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Volume Second - Book Fifteenth
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| 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. |
RESEARCH INDEX ----New WindowPROTESTANTISM 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
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THE "SECRET INSTRUCTIONS" OF THE JESUITS.
The Jesuit Soldier in Armor complete—Secret Instructions—How to Plant their First
Establishments—Taught to Court the Parochial Clergy—to Visit the Hospitals—to Find
out the Wealth of their several Districts— to make Purchases in another Name—to Draw
the Youth round them—to Supplant the Older Orders—How to get the Friendship of Great
Men—How to Manage Princes—How to Direct their Policy— Conduct their Embassies—Appoint
their Servants, etc.—Taught to Affect a Great Show of Lowliness.
SO far we have traced the enrollment and training of that mighty army which Loyola
had called into existence for the conquest of Protestantism. Their leader, who was
quite as much the shrewd calculator as the fiery fanatic, took care before sending
his soldiers into the field to provide them with armor, every way fitted for the
combatants they were to meet, and the campaign they were to wage. The war in which
they were to be occupied was one against right and truth, against knowledge and liberty,
and where could weapons be found for the successful prosecution of a conflict like
this, save in the old-established arsenal of sophisms The schoolmen, those Vulcans
of the Middle Ages, had forged these weapons with the hammers of their speculation
on the anvil of their subtlety, and having made them sharp of edge, and given them
an incomparable flexibility, they stored them up, and kept them in reserve against
the great coming day of battle. To this armory Loyola, and the chiefs that succeeded
him in command, had recourse. But not content with these weapons as the schoolmen
had left them, the Jesuit doctors put them back again into the fire; they kept them
in a furnace, heated seven times, till every particle of the dross of right and truth
that cleaved to them had been tmrged out, and they had acquired a flexibility absolutely
and altogether perfect, and a keenness of edge unattained before, and were now deemed
every way fit for the hands that were to wield them, and every way worthy of the
cause in which they were to be drawn. So attempered, they could cut through shield
and helmet, through body and soul of the foe.
Let us survey the soldier of Loyola, as he stands in the complete and perfect panoply
his General has provided him with. How admirably harnessed for the battle he is to
fight! He has his "loins girt about with" mental and verbal equivocation;
he has "on the breast-plate of" probabilism; his "feet are shod with
the preparation of the" Secret Instruction. "Above all, taking the shield
of" intention, and rightly handling it, he is "able to quench all the fiery
darts of" human remorse and Divine threatenings. He takes "for an helmet
the hope of" Paradise, which has been most surely promised him as the reward
of his services; and in his hand he grasps the two-edged sword of a fiery fanaticism,
wherewith he is able to cut his way, with prodigious bravery, through truth and righteousness.[1] Verily, the man who
has to sustain the onset of soldiers like these, and parry the thrusts of their weapons,
had need to be mindful of the ancient admonition, "Take unto you the whole armor
of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to
stand."
Shrewd, practical, and precise are the instructions of the Jesuits. First of all
they are told to select the best points in that great field, all of which they are
in due time to subjugate and possess. That field is Christendom. They are to begin
by establishing convents, or colleges, in the chief cities. The great centers of
population and wealth secured, the smaller places will be easily occupied.
Should any one ask on what errand the good Fathers have come, they are instructed
to make answer that their "sole object is the salvation of souls." What
a pious errand! Who would not strive to be the first to welcome to their houses,
and to seat at their tables, men whose aims are so unselfish and heavenly? They are
to be careful to maintain a humble and submissive deportment; they are to pay frequent
visits to the hospitals, the sick-chamber, and the prisons. They are to make great
show of charity, and as they have nothing of their own to give to the poor, they
are "to go far and near" to receive even the "smallest atoms."
These good deeds will not lose their reward if only they take care not to do them
in secret. Men will begin to speak of them and say, What a humble, pious, charitable
order of men these Fathers of the Society of Jesus are! How unlike the Franciscans
and Dominicans, who were want to care for the sick and the poor, but have now forgotten
the virtues of a former tune, and are grown proud, indolent, luxurious, and rich!
