courage from disappointment. His
repulsion from the "holy fields" had taught him that Christendom, and not Asia,
was the predestined scene of his warfare, and that he was to do battle, not with
the infidels of the East, but with the ever-growing hosts of heretics in Europe.
But to meet the Protestant on his own ground, and to fight him with his own
weapons, was a still more difficult task than to convert the Saracen. He felt
that meanwhile he was destitute of the necessary qualifications, but it was not
too late to acquire them.
Though a man of thirty-five, he put himself to
school at Barcelona, and there, seated amid the youth of the city, he prosecuted
the study of Latin. Having acquired some mastery of this tongue, he removed
(1526) to the University of Alcala to commence theology. In a little space he
began to preach. Discovering a vast zeal in the propagation of his tenets, and
no little success in making disciples, male and female, the Inquisition, deeming
both the man and his aims somewhat mysterious, arrested him. The order of the
Jesuits was on the point of being nipped in the bud. But finding in Loyola no
heretical bias, the Fathers dismissed him on his promise of holding his peace.
He repaired to Salamanca, but there too he encountered similar obstacles. It was
not agreeable thus to champ the curb of privilege and canonical authority; but
it ministered to him a wholesome discipline. It sharpened his circumspection and
shrewdness, without in the least abating his ardor. Holding fast by his grand
purpose, he quitted his native land, and repairing in 1528 to Paris, entered
himself as a student in the College of St. Barbara.
In the world of Paris
he became more practical; but the flame of his enthusiasm still burned on.
Through penance, through study, through ecstatic visions, and occasional checks,
he pursued with unshaken faith and unquenched resolution his celestial calling
as the leader of a mighty spiritual army, of which he was to be the creator, and
which was to wage victorious battle with the hosts of Protestantism. Loyola's
residence in Paris, which was from 1528 to 1535, [1] coincides with the period
of greatest religious excitement in the French capital. Discussions were at that
time of hourly occurrence in the streets, in the halls of the Sorbonne, and at
the royal table. Loyola must have witnessed all the stirring and tragic scenes
we have already described; he may have stood by the stake of Berquin; he had
seen with indignation, doubtless, the saloons of the Louvre opened for the
Protestant sermon; he had felt the great shock which France received front the
Placards, and taken part, it may be, in the bloody rites of her great day of
expiation. It is easy to see how, amid excitements like these, Loyola's zeal
would burn stronger every hour; but his ardor did not hurry him into action till
all was ready. The blow he meditated was great, and time, patience, and skill
were necessary to prepare the instruments by whom he was to inflict
it.
It chanced that two young students shared with Loyola his rooms, in
the College of St. Barbara. The one was Peter Fabre, from Savoy. His youth had
been passed amid his father's flocks; the majesty of the silent mountains had
sublimed his natural piety into enthusiasm; and one night, on bended knee, under
the star-bestudded vault, he devoted himself to God in a life of study. The
other companion of Loyola was Francis Xavier, of Pamplona, in Navarre. For 500
years his ancestors had been renowned as warriors, and his ambition was, by
becoming a scholar, to enhance the fame of his house by adding to its glory in
arms the yet purer glory of learning. These two, the humble Savoyard and the
high-born Navarrese, Loyola had resolved should be his first
disciples.
As the artist selects his block, and with skillful eye and
plastic hand bestows touch after touch of the chisel, till at last the
superfluous parts are cleared away, and the statue stands forth so complete and
perfect in its symmetry that the dead stone seems to breathe, so did the future
general of the Jesuit army proceed to mold and fashion his two companions, Fabre
and Xavier. The former was soft and pliable, and easily took the shape which the
master-hand sought to communicate. The other was obdurate, like the rocks of his
native mountains, but the patience and genius of Loyola finally triumphed over
his pride of family and haughtiness of spirit. He first of all won their
affection by certain disinterested services; he next excited their admiration by
the loftiness of his own asceticism; he then imparted to them his grand project,
and fired them with the ambition of sharing with him in the accomplishment of
it. Having brought them thus far he entered them on a course of discipline, the
design of which was to give them those hardy qualities of body and soul, which
would enable them to fulfill their lofty vocation as leaders in an army, every
soldier in which was to be tried and hardened in the fire as he himself had
been. He exacted of them frequent confession; he was equally rigid as regarded
their participation in the Eucharist; the one exercise trained them in
submission, the other fed the flame of their zeal, and thus the two cardinal
qualities which Loyola demanded in all his followers were developed side by
side. Severe bodily mortifications were also enjoined upon them. "Three days and
three nights did he compel them to fast. During the severest winters, when
carriages might be seen to traverse the frozen Seine, he would not permit Fabre
the slightest relaxation of discipline." Thus it was that he mortified their
pride, taught them to despise wealth, schooled them to brave danger and contemn
luxury, and inured them to cold, hunger, and toil; in short, he made them dead
to every passion save that of the "Holy War," in which they were to bear
arms.
A beginning had been made. The first recruits had been enrolled in
that army which was speedily to swell into a mighty host, and unfurl its gloomy
ensigns and win its dismal triumphs in every land. We can imagine Loyola's joy
as he contemplated these two men, fashioned so perfectly in his own likeness.
The same master-artificer who had molded these two could form others–in short,
any number. The list was soon enlarged by the addition of four other disciples.
Their names–obscure then, but in after-years to shine with a fiery splendor–were
Jacob Lainez, Alfonso Salmeron, Nicholas Bobadilla, and Simon Rodriguez. The
first three were Spaniards, the fourth was a Portuguese. They were seven in all;
but the accession of two others increased them to nine: and now they resolved on
taking their first step.
On the 15th of August, 1534, Loyola, followed by
his nine companions, entered the subterranean chapel of the Church of
Montmartre, at Paris, and mass being said by Fabre, who had received priest's
orders, the company, after the usual vow of chastity and poverty, took a solemn
oath to dedicate their lives to the conversion of the Saracens, or, should
circumstances make that attempt impossible, to lay themselves and their services
unreservedly at the feet of the Pope. They sealed their oath by now receiving
the Host. The day was chosen because it was the anniversary of the Assumption of
the Virgin, and the place because it was consecrated to Mary, the queen of
saints and angels, from whom, as Loyola firmly believed, he had received his
mission. The army thus enrolled was little, and it was great. It was little when
counted, it was great when weighed. In sublimity of aim, and strength of
faith–using the term in its mundane sense–it wielded a power before which
nothing on earth– one principle excepted–should be able to stand.[2]
To foster the
growth of this infant Hercules, Loyola had prepared beforehand his book entitled
Spiritual Exercises. This is a body of rules for teaching men how to conduct the
work of their "conversion." It consists of four grand meditations, and the
penitent, retiring into solitude, is to occupy absorbingly his mind on each in
succession, during the space of the rising and setting of seven suns. It may be
fitly styled a journey from the gates of destruction to the gates of Paradise,
mapped out in stages so that it might be gone in the short period of four weeks.
There are few more remarkable books in the world. It combines the self-denial
and mortification of the Brahmin with the asceticism of the anchorite, and the
ecstasies of the schoolmen, it professes, like the Koran, to be a revelation.
"The Book of Exercises," says a Jesuit, "was truly written by the finger of God,
and delivered to Ignatius by the Holy Mother of God."[3]
The Spiritual
Exercises, we have said, was a body of rules by following which one could effect
upon himself that great change which in Biblical and theological language is
termed "conversion." The book displayed on the part of its author great
knowledge of the human heart. The method prescribed was an adroit imitation of
that process of conviction, of alarm, of enlightenment, and of peace, through
which the Holy Spirit leads the soul–that undergoes that change in very deed.
This Divine transformation was at that hour taking place in thousands of
instances in the Protestant world. Loyola, like the magicians of old who strove
to rival Moses, wrought with his enchantments to produce the same miracle. Let
us observe how he proceeded.
The person was, first of all, to go aside
from the world, by entirely isolating himself from all the affairs of life. In
the solemn stillness of his chamber he was to engage in four meditations each
day, the first at daybreak, the last at midnight. To assist the action of the
imagination on the soul, the room was to be artificially darkened, and on its
walls were to be suspended pictures of hell and other horrors. Sin, death, and
judgment were exclusively to occupy the thoughts of the penitent during the
first week of his seclusion. He was to ponder upon them till in a sense "he
beheld the vast conflagration of hell; its wailings, shrieks, and blasphemies;
felt the worm of conscience; in fine, touched those fires by whose contact the
souls of the reprobate are scorched."
The second week he was to withdraw
his eye from these dreadful spectacles and fix it upon the Incarnation. It is no
longer the wailings of the lost that fill the ear as he sits in his darkened
chamber, it is the song of the angel announcing the birth of the Child, and
"Mary acquiescing in the work of redemption." At the feet of the Trinity he is
directed to pour out the expression of the gratitude and praise with which
continued meditation on these themes causes his soul to overflow.
The
third week is to witness the solemn act of the soul's enrollment in the army of
that Great Captain, who "bowed the heavens and came down" in his Incarnation.
Two cities are before the devotee–Jerusalem and Babylon–in which will he choose
to dwell? Two standards are displayed in his sight–under which will he fight?
Here a broad and brave pennon floats freely on the wind. Its golden folds bear
the motto, "Pride, Honor, Riches." Here is another, but how unlike the motto
inscribed upon it, "Poverty, Shame, Humility." On all sides resounds the cry "To
arms." He must make his choice, and he must make it now, for the seventh sun of
his third week is hastening to the setting. It is under the banner of Poverty
that he elects to win the incorruptible crown.
Now comes his fourth and
last week, and with it there comes a great change in the subjects of his
meditation. He is to dismiss all gloomy ideas, all images of terror; the gates
of Hades are to be closed, and those of a new life opened. It is morning with
him, it is a spring-time that has come to him, and he is to surround himself
with light, and flowers, and odors. It is the Sabbath of a spiritual creation;
he is to rest, and to taste in that rest the prelude of the everlasting joys.
This mood of mind he is to cultivate while seven suns rise and set upon him. He
is now perfected and fit to fight in the army of the Great Captain.
A not
unsimilar course of mental discipline, as our history has already shown, did
Wicliffe, Luther, and Calvin pass through before they became captains in the
army of Christ. They began in a horror of great darkness; through that cloud
there broke upon them the revelation of the "Crucified;" throwing the arms of
their faith around the Tree of Expiation, and clinging to it, they entered into
peace, and tasted the joys to come. How like, yet how unlike, are these two
courses! In the one the penitent finds a Savior on whom he leans; in the other
he lays hold on a rule by which he works, and works as methodically and
regularly as a piece of machinery. Beginning on a certain day, he finishes, like
stroke of clock, duly as the seventh sun of the fourth week is sinking below the
horizon. We trace in the one the action of the imagination, fostering one
overmastering passion into strength, till the person becomes capable of
attempting the most daring enterprises, and enduring the most dreadful
sufferings. In the other we behold the intervention of a Divine Agent, who
plants in the soul a new principle, and thence educes a new life. The war in
which Loyola and his nine companions enroled themselves when on the 15th of
August, 1534, they made their vow in the church of Montmarte, was to be waged
against the Saracens of the East. They acted so far on their original design as
to proceed to Venice, where they learned that their project was meanwhile
impracticable. The war which had just broken out between the Republic and the
Porte had closed the gates of Asia. They took this as an intimation that the
field of their operations was to be in the Western world. Returning on their
path they now directed their steps towards Rome. In every town through which
they passed on their way to the Eternal City, they left behind them an immense
reputation for sanctity by their labors in the hospitals, and their earnest
addresses to the populace on the streets. As they drew nigh to Rome, and the
hearts of some of his companions were beginning to despond, Loyola was cheered
by a vision, in which Christ appeared and said to him, "In Rome will I be
gracious unto thee."[4] The hopes this vision
inspired were not to be disappointed. Entering the gates of the capital of
Christendom, and throwing themselves at the feet of Paul III., they met a most
gracious reception. The Pope hailed their offer of assistance as most opportune.
Mighty dangers at that hour threatened the Papacy, and with the half of Europe
in revolt, and the old monkish orders become incapable, this new and unexpected
aid seemed sent by Heaven. The rules and constitution of the new order were
drafted, and ultimately approved, by the Pope. Two peculiarities in the
constitution of the proposed order specially recommended it in the eyes of Paul
III. The first was its vow of unconditional obedience. The society swore to obey
the Pope as an army obeys its general. It was not canonicle but military
obedience which its members offered him. They would go to whatsoever place, at
whatsoever time, and on whatsoever errand he should be pleased to order them.
They were, in short, to be not so much monks as soldiers. The second peculiarity
was that their services were to be wholly gratuitous; never would they ask so
much as a penny from the Papal See.
It was resolved that the new order
should bear the name of The Company of Jesus. Loyola modestly declined the honor
of being accounted its founder. Christ himself, he affirmed, had dictated to him
its constitution in his cave at Manressa. He was its real Founder: whose name
then could it so appropriately bear as His? The bull constituting it was issued
on the 27th of September, 1540, and was entitled Regimini Militantis
Eeclesiae,[5] and bore that the persons
it enrolled into an army were to bear "the standard of the Cross, to wield the
arms of God, to serve the only Lord, and the Roman Pontiff, His Vicar on
earth."
CHAPTER 3
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Top
ORGANIZATION AND
TRAINING OF THE JESUITS.
Loyola's Vast Schemes–A General for the
Army–Loyola Elected– "Constitutions"–Made Known to only a Select Few–Powers of
the General–An Autocrat–He only can make Laws–Appoints all Officers,
etc.–Organization–Six Grand Divisions–Thirty-seven Provinces– Houses, Colleges,
Missions, etc.–Reports to the General–His Eye Surveys the
World–Organization–Preparatory Ordeal–Four Classes–Novitiates–Second
Novitiate–Its Rigorous Training–The Indifferents–The Scholars–The Coadjutors–The
Professed–Their Oath–Their Obedience.
THE long-delayed wishes of Loyola had been realised,
and his efforts, abortive in the past, had now at length been crowned with
success. The Papal bull had given formal existence to the order, what Christ had
done in heaven his Vicar had ratified on the earth. But Loyola was too wise to
think that all had been accomplished; he knew that he was only at the beginning
of his labors. In the little band around him he saw but the nucleus of an army
that would multiply and expand till one day it should be as the stars in
multitude, and bear the standard of victory to every land on earth. The gates of
the East were meanwhile closed against him; but the Western world would not
always set limits to the triumphs of his spiritual arms. He would yet subjugate
both hemispheres, and extend the dominion of Rome from the rising to the setting
sun. Such were the schemes that Loyola, who hid under his mendicant's cloak an
ambition vast as Alexander's, was at that moment revolving. Assembling his
comrades one day about this time, he addressed them, his biographer Bouhours
tells us, in a long speech, saying, "Ought we not to conclude that we are called
to win to God, not only a single nation, a single country, but all nations, all
the kingdoms of the world?" [1]
An army to conquer
the world, Loyola was forming. But he knew that nothing is stronger than its
weakest part, and therefore the soundness of every link, the thorough discipline
and tried fidelity of every soldier in this mighty host was with him an
essential point. That could be secured only by making each individual, before
enrolling himself, pass through an ordeal that should sift, and try, and harden
him to the utmost.
But first the Company of Jesus had to elect a head.
The dignity was offered to Loyola. He modestly declined the post, as Julius
Caesar did the diadem. After four days spent in prayer and penance, his
disciples returned and humbly supplicated him to be their chief. Ignatius,
viewing this as an intimation of the will of God, consented. He was the first
General of the order. Few royal sceptres bring with them such an amount of real
power as this election bestowed on Loyola. The day would come when the tiara
itself would bow before that yet mightier authority which was represented by the
cap of the General of the Jesuits.
The second step was to frame the
"Constitutions" of the society. In this labor Loyola accepted the aid of Lainez,
the ablest of his converts. Seeing it was at God's command that Ignatius had
planted the tree of Jesuitism in the spiritual vineyard, it was to be expected
that the Constitutions of the Company would proceed from the same high source.
The Constitutions were declared to be a revelation from God, the inspiration of
the Holy Spirit.[2] This gave them absolute
authority over the members, and paved the way for the substitution of the
Constitution and canons of the Society of Jesus in the room of Christianity
itself. These canons and Instructions were not published: they were not
communicated to all the members of the society even; they were made known to a
few only–in all their extent to a very few. They took care to print them in
their own college at Rome, or in their college at Prague; and if it happened
that they were printed elsewhere, they secured and destroyed the edition. "I
cannot discover," says M. de la Chalotais, "that the Constitutions of the
Jesuits have ever been seen or examined by any tribunal whatsoever, secular or
ecclesiastic; by any sovereign–not even by the Court of Chancery of Prague, when
permission was asked to print them... They have taken all sorts of precautions
to keep them a secret.[3] For a century they were
concealed from the knowledge of the world; and it was an accident which at last
dragged them into the light from the darkness in which they had so long been
buried.
It is not easy, perhaps it is not possible, to say what number of
volumes the Constitutions of the Jesuits form. M. Louis Rene de la Chalotais,
Procurator-General of King Louis XV., in his Report on the Constitutions of the
Jesuits', given in to the Parliament of Bretagne, speaks of fifty volumes folio.
That was in the year 1761, or 221 years after the founding of the order. This
code, then enormous, must be greatly more so now, seeing every bull and brief of
the Pope addressed to the society, every edict of its General, is so much more
added to a legislation that is continually augmenting. We doubt whether any
member of the order is found bold enough to undertake a complete study of them,
or ingenious enough to reconcile all their contradictions and inconsistencies.
Prudently abstaining from venturing into a labyrinth from which he may never
emerge, he simply asks, not what do the Constitutions say, but what does the
General command? Practically the will of his chief is the code of the
Jesuit.
We shall first consider the powers of the General. The original
bull of Paul III. constituting the Company gave to "Ignatius de Loyola, with
nine priests, his companions," the power to make Constitutions and particular
rules, and also to alter them. The legislative power thus rested in the hands of
the General and his company–that is, in a "Congregation" representing them. But
when Loyola died, and Lainez succeeded him as General, one of his first acts was
to assemble a Congregation, and cause it to be decided that the General only had
the right to make rules.[4] This crowned the autocracy
of the General, for while he has the power of legislating for all others, no one
may legislate for him. He acts without control, without responsibility, without
law. It is true that in certain cases the society may depose the General. But it
cannot exercise its powers unless it be assembled, and the General alone can
assemble the Congregation. The whole order, with all its authority, is, in fact,
comprised in him. In virtue of his prerogative the General can command and
regulate everything in the society. He may make special Constitutions for the
advantage of the society, and he may alter them, abrogate them, and make new
ones, dating them at any time he pleases. These new rules must be regarded as
confirmed by apostolic authority, not merely from the time they were made, but
the time they are dated.
The General assigns to all provincials,
superiors, and members of the society, of whatever grade, the powers they are to
exercise, the places where they are to labor, the missions they are to
discharge, and he may annul or confirm their acts at his pleasure. He has the
right to nominate provincials and rectors, to admit or exclude members, to say
what proffered dignity they are or are not to accept, to change the destination
of legacies, and, though to give money to his relatives exposes him to
deposition, "he may yet give alms to any amount that he may deem conducive to
the glory of God." He is invested moreover with the entire government and
regulation of the colleges of the society. He may institute missions in all
parts of the world. When commanding in the name of Jesus Christ, and in virtue
of obedience, he commands under the penalty of mortal and venial sin. From his
orders there is no appeal to the Pope. He can release from vows; he can examine
into the consciences of the members; but it is useless to particularise–the
General is the society.[5]
The General alone,
we have said, has power to make laws, ordinances, and declarations. This power
is theoretically bounded, though practically absolute. It has been declared that
everything essential (" Substantia Institutionis ") to the society is immutable,
and therefore removed beyond the power of the General. But it has never yet been
determined what things belong to the essence of the institute. Many attempts
have been made to solve this question, but no solution that is comprehensible
has ever been arrived at; and so long as this question remains without an
answer, the powers of the General will remain without a limit.
