History of the Jesuits: Their origin, progress, doctrines, and designs

by G. B. Nicolini

SWITZERLAND AND PIEDMONT.

The Jesuits experienced some difficulty in entering Switzerland, and in some parts of it they could not get footing; but towards the year 1574, they established themselves in Friburg and Lucerne. They succeeded in keeping back these two towns from the Alliance of Berne, and scattered the flames of that religious discord between these cantons which was not extinguished even by the blood that was shed at the instigation of the Jesuits in 1845-47. The famous Canisius was the principal promoter and founder of the College of Friburg, the resort, till lately, of a great number of young men of the highest families, sent thither for education from divers parts of Europe.

The cruelties exercised by Possevin against the inhabitants of the Alps were most barbarous and revolting. Many Christians, driven out of other countries by Popish persecution, had sought a refuge in these almost inaccessible mountains, where the Waldenses still preserved the religion of Christ in its primitive purity. They had hoped, in the simplicity of their hearts, that there, far from the scene of conflict, they would be permitted to worship God according to their consciences. They were not dangerous persons—they were no chiefs of sects eager to make proselytes—they were single-hearted people, seeking to please God by living a pure and Christian life. It might have been expected that their poverty, their innocence, their peaceful conduct, would have sheltered them from any persecution; and, in fact, for a time they lived unmolested. Unhappily for them, the Jesuits were watching them, and, urged on by that persecuting spirit which led them to seek for victims everywhere, were resolved to trouble them in their retreat, and, if possible, to destroy them. Lainez, in 1560, despatched Possevin to Nice, to Emmanuel Philebert, Duke of Savoy, to excite him to persecute those heretic mountaineers. The Jesuit represented to the Duke that a Catholic prince ought not, even though his own personal interest required it, to tolerate that the heresy should establish itself in his dominions, and that the mountains of Piedmont and the Alps, in particular, served for a retreat to the sectaries of Luther and Calvin.[201] Possevin succeeded in bringing the duke into his abominable views. Ferrier, the governor of Pignerol, commenced a chase against these inoffensive people, who were hunted from one retreat to another, and when taken, were mercilessly and inhumanly consigned to the flames. Driven to despair they took up arms, resolved hereafter to sell their lives at the dearest price. A body of troops was sent against them. The General, the Sieur de la Trinité, placed them at the disposal of Possevin, and the Pope’s nuncio conferred upon him the powers with which he pretended to be invested.[202] The Jesuit, forgetful of his sacerdotal calling, repressing every feeling of humanity, put himself at the head of a chosen body of troops, and hunted down these poor Christians as if they were wild beasts, putting every one who fell into his hands to the sword. Then, when he was tired of the work of slaughter, to procure for himself a sort of triumph, he brought to Vercelli, in solemn procession, thirty-four of those unfortunates, who, not having faith or strength enough to prefer martyrdom to apostasy, publicly abjured their religion in the presence of the duke and the Jesuit.[203] From that day till very lately, the house of Savoy has more or less persecuted the Waldenses.

Our Protestant readers, we presume, have by this time learned what malignant and unrelenting enemies of their religion the Jesuits have always been. They must have learned that all the north of Europe, and France itself, perhaps, would have become Protestant countries, had it not been for the demoniacal arts and ill-employed activity of the disciples of Loyola. They must, further, be aware that the Jesuits did not obtain those results by honest means only, by force of argument, or by active and earnest exertions, which would have at least entitled them to the approbation and esteem of all Roman Catholics, but they had recourse to perjury, to murder, to persecution, to cruelties of every kind—to means, in short, involving the perversion of every principle of morality, for which they at last came to be abhorred by every honest person, even of their own persuasion. Lastly, it clearly appears, from what we have related, that, while pretending to fight for the Roman See, the Jesuits, in reality, fought for their own aggrandisement; that they recognise no religion, but their interest; worship no God, but their order. We must, finally, remind our readers that we have omitted numberless other charges which are generally brought against them, which we consider well founded, but which we cannot satisfactorily prove. All that we have advanced we have proved, according to our promise, by documents of unquestionable authenticity, and we shall continue to observe this rule to the conclusion of our history.

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CHAPTER X.
1581-1608.
COMMOTION AMONG THE JESUITS.

In relating the proceedings of the Jesuits in divers countries of Europe, we have not mentioned Spain; first, because, though firmly established in that country, they, under the absolute Philip II., exercised no influence whatever over its general policy; and, secondly, because we had it in reserve to speak of their proceedings in that country in the present chapter.

In Spain the Jesuits had no heretics to contend with—no zeal or fanaticism to excite. If now and then some Christianised Jew or Moor relapsed into his former belief, the Inquisition was too jealous of her privilege of roasting those accursed of God, in a solemn auto da fè, to permit the Jesuits to meddle in the holy ceremony. Having thus no external enemy to contend with, they, as usually happens, fell out among themselves, and fought with one another.

The so-called Society of Jesus having been mostly established by Spaniards, the Spanish Jesuits pretended that all the honours and dignities of the order were exclusively due to them. A first blow was dealt to these pretensions when, by the interference of the Pope, a General was chosen who was not a Castilian. However, since Mercurianus, the person elected, was old and weak, they submitted without much reluctance to an authority they did not dread. But when the fifth General Congregation chose for General a Neapolitan nobleman, young, active, and enterprising, they broke out into open revolt. This General, elected in 1581, was Claude Acquaviva, son of the Duke of Atri, only thirty-seven years of age at the time of his election. Acquaviva was, and has remained, the beau idéal of Jesuitism. He had grown up in the Court of Rome, where he was chamberlain, and where he acquired a thorough knowledge of men, and of all political intrigues, in which the Roman curia at that epoch excelled all the other courts of Europe. He was crafty, insinuating, persevering. He never uttered a precise command, but never suffered his exhortations to be disregarded. Gentle in appearance, and renowned for the amenity of his manners, he was endowed with an inflexible intrepidity of character. He spoke rarely, never gave a decided opinion, and preserved in all circumstances a placid and calm demeanour. His family had been from of old attached to the French party, and he followed the same line of policy. As we have seen, he disapproved of the League, and gave other tokens of his attachment to the French interest, without, however, openly committing himself with the other party. Such was Acquaviva.

Claude Aquaviva.

Hinchliff.