Thus the "new-comers," the Instructions hint, will supplant the other and
older orders, and will receive "the respect and reverence of the best and most
eminent in the neighborhood."[2]
Further, they are enjoined to conduct themselves very deferentially towards
the parochial clergy, and not to perform any sacred function till first they have
piously and submissively asked the bishop's leave. This will secure their good graces,
and dispose the secular clergy to protect them; but by-and-by, when they have ingratiated
themselves with the people, they may abate somewhat of this subserviency to the clergy.
The individual Jesuit takes a vow of poverty, but the society takes no such vow,
and is qualified to hold property to any amount. Therefore, while seeking the salvation
of souls, the members are carefully to note the rich men in the community. They must
find out who own the estates in the neighborhood, and what are their yearly values.
They are to secure these estates by gift, if possible; if not, by purchase. When
it happens that they "get anything that is considerable, let the purchase be
made under a strange name, by some of our friends, that our poverty may still seem
the greater."[3]
And let our provincial "assign such revenues to some other colleges,
more remote, that neither prince nor people may discover anything of our profits"[4] —a device that combines
many advantages. Every day their acres will increase, nevertheless their apparent
poverty will be as great as ever, and the flow of benefactions and legacies to supply
it will remain undiminished, although the sea into which all these rivers run will
never be full.
Among the multifarious duties laid upon the Jesuits, special prominence was given
to the instruction of youth. It was by this arm that they achieved their most brilliant
success. "Whisper it sweetly in their [the people's] ears, that they are come
to catechise the children gratis."[5]
Wherever the Jesuits came they opened schools, and gathered the youth around
them; but despite their zeal in the work of education, knowledge somehow did not
increase. The intellect refused to expand and the genius to open under their tutelage.
Kingdoms like Poland, where they became the privileged and only instructors of youth,
instead of taking a higher place in the commonwealth of letters, fell back into mental
decrepitude, and lost their rank in the community of nations. The Jesuits communicated
to their pupils little besides a knowledge of Latin. History, philosophy, and science
were sealed books. They initiated their disciples into the mysteries of probabilism,
and the art of directing the intention, and the youth trained in these paths, when
old did not depart from them. They dwarfed the intellect and narrowed the understanding,
but they gained their end. They stamped anew the Roman impress upon many of the countries
of Europe.
The second chapter of the Instructions is entitled "What must be done to get
the ear and intimacy of great men?" To stand well with monarchs and princes
is, of course, a matter of such importance that no stone is to be left unturned to
attain it. The Instructions here, as we should expect them to be, are full and precise.
The members of the Society of Jesus are first of all to imbue princes and great men
with the belief that they cannot dispense with their aid if they would maintain the
pomp of their State, and the government of their realms. Should princes be filled
with a conceit of their own wisdom, the Fathers must find some way of dispelling
this egregious delusion. They are to surround them with confessors chosen from their
society; but by no means are they to bear hard on the consciences of their royal
penitents. They must treat them "sweetly and pleasantly," oftener administering
opiates than irritants. They are to study their humors, and if, in the matter of
marriage, they should be inclined—as often happens with princes—to contract alliance
with their own kindred, they are to smooth their way, by hinting at a dispensation
from the Pope, or finding some palliative for the sin from the pharmacopoeia of their
theology. They may tell them that such marriages, though forbidden to the commonalty,
are sometimes allowed to princes, "for the greater glory of God."[6] If a monarch is bent on some enterprise—a war, for example—the
issue of which is doubtful, they are to be at pains so to shape their counsel in
the matter, that if the affair succeeds they shall have all the praise, and if it
fails, the blame shall rest with the king alone. And, lastly, when a vacancy occurs
near the throne, they are to take care that the empty post shall be filled by one
of the tried friends of the society, of whom they are enjoined to have, at all times,
a list in their possession. It may be well, in order still more to advance their
interests at courts, to undertake embassies at times.