Let us
next attend to the organization of the society. The Jesuit monarchy covers the
globe. At its head, as we have said, is a sovereign, who rules over all, but is
himself ruled over by no one. First come six grand divisions termed Assistanzen,
satrapies or princedoms. These comprehend the space stretching from the Indus to
the Mediterranean; more particularly India, Spain and Portugal, Germany and
France, Italy and Sicily, Poland and Lithuania.[6] Outside this area the
Jesuits have established missions. The heads of these six divisions act as
coadjutors to their General; they are staff or cabinet.
These six great
divisions are subdivided into thirty-seven Provinces.[7] Over each province is
placed a chief, termed a Provincial. The provinces are again subdivided into a
variety of houses or establishments. First come the houses of the Professed,
presided over by their Provost. Next come the colleges, or houses of the novices
and scholars, presided over by their Rector or Superior. Where these cannot be
established, "residences" are erected, for the accommodation of the priests who
perambulate the district, preaching and hearing confessions. And lastly may be
mentioned "mission-houses," in which Jesuits live unnoticed as secular clergy,
but seeking, by all possible means, to promote the interests of the society.[8]
From his chamber in
Rome the eye of the General surveys the world of Jesuitism to its farthest
bounds; there is nothing done in it which he does not see; there is nothing
spoken in it which he does not hear. It becomes us to note the means by which
this almost superhuman intelligence is acquired. Every year a list of the houses
and members of the society, with the name, talents, virtues, and failings of
each, is laid before the General. In addition to the annual report, every one of
the thirty-seven provincials must send him a report monthly of the state of his
province, he must inform him minutely of its political and ecclesiastical
condition. Every superior of a college must report once every three months. The
heads of houses of residence, and houses of novitiates, must do the same. In
short, from every quarter of his vast dominions come a monthly and a tri-monthly
report. If the matter reported on has reference to persons outside the society,
the Constitutions direct that the provincials and superiors shall write to the
General in cipher. "Such precautions are taken against enemies," says M. de
Chalotais. "Is the system of the Jesuits inimical to all
governments?"
Thus to the General of the Jesuits the world lies "naked
and open." He sees by a thousand eyes, he hears by a thousand ears;and when he
has a behest to execute, he can select the fittest agent from an innumerable
host, all of whom are ready to do his bidding. The past history, the good and
evil qualities of every member of the society, his talents, his dispositions,
his inclinations, his tastes, his secret thoughts, have all been strictly
examined, minutely chronicled, and laid before the eye of the General. It is the
same as if he were present in person, and had seen and conversed with
each.
All ranks, from the nobleman to the day-laborer; all trades, from
the opulent banker to the shoemaker and porter; all professions, from the stoled
dignitary and the learned professor to the cowled mendicant; all grades of
literary men, from the philosopher, the mathematician, and the historian, to the
schoolmaster and the reporter on the provincial newspaper, are enrolled in the
society. Marshalled, and in continual attendance, before their chief, stand this
host, so large in numbers, and so various in gifts. At his word they go, and at
his word they come, speeding over seas and mountains, across frozen steppes, or
burning plains, on his errand. Pestilence, or battle, or death may lie on his
path, the Jesuit's obedience is not less prompt. Selecting one, the General
sends him to the royal cabinet. Making choice of another, he opens to him the
door of Parliament. A third he enrols in a political club; a fourth he places in
the pulpit of a church, whose creed he professes that he may betray it; a fifth
he commands to mingle in the saloons of the literati; a sixth he sends to act
his part in the Evangelical Confrerence; a seventh he seats beside the domestic
hearth; and an eighth he sends afar off to barbarous tribes, where, speaking a
strange tongue, and wearing a rough garment, he executes, amidst hardships and
perils, the will of his superior. There is no disguise which the Jesuit will not
wear, no art he will not employ, no motive he will not feign, no creed he will
not profess, provided only he can acquit himself a true soldier in the Jesuit
army, and accomplish the work on which he has been sent forth. "We have men,"
exclaimed a General exultingly, as he glanced over the long roll of
philosophers, orators, statesmen, and scholars who stood before him, ready to
serve him in the State or in the Church, in the camp or in the school, at home
or abroad– "We have men for martyrdom if they be required."
No one can be
enrolled in the Society of Jesus till he has undergone a severe and
long-continued course of training. Let us glance at the several grades of that
great army, and the preparatory discipline in the case of each. There are four
classes of Jesuits. We begin with the lowest. The Novitiates are the first in
order of admission, the last in dignity. When one presents himself for admission
into the order, a strict scrutiny takes place into his talents, his disposition,
his family, his former life; and if it is seen that he is not likely to be of
service to the society, he is at once dismissed. If his fitness appears
probable, he is received into the House of Primary Probation.[9] Here he is forbidden all
intercourse with the servants within and his relations outside the house. A
Compend of the Institutions is submitted for his consideration; the full body of
laws and regulations being withheld from him as yet. If he possesses property he
is told that he must give it to the poor–that is, to the society. His tact and
address, his sound judgment and business talent, his health and bodily vigor,
are all closely watched and noted; above all, his obedience is subjected to
severe experiment. If he acquits himself on the trial to the satisfaction of his
examiners, he receives the Sacrament, and is advanced to the House of Second
Probation.[10]
Here the discipline
is of a yet severer kind. The novitiate first devotes a certain period to
confession of sins and meditation. He next fulfils a course of service in the
hospitals, learning humility by helping the poor and ministering at the beds of
the sick. To further his advance in this grace, he next spends a certain term in
begging his bread from door to door. Thus; he learns to live on the coarsest
fare and to sleep on the hardest couch. To perfect himself in the virtue of
self-abnegation, he next discharges for awhile the most humiliating and
repulsive offices in the house in which he lives. And now, this course of
service ended, he is invited to show his powers of operating on others, by
communicating instruction to boys in Christian doctrine, by hearing confessions,
and by preaching in public. This course is to last two years, unless the
superior should see fit to shorten it on the ground of greater zeal, or superior
talent.
The period of probation at an end, the candidate for admission
into the Order of Jesus is to present himself before the superior, furnished
with certificates from those under whose eye he has fulfilled the six
experimenta, or trials, as to the manner in which he has acquitted himself. If
the testimonials should prove satisfactory to the superior, the novitiate is
enrolled, not as yet in the Company of the Jesuits, but among the Indifferents.
He is presumed to have no choice as regards the place he is to occupy in the
august corps he aspires to enter; he leaves that entirely to the decision of the
superior; he is equally ready to stand at the head or at the foot of the body;
to discharge the most menial or the most dignified service; to play his part in
the saloons of the great, encompassed by luxury and splendor, or to discharge
his mission in the hovels of the poor, in the midst of misery and filth; to
remain at home, or to go to the ends of the earth. To have a preference, though
unexpressed, is to fall into deadly sin. Obedience is not only the letter of his
vow, it is the lesson that his training has written on his heart.[11]
This further trial
gone through, the approved novitiate may now take the three simple vows–poverty,
chastity, and obedience–which, with certain modifications, he must ever after
renew twice every year. The novitiate is now admitted into the class of
Scholars. The Jesuits have colleges of their own, amply endowed by wealthy
devotees, and to one of these the novitiate is sent, to receive instruction in
the higher mysteries of the society. His intellectual powers are here more
severely tested and trained, and according to the genius and subtlety he may
display, and his progress in his studies, so is the post assigned him in due
time in the order. "The qualities to be desired and commended in the scholars,"
say the Constitutions, "are acuteness of talent, brilliancy of example, and
soundness of body."[12] They are to be chosen men,
picked from the flower of the troop, and the General has absolute power in
admitting or dismissing them according to his expectations of their utility in
promoting the designs of the institute.[13] Having finished his
course, first as a simple scholar, and secondly as an approved scholar, he
renews his three vows, and passes into the third class, or
Coadjutors.
The coadjutors are divided into temporal and spiritual. The
temporal coadjutor is never admitted into holy orders.[14] Such are retained to
minister in the lowest offices. They become college cooks, porters, or
purveyors. For these and similar purposes it is held expedient that they should
be "lovers of virtue and perfection," and "content to serve the society in the
careful office of a Martha."[15] The spiritual coadjutor
must be a priest of adequate learning, that he may assist the society in hearing
confessions, and giving instructions in Christian doctrine. It is from among the
spiritual coadjutors that the rectors of colleges are usually selected by the
General. It is a further privilege of theirs that they may be assembled in
congregation to deliberate with the Professed members in matters of
importance,[16] but no vote is granted
them in the election of a General.
Having passed with approbation the
many stringent tests to which he is here subjected, in order to perfect his
humility and obedience, and having duly deposited in the exchequer of the
society whatever property he may happen to possess, the spiritual coadjutor, if
a candidate for the highest grade, is admitted to the oblation of his vows,
which are similar in form and substance to those he has already taken, with this
exception, that they assign to the General the place of God. "I promise," so
runs the oath, "to the Omnipotent God, in presence of his virgin mother, and of
all the heavenly hierarchy, and to thee, Father General of the Society of Jesus,
holding the place of God," [17] etc. With this oath sworn
on its threshold, he enters the inner circle of the society, and is enrolled
among the Professed.
The Professed Members constitute the society par
excellence. They alone know its deepest secrets, and they alone wield its
highest powers. But perfection in Jesuitism cannot be reached otherwise than by
the loss of manhood. Will, judgment, conscience, liberty, all the Jesuit lays
down at the feet of his General. It is a tremendous sacrifice, but to him the
General is God. He now takes his fourth, or peculiar vow, in which he binds
himself to go, without question, delay, or repugnance, to whatever region of the
earth, and on whatever errand, the Pope may be pleased to send him. This he
promises to the Omnipotent God, and to his General, holding the place of God.
The wisdom, justice, righteousness of the command he is not to question; he is
not even to permit his mind to dwell upon it for a moment; it is the command of
his General, and the command of his General is the precept of the Almighty. His
superiors are "over him in the place of the Divine Majesty."[18] "In not fewer than 500
places in the Constitutions," says M. de la Chalotais, "are expressions used
similar to the following:–"We must always see Jesus Christ in the General; be
obedient to him in all his behests, as if they came directly from God
himself.'"[19] When the command of the
superior goes forth, the person to whom it is directed "is not to stay till he
has finished the letter his pen is tracing," say the Constitutions; "he must
give instant compliance, so that holy obedience may be perfect in us in every
point–in execution, in will, in intellect."[20] Obedience is styled "the
tomb of the will," "a blessed blindness, which causes the soul to see the road
to salvation," and the members of the society are taught to "immolate their will
as a sheep is sacrificed." The Jesuit is to be in the hands of his superior, "as
the axe is in the hands of the wood-cutter," or "as a staff is in the hands of
an old man, which serves him wherever and in whatever thing he is pleased to use
it."
In fine, the Constitutions enjoin that "they who live under
obedience shall permit themselves to be moved and directed under Divine
Providence by their superiors just as if they were a corpse, which allows itself
to be moved and handled in any way."[21] The annals of mankind do
not furnish another example of a despotism so finished. We know of no other
instance in which the members of the body are so numerous, or the ramifications
so wide, and yet the centralisation and cohesion so perfect.
We have
traced at some length the long and severe discipline which every member must
undergo before being admitted into the select class that by way of eminence
constitute the society. Before arriving on the threshold of the inner circle of
Jesuitism, three times has the candidate passed through that terrible
ordeal–first as a novice, secondly as a scholar, thirdly as a coadjutor. Is his
training held to be complete when he is admitted among the Professed? No: a
fourth time must he undergo the same dreadful process. He is thrown back again
into the crucible, and kept amid its fires, till pride, and obstinacy, and
self-will, and love of ease–till judgment, soul, and conscience have all been
purged out of him, and then he comes forth, fully refined, completely attempered
and hardened, "a vessel fully fitted" for the use of his General; prepared to
execute with a conscience that never remonstrates his most terrible command, and
to undertake with a will that never rebels the most difficult and dangerous
enterprises he may assign him. In the words of an eloquent writer–"Talk of
drilling and discipline! why, the drilling and the discipline which gave to
Alexander the men that marched in triumph from Macedon to the Indus; to Caesar,
the men that marched in triumph from Rome to the wilds of Caledonia; to
Hannibal, the men that marched in triumph from Carthage to Rome; to Napoleon,
the men whose achievements surpassed in brilliance the united glories of the
soldiers of Macedon, of Carthage, and of Rome; and to Wellington, the men who
smote into the dust the very flower of Napoleon's chivalry–why, the drilling and
the discipline of all these combined cannot, in point of stern, rigid, and
protracted severity, for a moment be compared to the drilling and discipline
which fitted and molded men for becoming full members of the militant institute
of the Jesuits."[22]
Such Loyola saw was
the corps that was needed to confront the armies of Protestantism and turn back
the advancing tide of light and liberty. Touched with a Divine fire, the
disciples of the Gospel attained at once to a complete renunciation of self, and
a magnanimity of soul which enabled them to brave all dangers and endure all
sufferings, and to bear the standard of a recovered Gospel over deserts and
oceans, in the midst of hunger and pestilence, of dungeons and racks and fiery
stakes. It was vain to think of overcoming warriors like these unless by
combatants of an equal temper and spirit, and Loyola set himself to fashion
such. He could not clothe them with the panoply of light, he could not inspire
them with that holy and invincible courage which springs from faith, nor could
he so enkindle their souls with the love of the Savior, and the joys of the life
eternal, as that they should despise the sufferings of time; but he could give
them their counterfeits: he could enkindle them with fanaticism, inspire them
with a Luciferian ambition, and so pervert and indurate their souls by evil
maxims, and long and rigorous training, that they should be insensible to shame
and pain, and would welcome suffering and death. Such were the weapons of the
men he sent forth to the battle.
CHAPTER 4
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MORAL CODE OF THE
JESUITS–PROBABILISM, ETC.
The Jesuit cut off from Country–from
Family–from Property–from the Pope even–The End Sanctifies the Means–The First
Great Commandment and Jesuit Morality–When may a Man Love God?– Second Great
Commandment–Doctrine of Probabilism–The Jesuit Casuists–Pascal–The Direction of
the Intention–Illustrative Cases furnished by Jesuit Doctors–Marvellous Virtue
of the Doctrine–A Pious Assassination!
WE have not yet surveyed the full and perfect
equipment of those troops which Loyola sent forth to prosecute the war against
Protestantism. Nothing was left unthought of and unprovided for which might
assist them in covering their opponents with defeat, and crowning themselves
with victory. They were set free from every obligation, whether imposed by the
natural or the Divine law. Every stratagem, artifice, and disguise were lawful
to men in whose favor all distinction between right and wrong had been
abolished. They might assume as many shapes as Proteus, and exhibit as many
colors as the chameleon. They stood apart and alone among the human race. First
of all, they were cut off from country. Their vow bound them to go to whatever
land their General might send them, and to remain there as long as he might
appoint. Their country was the society. They were cut off from family and
friends. Their vow taught them to forget their father's house, and to esteem
themselves holy only when every affection and desire which nature had planted in
their breasts had been plucked up by the roots. They were cut off from property
and wealth. For although the society was immensely rich, its individual members
possessed nothing. Nor could they cherish the hope of ever becoming personally
wealthy, seeing they had taken a vow of perpetual poverty. If it chanced that a
rich relative died, and left them as heirs, the General relieved them of their
vow, and sent them back into the world, for so long a time as might enable them
to take possession of the wealth of which they had been named the heirs; but
this done, they returned laden with their booty, and, resuming their vow as
Jesuits, laid every penny of their newly-acquired riches at the feet of the
General.
They were cut off, moreover, from the State. They were
discharged from all civil and national relationships and duties. They were under
a higher code than the national one–the Institutions namely, which Loyola had
edited, and the Spirit of God had inspired; and they were the subjects of a
higher monarch than the sovereign of the nation–their own General. Nay, more,
the Jesuits were cut off even from the Pope. For if their General "held the
place of the Omnipotent God," much more did he hold the place of "his Vicar."
And so was it in fact; for soon the members of the Society of Jesus came to
recognize no laws but their own, and though at their first formation they
professed to have no end but the defense and glory of the Papal See, it came to
pass when they grew to be strong that, instead of serving the tiara, they
compelled the tiara to serve the society, and made their own wealth, power, and
dominion the one grand object of their existence. They were a Papacy within the
Papacy–a Papacy whose organization was more perfect, whose instincts were more
cruel, whose workings were more mysterious, and whose dominion was more
destructive than that of the old Papacy.
So stood the Society of Jesus. A
deep and wide gulf separated it from all other communities and interests. Set
free from the love of family, from the ties of kindred, from the claims of
country, and from the rule of law, careless of the happiness they might destroy,
and the misery and pain and woe they might inflict, the members were at liberty,
without control or challenge, to pursue their terrible end, which was the
dethronement of every other power, the extinction of every other interest but
their own, and the reduction of nmnkind into abject slavery, that on the ruins
of the liberty, the virtue, and the happiness of the world they might raise
themselves to supreme, unlimited dominion. But we have not yet detailed all the
appliances with which the Jesuits were careful to furnish themselves for the
execution of their unspeakably audacious and diabolical design. In the midst of
these abysses there opens to our eye a yet profounder abyss. To enjoy exemption
from all human authority and from every earthly law was to them a small matter;
nothing would satisfy their lust for licence save the entire abrogation of the
moral law, and nothing would appease their pride save to trample under foot the
majesty of heaven. We now come to speak of the moral code of the
Jesuits.
The key-note of their ethical code is the famous maxim that the
end sanctifies the means. Before that maxim the eternal distinction of right and
wrong vanishes. Not only do the stringency and sanctions of human law dissolve
and disappear, but the authority and majesty of the Decalogue are overthrown.
There are no conceivable crime, villany, and atrocity which this maxim will not
justify. Nay, such become dutiful and holy, provided they be done for "the
greater glory of God," by which the Jesuit means the honor, interest, and
advancement of His society. In short, the Jesuit may do whatever he has a mind
to do, all human and Divine laws notwithstanding. This is a very grave charge,
but the evidence of its truth is, unhappily, too abundant, and the difficulty
lies in making a selection. What the Popes have attempted to do by the plenitude
of their power, namely, to make sin to be no sin, the Jesuit doctors have done
by their casuistry. "The first and great commandment in the law," said the same
Divine Person who proclaimed it from Sinai, "is to love the Lord thy God." The
Jesuit casuists have set men free from the obligation to love God. Escobar [1] collects the different
sentiments of the famous divines of the Society of Jesus upon the question, When
is a man obliged to have actually an affection for God? The following are some
of these:–Suarez says, "It is sufficient a man love him before he dies, not
assigning any particular time. Vasquez, that it is sufficient even at the point
of death.
Others, when a man receives his baptism: others, when he is
obliged to be contrite: others, upon holidays. But our Father Castro-Palao [2] disputes all these
opinions, and that justly. Hurtado de Mendoza pretends that a man is obliged to
do it once every year. Our Father Coninck believes a man to be obliged once in
three or four years. Henriquez, once in five years. But Filiutius affirms it to
be probable that in rigor a man is not obliged every five years. When then? He
leaves the point to the wise." "We are not," says Father Sirmond, "so much
commanded to love him as not to hate him,"[3] Thus do the Jesuit
theologians make void "the first; and great commandment in the law."
The
second commandment in the law is, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."