At the news of Acquaviva’s election, the old Jesuits of Spain, incensed in the highest degree, broke out in loud complaints first, refused afterwards obedience to his orders, lastly rebelled openly, and asked that the members residing in Spain should be governed by a commissary-general independent of Rome. Philip, to cast a reproach upon Acquaviva, whom he detested on account of his partiality to the French king, sided with the malcontents. The General faced the storm in the best manner he could. First of all, he contrived, by promises of advancement and honours, to retain in his interest some of the less compromised among the rioters; secondly, he sent into the Peninsula new provincials and superiors, the most of whom were Neapolitans, young (a class of Jesuits who worshipped him), and firmly attached to his fortunes, with strict injunctions to enforce obedience to his orders. Some of the Jesuits, in the hope of making their way to preferment, submitted; the most refused obedience, and had recourse to the Inquisition and the king. Philip ordered the Bishop of Carthagena to subject the order to a visitation, and the Inquisition arrested the provincial Marcenius, and two or three more members of Acquaviva’s party; the latter being accused by the other party of absolving the members of their order from certain sins from which the Inquisition only could absolve; and those sins, Sacchini tells us, consisted in the attempt to corrupt the honesty of their penitents. This was rather a serious matter, and menaced the Society in its very existence. Nevertheless, Acquaviva was not appalled. He did not lose his self-command, nor vent his anger in threats. Against such enemies he had but one shield—the Pope. Sixtus V. filled the chair of St Peter; he bore no goodwill to the order, but he was jealous to an extreme degree of his own authority, and wished that that of others also should be respected. Acquaviva persuaded Sixtus, or, to speak more correctly, insinuated to him, that the blow was aimed not so much at him, the General, as at the supremacy of Rome; at the same time skilfully making him understand, that the Bishop of Carthagena was of illegitimate birth, a blemish which he knew the Pope abhorred above all things. Sixtus at once recalled the assent which he had given to the visitation, and commanded the Inquisition to set at liberty the arrested Jesuits, and to remit the whole case to Rome. When he was informed that the holy tribunal refused to obey his orders, Sixtus became furious with anger, and directed a letter to be written to Cardinal Quiroga, the Grand Inquisitor, to which he added, in his own handwriting, “And if you do not obey, I, the Pope, shall immediately depose you from your office of inquisitor, and tear from your head your cardinal’s hat.” This decided language produced the desired effect. Sixtus’s orders were obeyed, and Acquaviva, under the shadow of the Pope’s authority, maintained himself unshaken in his high office during Sixtus’s lifetime.

But the storm, which had been but momentarily quelled, broke out again after the death of Sixtus, with increased violence. In 1592, while the General was absent from Rome, Philip, who never forgave to Acquaviva his partiality for the French interest, sent the Pope a petition from all the Spanish Jesuits, praying for a general congregation of the order; he himself, at the same time, strongly recommending the measure. Clement VIII., the reigning Pope, granted their request, and before even the General could be aware of his enemies’ manœuvres, the Pope issued orders for the meeting of the congregation. Acquaviva, satisfied that the measure was now irrevocable, submitted to it with the greatest possible good grace, and having used his utmost endeavours that the election should not prove too unfavourable to him, the moment the congregation opened, he, without waiting to be accused, requested that his conduct should be examined and judged. A commission was immediately appointed to receive any accusation or complaint that might be brought against the General. But Acquaviva was far too prudent to have violated any essential rule, or to have given his enemies the right of consistently impeaching his private conduct; so that, as no charge could be substantiated against him, he was triumphantly acquitted. Philip, however, insisted that some restraint should be put upon the General’s authority, and, although the congregation refused to comply with the king’s wishes, the Pope, in the plenitude of his apostolic power, ordained that the superiors and rectors should be changed every third year, and that, at the expiration of every sixth year, a general congregation should be assembled. Acquaviva shewed a great readiness to acquiesce in the Pope’s decrees, but he rendered them almost nugatory by other ordinances; and as a new generation of Jesuits, all devoted to his interests, was now grown up, all questions taken up both by the provincial and general congregations, were decided in accordance with his wishes. By his letter on the happy increase of the Society, Acquaviva prescribed new rules to render the superiors more respected by their subordinates, and more submissive to the General. A second letter, ratio studiorum, which contains a complete code of school legislation, was of still greater importance, and productive of more momentous results. As the education of the young has been one of the principal and immediate causes of the Jesuits’ immense power and influence, we feel obliged to devote some few pages to this important matter.

Had the Jesuits devoted themselves to the work of education for the sole and noble end of diffusing knowledge and intellectual culture among the people, no praise would be adequate to their meritorious exertions and unremitting activity. Such, however, was not exactly the case. The Order—that idol which the Jesuit must have constantly before his eyes—was in this, as in every other undertaking, the great object to which their labours were consecrated; and for its honour and advantage they did not hesitate to sacrifice, when necessary, every other consideration. Nevertheless, in a literary point of view, we shall not refuse to them some eulogy.

“The instruction of boys and of ignorant people in Christianity” was one of the ends which they proposed to attain, and for which Loyola asked Paul III. to approve his order. The example of John III. of Portugal, and of the Duke of Candia, who first erected colleges for the fathers, was eagerly imitated by many. Their colleges increased rapidly, and were soon planted all over the world, so that there were no less than 669 of them at the epoch of the suppression of the order. We have already seen (pp. 40, 41) by what allurements wealthy persons were induced by the Jesuits to leave their property to Jesuit establishments. These were of two kinds, seminaries and colleges, the members of the latter being subdivided into gymnasium and faculty-students. In connexion with each college there was a boarding-house, whither parents were happy to send their children as under a safe shelter from the storms of passion, and from the dangerous society of depraved companions. In their seminaries were trained up the Scholars—those members of the order who were thought to be possessed of such talents as to qualify them to fulfil afterwards the office of professor. But the most numerous class, and perhaps the most useful for their purpose, was the class of day scholars. It is well known that all persons, of whatsoever rank, are admitted into the Jesuit schools, and receive the same instructions. At school hours the prince’s son, who is brought up in their boarding-houses, descends and takes his seat on the same bench with the son of a cobbler. And this we consider an admirable and most instructive plan. The only obligation imposed on the day scholars is, that they must give in their names, and promise to observe the rules of the college, which are everywhere uniform, and which oblige the pupil to hear mass every day, and to go to the confessional once every month. In former times, the Jesuits undertook a still more watchful oversight of this class. They visited them at unwonted hours in their abodes, they had them followed in their different movements, and if they were found guilty of any misdemeanour they were reprimanded, and their faults were made an obstacle to their advancement to academical honours. It is, however, worthy of remark, that Loyola, the clear-sighted Loyola, foreseeing that the obligation to follow the rules of the college would deter Protestants from sending their children to it, and wishing above all things to get hold of those children and to try what the Jesuits could do to convert them, had taken care to leave an opening for their admission. To the third paragraph of the thirteenth chapter of the fourth part of the Constitution, in which is enacted that the day scholars shall engage to observe the rules of the college, he added the following note:—“If any of those who present themselves to our schools will neither engage to observe the rules nor give in his name, he ought not for that reason to be prevented from attending the classes, provided he conduct himself with propriety, and do not cause either trouble or scandal. Let them be made aware of this; adding, however, that they shall not receive the peculiar care which is given to those whose names are inscribed in the register of the university or of the class, and who engage to follow its rules.”[204] This is a characteristic specimen of Jesuitical policy. By absolutely refusing to admit the children of Protestants, they would obtain no result; but by admitting them on such terms, they obtain an opportunity of influencing their youthful minds, and bending them to their purpose indirectly. On the one hand, such pupils cannot but imbibe, in the ordinary course of instruction, the principles and spirit of their masters; and on the other, their pride is mortified at never being considered or mentioned at those public exhibitions which form so important a part of the Jesuit system of education. This artful policy is too frequently successful. Oftentimes the parents, jealous of their children’s renown, and anxious to see them surrounded by those affectionate and friendly cares which the Jesuits unsparingly bestow upon the regular pupils, are induced to consent that they shall follow the rules of the college, and go to mass and to the confessional, and even change their own faith, the better to secure for them these desired advantages: and if it should chance that the mother alone is left as guardian, it commonly happens that both mother and son become Roman Catholics.