This will enable them to draw the affairs of Europe into their own hands, and to
make princes feel that they are indispensable to them, by showing them what an influence
they wield at the courts of other sovereigns, and especially how great their power
is at that of Rome. Small services and trifling presents they are by no means to
overlook. Such things go a great way in opening the hearts of princes. Be sure, say
the Instructions, to paint the men whom the prince dislikes in the same colors in
which his jealousy and hatred teach him to view them. Moreover, if the prince is
unmarried, it will be a rare stroke of policy to choose a wife for him from among
the beautiful and noble ladies known to their society. "This is seen,"
say the Instructions, "by experience in the House of Austria: and in the Kingdoms
of Poland and France, and in many other principalities."[7]
"We must endeavor," say the Instructions, with remarkable plainness,
but in the belief, doubtless, that the words would meet the faithful eyes of the
members of the Society of Jesus only— "We must endeavor to breed dissension
among great men, and raise seditions, or anything a prince would have us to do to
please him. If one who is chief Minister of State to a monarch who is our friend
oppose us, and that prince cast his whole favors upon him, so as to add titles to
his honor, we must present ourselves before him, and court him in the highest degree,
as well by visits as all humble respect."[8]
Having specified the arts by which princes may be managed, the Instructions
next prescribe certain methods for turning to account others "of great authority
in the commonwealth, that by their credit we obtain profit and preferment."
"If," say the Instructions,[9]
"these lords be seculars, we ought to have recourse to their aid and
friendship against our adversaries, and to their favor in our own suits, and those
of our friends, and to their authority and power in the purchase of houses, manors,
and gardens, and of stones to build with, especially in those places that will not
endure to hear of our settling in them, because the authority of these lords serveth
very much for the appeasing of the populace, and making our ill-willers quiet."
Nor are they less sedulously to make court to the bishops. Their authority —great
everywhere—is especially so in some kingdoms, "as in Germany, Poland, and France;"
and, the bishops conciliated, they may expect to obtain a gift of "new-erected
churches, altars, monasteries, foundations, and in some cases the benefices of the
secular priests and canons, with the preferable right of preaching in all the great
towns." And when bishops so befriend them, they are to be taught that there
is no less profit than merit in the deed; inasmuch as, done to the Order of Jesus,
they are sure to be repaid with most substantial services; whereas, done to the other
orders, they will have nothing in return for their pains "but a song."[10]
To love their neighbor, and speak well of him, while they held themselves
in lowly estimation, was not one of the failings of the Jesuits. Their own virtues
they were to proclaim as loudly as they did the faults of their brother monks. Their
Instructions commanded them to "imprint upon the spirits of those princes who
love us, that our order is more perfect than all other orders." They are to
supplant their rivals, by telling monarchs that no wisdom is competent to counsel
in the affairs of State but "ours," and that if they wish to make their
realms resplendent with knowledge, they must surrender the schools to Jesuit teachers.
They are especially to exhort princes that they owe it as a duty to God to consult
them in the distribution of honors and emoluments, and in all appointments to places
of importance. Further, they are ever to have a list in their possession of the names
of all persons in authority and power throughout Christendom, in order that they
may change or continue them fit their several posts, as may be expedient. But so
covertly must this delicate business be gone about, that their hand must not be seen
in it, nor must it once be suspected that the change comes from them?
While slowly and steadily climbing up to the control of kings, and the government
of kingdoms, they are to study great modesty of demeanor and simplicity of life.
The pride must be worn in the heart, not on the brow; and the foot must be set down
softly that is to be planted at last on the neck of monarchs. "Let ours that
are in the service of princes," say the Instructions, "keep but a very
little money, and a few movables, contenting themselves with a little chamber, modestly
keeping company with persons in humble station; and so being in good esteem, they
ought prudently to persuade princes to do nothing without their counsel, whether
it be in spiritual or temporal affairs."[11]
CHAPTER 7 Back
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JESUIT MANAGEMENT OF RICH WIDOWS AND THE HEIRS OF GREAT FAMILIES.
How Rich Widows are to be Drawn to the Chapels and Confessionals of the Jesuits—Kept
from Thoughts of a Second Marriage—Induced to Enter an Order, and Bequeath their
Estates to the Society—Sons and Daughters of Widows—How to Discover the Revenues
and Heirs of Noble Houses —Illustration from Spain—Borrowing on Bond—The fastructions
to be kept Secret—If Discovered, to be Denied—How the Instructions came to Light.
THE sixth chapter of the Instructions treats "Of the Means to acquire the
Friendship of Rich Widows." On opening this new chapter, the reflection that
forces itself on one is—how wide the range of objects to which the Society of Jesus
is able to devote its attention! The greatest matters are not beyond its strength,
and the smallest are not beneath its notice! From counselling monarchs, and gaiding
ministers of State, it turns with equal adaptability and dexterity to caring for
widows. The Instructions on this head are minute and elaborate to a degree, which
shows the importance the society attaches to the due discharge of what it owes to
this class of its clients.