This second great commandment meets with no more respect at the hands of the
Jesuits than the first. Their morality dashes both tables of the law in pieces;
charity to man it makes void equally with the love of God. The methods by which
this may be done are innumerable.[4]
The first of these
is termed probabilism. This is a device which enables a man to commit any act,
be it ever so manifest a breach of the moral and Divine law, without the least
restraint of conscience, remorse of mind, or guilt before God. What is
probabilism? By way of answer we shall suppose that a man has a great mind to do
a certain act, of the lawfulness of which he is in doubt. He finds that there
are two opinions upon the point: the one probably true, to the effect that the
act is lawful; the other more probably true, to the effect that the act is
sinful. Under the Jesuit regimen the man is at liberty to act upon the probable
opinion. The act is probably right, but more probably wrong, nevertheless he is
safe in doing it, in virtue of the doctrine of probabalism. It is important to
ask, what makes all opinion probable? To make an opinion probable a Jesuit finds
easy indeed. If a single doctor has pronounced in its favor, though a score of
doctors may have condemned it, or if the man can imagine in his own mind
something like a tolerable reason for doing the act, the opinion that it is
lawful becomes probable. It will be hard to name an act for which a Jesuit
authority may not be produced, and harder still to find a man whose invention is
so poor as not to furnish him with what he deems a good reason for doing what he
is inclined to, and therefore it may be pronounced impossible to instance a
deed, however manifestly opposed to the light of nature and the law of God,
which may not be committed under the shield of the monstrous dogma of
probabilism.[5]
We are neither
indulging in satire nor incurring the charge of false-witness-bearing in this
picture of Jesuit theology. "A person may do what he considers allowable," says
Emmanuel Sa, of the Society of Jesus, "according to a probable opinion, although
the contrary may be the more probable one. The opinion of a single grave doctor
is all that is requisite."
A yet greater doctor, Filiutius, of Rome,
confirms him in this. "It is allowable," says he, "to follow the less probable
opinion, even though it be the less safe one. That is the common judgment of
modern authors." "Of two contrary opinions," says Paul Laymann, "touching the
legality or illegality of any human action, every one may follow in practice or
in action that which he should prefer, although it may appear to the agent
himself less probable in theory." he adds: "A learned person may give contrary
advice to different persons according to contrary probable opinions, whilst he
still preserves discretion and prudence." We may say with Pascal, "These Jesuit
casuists give us elbow-room at all events!"[6]
It is and it is not
is the motto of this theology. It is the true Lesbian rule which shapes itself
according to that which we wish to measure by it. Would we have any action to be
sinful, the Jesuit moralist turns this side of the code to us; would we have it
to be lawful, he turns the other side. Right and wrong are put thus in our own
power; we can make the same action a sin or a duty as we please, or as we deem
it expedient. To steal the property, slander the character, violate the
chastity, or spill the blood of a fellow-creature, is most probably wrong, but
let us imagine some good to be got by it, and it is probably right. The Jesuit
workers, for the sake of those who are dull of understanding and slow to
apprehend the freedom they bring them, have gone into particulars and compiled
lists of actions, esteemed sinful, unnatural, and abominable by the moral sense
of all nations hitherto, but which, in virtue of this new morality, are no
longer so, and they have explained how these actions may be safely done, with a
minuteness of detail and a luxuriance of illustration, in which it were tedious
in some cases, immodest in others, to follow them.
One would think that
this was licence enough. What more can the Jesuit need, or what more can he
possibly have, seeing by a little effort, of invention he can overleap every
human and Divine barrier, and commit the most horrible crimes, on the mightiest
possible scale, and neither feel remorse of conscience nor fear of punishment?
But this unbounded liberty of wickedness did not content the sons of Loyola.
They panted for a liberty, if possible, yet more boundless; they wished to be
released from the easy condition of imagining some good end for the wickedness
they wished to perpetrate, and to be free to sin without the trouble of
assigning even to themselves any end at all. This they have accomplished by the
method of directing the intention.
This is a new ethical science, unknown
to those ages which were not privileged to bask in the illuminating rays of the
Society of Jesus, and it is as simple as convenient. It is the soul, they argue,
that does the act, so far as it is moral or immoral. As regards the body's share
in it, neither virtue nor vice can be predicated of it. If, therefore, while the
hand is shedding blood, or the tongue is calumniating character, or uttering a
falsehood, the soul can so abstract itself from what the body is doing as to
occupy itself the while with some holy theme, or fix its meditation upon some
benefit or advantage likely to arise from the deed, which it knows, or at least
suspects, the body is at that moment engaged in doing, the soul contracts
neither guilt nor stain, and the man runs no risk of ever being called to
account for the murder, or theft, or calumny, by God, or of incurring his
displeasure on that ground. We are not satirising; we are simply stating the
morality of the Jesuits. "We never," says the Father Jesuit in Pascal's Letters,
"suffer such a thing as the formal intention to sin with the sole design of
sinning; and if any person whatever should persist in having no other end but
evil in the evil that he does, we break with him at once– such conduct is
diabolical. This holds true, without exception, of age, sex, or rank. But when
the person is not of such a wretched disposition as this, we try to put in
practice our method of directying the intention, which simply consists in his
proposing to himself, as the end of his actions, some allowable object. Not that
we do not endeavor, as far as we can, to dissuade men from doing things
forbidden; but when we cannot prevent the action, we at least, purify the
motive, and thus correct the viciousness of the means by the goodness of the
end. Such is the way in which our Fathers [of the society] have contrived to
permit those acts of violence to which men usually resort in vindication of
their honor. They have no more to do than to turn off the intention from the
desire of vengeance, which is criminal, and to direct it to a desire to defend
their honor, which, according to us, is quite warrantable. And in this way our
doctors discharge all their duty towards God and towards man. By permitting the
action they gratify the world; and by purifying the intention they give
satisfaction to the Gospel. This is a secret, sir, which was entirely unknown to
the ancients; the world is indebted for the discovery entirely to our doctors.
You understand it now, I hope.[7]
Let us take a few
illustrative cases, but only such as Jesuit casuists themselves have furnished.
"A military man," says Reginald,"[8] "may demand satisfaction
on the spot from the person who has injured him, not indeed with the intention
of rendering evil for evil, but with that of preserving his honor. Lessius [9] observes that if a man has
received a blow on the face, he must on no account have an intention to avenge
himself; but he may lawfully have an intention to avert infamy, and may, with
that view, repel the insult immediately, even at the point of the sword. "If
your enemy is disposed to injure you," says Escobar, "you have no right to wish
his death by a movement of hatred, though you may to save yourself from harm."
And says Hurtado de Mendoza [10] "We may pray God to visit
with speedy death those who are bent on persecuting us, if there is no other way
of escaping from it." "An incumbent," says Gaspar de Hurtado [11] "may without any mortal
sin desire the decease of a life-renter on his benefice, and a son that of a
father, and rejoice when it happens, provided always it is for the sake of the
profit that is to accrue from the event, and not from personal aversion."
Sanchez teaches that it is lawful to kill our adversary in a duel, or even
privately, when he intends to deprive us of our honor or property unjustly in a
law-suit, or by chicanery, and when there is no other way of preserving them.[12] It is equally right to
kill in a private way a false accuser, and his witness, and even the judge who
has been bribed to favor them. "A most pious assassination!" exclaims
Pascal.
CHAPTER 5
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THE JESUIT TEACHING ON REGICIDE, MURDER, LYING,
THEFT, ETC.
The Maxims of the Jesuits on Reglcide–M. de la Chalotais'
Report to the Parliament of Bretagne–Effects of Jesuit Doctrine as shown in
History– Doctrine of Mental Equivocation–The Art of Swearing Falsely without
Sin–The Seventh Commandment–Jesuit Doctrine on Blasphemy– Murder–Lying–Theft–An
Illustrative Case from Pascal–Every Precept of the Decalogue made Void–Jesuit
Morality the Consummation of the Wickedness of the Fall.
THE three great rules of the code of the Jesuits, which we have stated in the foregoing chapter–namely,
But if the liberty with which these three maxims
endow the Jesuit cannot be made larger, its particular applications may
nevertheless be made more pointed, and the man who holds back from using it in
all its extent may be emboldened, despite his remaining scruples, or the
dullness of his intellectual perceptions, to avail himself to the utmost of the
advantages it offers, "for the greater glory of God." He is to be taught, not
merely by general rules, but by specific examples, how he may sin and yet not
become sinful; how he may break the law and yet not suffer the
penalty.
But, further, these sons of Loyola are the kings of the world,
and the sole heirs of all its wealth, honors, and pleasures; and whatever law,
custom, sacred and venerable office, august and kingly authority, may stand
between them and their rightful lordship over mankind, they are at liberty to
throw down and tread into the dust as a vile and accursed thing. The moral
maxims of the Jesuits are to be put in force against kings as well as against
peasants.
The lawfulness of killing excommunicated, that is Protestant,
kings, the Jesuit writers have been at great pains to maintain, and by a great
variety of arguments to defend and enforce. The proof is as abundant as it is
painful. M. de la Chalotais reports to the Parliament of Bretagne, as the result
of his examination of the laws and doctrines of the Jesuits, that on this point
there is a complete and startling unanimity in their teaching. By the same
logical track do the whole host of Jesuit writers arrive at the same terrible
conclusion, the slaughter, namely, of the sovereign on whom the Pope has
pronounced sentence of deposition. If he shall take meekly his extrusion from
Power, and seek neither to resist nor revenge his being hurled from his throne,
his life may be spared; but should "he persist in disobedience," says M. de la
Chalotais, himself a Papist, and addressing a Popish Parliament, "he may be
treated as a tyrant, in which case anybody may kill him.[1] Such is the course of
reasoning established by all authors of the society, who have written ex
professo on these subjects–Bellarmine, Suarez, Molina, Mariana, Santarel–all the
Ultramontanes without exception, since the establishment of the society."[2]
But have not the
writers of this school expressed in no measured terms their abhorrence of
murder? Have they not loudly exclaimed against the sacrilege of touching him on
whom the Church's anointing oil has been poured as king? In short, do they not
forbid and condemn the crime of regicide? Yes: this is true; but they protest
with a warmth that is fitted to awaken suspicion. Rome can take back her
anointing, and when she has stripped the monarch of his office he becomes the
lawful victim of her consecrated dagger. On what grounds, the Jesuits demand,
can the killing of one who is no longer a king be called regicide? Suarez tells
us that when a king is deposed he is no longer to be regarded as a king, but as
a tyrant: "he therefore loses his authority, and from that moment may be
lawfully killed." Nor is the opinion of the Jesuit Mariana less decided.
Speaking of a prince, he says: "If he should overthrow the religion of the
country, and introduce a public enemy within the State, I shall never consider
that man to have done wrong, who, favorting the public wishes, would attempt to
kill him... It is useful that princes should be made to know, that if they
oppress the State and become intolerable by their vices and their pollution,
they hold their lives upon this tenure, that to put them to death is not only
laudable, but a glorious action... It is a glorious thing to exterminate this
pestilent and mischievous race from the community of men."[3]
Wherever the
Jesuits have planted missions, opened seminaries, and established colleges, they
have been careful to inculcate these principles in the minds of the youth; thus
sowing the seeds of future tumults, revolutions, regicides, and wars. These evil
fruits have appeared sometimes sooner, sometimes later, but they have never
failed to show themselves, to the grief of nations and the dismay of kings. John
Chatel, who attempted the life of Henry IV., had studied in the College of
Clermont, in which the Jesuit Guignard was Professor of Divinity. In the chamber
of the would-be regicide, a manuscript of Guignard was found, in which, besides
other dangerous articles, that Father approved not only of the assassination of
Henry III. by Clement, but also maintained that the same thing ought to be
attempted against le Bearnois, as he called Henry IV., which occasioned the
first banishment of the order out of France, as a society detestable and
diabolical. The sentence of the Parliament, passed in 1594, ordained "that all
the priests and scholars of the College of Clermont, and others calling
themselves the Society of Jesus, as being corrupters of youth, disturbers of the
public peace, and enemies of the king and State, should depart in three days
from their house and college, and in fifteen days out of the whole
kingdom."
But why should we dwell on these written proofs of the disloyal
and murderous principles of the Jesuits, when their acted deeds bear still more
emphatic testimony to the true nature and effects of their principles? We have
only to look around, and on every hand the melancholy monuments of these
doctrines meet our afflicted sight. To what country of Europe shall we turn
where we are not able to track the Jesuit by his bloody foot-prints? What page
of modern history shall we open and not read fresh proofs that the Papal
doctrine of killing excommunicated kings was not meant to slumber in forgotten
tomes, but to be acted out in the living world? We see Henry III. falling by
their dagger. Henry IV. perishes by the same consecrated weapon. The King of
Portugal dies by their order.
The great Prince of Orange is dispatched by
their agent, shot down at the door of his own dining-room. How many assassins
they sent to England to murder Elizabeth, history attests. That she escaped
their machinations is one of the marvels of history. Nor is it only the palaces
of monarchs into which they have crept with their doctrines of murder and
assassination; the very sanctuary of their own Popes they have defiled with
blood. We behold Clement XIV. signing the order for the banishment of the
Jesuits, and soon thereafter he is overtaken by their vengeance, and dies by
poison. In the Gunpowder Plot we see them deliberately planning to destroy at
one blow the nobility and gentry of England. To them we owe those civil wars
which for so many years drenched with blood the fair provinces of France. They
laid the train of that crowning horror, the St. Bartholomew massacre. Philip II.
and the Jesuits share between them the guilt of the "Invincible Armada," which,
instead of inflicting the measureless ruin and havoc which its authors intended,
by a most merciful Providence became the means of exhausting the treasures and
overthrowing the prestige of Spain. What a harvest of plots, tumults, seditions,
revolutions, torturings, poisonings, assassinations, regicides, and massacres
has Christendom reaped from the seed sown by the Jesuits! Nor can we be sure
that we have yet seen the last and greatest of their crimes.
We can
bestow only the most cursory glance at the teaching of the Jesuits under the
other heads of moral duty. Let us take their doctrine of mental reservation.
Nothing can be imagined more heinous and, at the same time, more dangerous. "The
doctrine of equivocation," says Blackwell, "is for the consolation of afflicted
Roman Catholics and the instruction of all the godly." It has been of special
use to them when residing among infidels and heretics. In heathen countries, as
China and Malabar, they have professed conformity to the rites and the worship
of paganism, while remaining Roman Catholics at heart, and they have taught
their converts to venerate their former deities in appearance, on the strength
of directing aright the intention, and the pious fraud of concealing a crucifix
under their clothes.
Equivocation they have carried into civil life as
well as into religion. "A man may swear," says Sanchez, "that he hath not done a
thing though he really have, by understanding within himself that he did it not
on such and such a day, or before he was born; or by reflecting on some other
circumstance of the like nature; and yet the words he shall make use of shall
not have a sense implying any such thing; and this is a thing of great
convenience on many occasions, and is always justifiable when it is necessary or
advantageous in anything that concerns a man's health, honor, or estate."[4] Filiutius, in his Moral
Questions, asks, "Is it wrong to use equivocation in swearing? I answer, first,
that it is not in itself a sin to use equivocation in swearing This is the
common doctrine after Suarez." Is it perjury or sin to equivocate in a just
cause?" he further asks. "It is not perjury," he answers. "As, for example, in
the case of a man who has outwardly made a promise without the intention of
promising; if he is asked whether he has promised, he may deny it, meaning that
he has not promised with a binding promise; and thus he may
swear."
Filiutius asks yet again, "With what precaution is equivocation
to be used? When we begin, for instance, to say, I swear, we must insert in a
subdued tone the mental restriction, that today, and then continue aloud, I have
not eaten such a thing; or, I swear–then insert, I say–then conclude in the same
loud voice, that I have not done this or that thing; for thus the whole speech
is most true.[5] What an admirable lesson
in the art of speaking the truth to one's self, and lying and swearing falsely
to everybody else![6]
We shall offer no
comment on the teaching of the Jesuits under the head of the seventh
commandment. The doctrines of the society which relate to chastity are screened
from exposure by the very enormity of their turpitude. We pass them as we would
the open grave, whose putrid breath kills all who inhale it. Let all who value
the sweetness of a pure imagination, and the joy of a conscience undefiled, shun
the confessional as they would the chamber in which the plague is shut up, or
the path in which lurks the deadly scorpion. The teaching of the
Jesuits–everywhere deadly–is here a poison that consumes flesh, and bones, and
soul.
Which precept of the Decalogue is it that the theology of the
Jesuits does not set aside? We are commanded "to fear the great and dreadful
name of the Lord our God." The Jesuit Bauny teaches us to blaspheme it. "If one
has been hurried by passion into cursing and doing despite to his Maker, it may
be determined that he has only sinned venially." [7] This is much, but Casnedi
goes a little farther. "Do what your conscience tells you to be good, and
commanded," says this Jesuit; "if through invincible error you believe lying or
blasphemy to be commanded by God, blaspheme." [8] The license given by the
Jesuits to regicide we have already seen; not less ample is the provision their
theology makes for the perpetration of ordinary homicides and murders. Reginald
says it is lawful to kill a false witness, seeing otherwise one should be killed
by him.[9] Parents who seek to turn
their children from the faith, says Fagundez, "may justly be killed by them." [10] The Jesuit Amicus teaches
that it is lawful for an ecclesiastic, or one in a religious order, to kill a
calumniator when other means of defense are wanting.[11] And Airult extends the
same privilege to laymen. If one brings an impeachment before a prince or judge
against another, and if that other cannot by any means avert the injury to his
character, he may kill him secretly. He fortifies his opinion by the authority
of Bannez, who gives the same latitude to the right of defense, with this slight
qualification, that the calumniator should first be warned that he desist from
his slander, and if he will not, he should be killed, not openly, on account of
the scandal, but secretly. [12]
Of a like ample
kind is the liberty which the Jesuits permit to be taken with the property of
one's neighbor. Dishonesty in all its forms they sanction. They encourage
cheats, frauds, purloinings, robberies, by furnishing men with a ready
justification of these misdeeds, and especially by persuading their votaries
that if they will only take the trouble of doing them in the way of directing
the intention according to their instructions, they need not fear being called
to a reckoning for them hereafter. The Jesuit Emmanuel Sa teaches "that it is
not a mortal sin to take secretly from him who would give if he were asked;"
that "it is not theft to take a small thing from a husband or a father;" that if
one has taken what he doubts to have been his own, that doubt makes it probable
that it is safe to keep it; that if one, from an urgent necessity, or without
causing much loss, takes wood from another man's pile, he is not obliged to
restore it. One who has stolen small things at different times, is not obliged
to make restitution till such time as they amount together to a considerable
sum. But should the purloiner feel restitution burdensome, it may comfort him to
know that some Fathers deny it with probability.[13]
The case of
merchants, whose gains may not be increasing so fast as they could wish, has
been kindly considered by the Fathers. Francis Tolet says that if a man cannot
sell his wine at a fair price–that is, at a fair profit– he may mix a little
water with his wine, or diminish his measure, and sell it for pure wine of full
measure. Of course, if it be lawful to mix wine, it is lawful to adulterate all
other articles of merchandise, or to diminish the weight, and go on vending as
if the balance were just and the article genuine. Only the trafficker in
spurious goods, with false balances, must be careful not to tell a lie; or if he
should be compelled to equivocate, he must do it in accordance with the rules
laid down by the Fathers for enabling one to say what is not true without
committing falsehood.[14]
Domestic servants
also have been taken by the Fathers under the shield of their casuistry. Should
a servant deem his wages not enough, or the food, clothing, and other
necessaries provided for him not equal to that which is provided for servants of
similar rank in other houses, he may recompense himself by abstracting from his
master's property as much as shall make his wages commensurate with his
services. So has Valerius Reginald decided.[15]
It is fair,
however, that the pupil be cautioned that this lesson cannot safely be put in
practice against his teacher. The story of John d'Alba, related by Pascal, shows
that the Fathers do not relish these doctrines in praxi nearly so well as in
thesi, when they themselves are the sufferers by them. D'Alba was a servant to
the Fathers in the College of Clermont, in the Rue St. Jacques, and thinking
that his wages were not equal to his merits, he stole somewhat from his masters
to. make up the discrepancy, never dreaming that they would make a criminal of
him for following their approved rules. However, they threw him into prison on a
charge of larceny. He was brought to trial on the 16th April, 1647. He confessed
before the court to having taken some pewter plates, but maintained that the act
was not to be regarded as a theft, on the strength of this same doctrine of
Father Bauny, which he produced before the judges, with attestation from another
of the Fathers, under whom he had studied these cases of conscience. Whereupon
the judge, M. de Montrouge, gave sentence as follows:–"That the prisoner should
not be acquitted upon the writings of these Fathers, containing a doctrine so
unlawful, pernicious, and contrary to all laws, natural, Divine, and human, such
as might confound all families, and authorize all domestic frauds and
infidelities;" but that the over-faithful disciple "should be whipt before the
College gate of Clermont by the common executioner, who at the same time should
burn all the writings of those Fathers treating of theft; and that they should
be prohibited to teach any such doctrine again under pain of death."[16]
But we should swell
beyond all reasonable limit, our enumeration, were we to quote even a tithe of
the "moral maxims" of the Jesuits. There is not One in the long catalogue of
sins and crimes which their casuistry does not sanction. Pride, ambition,
avarice, luxury, bribery, and a host of vices which we cannot specify, and some
of which are too horrible to be mentioned, find in these Fathers their patrons
and defenders. The alchemists of the Middle Ages boasted that their art enabled
them to operate on the essence of things, and to change what was vile into what
was noble. But the still darker art of the Jesuits acts in the reverse order; it
changes all that is noble into all that is vile. Theirs is an accursed alchemy
by which they transmute good into evil, and virtue into vice. There is no
destructive agency with which the world is liable to be visited, that penetrates
so deep, or inflicts so remediless a ruin, as the morality of the Jesuits. The
tornado sweeps along over the surface of the globe, leaving the earth naked and
effaced and forgotten in the greater splendor and the more solid strength of the
restored structures. Revolution may overturn thrones, abolish laws, and break in
pieces the framework of society; but when the fury of faction has spent its
rage, order emerges from the chaos, law resumes its supremacy, and the bare as
before tree or shrub beautified it; but the summers of after years re-clothe it
with verdure and beautify it with flowers, and make it smile as sweetly as
before. The earthquake overturns the dwelling of man, and swallows up the
proudest of his cities; but his skill and power survive the shock, and when the
destroyer has passed, the architect sets up again the fallen palace, and
rebuilds the ruined city, and the catastrophe is effaced and forgotten in the
greater splendor and the more solid strength of the restored structures.