In the Jesuit schools the greatest order reigned. The Jesuit masters were men of polite and agreeable manners, in general of a comely appearance, with a cheerful and smiling countenance. They descended with a winning affability to the level of their pupils, and accommodated their language and manners to the capacities and dispositions of the class of persons they had to deal with. The parents, who were highly pleased with the polished manners and the high attainments of their children, sounded forth the praises of their kind instructors far and wide, and repaid their gratuitous instructions sometimes by large donations, always by a deference and devotion never withdrawn. It is an incontestable fact, that even Protestants and philosophers, who had been educated in these seminaries, and who afterwards became the most hostile to the Jesuits as a religious community, continued to preserve a grateful recollection of their Jesuit teachers. Voltaire himself dedicated his tragedy Merope to his dear master Father Porée; and the different princes who were brought up by the Jesuits never lost, when on the throne, that affection and veneration which they had conceived for their kind instructors at an age when generous minds are most susceptible of noble and generous impressions.

Nor was this all. Another strong link, that of religion, was added to the chain of sympathy by which they bound their pupils to the order, and insured for themselves in the different nations of Europe an all-powerful and irresistible influence. In 1569 the Jesuit Leon, a teacher, thought of assembling during the interval of studies such of the boys as were willing to sing the praises of the Virgin, and perform certain external acts of devotion, contributing at the same time, monthly, small sums of money, part of which was employed in works of charity, the merit of the action being always attributed, not to the donors, but to the Jesuits. These meetings took the form of associations, and increased so rapidly, that fifteen years after, in 1584, Gregory XIII. erected them into primary congregations, under the title of Congregations of the Holy Virgin. “These congregations, of which the General of the order was the supreme director, soon broke out from the walls of the colleges with those young men who left them to embrace a career, and who wished to remain in a communion of prayers and remembrances with their masters and their fellow-scholars. They became a link of connexion and friendship; they spread in Europe and in India; they united in the same association the east and the west, the populations of the north and of the south. They had statutes, rules, prayers, and duties in common. It was a numerous brotherhood, extending from Paris to Goa, and descending from Rome to the most insignificant hamlet. The congregations of Avignon, of Antwerp, of Prague, of Friburg, were the most celebrated. There were congregations composed of ecclesiastics, of military men, of magistrates, of nobles, of burgesses, of merchants, of artisans, of servants, all occupied in good and meritorious works.”[205] With the exception of this last clause, this description is perfectly true. A Jesuit was at the head of every congregation. At appointed times the members met together to repeat the office of the Virgin, and to listen to whatever exhortation or advice the Jesuit might think proper to give. His influence was greater or less, according to the quality of persons composing the congregation. Over the poor and the ignorant he had an almost absolute control, and whatever he enjoined, they unscrupulously obeyed. If he exercised no such absolute control over members of the higher classes, he still possessed a great influence over them, and had free access to their families, where he more leisurely practised those arts by which the Jesuit very seldom fails to attain his ends. One is amazed when he considers what immense power these congregations must have given the General of the society. His orders, his curses or commendations of a book, of a man, or of a measure, were repeated in the same tone throughout all the world by tens of thousands, who considered it a sin to disbelieve his word, or to disobey his commands. No wonder, then, that the Court of Rome itself was obliged to submit to the ascendancy of the Jesuits, and that the suppression of the order was with difficulty effected by the united efforts of almost all the sovereigns of Europe.

After the order was suppressed, and during the political turmoil and the unsettled state of Europe, the congregations, although kept up secretly by some disguised Liguorist or Jesuit, were thinly attended, and had lost all their importance. But after the restoration of the Pope and of the Bourbons, missionaries of all kinds overran the whole of Italy, Spain, and part of France, and, among other religious exploits, re-established the congregations of the Virgin. Congregations both of men and women are now very numerous, although they perhaps want that unity of purpose and of direction, which in former times rendered them so dangerously powerful. Their denominations are numberless; congregations of the Rosary, congregations of the Assumption of the Virgin, congregations of the Blood of Jesus (del Sangue di Gesù). In those places where there are no Jesuits, they are directed by proxy, some other religious community, as the Liguorist, the Lazarist, the Passionist, or such like idle and corrupted crew, being appointed to that duty. In church affairs, the members of these congregations have, so to speak, privileges above the rest of the citizens. They go foremost in the processions and other exhibitions; they wear a distinctive badge; they are entitled to a greater number of days of indulgence, and so on. Besides these things, which satisfy the devotional feeling, and flatter the vanity, especially that of the common people in small towns, each individual member may count upon receiving the protection and indirect assistance of the father director.