True, some have professed to doubt whether the action of the society in this matter
be wholly and purely disinterested, from the restriction it puts upon the class of
persons taken under its protection. The Instructions do not say "widows,"
but "rich widows." But all the more on that account do widows need defense
against the arts of chicanery and the wiles of avarice, and how can the Fathers better
accord them such than by taking measures to convey their bodies and their goods alike
within the safe walls of a convent? There the cormorants and vultures of a wicked
world cannot make them their prey. But let us mark how they are to proceed. First,
a Father of suitable gifts is to be selected to begin operations. He must not, in
point of years, exceed middle age; he must have a fresh complexion, and a gracious
discourse. He is to visit the widow, to touch feelingly on her position, and the
snares and injuries to which it exposes her, and to hint at the fraternal care that
the society of which he is a member delights to exercise over all in her condition
who choose to place themselves under its guardianship. After a few visits of this
sort, the widow will probably appear at one of the chapels of the society. Should
it so happen, the next step is to appoint a confessor of their body for the widow.
Should these delicate steps be well got over, the matter will begin to be hopeful.
It will be the confessor's duty to see that the wicked idea of marrying again does
not enter her mind, and for this end he is to picture to her the delightful and fascinating
freedom she enjoys in her widowhood, and over against it he is to place the cares,
vexations, and tyrannies which a second matrimony would probably draw upon her. To
second these representations, the confessor is empowered to promise exemption from
purgatery, should the holy estate of widowhood be persevered in. To maintain this
pious frame of mind on the part of the object of these solicitudes, the Instructions
direct that it may be advisable to have an oratory erected in her house, with an
altar, and frequent mass and confession celebrated thereat. The adorning of the altar,
and the accompanying rites, will occupy the time of the widow, and prevent the thoughts
of a husband entering her mind. The matter having been conducted to this stage, it
will be prudent now to change the persons of trust about her, and to replace them
with persons devoted to the society. The number of religious services must also be
increased, especially confession, "so that," say the Instructions, "knowing
their former accusations, manners, and inclinations, the whole may serve as a guide
to make them obey our wills."[1]
These steps will have brought the widow very near the door of a convent. A
continuance a little longer in the same cautious and skillful tactics is all that
will be necessary to land her safely within its walls. The confessor must now enlarge
on the quietude and eminent sanctity of the cloister how surely it conducts to Paradise;
but should she be unwilling to assume the veil in regular form, she may be induced
to enter some religious order, such as that of Paulina, "so that being caught
in the vow of chastity, all danger of her marrying again may be over."[2] The great duty of Alms, that queen of the graces, "without
which, it is to be represented to her, she cannot inherit the kingdom of heaven,"
is now to be pressed upon her; "which alms, notwithstanding, she ought not to
dispose to every one, if it be not by the advice and with the consent of her spiritual
father."[3]
Under this Direction it is easy to see in what exchequer the lands, manors,
and revenues of widows will ultimately be garnered.
But the Fathers deemed it inexpedient to leave such an issue the least uncertain,
and accordingly the seventh chapter enters largely into the "Means of keeping
in our hands the Disposition of the Estates of Widows." To shut out worldly
thoughts, and especially matrimonial ones, the time of such widows must be occupied
with their devotions; they are to be exhorted to curtail their expenditure and abound
yet more in alms "to the Church of Jesus Christ." A dexterous confessor
is to be appointed them. They are to be frequently visited, and entertained with
pleasant discourse. They are to be persuaded to select a patron, or tutelary saint,
say St. Francis or St. Xavier. Provision is to be made that all they do be known,
by placing about them only persons recommended by the society.
We must be excused for not giving in the words of the Fathers the fourteenth section
of this chapter. That section gives their proteges great license, indeed all license,
"provided they be liberal and well-affected to our society, and that all things
be carried cunningly and without scandal."