Revolution may overturn thrones, abolish laws, and break in pieces the framework
of society; but when the fury of faction has spent its rage, order emerges from
the chaos, law resumes its supremacy, and the institutions which had been
destroyed in the hour of madness, are restored in the hour of calm wisdom that
succeeds. But the havoc the Jesuit inflicts is irremediable. It has nothing in
it counteractive or restorative; it is only evil. It is not upon the works of
man or the institutions of man merely that, it puts forth its fearfully
destructive power; it is upon man himself. It is not the body of man that it
strikes, like the pestilence; it is the soul. It is not a part, but the whole of
man that it consigns to corruption and ruin. Conscience it destroys, knowledge
it extinguishes, the very power of discerning between right and wrong it takes
away, and shuts up the man in a prison whence no created agency or influence can
set him free. The Fall defaced the image of God in which man was made; we say,
defaced; it did not totally obliterate or extinguish it. Jesuitism, more
terrible than the Fall, totally effaces from the soul of man the image of God.
Of the "knowledge, righteousness, and true holiness" in which man was made it
leaves not a tree. It plucks up by its very roots the moral constitution which
God gave man. The full triumph of Jesuitism would leave nothing spiritual,
nothing moral, nothing intellectual, nothing strictly and properly human
existing upon the earth.
Man it would change into the animal, impelled by
nothing but appetites and passions, and these more fierce and cruel than those
of the tiger. Society would become simply a herd of wolves, lawless, ravenous,
greedy of each other's blood, and perpetually in quest of prey. Even Jesuitism
itself would perish, devoured by its own progeny. Our earth at last would be
simply a vast sepulcher, moving round the sun in its annual circuit, its bosom
as joyless, dreary, and waste as are those silent spaces through which it
rolls.
CHAPTER 6
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THE "SECRET
INSTRUCTIONS" OF THE JESUITS.
The Jesuit Soldier in Armor
complete–Secret Instructions–How to Plant their First Establishments–Taught to
Court the Parochial Clergy–to Visit the Hospitals–to Find out the Wealth of
their several Districts– to make Purchases in another Name–to Draw the Youth
round them–to Supplant the Older Orders–How to get the Friendship of Great
Men–How to Manage Princes–How to Direct their Policy– Conduct their
Embassies–Appoint their Servants, etc.–Taught to Affect a Great Show of
Lowliness.
SO far we have traced the enrollment and training of
that mighty army which Loyola had called into existence for the conquest of
Protestantism. Their leader, who was quite as much the shrewd calculator as the
fiery fanatic, took care before sending his soldiers into the field to provide
them with armor, every way fitted for the combatants they were to meet, and the
campaign they were to wage. The war in which they were to be occupied was one
against right and truth, against knowledge and liberty, and where could weapons
be found for the successful prosecution of a conflict like this, save in the
old-established arsenal of sophisms The schoolmen, those Vulcans of the Middle
Ages, had forged these weapons with the hammers of their speculation on the
anvil of their subtlety, and having made them sharp of edge, and given them an
incomparable flexibility, they stored them up, and kept them in reserve against
the great coming day of battle. To this armory Loyola, and the chiefs that
succeeded him in command, had recourse. But not content with these weapons as
the schoolmen had left them, the Jesuit doctors put them back again into the
fire; they kept them in a furnace, heated seven times, till every particle of
the dross of right and truth that cleaved to them had been tmrged out, and they
had acquired a flexibility absolutely and altogether perfect, and a keenness of
edge unattained before, and were now deemed every way fit for the hands that
were to wield them, and every way worthy of the cause in which they were to be
drawn. So attempered, they could cut through shield and helmet, through body and
soul of the foe.
Let us survey the soldier of Loyola, as he stands in the
complete and perfect panoply his General has provided him with. How admirably
harnessed for the battle he is to fight! He has his "loins girt about with"
mental and verbal equivocation; he has "on the breast-plate of" probabilism; his
"feet are shod with the preparation of the" Secret Instruction. "Above all,
taking the shield of" intention, and rightly handling it, he is "able to quench
all the fiery darts of" human remorse and Divine threatenings. He takes "for an
helmet the hope of" Paradise, which has been most surely promised him as the
reward of his services; and in his hand he grasps the two-edged sword of a fiery
fanaticism, wherewith he is able to cut his way, with prodigious bravery,
through truth and righteousness.[1] Verily, the man who has to
sustain the onset of soldiers like these, and parry the thrusts of their
weapons, had need to be mindful of the ancient admonition, "Take unto you the
whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having
done all, to stand."
Shrewd, practical, and precise are the instructions
of the Jesuits. First of all they are told to select the best points in that
great field, all of which they are in due time to subjugate and possess. That
field is Christendom. They are to begin by establishing convents, or colleges,
in the chief cities. The great centers of population and wealth secured, the
smaller places will be easily occupied.
Should any one ask on what errand
the good Fathers have come, they are instructed to make answer that their "sole
object is the salvation of souls." What a pious errand! Who would not strive to
be the first to welcome to their houses, and to seat at their tables, men whose
aims are so unselfish and heavenly? They are to be careful to maintain a humble
and submissive deportment; they are to pay frequent visits to the hospitals, the
sick-chamber, and the prisons. They are to make great show of charity, and as
they have nothing of their own to give to the poor, they are "to go far and
near" to receive even the "smallest atoms." These good deeds will not lose their
reward if only they take care not to do them in secret. Men will begin to speak
of them and say, What a humble, pious, charitable order of men these Fathers of
the Society of Jesus are! How unlike the Franciscans and Dominicans, who were
want to care for the sick and the poor, but have now forgotten the virtues of a
former tune, and are grown proud, indolent, luxurious, and rich! Thus the
"new-comers," the Instructions hint, will supplant the other and older orders,
and will receive "the respect and reverence of the best and most eminent in the
neighborhood."[2]
Further, they are
enjoined to conduct themselves very deferentially towards the parochial clergy,
and not to perform any sacred function till first they have piously and
submissively asked the bishop's leave. This will secure their good graces, and
dispose the secular clergy to protect them; but by-and-by, when they have
ingratiated themselves with the people, they may abate somewhat of this
subserviency to the clergy.
The individual Jesuit takes a vow of poverty,
but the society takes no such vow, and is qualified to hold property to any
amount. Therefore, while seeking the salvation of souls, the members are
carefully to note the rich men in the community. They must find out who own the
estates in the neighborhood, and what are their yearly values. They are to
secure these estates by gift, if possible; if not, by purchase. When it happens
that they "get anything that is considerable, let the purchase be made under a
strange name, by some of our friends, that our poverty may still seem the
greater."[3] And let our provincial
"assign such revenues to some other colleges, more remote, that neither prince
nor people may discover anything of our profits"[4] –a device that combines
many advantages. Every day their acres will increase, nevertheless their
apparent poverty will be as great as ever, and the flow of benefactions and
legacies to supply it will remain undiminished, although the sea into which all
these rivers run will never be full.
Among the multifarious duties laid
upon the Jesuits, special prominence was given to the instruction of youth. It
was by this arm that they achieved their most brilliant success. "Whisper it
sweetly in their [the people's] ears, that they are come to catechise the
children gratis."[5] Wherever the Jesuits came
they opened schools, and gathered the youth around them; but despite their zeal
in the work of education, knowledge somehow did not increase. The intellect
refused to expand and the genius to open under their tutelage. Kingdoms like
Poland, where they became the privileged and only instructors of youth, instead
of taking a higher place in the commonwealth of letters, fell back into mental
decrepitude, and lost their rank in the community of nations. The Jesuits
communicated to their pupils little besides a knowledge of Latin. History,
philosophy, and science were sealed books. They initiated their disciples into
the mysteries of probabilism, and the art of directing the intention, and the
youth trained in these paths, when old did not depart from them. They dwarfed
the intellect and narrowed the understanding, but they gained their end. They
stamped anew the Roman impress upon many of the countries of Europe.
The
second chapter of the Instructions is entitled "What must be done to get the ear
and intimacy of great men?" To stand well with monarchs and princes is, of
course, a matter of such importance that no stone is to be left unturned to
attain it. The Instructions here, as we should expect them to be, are full and
precise. The members of the Society of Jesus are first of all to imbue princes
and great men with the belief that they cannot dispense with their aid if they
would maintain the pomp of their State, and the government of their realms.
Should princes be filled with a conceit of their own wisdom, the Fathers must
find some way of dispelling this egregious delusion. They are to surround them
with confessors chosen from their society; but by no means are they to bear hard
on the consciences of their royal penitents. They must treat them "sweetly and
pleasantly," oftener administering opiates than irritants. They are to study
their humors, and if, in the matter of marriage, they should be inclined–as
often happens with princes–to contract alliance with their own kindred, they are
to smooth their way, by hinting at a dispensation from the Pope, or finding some
palliative for the sin from the pharmacopoeia of their theology. They may tell
them that such marriages, though forbidden to the commonalty, are sometimes
allowed to princes, "for the greater glory of God."[6] If a monarch is bent on
some enterprise–a war, for example–the issue of which is doubtful, they are to
be at pains so to shape their counsel in the matter, that if the affair succeeds
they shall have all the praise, and if it fails, the blame shall rest with the
king alone. And, lastly, when a vacancy occurs near the throne, they are to take
care that the empty post shall be filled by one of the tried friends of the
society, of whom they are enjoined to have, at all times, a list in their
possession. It may be well, in order still more to advance their interests at
courts, to undertake embassies at times.
This will enable them to draw
the affairs of Europe into their own hands, and to make princes feel that they
are indispensable to them, by showing them what an influence they wield at the
courts of other sovereigns, and especially how great their power is at that of
Rome. Small services and trifling presents they are by no means to overlook.
Such things go a great way in opening the hearts of princes. Be sure, say the
Instructions, to paint the men whom the prince dislikes in the same colors in
which his jealousy and hatred teach him to view them. Moreover, if the prince is
unmarried, it will be a rare stroke of policy to choose a wife for him from
among the beautiful and noble ladies known to their society. "This is seen," say
the Instructions, "by experience in the House of Austria: and in the Kingdoms of
Poland and France, and in many other principalities."[7]
"We must endeavor,"
say the Instructions, with remarkable plainness, but in the belief, doubtless,
that the words would meet the faithful eyes of the members of the Society of
Jesus only– "We must endeavor to breed dissension among great men, and raise
seditions, or anything a prince would have us to do to please him. If one who is
chief Minister of State to a monarch who is our friend oppose us, and that
prince cast his whole favors upon him, so as to add titles to his honor, we must
present ourselves before him, and court him in the highest degree, as well by
visits as all humble respect."[8]
Having specified
the arts by which princes may be managed, the Instructions next prescribe
certain methods for turning to account others "of great authority in the
commonwealth, that by their credit we obtain profit and preferment." "If," say
the Instructions,[9] "these lords be seculars,
we ought to have recourse to their aid and friendship against our adversaries,
and to their favor in our own suits, and those of our friends, and to their
authority and power in the purchase of houses, manors, and gardens, and of
stones to build with, especially in those places that will not endure to hear of
our settling in them, because the authority of these lords serveth very much for
the appeasing of the populace, and making our ill-willers quiet."
Nor are
they less sedulously to make court to the bishops. Their authority –great
everywhere–is especially so in some kingdoms, "as in Germany, Poland, and
France;" and, the bishops conciliated, they may expect to obtain a gift of
"new-erected churches, altars, monasteries, foundations, and in some cases the
benefices of the secular priests and canons, with the preferable right of
preaching in all the great towns." And when bishops so befriend them, they are
to be taught that there is no less profit than merit in the deed; inasmuch as,
done to the Order of Jesus, they are sure to be repaid with most substantial
services; whereas, done to the other orders, they will have nothing in return
for their pains "but a song."[10]
To love their
neighbor, and speak well of him, while they held themselves in lowly estimation,
was not one of the failings of the Jesuits. Their own virtues they were to
proclaim as loudly as they did the faults of their brother monks. Their
Instructions commanded them to "imprint upon the spirits of those princes who
love us, that our order is more perfect than all other orders." They are to
supplant their rivals, by telling monarchs that no wisdom is competent to
counsel in the affairs of State but "ours," and that if they wish to make their
realms resplendent with knowledge, they must surrender the schools to Jesuit
teachers. They are especially to exhort princes that they owe it as a duty to
God to consult them in the distribution of honors and emoluments, and in all
appointments to places of importance. Further, they are ever to have a list in
their possession of the names of all persons in authority and power throughout
Christendom, in order that they may change or continue them fit their several
posts, as may be expedient. But so covertly must this delicate business be gone
about, that their hand must not be seen in it, nor must it once be suspected
that the change comes from them?
While slowly and steadily climbing up to
the control of kings, and the government of kingdoms, they are to study great
modesty of demeanor and simplicity of life. The pride must be worn in the heart,
not on the brow; and the foot must be set down softly that is to be planted at
last on the neck of monarchs. "Let ours that are in the service of princes," say
the Instructions, "keep but a very little money, and a few movables, contenting
themselves with a little chamber, modestly keeping company with persons in
humble station; and so being in good esteem, they ought prudently to persuade
princes to do nothing without their counsel, whether it be in spiritual or
temporal affairs."[11]
CHAPTER 7
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JESUIT MANAGEMENT OF
RICH WIDOWS AND THE HEIRS OF GREAT FAMILIES.
How Rich Widows are to
be Drawn to the Chapels and Confessionals of the Jesuits–Kept from Thoughts of a
Second Marriage–Induced to Enter an Order, and Bequeath their Estates to the
Society–Sons and Daughters of Widows–How to Discover the Revenues and Heirs of
Noble Houses –Illustration from Spain–Borrowing on Bond–The fastructions to be
kept Secret–If Discovered, to be Denied–How the Instructions came to
Light.
THE sixth chapter of the Instructions treats "Of the
Means to acquire the Friendship of Rich Widows." On opening this new chapter,
the reflection that forces itself on one is–how wide the range of objects to
which the Society of Jesus is able to devote its attention! The greatest matters
are not beyond its strength, and the smallest are not beneath its notice! From
counselling monarchs, and gaiding ministers of State, it turns with equal
adaptability and dexterity to caring for widows. The Instructions on this head
are minute and elaborate to a degree, which shows the importance the society
attaches to the due discharge of what it owes to this class of its
clients.
True, some have professed to doubt whether the action of the
society in this matter be wholly and purely disinterested, from the restriction
it puts upon the class of persons taken under its protection. The Instructions
do not say "widows," but "rich widows." But all the more on that account do
widows need defense against the arts of chicanery and the wiles of avarice, and
how can the Fathers better accord them such than by taking measures to convey
their bodies and their goods alike within the safe walls of a convent? There the
cormorants and vultures of a wicked world cannot make them their prey. But let
us mark how they are to proceed. First, a Father of suitable gifts is to be
selected to begin operations. He must not, in point of years, exceed middle age;
he must have a fresh complexion, and a gracious discourse. He is to visit the
widow, to touch feelingly on her position, and the snares and injuries to which
it exposes her, and to hint at the fraternal care that the society of which he
is a member delights to exercise over all in her condition who choose to place
themselves under its guardianship. After a few visits of this sort, the widow
will probably appear at one of the chapels of the society. Should it so happen,
the next step is to appoint a confessor of their body for the widow. Should
these delicate steps be well got over, the matter will begin to be hopeful. It
will be the confessor's duty to see that the wicked idea of marrying again does
not enter her mind, and for this end he is to picture to her the delightful and
fascinating freedom she enjoys in her widowhood, and over against it he is to
place the cares, vexations, and tyrannies which a second matrimony would
probably draw upon her. To second these representations, the confessor is
empowered to promise exemption from purgatery, should the holy estate of
widowhood be persevered in. To maintain this pious frame of mind on the part of
the object of these solicitudes, the Instructions direct that it may be
advisable to have an oratory erected in her house, with an altar, and frequent
mass and confession celebrated thereat. The adorning of the altar, and the
accompanying rites, will occupy the time of the widow, and prevent the thoughts
of a husband entering her mind. The matter having been conducted to this stage,
it will be prudent now to change the persons of trust about her, and to replace
them with persons devoted to the society. The number of religious services must
also be increased, especially confession, "so that," say the Instructions,
"knowing their former accusations, manners, and inclinations, the whole may
serve as a guide to make them obey our wills."[1]
These steps will
have brought the widow very near the door of a convent. A continuance a little
longer in the same cautious and skillful tactics is all that will be necessary
to land her safely within its walls. The confessor must now enlarge on the
quietude and eminent sanctity of the cloister how surely it conducts to
Paradise; but should she be unwilling to assume the veil in regular form, she
may be induced to enter some religious order, such as that of Paulina, "so that
being caught in the vow of chastity, all danger of her marrying again may be
over."[2] The great duty of Alms,
that queen of the graces, "without which, it is to be represented to her, she
cannot inherit the kingdom of heaven," is now to be pressed upon her; "which
alms, notwithstanding, she ought not to dispose to every one, if it be not by
the advice and with the consent of her spiritual father."[3] Under this Direction it is
easy to see in what exchequer the lands, manors, and revenues of widows will
ultimately be garnered.
But the Fathers deemed it inexpedient to leave
such an issue the least uncertain, and accordingly the seventh chapter enters
largely into the "Means of keeping in our hands the Disposition of the Estates
of Widows." To shut out worldly thoughts, and especially matrimonial ones, the
time of such widows must be occupied with their devotions; they are to be
exhorted to curtail their expenditure and abound yet more in alms "to the Church
of Jesus Christ." A dexterous confessor is to be appointed them. They are to be
frequently visited, and entertained with pleasant discourse. They are to be
persuaded to select a patron, or tutelary saint, say St. Francis or St. Xavier.