The boarders in the Jesuit college are subjected to almost the same mode of life as that of the Scholars (the second class of Jesuits), which, however, is not strictly conformable to that of the other classes; Loyola having given them a dispensation from some external practices, acts of devotion and of mortification, that they may have more time for study.[206] The boarders are placed in large rooms, called in Italian Camerate, in French Chambres, each of which accommodates from fifteen to twenty, who are under the superintendence of a Prefetto and Vice-prefetto. At six in the morning a bell gives the signal for rising. The prefect immediately chants some prayers, which are repeated by some of the youths who are less asleep than the rest. Half an hour is allowed for dressing; an hour is spent in the chapel, hearing mass, and singing the praises of the Virgin and St Ignatius. Study follows, and after breakfast, for which half an hour is allowed, they descend to the public schoolroom, where they mix with the day-boarders, with whom, however, they have no opportunities of secret converse. Two pupils, and every day different ones, are secretly charged by the prefect to give an account of the behaviour of all the others, and they are punished if they are not accurate in their denunciations. At twelve they sit down to dinner, during which ascetic books are read from a pulpit placed in the refectory. After the evening school, they walk for an hour in winter, two in summer, and almost double that time on holidays. Before supper, half an hour is again spent in the chapel; and what remains of the evening after supper is spent in study and recreation. At nine o’clock, being warned by the ringing of the bell, they prepare for rest, accompanying the prefect in chanting the Litany of the Virgin. No one is allowed to go from one camerata to another, without the express permission of the prefect or vice-prefect, one of whom must accompany him. No one, not even a parent, is allowed to visit a boarder without the consent of the superior, who is almost always present at the interview. No letter can be sent off or received by any boarder but it must pass through the hands of the rector, who stops it if he thinks proper. The boarders never go home except during the holidays in September, and some remain in the college even during that period. The consequence is, that the influence of the family is gradually destroyed, and the Jesuits mould these youthful hearts and intellects according to their own Jesuitical pattern. Every fortnight all the boarders must go to the confessional, and severe punishment is inflicted on those who transgress this principal rule of the college. But no one ever dares to brave the punishment, though many do not scruple to evade the duty by practising a little ruse.[207]

In all the Jesuit colleges, as we have already observed, reigns the greatest decency, and a sort of military order and discipline, which is highly pleasing to the young. “Their colleges were open for all the graceful arts. Even dancing and fencing were not excluded. The annual distribution of prizes was preceded not only by tragedies full of political allusions, but also by ballets composed by the reverend fathers, and executed by the most agile of their pupils.”[208]

No pains were spared by the Jesuits to advance their pupils in their studies. But as the end which they taught them to have in view was not the truth—as it was not their purpose to inspire their young minds with those noble and generous sentiments which form great citizens, but only to instruct them in their peculiar doctrines, and render them subservient to their order, the whole course of instruction was directed to the attainment of these ends, and the progress of their pupils was more brilliant than solid—partook more of a theatrical character than of a serious method of learning that would have developed the power of reason and reflection. In the speculative sciences especially, their instruction was most defective. The student was by no means taught to penetrate the superficial crust of prejudices and appearances on which the mass of mankind build their opinions, and to descend into the deeper essence of philosophy; but his attention was chiefly directed to the art of disputing in pitiable syllogism upon some of their established principles. The most fantastical, and, at the same time, attractive questions, were proposed for public disputation; and to that incessant fencing of nego, concedo, distinguo, &c., the apprentice philosopher was taught to give all his attention, and, in the display of ability in this exercise, to place all his glory. The Jesuits, so celebrated as casuists, cannot boast of any great philosopher. If some of their pupils acquired a great name in science or in literature, they owed it to their own creative power, which broke out from that sort of magic circle which had been described around them. They became great, not because they had had good masters, but, on the contrary, because they had followed no other master than their own inventive genius. And this is always the case—the Dantes, the Bacons, the Shakspeares, had no masters. The Jesuits cultivated, with more success, archæology, numismatics, and the study of languages. They have especially rendered important services to the study of the classics, which they strongly recommended as the most effectual requisite of a good education. But even to their labours in this department of learning we cannot render unqualified praise.

Literature forms the principal part of the education of a people. Greece and Rome owe their civilisation and grandeur to their poets and orators more than to anything else. With the Eschyluses, the Demostheneses, the Horaces, and the Ciceros, disappeared the glory, the liberty, the civilisation, of the two nations. And if now and then some privileged intelligences, such as Tacitus and Plutarch, appeared on the scene, they could not give a tone to the age, both because they stood alone, and because they were the reflection, not of their own, but of bygone times, and that all the elements of the expiring civilisation were concentrated, we may say, in themselves alone. For it is not to the excellence of the form that literature is indebted for its power; it is rather to its being a vivid representation of the thoughts and feelings, the opinions and sentiments, the hopes and fears, which constitute the life of a nation, and which the writers powerfully exhibit because they themselves are powerfully moved by them. It was by their possessing this excellence in the highest degree that the classical writers of antiquity contributed to form the character of their countrymen; and it is this which forms the chief attraction of their works to the modern student, and which renders them so efficient an instrument for developing the powers of the youthful mind. Now, how can a Jesuit, who has no country, no family, no affection, no history, nothing in which to glory but his order—how can such a man impart to young minds those noble sentiments, those inspirations, which form the essential part of classical literature? “How,” exclaims our Gioberti,[209] “how shall the youth love and admire the heroes of Plutarch if they are made known to him by a Jesuit?[210] because,” most judiciously adds the Italian philosopher, “even if the pupils can repeat the half of Demosthenes or of Cicero, the lesson cannot produce any good effect on their tender minds, if it is not assisted by the voice, by the manners, by the examples, of the interpreter; so that the soul and the life of the master ought to be a mirror and image of that ideal world into which he introduces the pupil.” In fact, the Jesuits gave all their attention merely to the external form of their compositions. Purity of language, elegance of style, correctness of expression, are, generally speaking, the distinctive characteristics of the writings of the Jesuits and their pupils. But their writings are devoid of invention, of bold and luxuriant images, of earnest and passionate expressions, and the care they take to publish their style renders them affected and often ridiculous. No doubt there are honourable exceptions; and Bartoli, for example, Segneri, and Bourdaloue, may be classed among the first Italian and French writers. The Jesuits exercised rather the memory than the intelligence of the pupil, who not seldom was able to recite volumes of which he hardly understood a word. Their greatest merit consisted in rendering study pleasing; and many of their pupils owe their fame and greatness, not to the information, but to the love of learning, they had acquired in their schools.

The Ratio Studiorum regulated with great precision the method of instruction in its most minute details, and has ever since been the code followed by the Jesuits to our day.

Meanwhile a great change had taken place in the general policy of the Society. Through Acquaviva’s influence, the order, at least as represented by its officials in Rome, and by the young generation of Jesuits who were devoted to the General, had passed from the Spanish into the French camp; and ever after, the Jesuits were in a great measure opposed by the Spanish and supported by the French court. Let us see how it happened.