But the one great point to be aimed at is to get them to make an entire surrender
of their estates to the society. This is to reach perfection now, and it may be to
attain in future the yet higher reward of canonisation. But should it so happen,
from love of kindred, or other motives, that they have not endowed the "poor
companions of Jesus" with all their worldly goods, when they come to die, the
preferable claims of "the Church of Jesus Christ" to those of kindred are
to be urged upon them, and they are to be exhorted "to contribute to the finishing
of our colleges, which are yet imperfect, for the greater glory of God, giving us
lamps and pixes, and for the building of other foundations and houses, which we,
the poor servants of the Society of Jesus, do still want, that all things may be
perfected."[4]
"Let the same be done with princes," the Instructions go on to say,
"and our other benefactors, who build us any sumptuous pile, or erect any foundation,
representing to them, in the first place, that the benefits they thus do us are consecrated
to eternity; that they shall become thereby perfect models of piety; that we will
have thereof a very particular memory, and that in the next world they shall have
their reward. But if it be objected that Jesus Christ was born in a stable, and had
not where to lay his head, and that we, who are his companions, ought not to enjoy
perishing goods, we ought to imprint strongly on their spirits that in truth, at
first, the Church was also in the same state, but now that by the providence of God
she is raised to a monarchy, and that in those times the Church was nothing but a
broken rock, which is now become a great mountain."[5]
In the chapter that follows — the eighth, namely — the net is spread still
wider. It is around the feet of "the sons and daughters of devout widows"
that its meshes are now drawn. The scheme of machination and seduction unfolded in
this chapter differs only in its minor points from that which we have already had
disclosed to us. We pass it therefore, and go on to the ninth chapter, where we find
the scheme still widening, and wholesale rapacity and extortion, sanctified of course
by the end in view, still more openly avowed and enjoined. The chapter is entitled
"Of the Means to Augment the Revenues of our Colleges," and these means,
in short, are the astute and persistent deception, circumvention, and robbery of
every class. The net is thrown, almost without disguise, over the whole community,
in order that the goods, heritages, and possessions of all ranks—prince, peasant,
widow, and orphan—may be dragged into the convents of the Jesuits. The world is but
a large preserve for the mighty hunters of the Society of Jesus. "Above and
before all other things," says this Instruction, "we ought to endeavor
our own greatness, by the direction of our superiors, who are the only judges in
this case, and who should labor that the Church of God may be in the highest degree
of splendor, for the greater glory of God."[6]
In prosecution of this worthy end, the Secret Instructions enjoin the Fathers
to visit frequently at rich and noble houses, and to "inform themselves, prudently
and dexterously, whether they will not leave something to our Churches, in order
to the obtaining remission of their sins, and of the sins of their kindred."[7] Confessors—and only
able and eloquent; men are to be appointed as confessors to princes and statesmen
—are to ascertain the name and surname of their penitents, the names of their kindred
and friends, whether they have hopes of succeeding to anything, and how they mean
to dispose of what they already have, or may yet have; whether they have brothers,
sisters, or heirs, and of what age, inclination, and education they are. And they
"should persuade them that all these questions do tend much to the clearing
of the state of their conscience."[8]
There is a refreshing plainness about the following Instructions. They are
given with the air of men who had so often repeated their plea "for the greater
glory of God," that they themselves had come at last to believe it: —
"Our provincial ought to send expert men into all those places where there is
any considerable nmnber of rich and wealthy persons, to the end they may give their
superiors a true and faithful account."
"Let the stewards of our college get an exact knowledge of the houses, gardens,
quarries of stone, vineyards, manors, and other riches of every one who lives near
the place where they reside, and if it be possible, what degree of affection they
have for us."
"In the next place we should discover every man's office, and the revenue of
it, their possessions, and the articles of their contracts, which they may surely
do by confessions, by meetings, and by entertainments, or by our trusty friends.
And generally when any confessor lights upon a wealthy person, from whom he hath
good hopes of profit, he is obliged forthwith to give notice of it, and discover
it at his return."
"They should also inform themselves exactly whether there be any hope of obtaining
bargains, goods, possessions,[9]
pious gifts, and the like, in exchange for the admission of their sons into
our society."[10]
"If a wealthy family have daughters only, they are to be drawn by caresses
to become nuns, fit which case a small portion of their estate may be assigned for
their use, and the rest will be ours." "The last heir of a family is by
all means to be induced to enter the society. And the better to relieve his mind
from all fear of his parents, he is to be taught that it is more pleasing to God
that he take this step without their knowledge or consent.[11] "Such a one," the Instructions add, "ought
to be sent to a distance to pass his novitiate."