Provision is to be made that all they do be known, by placing about them only
persons recommended by the society.
We must be excused for not giving in
the words of the Fathers the fourteenth section of this chapter. That section
gives their proteges great license, indeed all license, "provided they be
liberal and well-affected to our society, and that all things be carried
cunningly and without scandal."
But the one great point to be aimed at is
to get them to make an entire surrender of their estates to the society. This is
to reach perfection now, and it may be to attain in future the yet higher reward
of canonisation. But should it so happen, from love of kindred, or other
motives, that they have not endowed the "poor companions of Jesus" with all
their worldly goods, when they come to die, the preferable claims of "the Church
of Jesus Christ" to those of kindred are to be urged upon them, and they are to
be exhorted "to contribute to the finishing of our colleges, which are yet
imperfect, for the greater glory of God, giving us lamps and pixes, and for the
building of other foundations and houses, which we, the poor servants of the
Society of Jesus, do still want, that all things may be perfected."[4]
"Let the same be
done with princes," the Instructions go on to say, "and our other benefactors,
who build us any sumptuous pile, or erect any foundation, representing to them,
in the first place, that the benefits they thus do us are consecrated to
eternity; that they shall become thereby perfect models of piety; that we will
have thereof a very particular memory, and that in the next world they shall
have their reward. But if it be objected that Jesus Christ was born in a stable,
and had not where to lay his head, and that we, who are his companions, ought
not to enjoy perishing goods, we ought to imprint strongly on their spirits that
in truth, at first, the Church was also in the same state, but now that by the
providence of God she is raised to a monarchy, and that in those times the
Church was nothing but a broken rock, which is now become a great mountain."[5]
In the chapter that
follows – the eighth, namely – the net is spread still wider. It is around the
feet of "the sons and daughters of devout widows" that its meshes are now drawn.
The scheme of machination and seduction unfolded in this chapter differs only in
its minor points from that which we have already had disclosed to us. We pass it
therefore, and go on to the ninth chapter, where we find the scheme still
widening, and wholesale rapacity and extortion, sanctified of course by the end
in view, still more openly avowed and enjoined. The chapter is entitled "Of the
Means to Augment the Revenues of our Colleges," and these means, in short, are
the astute and persistent deception, circumvention, and robbery of every class.
The net is thrown, almost without disguise, over the whole community, in order
that the goods, heritages, and possessions of all ranks–prince, peasant, widow,
and orphan–may be dragged into the convents of the Jesuits. The world is but a
large preserve for the mighty hunters of the Society of Jesus. "Above and before
all other things," says this Instruction, "we ought to endeavor our own
greatness, by the direction of our superiors, who are the only judges in this
case, and who should labor that the Church of God may be in the highest degree
of splendor, for the greater glory of God."[6]
In prosecution of
this worthy end, the Secret Instructions enjoin the Fathers to visit frequently
at rich and noble houses, and to "inform themselves, prudently and dexterously,
whether they will not leave something to our Churches, in order to the obtaining
remission of their sins, and of the sins of their kindred."[7] Confessors–and only able
and eloquent; men are to be appointed as confessors to princes and statesmen
–are to ascertain the name and surname of their penitents, the names of their
kindred and friends, whether they have hopes of succeeding to anything, and how
they mean to dispose of what they already have, or may yet have; whether they
have brothers, sisters, or heirs, and of what age, inclination, and education
they are. And they "should persuade them that all these questions do tend much
to the clearing of the state of their conscience."[8]
There is a
refreshing plainness about the following Instructions. They are given with the
air of men who had so often repeated their plea "for the greater glory of God,"
that they themselves had come at last to believe it: –
"Our provincial
ought to send expert men into all those places where there is any considerable
nmnber of rich and wealthy persons, to the end they may give their superiors a
true and faithful account."
"Let the stewards of our college get an exact
knowledge of the houses, gardens, quarries of stone, vineyards, manors, and
other riches of every one who lives near the place where they reside, and if it
be possible, what degree of affection they have for us."
"In the next
place we should discover every man's office, and the revenue of it, their
possessions, and the articles of their contracts, which they may surely do by
confessions, by meetings, and by entertainments, or by our trusty friends. And
generally when any confessor lights upon a wealthy person, from whom he hath
good hopes of profit, he is obliged forthwith to give notice of it, and discover
it at his return."
"They should also inform themselves exactly whether
there be any hope of obtaining bargains, goods, possessions,[9] pious gifts, and the like,
in exchange for the admission of their sons into our society."[10]
"If a wealthy
family have daughters only, they are to be drawn by caresses to become nuns, fit
which case a small portion of their estate may be assigned for their use, and
the rest will be ours." "The last heir of a family is by all means to be induced
to enter the society. And the better to relieve his mind from all fear of his
parents, he is to be taught that it is more pleasing to God that he take this
step without their knowledge or consent.[11] "Such a one," the
Instructions add, "ought to be sent to a distance to pass his
novitiate."
These directions were but too faithfully carried out in
Spain, and to this among other causes is owing the depopulation of that
once-powerful country. A writer who resided many years in the Peninsula, and had
the best opportunities of observing its condition, says: "If a gentleman has two
or three sons and as many daughters, the confessor of the family adviseth the
father to keep the eldest son at home, and send the rest, both sons and
daughters, into a convent or monastery; praising the monastic life, and saying
that to be retired from the world is the safest way to heaven...
The
fathers of these families, glad of lessening the expenses of the house, and of
seeing their children provided for, do send them into the desert place of a
convent, which is really the middle of the world. Now obsetwe that it is twenty
to one that their heir dieth before he marrieth and have children, so the estate
and everything else falls to the second, who is a professed friar, or nun, and
as they cannot use the expression of meum or tuum, all goes that way to the
society. And this is the reason why many families are extinguished, and their
names quite out of memory, the convent so crowded, the kingdom so thin of
people, and the friars, nuns, and monasteries so rich."[12]
Further, the
Fathers are counseled to raise large sums of money on bond. The advantage of
this method is, that when the bond-holder comes to die, it will be easy to
induce him to part with the bond in exchange for the salvation of his soul. At
all events, he is more likely to make a gift of the deed than to bequeath the
same amount in gold. Another advantage of borrowing in this fashion, is that
their pretense of poverty may still be kept up. Owners of a fourth or of a half
of the property of a county, they will still be "the poor companions of
Jesus."[13]
We make but one
other quotation from the Secret Instructions. It closes this series of pious
advices and is, in one respect, the most characteristic of them all. "Let the
superior keep these secret advices with great care, and let them not be
communicated but to a very few discreet persons, and that only by parts; and let
them instruct others with them, when they have profitably served the society.
And then let them not communicate them as rules they have received, but as the
effects of their own prudence. But if they should happen to fall into the hands
of strangers, who should give them an ill sense or construction, let them be
assured the society owns them not in that sense, which shall be confirmed by
instancing those of our order who assuredly know them not."[14]
It was some time
before the contingency of exposure here provided against actually happened. But
in the beginning of the seventeenth century the accidents of war dragged these
Secret Instructions from the darkness in which their authors had hoped to
conceal them from the knowledge of the world. The Duke of Brunswick, having
plundered the Jesuits' college at Paderborn in Westphalia, made a present of
their library to the Capuchins of the same town. Among the books which had thus
come into their possession was found a copy of the Secret Instructions. Another
copy is said to have been discovered in the Jesuits' college at Prague. Soon
thereafter reprints and translations appeared in Germany, Holland, France, and
England. The authenticity of the work was denied, as was to be expected; for any
society that was astute enough to compile such a book would be astute enough to
deny it. To only the fourth or highest order of Jesuits were these Instructions
to be communicated; the others, who were ignorant of them in their written form,
were brought forward to deny on oath that such a book existed, but their
protestations weighed very little against the overwhelming evidence on the other
side. The perfect uniformity of the methods followed by the Jesuits in all
countries favored a presumption that they acted upon a prescribed rule; and the
exact correspondence between their methods and the secret advices showed that
this was the rule. Gretza, a well-known member of the society, affirmed that the
Secreta Monita was a forgery by a Jesuit who had been dismissed with ignominy
from the society in Poland, and that he published it in 1616. But the falsehood
of the story was proved by the discovery in the British Museum of a work printed
in 1596, twenty years before the alleged forgery, in which the Secreta Monita is
copied.[15]
Since the first
discovery in Paderborn, copies of the Secreta Monita have been found in other
libraries, as in Prague, noted above. Numerous editions have since been
published, and in so many languages, that the idea of collusion is out of the
question. These editions all agree with the exception of a few unimportant
variations in the reading.[16] "These private
directions," says M. l'Estrange, "are quite contrary to the rules,
constitutions, and instructions which this society professeth publicly in those
books it hath printed on this subject. So that without difficulty we may believe
that the greatest part of their governors (if a very few be excepted especially)
have a double rule as well as a double habit–one for their private and
particular use, and another to flaunt with before the world."[17]
CHAPTER 8
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DIFFUSION OF THE JESUITS THROUGHOUT
CHRISTENDOM.
The Conflict Great–the Arms Sufficient–The Victory
Sure–Set Free from Episcopal Jurisdiction–Acceptance in Italy–Venice–Spain–
Portugal–Francis Xavier–France–Germany–Their First Planting in Austria–In
Cologne and Ingolstadt–Thence Spread over all Germany– Their Schools–Wearing of
Crosses–Revival of the Popish Faith.
THE soldiers of Loyola are about to go forth. Before
beginning the campaign we see their chief assembling them and pointing out the
field on which their prowess is to be displayed. The nations of Christendom are
in revolt: it will be theirs to subjugate them, and lay them once more, bound in
chains, at the feet of the Papal See. They must not faint; the arms he has
provided them with are amply sufficient for the arduous warfare on which he
sends them. Clad in that armor, and wielding it in the way he has shown them,
they will expel knowledge as night chases away the day. Liberty will die
wherever their foot shall tread. And in the ancient darkness they will be able
to rear again the fallen throne of the great Hierarch of Rome. But if the
service is hard, the wages will be ample. As the saviors of that throne they
will be greater than it. And though meanwhile their work is to be done in great
show of humility and poverty, the silver and the gold of Christendom will in the
end be theirs; they will be the lords of its lands and palaces, the masters of
the bodies and the souls of its inhabitants, and nothing of all that the heart
can desire will be withholden from them if only they will obey him.
The
Jesuits rapidly multiplied, and we are now to follow them in their
peregrinations over Europe. Going forth in little bands, animated with an entire
devotion to their General, schooled in all the arts which could help to further
their mission, they planted themselves in a few years in all the countries of
Christendom, and made their presence felt in the turning of the tide of
Protestantism, which till then had been on the flow.
There was no
disguise they could not assume, and therefore there was no place into which they
could not penetrate. They could enter unheard the closet of the monarch, or the
cabinet of the statesman. They could sit unseen in Convocation or General
Assembly, and mingle unsuspected in the deliberations and debates. There was no
tongue they could not speak, and no creed they could not profess, and thus there
was no people among whom they might not sojourn, and no Church whose membership
they might not enter, and whose fimctions they might not discharge. They could
execrate the Pope with the Lutheran, and swear the Solemn League with the
Covenanter. They had their men of learning and eloquence for the halls of nobles
and the courts of kings; their men of science and letters for the education of
youth; their unpolished but ready orators to harangue the crowd; and their
plain, unlettered monks, to visit the cottages of the peasantry and the
workshops of the artisan. "I know these men," said Joseph II of Austria, writing
to Choiseul, the Prime Minister of Louis XV– "I know these men as well as any
one can do: all the schemes they have carried on, and the pains they have taken
to spread darkness over the earth, as well as their efforts to rule and embroil
Europe from Cape Finisterre to Spitzbergen! In China they were mandarins; in
France, academicians, courtiers, and confessors; in Spain and Portugal,
grandees; and in Paraguay, kings. Had not my grand-uncle, Joseph I, become
emperor, we had in all probability seen in Germany, too, a Malagrida or an
Alvieros."
In order that they might be at liberty to visit what city and
diocese they pleased, they were exempted from episcopal jurisdiction. They could
come and go at their pleasure, and perform all their functions without having to
render account to any one save to their superior. This arrangement was resisted
at first by certain prelates; but it was universally conceded at last, and it
greatly facilitated the wide and rapid diffusion of the Jesuit
corps.
Extraordinary success attended their first efforts throughout all
Italy. Designed for the common people, the order found equal acceptance from
princes and nobles. In Parma the highest families submitted themselves to the
"Spiritual Exercises." In Venice, Lainez expounded the Gospel of St. John to a
congregation of nobles; and in 1542 a Jesuits' college was founded in that city.
The citizens of Montepulciano accompanied Francisco Strada through the streets
begging. Their chief knocked at the doors, and his followers received the alms.
In Faenza, they succeeded in arresting the Protestant movement, which had been
commenced by the eloquent Bernardino Ochino, and by the machinery of schools and
societies for the relief of the poor, they brought back the population to the
Papacy. These are but a few instances out of many of their popularity and
success.[1]
In the countries of
Spain and Portugal their success was even greater than in Italy. A son of the
soil, its founder had breathed a spirit into the order which spread among the
Spaniards like an infection. Some of the highest grandees enrolled themselves in
its ranks. In the province of Valencia, the multitudes that flocked to hear the
Jesuit preacher, Araoz, were such that no cathedral could contain them, and a
pulpit was erected for him in the open air. From the city of Salamanca, where in
1548 they had opened their establishment in a small, wretched house, the Jesuits
spread themselves over all Spain. Two members of the society were sent to the
King of Portugal, at his own request: the one he retained as his confessor, the
other he dispatched to the East Indies. This was that Francis Xavier who there
gained for himself, says Ranke, "the name of an apostle, and the glory of a
saint." At the courts of Madrid and Lisbon they soon acquired immense influence.
They were the confessors of the nobles and the counselors of the
monarch.
The Jesuits found it more difficult to force their way into
France. Much they wished to found a college in that city where their first vow
had been recorded, but every attempt was met by the determined opposition of the
Parliament and the clergy, who were jealous of their enormous
privileges.
The wars between the Guises and the Huguenots at length
opened a door for them. Lainez, who by this time had become their General, saw
his opportunity, and in 1561 succeeded in effecting his object, although on
condition of renouncing the peculiar privileges of the order, and submitting to
episcopal jurisdiction. "The promise was made, but with a mental reservation,
which removed the necessity of keeping it."[2] They immediately founded a
college in Paris, opened schools–which were taught by clever teachers–and
planted Jesuit seminaries at Avignon, Rhodes, Lyons, and other places. Their
intrigues kept the nation divided, and much inflamed the fury of the civil wars.
Henry III was massacred by an agent of theirs: they next attempted the life of
Henry IV. This crime led to their first banishment from France, in 1594; but
soon they crept back into the kingdom in the guise of traders and operatives.
They were at last openly admitted by the monarch–a service which they repaid by
slaughtering him in the streets of his capital. Under their rule France
continued to bleed and agonize, to plunge from woe into crime, and from crime
into woe, till the crowning wickedness of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes
laid the country prostrate; and it lay quiet for more than half a century, till,
recovering somewhat from its exhaustion, it lifted itself up, only to encounter
the terrible blow of its great Revolution.
We turn to Germany. Here it
was that the Church of Rome had suffered her first great losses, and here, under
the arms of the Jesuits, was she destined to make a beginning of those victories
which recovered not a little of the ground she had lost. A generation had passed
away since the rise of Protestantism. It is the year 1550: the sons of the men
who had gathered round Luther occupy the stage when the van of this great
invading host makes its appearance. They come in silence; they are plain in
their attire, humble and submissive in their deportment; but behind them are the
stakes and scaffolds of the persecutor, and the armies of France and Spain.
Their quiet words find their terrible reverberations in those awful tempests of
war which for thirty years desolated Germany.
Ferdinand I of Austria,
reflecting on the decay into which Roman Catholic feeling had fallen in Germany,
sent to Ignatius Loyola for a few zealous teachers to instruct the youth of his
dominions. In 1551, thirteen Jesuits, including Le Jay, arrived at Vienna. They
were provided with pensions, placed in the university chairs, and crept upwards
till they seized the entire direction of that seminary. From that hour date the
crimes and misfortunes of the House of Austria.[3]
A little colony of
the disciples of Loyola had, before this, planted itself at Cologne. It was not
till some years that they took root in that city; but the initial difficulties
surmounted, they began to effect a change in public sentiment, which went on
till Cologne became, as it is sometimes called, the "Rome of the North." About
the same time, the Jesuits became flourishing in Ingolstadt. They had been
driven away on their first entrance into that university seat, the professors
dreading them as rivals; but in 1556 they were recalled, and soon rose to
influence, as was to be expected in a city where the memory of Dr. Eck was still
fresh. Their battles, less noisy than his, were fated to accomplish much more
for the Papacy.
From these three centres–Vienna, Cologne, and
Ingolstadt–the Jesuits extended themselves over all Germany. They established
colleges in the chief zities for the sons of princes and nobles, and they opened
schools in town and village for the instruction of the lower classes. From
Vienna they distributed their colonies throughout the Austrian dominions. They
had schools in the Tyrol and the cities at the foot of its mountains. From
Prague they ramified over Bohemia, and penetrated into Hungary. Their colleges
at Ingolstadt and Munich gave them the possession of Bavaria, Franconia, and
Swabia. From Cologne they extended their convents and schools over Rhenish
Prussia, and, planting a college at Spires, they counteracted the influence of
Heidelberg University, then the resort of the most learned men of the German
nation.
Wherever the Jesuits came, there was quickly seen a manifest
revival of the Popish faith. In the short space of ten years, their
establishments had become flourishing in all the countries in which they were
planted. Their system of education was adapted to all classes. While they
studied the exact sciences, and strove to rival the most renowned of the
Protestant professors, and so draw the higher youth into their schools, they
compiled admirable catechisms for the use of the poor. They especially excelled
as teachers of Latin; and so great was their zeal and their success, that "even
Protestants removed their children from distant schools, to place them under the
care of the Jesuits."[4]
The teachers seldom
failed to inspire the youth in their schools with their own devotion to the
Popish faith. The sons of Protestant fathers were drawn to confession, and
by-and-by into general conformity to Popish practices. Food which the Church had
forbidden they would not touch on the interdicted days, although it was being
freely used by the other members of the family. They began, too, to distinguish
themselves by the use of Popish symbols. The wearing of crosses and rosaries is
recorded by Ranke as one of the first signs of the setting of the tide toward
Rome.
Forgotten rites began to be revived; relics which had been thrown
aside buried in darkness, were sought out and exhibited to the public gaze. The
old virtue returned into rotten bones, and the holiness of faded garments
flourished anew. The saints of the Church came out in bold relief, while those
of the Bible receded into the distance. The light of candles replaced the Word
of Life in the temples; the newest fashions of worship were imported from Italy,
and music and architecture in the style of the Restoration were called in to
reinforce the movement. Customs which had not been witnessed since the days of
their grandfathers, began to receive the reverent observance of the new
generation. "In the year 1560, the youth of Ingolstadt belonging to the Jesuit
school walked, two and two, on a pilgrimage to Eichstadt, in order to be
strengthened for their confirmation by the dew that dropped from the tomb of St.
Walpurgis."[5] The modes of though and
feeling thus implanted in the schools were, by means of preaching and
confession, propagated through the whole population.