The Jesuits had only partially obeyed the arrêt of the Parliament of Paris which expelled them from France. They resided publicly in many provinces: secretly and in disguise everywhere. Following the suggestions of their General, they had changed their language and their conduct, and, from being furious Leaguers, were become zealous partisans of Henry IV. “Cardinal Tolet has done wonders, and has shewn himself a good Frenchman,” wrote the French ambassador, Cardinal du Perron, to the minister Villeroy.[211] In fact, he, more than any other person, had contributed to obtain Henry’s absolution. Acquaviva refused to accept, without Henry’s consent, two new colleges which were offered to the order by some town of Languedoc, where the Jesuits had been maintained by the local parliament. He, the General, and the Pope, the king’s best friends, as they called themselves, pressed him hard to restore the Jesuits, who, on their part, promised him the same obedience, the same devotion, they had till then shewn to the King of Spain. Above all, they offered to uphold his royal authority in all its extent, which was then impugned by the Huguenots. Henry was in a very perplexing position. He stood in need of the Pope’s support against the rival house of Austria. He felt the necessity of shewing himself a zealous Catholic, and he wished to secure, if possible, the support of such men as the Jesuits. On the other hand, he knew what dangerous and perfidious guests they were; and the parliament, the greatest part of the clergy, and all his ministers, were adverse to the Society. Sully, the great minister and faithful friend of Henry, has handed down to us the sentiments of his royal master on this subject. “I do not doubt,” said the prince to Sully, “that you can easily combat this first reason, but I do not think that you will even attempt to refute the second, namely, that by necessity I am compelled to do one of these two things—either simply to recall the Jesuits, free them from the infamy and disgrace with which they are covered, and put to the test the sincerity of their oaths and of their splendid promises; or to expel them in a more absolute manner, using against them all the rigour and severity that can be thought of to prevent them from ever approaching either my person or my estates; on which supposition there is no doubt but that we shall drive them to despair, and to the resolution of attempting my life, which would render it so miserable to me, being always under the apprehension of being poisoned or murdered (for those people have correspondents everywhere, and are very dexterous in disposing the minds of men to whatever they wish), that I think it would be better to be already dead, being of Cæsar’s opinion, that the sweetest death is that which is least expected and foreseen.”[212] In conformity with this opinion, Henry, in 1603, issued letters-patent for the re-establishment of the Jesuits, and forced the reluctant parliament to register them. To Acquaviva he wrote a warm letter, assuring him of his friendship, and expressing to the then convened congregation his wishes that the original Constitutions should not be altered, and this letter in great part checked the influence of the Spanish party, who asked for a reform, and were supported by the Spanish court.[213]

In the affair of Venice, the two courts shewed the same dispositions. It does not enter into the plan of this work to narrate the particulars of this famous contest, except in so far as the Jesuits were concerned in it, and it belongs to their history; and this we proceed to do as shortly as possible.

Long had the difference lasted between the Roman See and the Venetian government, the first asserting many privileges of the Church over state affairs, the latter denying them. The Jesuits upheld the exorbitant pretensions of Rome with the utmost pertinacity. Now, it happened, while both parties were exasperated against each other, two priests, accused of infamous crimes, were, by order of the Venetian government, arrested, and delivered up to the ordinary tribunals. The Pope was highly incensed at this proceeding, and contended that the republic had no right to arrest any ecclesiastic, who was subject to none but ecclesiastical authority. The Jesuits were the most zealous of the clergy in maintaining this principle. The famous Bellarmine asserted, that “the priesthood has its princes who govern, not only in spiritual, but also in temporal matters. It could not possibly acknowledge any particular temporal superior. No man can serve two masters. It is for the priest to judge the emperor, not the emperor the priest. It would be absurd for the sheep to pretend to judge the shepherd.”[214] The republic, on the other hand, asserted her sovereign rights. Paul V. was in the Papal chair, a man who considered the canonical law as the word of God, and was ready to excommunicate whosoever dared to disregard its authority. He laid Venice under an interdict, which, as most of our readers are aware, would have shut up all the churches, and prevented the performance of all religious services within its bounds. The government, however, that the public tranquillity might not be disturbed, summoned before them all the clergy, both regular and secular, and offered them the alternative, either to officiate, as in ordinary times, or to leave the territory of the republic immediately. They did not hesitate for an instant; not a single copy of the Papal brief was fixed up, and public worship was everywhere conducted as before. The Jesuits, however, in obedience to the Pope’s command, transmitted by their General, departed from the Venetian States, ostentatiously carrying with them the consecrated host, as if they would shew, says Gioberti, that God went into exile along with them. When the dispute between Rome and the republic was afterwards settled, the senate refused, though requested, to re-admit the Jesuits. In vain the Pope, and above all, Henry IV., who sent the Cardinal Joyeuse to Venice on purpose, used all their influence to procure the re-establishment of the fathers. The republic, encouraged in her resolution by the court of Spain, would in no way yield on this point, and it was only in 1657 that, in exchange for pecuniary advantages and the support of the Pope in the war of Candia, the Jesuits were allowed, under many restrictions, to re-enter the Venetian states.[215]

By this time Acquaviva had established his authority more firmly than ever. The congregations had supported him; the revolt had been quelled; the rioters punished; and peace for the moment restored to the Society. “Acquaviva, so to speak, had gone through the iron age of the company—his successor was destined to govern in the golden age.... All, during a century, bestowed smiles upon the Company of Jesus. She became the favourite of the Popes and the kings—the confidant of their ministers—the director of the public spirit. All took inspiration from her—all returned to her as to its source.”[216] But, notwithstanding this flattering and in part true picture, the order had received a shock, the effect of which was soon to be made manifest. To govern the revolted province of Spain, Acquaviva, violating the fundamental law of the order, had appointed professed members as administrators of colleges, while, to meet the necessity of the moment, coadjutors fulfilled the duties assigned by the Constitution to the professed. This ultimately proved the ruin of the order. Besides this, Mariana[217] and Henriquez, two influential Spanish Jesuits, out of hatred to Acquaviva, had pointed out many abuses which had crept into the community, and bitterly inveighed against the tyranny of the General and a few of the higher functionaries. This had an immediate result most injurious to the order. Under the successors of Acquaviva, these seeds of revolt and disobedience spread so fast, that when, towards the year 1560, the General, Goswin Nickel, attempted to enforce obedience to the primitive rules, he was solemnly deprived by his disciples of all authority.

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CHAPTER XI.
1600-1700.
DOCTRINES AND MORAL CODE OF THE JESUITS.

Let not our readers imagine that we shall enter into a profound theological discussion about the doctrines of the Jesuits. The thing has been repeatedly done, and we confess ourselves too deficient scholars in divinity, to throw any new light upon it. We shall briefly touch the theological question, and shall rather enlarge on those principles and maxims by which the Jesuits perverted the morals of their votaries, the better to domineer over them.