These directions were but too faithfully carried out in Spain, and to this among
other causes is owing the depopulation of that once-powerful country. A writer who
resided many years in the Peninsula, and had the best opportunities of observing
its condition, says: "If a gentleman has two or three sons and as many daughters,
the confessor of the family adviseth the father to keep the eldest son at home, and
send the rest, both sons and daughters, into a convent or monastery; praising the
monastic life, and saying that to be retired from the world is the safest way to
heaven...
The fathers of these families, glad of lessening the expenses of the house, and of
seeing their children provided for, do send them into the desert place of a convent,
which is really the middle of the world. Now obsetwe that it is twenty to one that
their heir dieth before he marrieth and have children, so the estate and everything
else falls to the second, who is a professed friar, or nun, and as they cannot use
the expression of meum or tuum, all goes that way to the society. And this is the
reason why many families are extinguished, and their names quite out of memory, the
convent so crowded, the kingdom so thin of people, and the friars, nuns, and monasteries
so rich."[12]
Further, the Fathers are counseled to raise large sums of money on bond. The
advantage of this method is, that when the bond-holder comes to die, it will be easy
to induce him to part with the bond in exchange for the salvation of his soul. At
all events, he is more likely to make a gift of the deed than to bequeath the same
amount in gold. Another advantage of borrowing in this fashion, is that their pretense
of poverty may still be kept up. Owners of a fourth or of a half of the property
of a county, they will still be "the poor companions of Jesus."[13]
We make but one other quotation from the Secret Instructions. It closes this
series of pious advices and is, in one respect, the most characteristic of them all.
"Let the superior keep these secret advices with great care, and let them not
be communicated but to a very few discreet persons, and that only by parts; and let
them instruct others with them, when they have profitably served the society. And
then let them not communicate them as rules they have received, but as the effects
of their own prudence. But if they should happen to fall into the hands of strangers,
who should give them an ill sense or construction, let them be assured the society
owns them not in that sense, which shall be confirmed by instancing those of our
order who assuredly know them not."[14]
It was some time before the contingency of exposure here provided against
actually happened. But in the beginning of the seventeenth century the accidents
of war dragged these Secret Instructions from the darkness in which their authors
had hoped to conceal them from the knowledge of the world. The Duke of Brunswick,
having plundered the Jesuits' college at Paderborn in Westphalia, made a present
of their library to the Capuchins of the same town. Among the books which had thus
come into their possession was found a copy of the Secret Instructions. Another copy
is said to have been discovered in the Jesuits' college at Prague. Soon thereafter
reprints and translations appeared in Germany, Holland, France, and England. The
authenticity of the work was denied, as was to be expected; for any society that
was astute enough to compile such a book would be astute enough to deny it. To only
the fourth or highest order of Jesuits were these Instructions to be communicated;
the others, who were ignorant of them in their written form, were brought forward
to deny on oath that such a book existed, but their protestations weighed very little
against the overwhelming evidence on the other side. The perfect uniformity of the
methods followed by the Jesuits in all countries favored a presumption that they
acted upon a prescribed rule; and the exact correspondence between their methods
and the secret advices showed that this was the rule. Gretza, a well-known member
of the society, affirmed that the Secreta Monita was a forgery by a Jesuit who had
been dismissed with ignominy from the society in Poland, and that he published it
in 1616. But the falsehood of the story was proved by the discovery in the British
Museum of a work printed in 1596, twenty years before the alleged forgery, in which
the Secreta Monita is copied.[15]
Since the first discovery in Paderborn, copies of the Secreta Monita have
been found in other libraries, as in Prague, noted above. Numerous editions have
since been published, and in so many languages, that the idea of collusion is out
of the question. These editions all agree with the exception of a few unimportant
variations in the reading.[16]
"These private directions," says M. l'Estrange, "are quite
contrary to the rules, constitutions, and instructions which this society professeth
publicly in those books it hath printed on this subject. So that without difficulty
we may believe that the greatest part of their governors (if a very few be excepted
especially) have a double rule as well as a double habit—one for their private and
particular use, and another to flaunt with before the world."[17]
CHAPTER 8 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 Officiis 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.)
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