While the Jesuits
were busy in the seminaries, the Pope operated powerfully in the political
sphere. He had recourse to various arts to gain over the princes. Duke Albert V
of Bavaria had a grant made him of one-tenth of the property of the clergy. This
riveted his decision on the side of Rome, and he now set himself with earnest
zeal and marked success to restore, in its ancient purity and rigor, the Popery
of his territories. The Jesuits lauded the piety of the duke, who was a second
Josias, a new Theodosius.[6]
The Popes saw
clearly that they could never hope to restore the ancient discipline and rule of
their Church without the help of the temporal sovereigns. Besides Duke Albert,
who so powerfully contributed to re-establish the sway of Rome over all Bavaria,
the ecclesiastical princes, who governed so large a part of Germany, threw
themselves heartily into the work of restoration. The Jesuit Canisins, a man of
blameless life, of consummate address, and whose great zeal was regulated by an
equal prudence, was sent to counsel and guide them. Under his management they
accepted provisionally the edicts of the Council of Trent. They required of all
professors in colleges subscription to a confession of the Popish
faith.
They exacted the same pledge from ordinary schoolmasters and
medical practitioners. In many parts of Germany no one could follow a profession
till first he had given public proof of his orthodoxy. Bishops were required to
exercise a more vigilant superintendence of their clergy than they had done
these twenty years past. The Protestant preachers were banished; and in some
parts the entire Protestant population was driven out. The Protestant nobles
were forbidden to appear at court. Many withdrew into retirement, but others
purchased their way back by a renunciation of their faith. By these and similar
arts Protestantism was conquered on what may be regarded as its native soil. If
not wholly rooted up it maintained henceforward but a languishing existence; its
leaf faded and its fruit died in the mephitic air around it, while Romanism shot
up in fresh strength and robustness. A whole century of calamity followed the
entrance of the Jesuits into Germany. The troubles they excited culminated at
last in the Thirty Years' War. For the space of a generation the thunder of
battle continued to roll over the Fatherland. But the God of their fathers had
not forsaken the Germans; it pleased him to summon from the distant Sweden,
Gustavus Adolphus, and by his arm to save the remnants of Protestant liberty in
that country. Thus the Jesuits failed in their design of subjugating the whole
of Germany, and had to content themselves with dominating over those portions,
unhappily large, of which the ecclesiastical princes had given them possession
at the first.
CHAPTER 9
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COMMERCIAL ENTERPRISES AND
BANISHMENTS.
England–Poland–Cardinal Hosius–Sigismund III–Ruin of
Poland– Jesuit Hissions in the East Indies–Numbers of their Converts–Their
Missions in Abyssinia–Their Kingdom of Paraguay–Their Trading Establishments in
the West Indies–Episode of Father la Valette– Bankruptcy–Trial–Their
Constitutions brought to Light – Banished from all Popish Kingdoms–Suppressed by
Clement XIV–The Pope Dies Suddenly–The Order Restored by Plus VII–The Jesuits
the Masters of the Pope.
OF the entrance of the Jesuits into England, the arts
they employed, the disguises they wore, the seditions they sowed, the snares
they laid for the life of the sovereign, and the plots they concocted for the
overthrow of the Protestant Church, we shall have an opportunity of speaking
when we come to narrate the history of Protestantism in Great Britain.
Meanwhiie, we consider their career in Poland.
Cardinal Hosius opened the
gates of this country to the Jesuits. Till then Poland was a flourishing
country, united at home and powerful abroad. Its literature and science during
the half-century preceding had risen to an eminence that placed Poland on a par
with the most enlightened countries of Christendom. It enjoyed a measure of
toleration which was then unknown to most of the nations of Europe. Foreign
Protestants fled to it as a refuge from the persecution to which they were
exposed in their native land, bringing to their adopted country their skill,
their wealth, and their energy. Its trade increased, and its towns grew in
population and riches. Italian, German, French, and Scottish Protestant
congregations existed at Cracow, Vilna, and Posnania.[1] Such was Poland before the
foot of Jesuit had touched its soil.
But from the hour that the disciples
of Loyola entered the country Poland began to decline. The Jesuits became
supreme at court; the monarch Sigismund III, gave himself entirely up to their
guidance; no one could hope to rise in the State who did not pay court to them;
the education of youth was wholly in their hands, and the effects became
speedily visible in the decay of literature,[2] and the growing
decrepitude of the national mind. At home the popular liberties were attacked in
the persons of the Protestants, and abroad the nation was humiliated by a
foreign policy inspired by the Jesuits, which drew upon the country the contempt
and hostility of neighboring powers. These evil courses of intrigue and faction
within the country, and impotent and arrogant policy outside of it, were
persisted in till the natural issue was reached in the partition of Poland. It
is at the door of the Jesuits that the fall of that once-enlightened,
prosperous, and powerful nation is to be laid.
It concerns us less to
follow the Jesuits into those countries which lie beyond the boundaries of
Christendom, unless in so far as their doings in these regions may help to throw
light on their principles and tactics. In following their steps among heathen
nations and savage races, it is alike impossible to withhold our admiration of
their burning zeal and intrepid courage, or our wonder at their prodigiously
rapid success. No sooner had the Jesuit missionary set foot on a new shore, or
preached, by an interpreter it might be, his first sermon in a heathen city,
than his converts were to be counted in tens of thousands. Speaking of their
missions in India, Sacchinus, their historian, says that "ten thousand men were
baptized in the space of one year."[3] When the Jesuit mission to
the East Indies was set on foot in 1559, Torrez procured royal letters to the
Portuguese viceroys and governors, empowering them to lend their assistance to
the missionaries for the conversion of the Indians. This shortened the process
wonderfully. All that had to be done was to ascertain the place where the
natives were assembled for some religious festival, and surround them with a
troop of soldiers, who, with leveled muskets, offered them the alternative of
baptism. The rite followed immediately upon the acceptance of the alternative;
and next day the baptized were taught the sign of the cross. In this excellent
and summary way was the evangelization of the island of Goa effected![4]
By similar methods
did they attempt to plant the Popish faith and establish their own dominion in
Abyssinia, and also at Mozambique (1560) on the opposite coast of Africa. One of
the pioneers, Oviedo, who had entered Ethiopia, wrote thus to the Pope:–"He must
be permitted to inform his Holiness that, with the assistance of 500 or 600
Portuguese soldiers, he could at any time reduce the Empire of Abyssinia to the
obedience of the Pontificate; and when he considered that it was a country
surrounded with territories abounding with the finest gold, and promising a rich
harvest of souls to the Church, he trusted his Holiness would give the matter
further consideration."[5] The Emperor of Ethiopia
was gained by flatteries and miracles; a terrible persecution was raised against
the native Christians; thousands were massacred; but at last, the king having
detected the authors of these barbarities plotting against his own life and
throne, they were ignominiously expelled the country.
Having secured the
territory of Paraguay, a Portuguese possession in South America, the Jesuits
founded a kingdom there, and became its sovereigns. They treated the natives at
first with kindness, and taught them several useful arts, but by-and-by they
changed their policy, and, reducing them to slavery, compelled them to labor for
their benefit. Dealing out to the Paraguayan peasant from the produce of his own
toil as much as would suffice to feed and clothe him, the Fathers laid up the
rest in large storehouses, which they had erected for the purpose. They kept
carefully concealed from the knowledge of Europe this seemingly exhaustless
source of wealth, that no one else might share its sweets. They continued all
the while to draw from it those vast sums wherewith they carried on their
machinations in the Old World. With the gold wrung from the Paraguayan peasants'
toil they hired spies, bribed courtiers, opened new missions, and maintained
that pomp and splendor of their establishments by which the populace were
dazzled.[6]
Their
establishments in Brazil formed the basis of a great and enriching trade, of
which Santa Fe and Buenos Ayres were the chief depots. But the most noted
episode of this kind in their history is that of Father Lavalette (1756). He was
Visitor-General and Apostolic Prefect of their Missions in the West Indies. "He
organized offices in St. Domingo, Granada, St. Lucia, St. Vincent, and other
islands, and drew bills of exchange on Paris, London, Bordeaux, Nantes, Lyons,
Cadiz, Leghorn, and Amsterdam." His vessels, loaded with riches, comprising,
besides colonial produce, negro slaves, "crossed the sea continually."[7] Trading on credit, they
professed to give the property of the society as security. Their methods of
business were abnormal. Treaties obeyed by other merchants they
disregarded.
Neutrality laws were nothing to them. They hired ships which
were used as traders or privateers, as suited them, and sailed under whatever
flag was convenient. At last, however, came trouble to these Fathers, who were
making, as the phrase is, "the best of both worlds." The Brothers Lioncy and
Gouffre, of Marseilles, had accepted their bills for a million and a half of
livres, to cover which two vessels had been dispatched for Martinique with
merchandise to the value of two millions, unfortunately for the Fathers, the
ships were captured at sea by the English.
The house of Lioncy and
Gouffre asked the superior of the Jesuits in Marseilles for four thousand
livres, as part payment of their debt, to save them from bankruptcy. The Father
replied that the society was not answerable, but he offered the Brothers Lioncy
and Gouffre the aid of their prayers, fortified by the masses which they were
about to say for them. The masses would not fill the coffers which the Jesuits
had emptied, and accordingly the merchants appealed to Parliament craving a
decree for payment of the debt. The appeal was allowed, and the Jesuits were
condemned to honor the bills drawn by their agent. At this critical moment the
General of the society died: delay was inevitable: the new General sent all the
funds he could raise; but before these supplies could reach Marseilles, Lioncy
and Gouffre had become bankrupt, involving in their misfortune their connections
in all parts of France.
Now that the ruin had come and publicity was
inevitable, the Jesuits refused to pay the debt, pleading that they were
protected from the claims of their creditors by their Constitutions. The cause
now came to a public hearing. After several pleas had been advanced and
abandoned, the Jesuits took their final stand on the argument which, in an evil
hour for themselves, they had put forth at first in their defense. Their rules,
they said, forbade them to trade; and the fault of individual members could not
be punished upon the Order: they were shielded by their Constitutions. The
Parliament ordered these documents to be produced. They had been kept secret
till now. They were laid before Parliament on the 16th of April, 1761. The
result was disastrous for the Jesuits. They lost their cause, and became much
more odious than before. The disclosure revealed Jesuitism to men as an
organization based on the most iniquitous maxims, and armed with the most
terrible weapons for the accomplishment of their object, which was to plant
their own supremacy on the ruin of society. The Constitutions were one of the
principal grounds of the decree for the extinction of the order in France, in
1762. [8]
That political
kingdoms and civil communities should feel the Order a burden too heavy to be
borne, is not to be wondered at when we reflect that even the Popes, of whose
throne it was the pillar, have repeatedly decreed its extinction. Strange as it
may seem, the first bolt in later times that fell on the Jesuits was launched by
the hand of Rome. Benedict IV, by a bull issued in 1741, prohibited them from
engaging in trade and making slaves of the Indians. In 1759, Portugal, finding
itself on the brink of ruin by their intrigues, shook them off. This example was
soon followed in France, as we have already narrated. Even in Spain, with all
its devotion to the Papal See, all the Jesuit establishments were surrounded,
one night in 1767, with troops, and the whole fraternity, amounting to 7,000,
were caught and shipped off to Italy. Immediately thereafter a similar expulsion
befell them in South America. Naples, Malta, and Parma were the next to drive
them from their soil. The severest blow was yet to come. Clement XIII, hitherto
their firm friend, yielding at last to the unanimous demands of all the Roman
Catholic courts, summoned a secret conclave for the suppression of the Order: "a
step necessary," said the brief of his successor, "in order to prevent
Christians rising one against another, and massacring one another in the very
bosom of our common mother the Holy Church." Clement died suddenly the very
evening before the day appointed for the conclave. Lorenzo Ganganelli was
elevated to the vacant chair under the title of Clement XIV. Ganganelli was
studious, learned, of pure morals, and of genuine piety. From the schoolmen he
turned to the Fathers, forsaking the Fathers he gave himself to the study of the
Holy Scriptures, where he learned on what Rock to fix the anchor of his faith.
Clement XIV strove for several years, with honest but mistaken zeal, to reform
the Order. His-efforts were fruitless. On the 21st of July, 1773, he issued the
famous bull, "Dominus ac Redemptor noster," By which he "dissolved and for ever
annihilated the Order as a corporate body," at a moment when it counted 22,000
members.[9]
The bull justifies
itself by a long and formidable list of charges against the Jesuits. Had this
accusation proceeded from a Protestant pen it might have been regarded as not
free from exaggeration, but coming from the Papal chair it must be accepted as
the sober truth. The bull of Clement charged them with raising various
insurrections and rebellions, with plotting against bishops, undermining the
regnlar monastic orders, and invading pious foundations and corporations of
every sort, not only in Europe, but in Asia and America, to the danger of souls
and the astonishment of all nations. It charged them with engaging in trade, and
that, instead of seeking to convert the heathen, they had shown themselves
intent only on gathering gold and silver and precious jewels. They had
interpolated pagan rites and manners with Christian beliefs and worship: they
had set aside the ordinances of the Church, and substituted opinions which the
apostolic chair had pronounced fundamentally erroneous and evidently subversive
of good morals. Tumults, disturbances, violences, had followed them in all
countries. In fine, they had broken the peace of the Church, and so incurably
that the Pontificates of his predecessors, Urban VIII, Clements IX, X, XI, and
XII, Alexanders VII and VIII, Innocents X, XI, XII, and XIII, and Benedict XIV,
had been passed in abortive attempts to re-establish the harmony and concord
which they had destroyed. It was now seen that the peace of the Church would
never be restored while the Order existed, and hence the necessity of the bull
which dispossessed the Jesuits of "every office, service, and administration;"
took away from them "their houses, schools, hospitals, estates; " withdrew "all
their statutes, usuages, decrees, customs, and ordinances;" and pronounced "all
the power of the General, Provincial, Visitors, and every other head of the same
Order, whether spiritual or secular, to be for ever annulled and suppressed."
"The present ordinance," said the bull, in conclusion, "shall remain in full
force and operation from henceforth and for ever."
Nothing but the most
tremendous necessity could have made Clement XIV issue this bull. He knew well
how unforgiving was the pride and how deadly the vengeance of the Society, and
he did not conceal from himself the penalty he should have to pay for decreeing
its suppression. On laying down his pen, after having put his name to the bull,
he said to those around him that he had subscribed his death-warrant.[10] The Pope was at that time
in robust health, and his vigorous constitution and temperate habits promised a
long life. But now dark rumors began to be whispered in Italy that the Pontiff
would die soon. In April of the following year he began to decline without any
apparent cause: his illness increased: no medicine was of any avail: and after
lingering in torture for months, he died, September 22nd, 1774. "Several days
before his death," says Caraccioli, "his bones were exfoliated and withered like
a tree which, attacked at its roots, withers away and throws off its bark. The
scientific men who were called in to embalm his body found the features livid,
the lips black, the abdomen inflated, the limbs emaciated, and covered with
violet spots. The size of the head was diminished, and all the muscles were
shrunk up, and the spine was decomposed. They filled the body with perfumed and
aromatic substances, but nothing could dispel the mephitic effluvia."[11]
The suppression
with which Clement XIV smote the Society of Jesus was eternal; but the "forever"
of the bull lasted only in actual deed during the brief interval that elapsed
between 1773 and 1814. That short period was filled up with the awful tempest of
the French Revolution–to the fallen thrones and desecrated altars of which the
Jesuits pointed as the monuments of the Divine anger at the suppression of their
Order. Despite the bull of Clement, the Jesuits had neither ceased to exist nor
ceased to act. Amid the storms that shook the world they were energetically
active.
In revolutionary conventions and clubs, in war-councils and
committees, on battle-fields they were present, guiding with unseen but powerful
touch the course of affairs. Their maxim is, if despotisms will not serve them,
to demoralize society and render government impossible, and from chaos to
remodel the world anew. Thus the Society of Jesus, which had gone out of
existence before the Revolution, as men believed, started up in full force the
moment after, prepared to enter on the work of moulding and ruling the nations
which had been chastised but not enlightened. Scarcely had Pins VII returned to
the Vatican, when, by a bull dated August 7th, 1814, he restored the Order of
Jesus. Thaddeus Borzodzowsky was placed at their head. Once more the brotherhood
stalked abroad in their black birettas. In no long time their colleges,
seminaries, and novitiates began to flourish in all the countries of Europe,
Ireland and England not excepted.
Their numbers, swelled by the
sodalities of "St. Vincent de Paul," "Brothers of the Christian Doctrine," and
other societies affiliated with the order, became greater, perhaps, than they
ever were at any former period. And their importance was vastly enhanced by the
fact that the contest between the "Order" and the "Papal Chair"
ended–temporarily, at any rate–in the enslavement of the Popedom, of which they
inspired the policy, indited the decrees, and wielded the
power.
CHAPTER
10 Back to
Top
RESTORATION OF THE
INQUISITION.
Failure of Ratisbon Conference–What Next to be
Done?–Restore the Inquisition–Paul III–Caraffa–His History–Spread of
Protestantism in Italy–Juan di Valdez–His Reunions at Chiaja–Peter Martyr
Vermigli– Bernardino Ochino–Galeazzo CaraccioliVittoria Colonna, etc.–Pietro
Carnesecchi, etc.–Shall Naples or Geneva Lead in the Reform
Movement?
THERE is one arm of the Jesuits to which we have not
yet adverted. The weapon that we refer to was not indeed unknown to former
times, but it had fallen out of order, and had to be refurbished, and made fit
for modern exigencies. No small part of the success that attended the operations
of the Jesuits was owing to their use of it. That weapon was the Inquisition. We
have narrated in a former chapter the earnest attempt made at the Conference of
Ratisbon to find a basis of conciliation between the Protestant and the Popish
churches. The way had been paved at Rome for this attempted reconcilement of the
two creeds by an infusion of new blood into the College of Cardinals. Gaspar
Contarini, a senator of Venice, who was known to hold opinions on the doctrine
of jusitification differing very little, if at all, from those of Luther,[1] was invested with the
purple of the cardinalate. The chair of the Doge almost within his reach,
Contarini was induced to come to Rome and devote the influence of his high
character and great talents to the doubtful experiment of reforming the Papacy.
By his advice, several ecclesiastics whose sentiments approximated to his own
were added to the Sacred College, among other Sadoleto, Gioberto Caraffa, and
Reginald Pole.
In the end, these new elections but laid a basis for a
more determined and bloody resistance to Protestantism. This was in the future
as yet; meanwhile the reforming measures, for which this change in the
cardinalate was to pave the way, were taken. Deputies were sent to the Ratisbon
Conference, with instructions to make such concessions to the Reformers as might
not endanger the fundamental principles of the Papacy, or strip the tiara of its
supremacy. The issue was what we have announced in a previous part of our
history. When the deputies returned from the Diet, and told Paul III that all
their efforts to frame a basis of agreement between the two faiths had proved
abortive, and that there was not a country in Christendom where Protestantism
was not spreading, the Pope asked in alarm, "What then is to be done?" Cardinal
Caraffa, and John Alvarez de Toledo, Bishop of Burgos, to whom the question was
addressed, immediately made answer, Re-establish the Inquisition.
The
proposal accorded well with the gloomy genius, unbending opinions, and stern
bigotry of the men from whom it came. Caraffa and Toledo were old Dominicans,
the same order to whom Innocent III had committed the working of the "Holy
Tribunal," when it was first set up. Men of pure but austere life, they were
prepared to endure in their own persons, or to inflict on the persons of others,
any amount of suffering and pain, rather than permit the Roman Church to be
overthrown. Re-establish the Inquisition, said Caraffa; let the supreme tribunal
be set up in Rome, with subordinate branches ramifying over all Europe. "Here in
Rome must the successors of Peter destroy all the heresies of the whole
world."[2] The Jesuit historians take
care to tell us that Caraffa's proposal was seconded by a special memorial from
the founder of their order, Ignatius Loyola.
