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 Back to 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 Back to Top
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 Back to Top
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 Back to Top
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 Back to Top
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 Back to Top
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 Back to Top
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.
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.)