Acquaviva, in the Ratio Studiorum, had introduced a clause which threw the Roman Catholic world into confusion and alarm. Lainez, as we have observed, had already inserted a note in the Constitution regarding the study of scholastic learning, to this effect, that, “if any book of theology could be found more adapted to the times, it should be taught.” Acquaviva went a step further, and declared, “that St Thomas was indeed an author deserving of the highest approbation, but that it would be an insufferable yoke to be compelled to follow his footsteps in all things, and on no point to be allowed a free opinion; that many important doctrines had been more firmly established and better elucidated by recent theologians than by the holy doctor himself.”[218] This declaration produced a great commotion in the Roman Catholic world, and the Inquisition declared that the “Ratio Studiorum was the most dangerous, rash, and arrogant book that had ever appeared, and calculated to produce many disturbances in the Christian commonwealth.”[219] But a greater scandal and more violent tempest was awakened by Molina, who in 1588 published at Evora a work on grace and free-will,[220] which inculcated a doctrine quite at variance with that taught by St Thomas and received by the Church. He maintained that free-will, even without the help of grace, can produce morally good works, that it can resist temptation, and can elevate itself to various acts of hope, faith, love, and repentance. When a man has advanced thus far, God then bestows grace upon him on account of Christ’s merits, by means of which grace he experiences the supernatural effects of sanctification; yet, as before this grace had been received, in like manner, free-will is continually in action; and as everything depends on it, it rests with us to make the help of God effectual or ineffectual. Molina, in consequence, rejected the doctrine of Thomas and Augustine on predestination, and refused to admit it, as too stern and cruel. This is the substance of Molina’s doctrine.[221]

The Dominicans, a great part of the theologians, and some of the Jesuits, loudly exclaimed against it, and the Inquisition was on the point of condemning it, when, by the influence of Acquaviva, who sided with Molina, the affair was called up to Rome. Sixty-five meetings and thirty-seven disputations were held in presence of the Pope Clement VIII., who took a lively interest in the subject, wrote much upon it himself, and who was resolved to condemn the Jesuits’ doctrine. But when it was reported to him that the fathers spoke of calling a general council, and that in one of their public discussions the thesis to be proved was to this effect, that “it is not an article of faith that such and such a Pope (Clement VIII., for example) is really Pope;”[222] the poor Pope exclaimed, “They dare everything, everything!” paused, and died without having given any decision. The disputations were resumed under Paul V., who also held the doctrine of the Thomists. The Jesuits, however, had given him such proofs of their devotion in the affair of Venice, and were so powerful in the Church, that he had neither the heart nor the courage to condemn them. In consequence, in 1607 he imposed silence on both parties till he should pronounce a decision which would set the matter at rest.[223] As this decision never came, and as the doctrine of the Jesuits was not condemned, they chanted victory, and lost no time in having Molina’s book circulated and taught everywhere.

But a formidable antagonist arose a little later to oppose its progress. This was the sect of the Jansenists, so celebrated for its labours and sufferings, which form so interesting a chapter in the history of the Romish Church. Jansenius, the founder, was born in 1585, in Holland—studied at Louvain—was ordained a priest—and, in 1636, consecrated Bishop of Ypres. Shocked at the doctrine of the Jesuits, he and Du Verger de Hauranne (afterwards Abbot of St Cyran, by which name he is better known) plunged themselves into the study of the ancient fathers of the Church, and especially of Augustine; and, after six years of labour, Jansenius composed a book, in which the ancient doctrine of the Thomists was again propounded, advancing, however, a step towards Luther’s doctrine on grace and justification. Being smitten by the plague, Jansenius, on his death-bed, submitted his manuscript to the judgment of the Roman See; but St Cyran, without waiting for the oracle of the Vatican, published the Augustinus (such was the title of Jansenius’ work), which produced a great sensation. St Cyran became the chief of a school, in which were grouped scores of young ecclesiastics, and some of the most eminent men in France. The nuns of Port-Royal, amongst whom were almost the whole of the Arnauld family, under the guidance of the venerable Mère Angélique, the sister of the famous Arnauld, followed the doctrine of St Cyran. Cardinal Richelieu, jealous that any other person than himself should exercise influence or power, sent St Cyran to the dungeon of Vincennes. On the death of his persecutor, the noble sufferer being set at liberty, returned to his duties, and was received, and almost worshipped as a saint, by the increased number of his disciples. The Jesuits, alarmed at the favour with which the doctrine of Jansenius was received, bestirred themselves in every quarter to impugn it, and filled the world with their clamours and imprecations against the book, as if the Bishop of Ypres had denied the very existence of God. The Pope was applied to to anathematise the impious work; and, when he hesitated, they directed his attention to a passage, in which his infallibility was indirectly called in question. Of course this was a heresy not to be overlooked. Urban VIII. expressed his disapprobation of the book; but this had no effect in checking its popularity. Such men as Arnauld, Le Maître, De Sacy, Pascal, supported Jansenius’ doctrine, and their many followers disregarded the denunciations of its opponents. The Jesuits became furious. They embodied, in their own peculiar way, the essential doctrines of Jansenius in five propositions, and asked Innocent X. solemnly to condemn them. The Pope was a man who abhorred theological controversy, and would not willingly have engaged in this; but it was no longer in the power of the Court of Rome to resist the influence of the Jesuits. The five propositions were condemned, as tainted with heresy. The Jansenists indignantly denied that such propositions were to be found in the Augustinus, and that they expressed the sense attributed to them; but Alexander VII., who was now the reigning Pope, declared, by a bull, that the propositions were really to be found in Jansenius’ book. Of all the extravagant pretensions of the Roman See, this was assuredly the greatest. The Jansenists, in their defence, while they declared themselves good and devout Catholics, asserted, nevertheless, that the Pope’s infallibility did not extend to matters of fact. “Why make such a noise?” they said to their opponents—“we acknowledge that these propositions are heterodox. Shew us them in Augustinus, and we will unite with you in condemning them.” “We need not take the trouble to shew them to you,” was the answer; “the Pope has declared them to be in the book—and the Pope is infallible.” So, if the Pope affirms that a magnificent castle is to be found in the middle of the ocean, according to a doctrine to which the Papist sticks even in the present day, one must believe it, or be excommunicated! The Jansenists endured all sorts of persecution rather than submit to so unjust a decree; and it is a striking instance of human inconsistency, that men so noble and upright, who had approached so near the Protestant doctrine, at least in its most essential part, should continue within the pale of the Roman Church. The fact, we believe, may be partly explained by that pertinacity which men of all parties display in maintaining a position they have once taken up in any controversy, that they may not incur the ignominy of defeat. “The supporters of the Augustinus are heretics,” the Jesuits had said from the beginning; and the Jansenists, in order that the book might be declared orthodox, had indignantly repelled the accusation, and declared themselves good and devout Roman Catholics—and they maintained to the end their first declaration. Alas! how many eloquent pages Arnauld, Nicole, and Pascal have written, to prove themselves the votaries and slaves of the idol of Rome!