The bull re-establishing the
Inquisition was published July 21st, 1542. The "Holy Office" revived with
terrors unknown to it in former ages. It had now a plenitude of power. Its
jurisdiction extended over all countries, and not a man in all Christendom,
however exalted in rank or dignity, but was liable to be made answerable at its
bar. The throne was no protection; the altar was no shield; withered age and
blooming youth, matron and maiden, might any hour be seized by its familiars,
and undergo the question in the dark underground chamber, where, behind a table,
with its crucifix and taper, sat the inquisitor, his stern pitiless features
surmounted by his black cowl, and all around the instruments of torture. Till
the most secret thought had been wrung out of the breast, no mercy was to be
shown. For the inquisitor to feel the least pity for his writhing victim was to
debase himself. Such were the instructions drafted by Caraffa. The history of
the man who restored the Inquisition is one of great interest, and more than
ordinary instruction, but it is touchingly sad.
Caraffa had been a member
of the Oratory of Divine Love, which was a little circle of moderate Reformers,
that held its sitting in the Trastevere at Rome, and occupied, as regarded the
Reform of the Roman Church, a position midway between the champions of things as
they were, and the company of decided adherents of the Gospel, which held its
reunions at Chiaja, in Naples, and of which we shall speak below. Caraffa had
"tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come," but the
gracious stirrings of the Spirit, and the struggles of his own conscience, he
had quelled, and from the very threshold of Rest which he was seeking in the
Gospel, he had cast himself again into the arms of an infallible
Church.
With such a history it was not possible that Caraffa could act a
middle part. He threw himself with sterner zeal into the dreadful work of
reviving the Inquisition than did even Paul III, under whom he served, and whom
he was destined to succeed. "Caraffa," says the historian Ranke, "lost not a
moment in carrying tlfis edict into execution; he would have thought it waste of
time to wait for the usual issue of means from the apostolic treasury, and,
though by no means rich, he hired a house for immediate proceedings at his own
expense; this he fitted up with rooms for the officers, and prisons for the
accused, supplying the latter with strong bolts and locks, with dungeons,
chains, blocks, and every other fearful appurtenance of his office. He appointed
commissioners-general for the different countries."[3]
The resolution to
restore the Inquisition was taken at a critical moment for Italy, and all the
countries south of the Alps. The dawn of the Protestant day was breaking around
the very throne of the Pope. From the city of Ferrara in the north, where the
daughter of Louis XII, the correspondent of Calvin, sheltered in her palace the
disciples of the Gospel, to the ancient Parthenope, which looks down from its
fig and aloe covered heights upon the calm waters of its bay, the light was
breaking in a clearness and fullness that gave promise that in proportion to the
depth of the previous darkness, so would be the splendors of the coming day.
Distinguished as the land of the Renaissance, Italy seemed about to become yet
more distinguished as the land of Protestantism. At the foot of Fiesole, and in
that Florence on which Cosine and the brilliant group of scholars around him had
so often looked down, while they talked of Plato, there were men who had learned
a better knowledge than that which the Greek sage had taught. In Padua, in
Bologna, in Lucca, in Modena, in Rome,[4] and in other cities of
classic fame, some of the first families had embraced the Gospel.
Men of
rank in the State, and of eminence in the Church, persons of mark in the
republic of letters, orators, poets, and some noble ladies, as eminent for their
talents as for their birth, were not ashamed to enrol themselves among the
disciples of that faith which the Lutheran princes had confessed at Augsburg,
and which Calvin was propagating from the little town on the shores of the
Leman, then beginning to attract the notice of the world. But of all the
Protestant groups now forming in Italy, none equalled in respect of brilliance
of rank, luster of talent, and devotion of faith, that which had gathered round
Juan di Valdez on the lovely shore of Naples.
This distinguished Spaniard
had been forced to leave the court of Charles V and his native land for the sake
of the Gospel. On the western arm of the Bay of Naples, hard by the tomb of
Virgil, looking forth on the calm sea, and the picturesque island of Capri, with
the opposite shore, on which Vesuvius, with its pennon of white vapor atop, kept
watch over the cities which 1,400 years before it had wrapped in a winding-sheet
of ashes, and enclosed in a tomb of lava, was placed the villa of Valdez. There
his friends often assembled to discuss the articles of the Protestant creed, and
confirm one another in their adherence to the Gospel. Among these was Peter
Martyr Vermigli, Prior of St. Peter's ad aram. In the wilderness of Ro-manism
the prior had become parched with thirst, for no water could he find that could
refresh his soul. Valdez led him to a fountain, whereat Martyr drank, and
thirsted no more. In his turn he zealously led others to the same living stream.
Another member of that Protestant band was Caserta, a Neapolitan nobleman. He
had a young relative, then wholly absorbed in the gaieties and splendors of
Naples; him Caserta introduced to Valdez. This was Galeazzo Caraccioli, only son
of the Marquis of Vice, who embraced the Gospel with his whole heart, and when
the tempest dispersed the brilliant company to which he had joined himself,
leaving his noble palace, his rich patrimony, his virtuous wife, his dear
children, and all his flourishing honors, he cleaved to the cross, and repairing
to Geneva was there, in the words of Calvin, "content with our littleness, and
lives frugally according to the habits of the commonalty–neither more nor less
than any one of us."[5]
In 1536 this select
society received another member. Bernardino Ochino, the great orator of Italy,
came at that time to Naples to preach the Lent Sermons. A native of Sienna, he
assumed the cowl of St. Francis, which he afterwards exchanged for the frock of
the more rigid order of the Capu-chins. He was so eloquent that Charles V said
of him, "That man is enough to make the stones weep." His discourses were
impregnated with the great principles of the Protestant faith, and his eloquence
drew overwhelming crowds to the Church of St. Giovanni Maggiore, where he was
now preaching. His accession to the society around Valdez gave it great
additional strength, for the preacher was daily scattering the seeds of Divine
truth among the common people. And not among these only, for persons of all
ranks crowded to hear the eloquent Capuchin. Among his audience might be seen
Giulia de Gonzaga, widow of the Duke of Trajetto, reputed the most beautiful
woman in Italy, and, what was higher praise, one of the most humble and sincere
of its Christians. And there was Vitteria Colonna, Marchioness of Pescaro, also
renowned for the loveliness of her person, and not less renowned for her talents
and virtues.
And there was Pietro Carnesecchi, a patrician of Florence,
and a former secretary of Clement VII, now a disciple, and afterwards to be a
martyr, of the Gospel. Such were the illustrious men and the high-born women
that formed this Protestant propaganda in Naples. It comprehended elements of
power which promised brilliant results in the future. It formed a galaxy of
rank, talent, oratory, genius, and tact, adapted to all classes of the nation,
and constituted, one would have thought, such an organisation or "Bureau" as was
sure to originate, and in due time accomplish, the Reformation of Italy. The
ravages the Gothic nations had inflicted, and the yet greater ravages of the
Papacy, were on the point of being repaired, and the physical loveliness which
Italy had known in her first days, and a moral beauty greater than she had ever
known, were about to be restored to her. It was during those same years that
Calvin was beginning his labors at Geneva, and fighting with the Pantheistic
Libertines for a secure foothold on which to place his Reformation, that this
little phalanx of devoted Protestant champions was formed on the shore of
Naples.
Of the two movements, the southern one appeared at that hour by
much the more hopeful. Contemplated from a human point of view, it had all the
elements of success. Here the flower of an ancient nation was gathering on its
own soil to essay the noble task of evoking into a second development those
mighty energies which had long slumbered, but were not dead, in the bosom of a
race that had given arts and letters and civilisation to the West.
Every
needful power and gift was present in the little company here confederate for
the glorious enterprise. Though small in numbers this little host was great in
names, comprehending as it did men of ancient lineage, of noble birth, of great
wealth, of accomplished scholarship, of poetical genius, and of popular
eloquence. They could appeal, moreover, to a past of renown, the traditions of
which had not yet perished, and the memory of which might be helpful in the
struggle to shake off the yoke of the present. These were surpassing advantages
compared with the conditions of the movement at Geneva–a little town which had
borrowed glory from neither letters nor arms; with a population rude, lawless,
and insolent; a diminutive territory, overshadowed on all sides by powerful and
hostile monarchs, who stood with arm uplifted to strike down Protestantism
should it here raise its head; and, most discouraging of all, the movement was
guided by but one man of note, and he a stranger, an exile, without the prestige
of birth, or rank, or wealth. The movement at Geneva cannot succeed; that at
Naples cannot fail: so would we have said. But the battle of Protestantism was
not to the strong. The world needs to have the lesson often repeated, that it is
the truth of principles and not the grandeur of names that gives assurance of
victory. The young vine planted beneath the towers of the ancient Parthenope,
and which was shooting forth so hopefully in the golden air of that classic
region, was to wither and die, while that which had taken root beneath the
shadow of the Alps was to expand amid the rude blasts of the Swiss mountains,
and stretch its boughs over Christendom.
CHAPTER
11 Back to
Top
THE TORTURES OF THE
INQUISITION.
A Stunning Blow–Three Classes in Italy–Flight of Peter
Martyr Vermigli –of Ochino–Caraffa made Pope–The Martyrs, Mollio and Tisserano–
Italian Protestantism Crushed–A Notable Epoch–Three Movements– The Inquisition
at Nuremberg–The Torture-Chamber– Its Furnishings– Max Tower–The Chamber of
Question–The various Instruments of Torture–The Subterranean Dungeons–The Iron
Virgin–Her Office– The Burial of the Dead.
THE re-establishment of the Inquisition decided the
question of the Reformation of Italy. The country, struck with this blow as it
was lifting itself up, instantly fell back into the old gulf. It had become
suddenly apparent that religious reform must be won with a great fight of
suffering, and Italy had not strength to press on through chains, and dungeons,
and scaffolds to the goal she wished to reach. The prize was glorious, she saw,
but the price was great. Pallavicino has confessed that it was the Inquisition
that saved Italy from lapsing into Protestantism.[1]
The religious
question had divided the Italians of that day into three classes. The bulk of
the nation had not thought on the question at all, and harbored no purpose of
leaving the Church of Rome. To them the restoration of the Inquisition had no
terrors. There was another and large class who had abandoned Rome, but who had
not clearness to advance to the open profession of Protestantism. They were most
to be pitied of all should they fall into the hands of the inquisitors, seeing
they were too undecided either to decline or to face the horrors of the Holy
Office. The third class were in no doubt as to the course they must pursue. They
could not return to a Church which they held to be superstitious, and they had
no alternative before them but provide for their safety by flight, or await
death amid the fires of the Inquisition. The consternation was great; for the
Protestants had not dreamed of their enemies having recourse to such violent
measures. Numbers fled, and these fugitives were to be found in every city of
Switzerland and Germany.[2] Among these was Bernardino
Ochino, on whose eloquent orations all ranks of his countrymen had been hanging
but a few months before, and in whose audience the emperor himself might be seen
when he visited Italy. Not, however, till he had been served with a citation
from the Holy Office at Rome did Ochino make his escape. Flight was almost as
bitter as death to the orator. He was leaving behind him the scene of those
brilliant triumphs which he could not hope to renew on a foreign soil. Pausing
on the summit of the Great St. Bernard, he devoted a few moments to those
feelings of regret which were so natural on abandoning so nmch that he could not
hope ever again to enjoy. He then went forward to Geneva. But, alas! the best
days of the eloquent monk were past. At Geneva, Ochino's views became tainted
and obscured with the new philosophy, which was beginning to air itself at that
young school of pantheism.
Peter Martyr Vermigli soon followed. He was
presiding over the convent of his order in Lucca, when the storm came with such
sudden violence. He set his house in order and fled; but it was discovered after
he was gone that the heresy remained although the heretic had escaped, his
opinions having been embraced by many of the Luccese monks. The same was found
to be the case with the order to which Ochino belonged, the Capuchins namely,
and the Pope at first meditated, as the only cure, the suppression of both
orders. Peter Martyr went ultimately to Strasburg, and a place was found for him
in its university, where his lamp continued to burn clearly to the close. Juan
di Valdez died before the tempest burst, which drove beyond the Alps so many of
the distinguished group that had formed itself around him at Pausilippo, and saw
not the evil days which came on his adopted country. But the majority of those
who had embraced the Protestant faith were unable to escape. They were immured
in the prisons of the various Holy Offices throughout Italy; some were kept in
dark cells for years, in the hope that they would recant, others were quickly
relieved by martyrdom. The restorer of the Inquisition, the once reforming
Caraffa, mounted the Papal chair, under the name of Paul IV. The rigors of the
Holy Office were not likely to be relaxed under the new Pope; but twenty years
were needed to enable the torture and the stake to annihilate the Protestants of
Italy.[3]
Of those who
suffered martyrdom we shall mention only two–Mollio, a Bolognese professor,
renowned throughout Italy for his learning and his pure life; and Tisserano, a
native of Perugia. On the 15th of September, 1553, an assembly of the
Inquisition, consisting of six cardinals with their episcopal assessors, was
held with great pomp at Rome. A train of prisoners, with burning tapers in their
hands, was led in before the tribunal. All of them recanted save Mollio and
Tisserano. On leave being given them to speak, Mollio broke out, says McCrie,
"in a strain of bold and fervid invective, which chained them to their seats, at
the same time that it cut them to the quick." He rebuked his judges for their
lewdness, their avarice, and their blood-thirsty cruelty, and concluded as
follows: –
"'Wherefore I appeal from your sentence, and summon you, cruel
tyrants and murderers, to answer before the judgment-seat of Christ at the last
day, where your pompous titles and gorgeous trappings will not dazzle, nor your
guards and torturing apparatus terrify us. And in testimony of this, take back
that which you have given me.' In saying this, he threw the flaming torch which
he held in his hand on the ground, and extinguished it. Galled, and gnashing
upon him with their teeth, like the persecutors of the first Christian martyrs,
the cardinals ordered Mollio, together with his companion, who approved of the
testimony he had borne, to instant execution. They were conveyed, accordingly,
to the Campo del Flor, where they died with the most pious fortitude."[4]
The eight years
that elapsed between 1534 and 1542 are notable ones in the annals of Protestant
Christiemiry. That epoch witnessed the birth of three movements, Which were
destined to stamp a character upon the future of Europe, and powerfully to
modify the conflict then in progress in Christendom. In 1534 the Jesuits
recorded their first vow in the Church of Montmartre, in Paris. In 1540 their
society was regularly launched by the Papal edict. In 1542, Paul III issued the
bull for the re-establishment of the Inquisition; and in 1541 Calvin returned to
Geneva, to prepare that spiriturd army that was to wage battle with Jesuitism
backed by the Inquisition. The meeting of these dates–the contemporaneous rise
of these three instrumentalities, is sufficiently striking, and is one of the
many proofs which we meet in history that there is an Eye watching all that is
done on earth, and that never does an agency start up to destroy the world, but
there is set over against it a yet more powerful agency to convert the evil it
would inflict into good.
It is one of these great epochs at which we have
arrived. Jesuitism, the consummation of error – the Inquisition, the maximum of
force, stand up and array themselves against a now fully developed
Protestantism. In following the steps of the combatants, we shall be led in
succession to the mountains of the Waldenses, to the cities of France, to the
swamps of Holland, to the plains of Germany, to Italy, to Spain, to England and
Scotland. Round the whole of Christendom will roll the tide of this great
battle, casting down one nation into the darkness of slavery, and lifting up
another into the glory of freedom, and causing the gigantic crimes of the
persecutor and the despot to be forgotten in the excelling splendor of the
patriot and the martyr. This is the struggle with the record of which we shall
presently be occupied. Meanwhile we proceed to describe one of those few
Inquisitions that remain to this day in almost the identical state in which they
existed when the Holy Office was being vigorously worked. This will enable us to
realize more vividly the terror of that weapon which Paul III prepared for the
hands of the Jesuits, and the Divine power of that faith which enabled the
confessors of the Gospel to withstand and triumph over it.
Turn we now to
the town of Nuremberg, in Bavaria. The zeal with which Duke Albert, the
sovereign of Bavaria, entered into the restoration of Roman Catholicism, we have
already narrated. To further the movement, he provided every one of the chief
towns of his dominions with a Holy Office, and the Inquisition of Nuremberg
still remains–an anomalous and horrible monument in the midst of a city where
the memorials of an exquisite art, and the creations of an unrivalled genuis,
meet one at every step. We shall first describe the Chamber of Torture.[5]
The house so called
immediately adjoins the Imperial Castle, which from its lofty site looks down on
the city, whose Gothic towers, sculptured fronts, and curiously ornamented
gables are seen covering both banks of the Pegnitz, which rolls below. The house
may have been the guard-room of the castle. It derives its name, the
Torture-chamber, not from the fact that the torture was here inflicted, but
because into this one chamber has been collected a complete set of the
instruments of torture gleaned from the various Inquisitions that formerly
existed in Bavaria. A glance suffices to show the whole dreadful apparatus by
which the adherents of Rome sought to maintain her dogmas. Placed next to the
door, and greeting the sight as one enters, is a collection of hideous masks.
These represent creatures monstrous of shape, and malignant and fiendish of
nature, It is in beholding them that we begin to perceive how subtle was the
genius that devised this system of coercion, and that it took the mind as well
as the body of the victim into account. In gazing on them, one feels as if he
had suddenly come into polluting and debasing society, and had sunk to the same
moral level with the creatures here figured before him. He suffers a conscious
abatement of dignity and fortitude. The persecutor had calculated, doubtless,
that the effect produced upon the mind of his victim by these dreadfid
apparitions, would be that he would become morally relaxed, and less able to
sustain his cause. Unless of strong mind, indeed, the unfortunate prisoner, on
entering such a place, and seeing himself encompassed with such unearthly and
hideous shapes, must have felt as if he were the vile heretic which the
persecutor styled him, and as if already the infernal den had opened its
portals, and sent forth its venomous swarms to bid him welcome. Yourself
accursed, with accursed beings are you henceforth to dwell–such was the silent
language of these abhorred images.
We pass on into the chamber, where
more dreadful sights meet our gaze. It is hung round and round with instruments
of torture, so numerous that it would take a long while even to name them, and
so diverse that it would take a much longer time to describe them. We must take
them in groups, for it were hopeless to think of going over them one by one, and
particularising the mode in which each operated, and the ingenuity and art with
which all of them have been adapted to their horrible end. There were
instruments for compressing the fingers till the bones should be squeezed to
splinters. There were instruments for probing below the finger-nails till an
exquisite pain, like a burning fire, would run along the nerves. There were
instruments for tearing out the tongue, for scooping out the eyes, for
grubbing-up the ears. There were bunches of iron cords, with a spiked circle at
the end of every whip, for tearing the flesh from the back till bone and sinew
were laid bare. There were iron cases for the legs, which were tightened upon
the limb placed in them by means of a screw, till flesh and bone were reduced to
a jelly. There were cradles set full of sharp spikes, in which victims were laid
and rolled from side to side, the wretched occupant being pierced at each
movement of the machine with innumerable sharp points. There were iron ladles
with long handles, for holding molten lead or boiling pitch, to be poured down
the throat of the victim, and convert his body into a burning cauldron. There
were frames with holes to admit the hands and feet, so contrived that the person
put into them had his body bent into unnatural and painful positions, and the
agony grew greater and greater by moments, and yet the man did not die. There
were chestfuls of small but most ingeniously constructed instruments for
pinching, probing, or tearing the more sensitive parts of the body, and
continuing the pain up to the very verge where reason or life gives way. On the
floor and walls of the apartment were other and larger instruments for the same
fearful end–lacerating, mangling, and agonizing living men; but these we shall
meet in other dungeons we are yet to visit.
The first impression on
entering the chamber was one of bewildering horror; a confused procession of
mangled, mutilated, agonising men, speechless in their great woe, the flesh
peeled from off their livid sinews, the sockets where eyes had been, hollow and
empty, seemed to pass before one. The most dreadful scenes which the great
genius of Dante has imagined, appeared tame in comparison with the spectral
groups which this chamber summoned up. The first impulse was to escape, lest
images of pain, memories of tormented men, who were made to die a hundred deaths
in one, should take hold of one's mind, never again to be effaced from
it.
The things we have been surveying are not the mere models of the
instruments made use of in the Holy Office; they are the veritable instruments
themselves. We see before us the actual implements by which hundreds and
thousands of men and women, many of them saints and confessors of the Lord
Jesus, were torn, and mangled, and slain. These terrible realities the men of
the sixteenth century had to face and endure, or renounce the hope of the life
eternal. Painful they were to flesh and blood –nay, not even endurable by flesh
and blood unless sustained by the Spirit of the mighty God.
We leave the
Torture-chamber to visit the Inquisition proper. We go eastward, about half a
mile, keeping close to the northern wall of the city, till we come to an old
tower, styled in the common parlance of Nuremberg the Max Tower. We pull the
bell, the iron handle and chain of which are seen suspended beside the
door-post. The cicerone appears, carrying a bunch of keys, a lantern, and some
half-dozen candles. The lantern is to show us our way, and the candles are for
the purpose of being lighted and stuck up at the turnings in the dark
underground passages which we are about to traverse. Should mischance befall our
lantern, these tapers, like beacon-lights in a narrow creek, will pilot us
safely back into the day. The cicerone, selecting the largest from the bunch of
keys, inserts it in the lock of the massy portal before which we stand, bolt
after bolt is turned, and the door, with hoarse heavy groan as it turns on its
hinge, opens slowly to us. We begin to descend. We go down one flight of steps;
we go down a second flight; we descend yet a third. And now we pause a moment.
The darkness is intense, for here never came the faintest glimmer of day; but a
gleam thrown forward from the lantern showed us that we were arrived at the
entrance of a horizontal, narrow passage. We could see, by the flickering of the
light upon its sides and roof, that the corridor we were traversing was hewn out
of the rock. We had gone only a few paces when we were brought up before a massy
door. As far as the dim light served us, we could see the door, old, powdery
with dust, and partly worm-eaten.
Passing in, the corridor continued, and
we went forward other three paces or so, when we found ourselves before a second
door. We opened and shut it behind us as we did the first. Again we began to
thread our way: a third door stopped us. We opened and closed it in like manner.
Every step was carrying us deeper into the heart of the rock, and multiplying
the barriers between us and the upper world. We were shut in with the thick
darkness and the awful silence. We began to realize what must have been the
feelings of some unhappy disciple of the Gospel, surprised by the familiars of
the Holy Office, led through the midnight streets of Nuremberg, conducted to Max
Tower, led down flight after flight of stairs, and along this horizontal shaft
in the rock, and at every few paces a massy door, with its locks and bolts,
closing behind him! He must have felt how utterly he was beyond the reach of
human pity and human aid. No cry, however piercing, could reach the ear of man
through these roofs of rock. He was entirely in the power of those who had
brought him thither.
At last we came to a side-door in the narrow
passage. We halted, applied the key, and the door, with its ancient mould,
creaking harshly as if moving on a hinge long disused, opened to let us in. We
found ourselves in a rather roomy chamber, it might be about twelve feet square.
This was the Chamber of Question. Along one side of the apartment ran a low
platform. There sat of old the inquisitors, three in number–the first a divine,
the second a casuist, and the third a civilian. The only occupant of that
platform was the crucifix, or image of the Savior on the cross, which still
remained. The six candles that usually burned before the "holy Fathers" were, of
course, extinguished, but our lantern supplied their place, and showed us the
grim furnishings of the apartment. In the middle was the horizontal rack or bed
of torture, on which the victim was stretched till bone started from bone, and
his dislocated frame became the seat of agony, which was suspended only when it
had reached a pitch that threatened death.
Leaning against the wall of
the chamber was the upright rack, which is simpler, but as an instrument of
torture not less effectual, than the horizontal one. There was the iron chain
which wound over a pulley, and hauled up the victim to the vaulted roof; and
there were the two great stone weights which, tied to his feet, and the iron
cord let go, brought him down with a jerk that dislocated his limbs, while the
spiky rollers, which he grazed in his descent, cut into and excoriated his back,
leaving his body a bloody, dislocated mass.[6]
Here, too, was the
cradle of which we have made mention above, amply garnished within with cruel
knobs, on which the sufferer, tied hand and foot, was thrown at every movement
of the machine, to be bruised all over, and brought forth discoloured, swollen,
bleeding, but still living. All round, ready to hand, were hung the minor
instruments of torture. There were screws and thumbkins for the fingers, spiked
collars for the neck, iron boots for the legs, gags for the mouth, cloths to
cover the face, and permit the slow percolation of water, drop by drop, down the
throat of the person undergoing this form of torture. There were rollers set
round with spikes, for bruising the arms and back; there were iron scourges,
pincers, and tongs for tearing out the tongue, slitting the nose and ears, and
otherwise disfiglaring and mangling the body till it was horrible and horrifying
to look upon it. There were other things of which an expert only could tell the
name and the use. Had these instruments a tongue, and could the history of this
chamber be written, how awful the tale!
We shall suppose that all this
has been gone through; that the confessor has been stretched on the bed of
torture; has been gashed, broken, mangled, and yet, by power given him from
above, has not denied his Savior: he has been "tortured not accepting
deliverance:" what further punishment has the Holy Office in reserve for those
from whom its torments have failed to extort a recantation? These dreadful
dungeons furnish us with the means of answering this question.
We return
to the narrow passage, and go forward a little way. Every few paces there comes
a door, originally strong and massy, and garnished with great iron knobs but now
old and mouldy, and creaking when opened with a noise painfully loud in the deep
stillness. The windings are numerous, but at every turning of the passage a
lighted candle is placed, lest peradventure the way should be missed, and the
road back to the living world be lost for ever. A few steps are taken downwards,
very cautiously, for a lantern can barely show the ground. Here there is a
vaulted chamber, entirely dug out of the living rock, except the roof, which is
formed of hewn stone. It contains an iron image of the Virgin; and on the
opposite wall, suspended by an iron hook, is a lamp, which when lighted shows
the goodly proportions of "Our Lady." On the instant of touching a spring the
image flings open its arms, which resemble the doors of a cupboard, and which
are seen to be stuck full on the inside with poignards, cach about a foot in
length. Some of these knives are so placed as to enter the eyes of those whom
the image enfolded in its embrace, others are set so as to penetrate the ears
and brain, others to pierce the breast, and others again to gore the
abdomen.
The person who had passed through the terrible ordeal of the
Question-chamber, but had made no recantation, would be led along the tortuous
passage by which we had come, and ushered into this vault, where the first
object that would greet his eye, the pale light of the lamp falling on it, would
be the iron Virgin. He would be bidden to stand right in front of the image. The
spring would be touched by the executioner – the Virgin would fling open her
arms, and the wretched victim would straightway be forced within them. Another
spring was then touched – the Virgin closed upon her victim; a strong wooden
beam, fastened at one end to the wall by a movable joint, the other placed
against the doors of the iron image, was worked by a screw, and as the beam was
pushed out, the spiky arms of the Virgin slowly but irresistibly closed upon the
man, cruelly goring him.
When the dreadful business was ended, it needed
not that the executioner should put himself to the trouble of making the Virgin
unclasp the mangled carcase of her victim; provision had been made for its quick
and secret disposal. At the touching of a third spring, the floor of the image
would slide aside, and the body of the victim drop down the mouth of a
perpendicular shaft in the rock. We look down this pit, and can see, at a great
depth, the shimmer of water. A canal had been made to flow underneath the vault
where stood the iron Virgin, and when she had done her work upon those who were
delivered over to her tender mercies, she let them fall, with quick descent and
sullen plunge, into the canal underneath, where they were floated to the
Pegnitz, and from the Pegnitz to the Rhine, and by the Rhine to the ocean, there
to sleep beside the dust of Huss and Jerome.
Book 16 Index
FOOTNOTES
VOLUME SECOND
BOOK FIFTEENTH
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 1
[1] Ranke, Hist. of the Popes, bk. 2, sec. 4, p. 138; Lond., 1874.
[2] Ibid., pp. 138, 139.
[3] Ranke, bk. 2, sec. 4, pp. 138, 139.
[4] Ibid., p. 140.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 2
[1] Ranke, bk. 2, sec. 4, p. 143, foot-note.
[2] Duller, The Jesuits, pp. 10, 11. Ranke, bk. 2, sec. 4. pp. 143, 144. 1100
[3] Homo Orat. a J. Nouet, S.J.
[4] Duller, p. 12.
[5] "Raised to the government of the church Militant."
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 3
[1] Bouhours, Life of Ignatius, bk. 1, p. 248.
[2] See Mariani, Life of Loyola; Rome. 1842–English translation by Card. Wiseman's authority; Lond., 1847. Bouhours, Life of Ignatius, bk. 3, p. 282.
[3] Report on the Constitutions of the Jesuits, delivered by M. Louis Rene de Caraduc de la Chalotais, Procureur-General of the King, to the Parliament of Bretagne; 1761. In obedience to the Court. Translated from the French edition of 1762. Lond., 1868. Pages 16, 17.
[4] "Solus praepositus Generalis autoritatem habet regulas condendi." (Can. 3rd., Congreg. 1, p. 698, tom. 1.)
[5] Chalotais, Report on the Constitutions of the Jesuits, pp. 19-23.
[6] Duller, p. 54.
[7] Such was their number in 1761, when Chalotais gave in his Report to the Parliament of Bretagne.
[8] Chalotais' Report. Duller p. 54.
[9] Constit. Societatis Jesu, pars. 1, cap. 4, sec. 1, 2.
[10] Examen 3 and 4, sec. 1 and 2–Parroisien, Principles of the Jesuits, pp. 16-19; Lond., 1860.
[11] Constit. Societatis Jesu, pars. 3, cap. 2, sec. 1, and pars, 5, cap. 4, sec. 5- Parroisien, p. 22.
[12] Ibid., pars. 4, cap. 3, sec. 2.
[13] Ibid., pars. 8, cap. 1, sec. 2.
[14] Examen 6, sec. 1.
[15] Constit. Societatis Jesu, pars. 1, cap. 2, sec. 2.
[16] Ibid., pars. 8, cap. 3, A.
[17] "Locum Dei teneti." (Constit. Societatis Jesu, pars. 5, cap. 4, sec. 2.)
[18] Constit. Societatis Jesu, pars. 7, cap. 1, sec. 1.
[19] Chalotais, Report Const. Jesuits, p. 62.
[20] Constit. Societatis Jesu, pars. 6, cap. 1, sec. 1.
[21] Constit. Societatis Jesu, pars. 6, cap. 1, sec. 1.
[22] The Jesuits. By Alexander Duff, D.D., LL.D. Pages 19, 20. Edin., 1869.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 4
[1] Father Antoine Escobar, of Mendoza. He is said by his friends to have been a good man, and a laborious student. He compiled a work in six volumes, entitled Exposition of Uncontroverted Opinions in Moral Theology. It afforded a rich field for the satire of Pascal. Its characteristic absurdity is that its questions uniformly exhibit two faces–an affirmative and a negative–so that escobarderie became a synonym in France for duplicity.
[2] Ferdinand de Castro-Palao was a Jesuit of Spain, and author of a work on Virtues and Vices, published in 1621.
[3] Escobar. tr. 1, ex. 2, n. 21; and tr. 5, ex. 4, n. 8. Sirmond, Def. Virt., tr. 2, sec. 1.
[4] It is of no avail to object that these are the sentiments of individual Jesuits, and that it is not fair to impute them to the society. It was a particular rule in the Company of Jesus, "that nothing should be published by any of its members without the approbation of their superiors." An express order was made obliging them to this in France by Henry III., 1583, confirmed by Henry IV., 1603, and by Louis XIII., 1612. So that the whole fraternity became responsible for all the doctrines taught in the books of its individual members, unless they were expressly condemned.
[5] Probabilism will be denied, but it has not been renounced. In a late publication a member of the society has actually attempted to vindicate it. See De l'Existence et de l'Institute des Jesuites. Par le R, P. de Ravignan, de la Compagnie de Jesus. Paris, 1845. Page 83.
[6] Pascal. Provincial Letters, p. 70; Edin., 1847.
[7] The Provincial Letters. Letter 8, p. 96; Edin., 1847.
[8] In Praxi, livr. 21, num. 62.
[9] De Just., livr. 2, c. 9, d. 12, n. 79.
[10] De Spe, vol. 2, d. 15, sec. 4.
[11] De Sub. Pecc., diff. 9.
[12] Sanchez, Mor. Theol., livr. 2, c. 39, n. 7.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 5
[1] "A quocumque privato potest interfici."–Suarez (1, 6, ch. 4)– Chalotais, Report Constit. Jesuits, p. 84.
[2] "There are," adds M. de la Chalotais, in a footnote, "nearly 20,000 Jesuits in the world [1761], all imbued with Ultramontane doctrines, and the doctrine of murder." That is more than a century ago. Their numbers have prodigiously increased since.
[3] Maxiana,. De Rege et Regis Institutione, lib. 1, cap. 6, p. 61, and lib. 1, cap. 7, p. 64; ed. 1640.
[4] Sanch. OP. Mot., pars. 2, lib. 3, cap. 6.
[5] Mor. Quest. de Christianis 0fficiis et Casibus Conscientice, tom. 2, tr. 25, cap. 11, n. 321-328; Lugduni, 1633.
[6] It is easy to see how these precepts may be put in practice in swearing the oath of allegiance, or promising to obey the law, or engaging not to attack the institutions of the State, or to obey the rules and further the ends of any society, lay or clerical, into which the Jesuit may enter. The swearer has only to repeat aloud the prescribed words, and insert silently such other words, at the fitting places, as shall make void the oath, clause by clause–nay, bind the swearer to the very opposite of that which the administrator of the oath intends to pledge him to.
[7] Stephen Bauny, Som. des Peches; Rouen, 1653.
[8] Crisis Theol., tom. 1, disp. 6, sect. 2, Section 1, n. 59.
[9] Praxis Fori Poenit., tom. 2, lib. 21, cap. 5, n. 57.
[10] In Proecep. Decal., tom. 1, lib. 4, cap. 2, n. 7, 8.
[11] Cursus Theol., tom. 5,disp. 36, sec. 5, n. 118.
[12] Cens., pp. 319, 320–Collation faite d la requete de l'U'niversite de Paris, 1643; Paris, 1720
[13] Aphorismi Confessariorum–verbo furtum, n. 3–8; Coloniae, 1590.
[14] Instruct to Sacerdotum–De Septera Peccat. Mort., cap. 49, n. 5; Romae, 1601.
[15] Praxis Fori Peenitentialis, lib. 25, cap. 44, n. 555; Lugduni, 1620.
[16] Pascal, Letter 6, pp. 90,91; Edin., 1847.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 6
[1] See Ephesians 6:14-17.
[2] Secreta Monita, cap. 1, sec. 1.
[3] Ibid., cap. 1, sec. 5.
[4] Ibid., cap. 1, sec. 6.
[5] Ibid. (tr. from a French copy, London, 1679), cap. 1, sec. 11.
[6] Secreta Monita, cap. 2, sec. 2.
[7] Seereta Monita, cap. 2, sec. 5.
[8] Ibid., cap. 2, sec. 9, 10.
[9] Ibid., cap. 3, sec. 1.
[10] "Praeter cantum." (Secreta Monita, cap. 3, sec. 3.)
[11] Secreta Monita, cap. 4, sec. 1–6.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 7
[1] Secteta Monita, cap. 6, see. 6.
[2] Ibid., cap. 6, sec. 8.
[3] Secreta Monita, cap. 6., sec. 10.
[4] Secreta Monita, cap. 7, sec. 23.
[5] Secreta Monita, cap. 7, sec. 24.
[6] Secreta Monita, cap. 9, sec. 1.
[7] Ibid., sec. 4.
[8] Ibid., sec. 5.
[9] Contractus et possessiones"–leases and possessions. (Lat. et Ital. ed., Roma. Con approv.)
[10] Secreta Morita, cap. 9, seca 7–10.
[11] Ostendendo etiam Deo sacrificium gratissimum fore si parentibus insciis et invitis aufugerit." (Lat. ed., cap. 9, sec. 8. L'Estrange's tr., sec. 4.)
[12] A Master Key to Popery, p. 70.
[13] Seereta Moita, cap. 9, sec. 18, 19.
[14] Ibid., cap. 16 (L'Estrange's tr.); printed as the Preface in the Latin edition.
[15] Secrete Menira; Lend., 1850. Pref. by H. M. W., p. 9.
[16] Among the various editions of the Secreta Monita we mention the following: – Bishop Compton's translation; Lond., 1669. Sir Roger L'Estrange's translation; Lond., 1679; it was made from a French copy, printed at Cologne, 1678. Another edition, containing the Latin text with an English translation, dedicated to Sir Robert Walpole, Premier of England: Lond., 1723. This edition says, in the Preface, that Mr. John Schipper, bookseller at Amsterdam, bought a copy of the Secreta Monita, among other books, at Antwerp, and reprinted it. The Jesuits bought up the whole edition, a few copies excepted. From one of these it was afterwards reprinted. Of late years there have been several English reprints. One of the copies which we have used in this compend of the book was printed at Rome, in the printing-press of the Propaganda, and contains the Latin text page for page with a translation in Italian.
[17] The Cabinet of the Jesuits' Secrete Opened; Lond., 1679.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 8
[1] Ranke, Hist. of the Popes, book. 2, sec. 7.
[2] Duller, Hist. of the Jesuits, p. 83; Lond., 1845.
[3] Ranke, book 5, sec. 3.
[4] Ranke, book 5, sec. 3.
[5] Ranke, bk. v., sec. 3.
[6] Ibid.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 9
[1] Krasinski, Rise, Progress, and Decline of the Reformation in Poland, volume 2, p. 196; Lond., 1840.
[2] Krasinski, vol. 2., pp. 197, 198.
[3] Sacchinus, lib. 6., p. 172.
[4] Steinmetz, Hist. of the Jesuits, vol. 2, pp. 46–48. Sacchinus, lib. 3, p. 129.
[5] Steinmetz, lib. 2., p. 59.
[6] Duller, Hist. of the Jesuits, pp. 135–138.
[7] A Glimpse of the Great Secret Society, p. 79; ed. Lond., 1872.
[8] A Glimpse of the Great Secret Society, pp. 78–81. Chalotais, Report to Parl. of Bretagne.
[9] Duller, Hist. of the Jesuits, p. 151.
[10] "Sotto-scriviamo la nostra morte."
[11] All the world believed that Clement had been made to drink the Aqua Tofana, a spring in Perugia more famous than healthful. Some one has said that if Popes are not liable to err, they are nevertheless liable to sudden death.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 10
[1] So he himself declared on his death-bed to Bernardino Ochino in 1542. (McCrie, Prog. and Sup. Ref. in Italy, p. 220.)
[2] Bromato, Vita di Paolo, tom. 4, lib. 7, sec. 3. Ranke, book 2, sec. 6.
[3] Ranke, book 2, sec. 6.
[4] See McCrie, Prog. and Supp. Ref. in Italy, chap. 3.
[5] Calvin, Comment, on 1st Corinthians – Dedication.
VOLUME SECOND- BOOK FIFTEENTH- CHAPTER 11
[1] Istoria Cone. Trent, lib. 14., cap. 9.
[2] Ranke, book. 2., sec. 6, p. 157; Lond., 1847.
[3] McCrie's Italy, p 233; Ed., 1833.
[4] Ib., pp. 318–320.
[5] The Author was conducted over the Inquisition at Nuremberg in September, 1871, and wrote the description given of it in the text immediately thereafter on the spot. Others must have seen it, but he knows of no one who has described it.
[6] The Author has described with greater minuteness the horizontal and upright racks in his account of the dungeons underneath the Town-house of Nuremberg. (See ante, book 9, chapter 5, p. 501.)