Not to interrupt our narrative, we have brought the reader far beyond the epoch we are considering. We must now look a little back, and see how the Jesuits had become so powerful a brotherhood. We have already seen what arts they used, and what doctrines they propounded, to get a footing in different countries, acquire an influence over persons of their own persuasion, and a preponderance in the Court of Rome. But as the doctrines and practices by which they had obtained their ends were no longer suited, or, at least, were not the most efficient, for the times, they now changed both doctrines and practices with wonderful promptitude.

When the order was established, the Court of Rome had itself to struggle for existence, and was on the verge of being stripped of its ill-gotten and ill-used authority. The politic Charles V. lent it soldiers—the Jesuits, theologians for the contest. Lainez, Salmeron, Lejay, and Canisius, rendered it as good and unequivocal services as the imperial armies. But such men as those were no longer needed. Not only had the flood of the Reformation been stayed, but Rome was in the utmost exultation at having reconquered many lost provinces; and, as theological controversies were now raging in the camp of her adversary, the Papacy, though emboldened to assert pretensions which, a century before, she would never have dreamt of mentioning, relaxed that activity which she had for a moment displayed, and returned to her former life of intrigues and indolence. However, the great contest with the Protestants had left among the Roman Catholics a tendency, a wish, we do not say to become better Christians, but to make a greater display of their religion. All the external practices of devotion which, in their eyes, constituted the true believer, were more eagerly resorted to; and, above all, the confessional was frequented with unprecedented assiduity. To have a confessor exclusively for one’s self was the surest sign of orthodoxy, and became as fashionable as it is now to have a box at the opera. Sovereigns, ministers, courtiers, noblemen—every man, in short, who had a certain position in society, had his own acknowledged confessor. Even the mistresses of princes pretended to the privilege—and Madame de Pompadour will prove to her spiritual guide that it is dangerous to oppose the caprices of a favourite. The Jesuits saw at once the immense advantage they would derive if they could enlarge the number of their clients, especially among the higher classes. They were already, in this particular, far advanced in the public favour; they were known to be very indulgent; had long since obtained the privilege of absolving from those sins which only the Pope himself could pardon; and Suarez, their great theologian, had even attempted to introduce confession by letter, as a more easy and expeditious way of reaching all penitents.[224]

But by this time they had made fearful progress in the art of flattering the bad passions, and winking at the vices, of those who had recourse to their ministry in order to make, as they believed, their peace with God. Escobar collected in six large volumes the doctrines of different Jesuit casuists, those preceptors of immorality and prevarication; and his book was for a time the only code followed by the generality of the Jesuits.[225] However, I will not assert that they taught downright immorality, to corrupt mankind merely for the sake of corrupting them. No; if this has sometimes been the case with individuals, it was never so with a sect. They had another end in view. As we said, they aspired to be the general confessors, for their own private purposes; concealing their designs under the mask of piety, they gave out that it was essential for the good of religion that they should have the direction of all consciences; and, as an inducement to penitents to resort to them, they offered doctrines in conformity to the wishes of persons of all sorts. Hence all their casuists were not licentious and indulgent to vice. A few of them were strict, severe, and indeed teachers of evangelical precepts, and those they held out to the few penitents who were of a more rigid morality, and quoted them when accused of teaching relaxed doctrines; while for the multitude, who are generally more loose in their morals, they had the bulk of their casuists. Father Petau calls this “an obliging and accommodating conduct.” So, for example, if the Jesuit confessor perceives that a penitent feels inclined to make restitution of ill-gotten money, he will certainly encourage him to do so, praise him for his holy resolution, insist to be himself the instrument of the restitution, taking care, however, that it should be known again. But if another person accuse himself of theft, but shew no disposition to make restitution, be sure that the Jesuit confessor will find in some book or other of his brother Jesuits some sophistry to set his conscience at rest, and persuade him that he may safely retain what he has stolen from his neighbour.

The existence of books to which those pernicious maxims have been consigned, having put it out of the power of the Jesuits to impugn their genuineness; in order to exculpate their Society, they have cast a reproach upon the teachers of their own Church, and even blasphemed Christianity. “The probabilism,” says their historian, “was not born with the Jesuits; at the moment of their establishment probabilism reigned in the schools.”[226] And again, “Ever since the origin of Christianity, the world had complained of the austerity of certain precepts; the Jesuits came to bring relief from these grievances.”[227]

But, that our readers may judge for themselves of the character of Jesuitical morality, we shall lay before them some of their doctrines; and in doing so (be it observed), we shall quote as our authorities none but Jesuit authors, and such as have been approved and are held in veneration by the Society.

It is evident that, in the confessional, everything depends upon the conception formed of transgression and sin. Now, according to the Jesuitical doctrines, we do not sin, unless we have a clear perception and understanding of the sin as sin, and unless our will freely consent to it.[228] The following are the consequences which the Jesuit casuists have deduced from that principle:—

“A confessor perceives that his penitent is in invincible ignorance, or at least in innocent ignorance, and he does not hope that any benefit will be derived from his advice, but rather anxiety of mind, strife, or scandal. Should he dissemble? Suarez affirms that he ought; because, since his admonition will be fruitless, ignorance will excuse his penitent from sin.”[229]

“Although he who, through inveterate habit, inadvertently swears a falsehood, may seem bound to confess the propensity, yet he is commonly excused. The reason is, that no one commonly reflects upon the obligation by which he is bound to extirpate the habit; ... and, therefore, since he is excused from the sin, he will also be excused from confession. Some maintain that the same may be said of blasphemy, heresy, and of the aforesaid oath; ... and, consequently, that such things, committed inadvertently, are neither sins in themselves, nor the cause of sins, and therefore need not necessarily be confessed.”[230]

“Wherever there is no knowledge of wickedness, there is also of necessity no sin. It is sufficient to have at least a confused notion of the heinousness of a sin, without which knowledge there would never be a flagrant crime. For instance, one man kills another, believing it indeed to be wrong, but conceiving it to be nothing more than a trifling fault. Such a man does not greatly sin, because it is knowledge only which points out the wickedness or the grossness of it to the will. Therefore, criminality is only imputed according to the measure of knowledge.”

“If a man commit adultery or suicide, reflecting indeed, but still very imperfectly and superficially, upon the wickedness and great sinfulness of those crimes; however heinous may be the matter, he still sins but slightly. The reason is, that as a knowledge of the wickedness is necessary to constitute the sin, so is a full clear knowledge and reflection necessary to constitute a heinous sin. And thus I reason with Vasquez: In order that a man may freely sin, it is necessary to deliberate whether he sins or not. But he fails to deliberate upon the moral wickedness of it, if he does not reflect, at least by doubting, upon it during the act. Therefore he does not sin, unless he reflects upon the wickedness of it. It is also certain that a full knowledge of such wickedness is required to constitute a mortal sin. For it would be unworthy the goodness of God to exclude a man from glory, and to reject him for ever, for a sin on which he had not fully deliberated; but if reflection upon the wickedness of it has only been partial, deliberation has not been complete; and therefore the sin is not a mortal sin.”[231]

The practical consequences of this doctrine have been admirably represented by Pascal in his happiest vein of irony. “Oh, my dear sir,” says he to the Jesuit who had exposed to him the afore-mentioned doctrine, “what a blessing this will be to some persons of my acquaintance! I must positively introduce them to you. You have never, perhaps, in all your life, met with people who had fewer sins to account for! In the first place, they never think of God at all; their vices have got the better of their reason; they have never known either their weakness or the physician who can cure it; they have never thought of ‘desiring the health of their soul,’ and still less of ‘praying to God to bestow it;’ so that, according to M. le Moine, they are still in the state of baptismal innocence. They have ‘never had a thought of loving God, or of being contrite for their sins;’ so that, according to Father Annat, they have never committed sin through the want of charity and penitence. Their life is spent in a perpetual round of all sorts of pleasures, in the course of which they have not been interrupted by the slightest remorse. These excesses had led me to imagine that their perdition was inevitable; but you, father, inform me that these same excesses secure their salvation. Blessings on you, my good father, for this new way of justifying people! Others prescribe painful austerities for healing the soul; but you shew that souls which may be thought desperately diseased are in quite good health. What an excellent device for being happy both in this world and in the next! I had always supposed that the less a man thought of God, the more he sinned; but, from what I see now, if one could only succeed in bringing himself not to think upon God at all, everything would be pure with him in all time coming. Away with your half-and-half sinners, who retain some sneaking affection for virtue! They will be damned, every soul of them. But commend me to your arrant sinners—hardened, unalloyed, out-and-out, thorough-bred sinners. Hell is no place for them; they have cheated the devil, by sheer devotion to his service.”[232]

But if you are not such an arrant hardened sinner but that your conscience warns you of your guilt, then come to the doctrine of probability, the A B C of the Jesuitical code of morality, which will set your troublesome conscience at rest. Listen!

“The true opinion is, that it is not only lawful to follow the more probable but less safe opinion ... but also that the less safe may be followed when there is an equality of probability.”

“I agree in the opinion of Henriquez, Vasquez, and Perez, who maintain that it is sufficient for an inexperienced and unlearned man to follow the opinion which he thinks to be probable because it is maintained by good men who are versed in the art; although that opinion may be neither the more safe, nor the more common, nor the more probable.

“Sotus thinks that it would be very troublesome to a penitent, if the priest, after having heard his confession, should send him back without absolution, to confess himself again to another priest, if he could absolve him with a safe conscience against his own (the priest’s) opinion; especially when another priest might not perhaps be readily found who would believe the opinion of the penitent to be probable.

“It may be asked whether a confessor may give advice to a penitent in opposition to his own opinion; or, if he should think in any case that restitution ought to be made, whether he may advise that the opinion of others may be followed, who maintain that it need not be made? I answer, that he lawfully may, ... because he may follow the opinion of another in his own practice, and therefore he may advise another person to follow it. Still it is better, in giving advice, always to follow the more probable opinion to which a man is ever accustomed to adhere, especially when the advice is given in writing, lest contradiction be discovered. It is also sometimes expedient to send the consulting person to another doctor or confessor who is known to hold an opinion favourable to the inquirer, provided it be probable.”[233]

“Without respect of persons may a judge, in order to favour his friend, decide according to any probable opinion, while the question of right remains undecided?

“If the judge should think each opinion equally probable, for the sake of his friend he may lawfully pronounce sentence according to the opinion which is more favourable to the interests of that friend. He may, moreover, with the intent to serve his friend, at one time judge according to one opinion, and at another time according to the contrary opinion, provided only that no scandal result from the decision.”[234]

“An unbeliever who is persuaded that his sect is probable, although the opposite sect may be more probable, would certainly be obliged, at the point of death, to embrace the true faith, which he thinks to be the more probable.... But, except under such circumstances, he would not.... Add to this, that the mysteries of faith are so sublime, and the Christian morals so repugnant to the laws of flesh and blood, that no greater probability whatever may be accounted sufficient to enforce the obligation of believing.[235]

“Indeed, while I perceive so many different opinions maintained upon points connected with morality, I think that the Divine providence is apparent; for, in diversity of opinions, the yoke of Christ is easily borne.”[236]

“A confessor may absolve penitents, according to the probable opinion of the penitent, in opposition to his own, and is even bound to do so.”[237]

“Again, it is probable that pecuniary compensation may be made for defamation; it is also probable that it cannot be made. May I, the defamed, exact to-day pecuniary compensation from my defamer, and to-morrow, and even on the same day, may I, the defamer of another, refuse to compensate with money for the reputation of which I have deprived him?... I affirm that it is lawful to do at pleasure sometimes the one and sometimes the other.

“Those ignorant confessors are to be blamed who always think that they do well in obliging their penitents to make restitution, because it is at all times more safe.”[238]

By this abominable doctrine the confessors were made to answer yes or no, as might be most agreeable to their penitents; and these might oblige the confessor to absolve them of their sins, if they only themselves believed that they were not sins. Imagine what an arrant knave the person inclined to do evil must have become, when, to the firm belief that the absolution of the confessor cleanses from all crimes, was superadded the certainty that this confessor must absolve him almost according to his own wishes. We shudder to think of it!

The doctrine of equivocation came in aid of that of probabilism. By the former, according to Sanchez, “it is permitted to use ambiguous terms, leading people to understand them in a different sense from that in which we understand them.”[239] “A man may swear,” according to the same author, “that he never did such a thing (though he actually did it), meaning within himself that he did not do so on such a day, or before he was born, or understanding any other such circumstances, while the words which he employs have no such sense as would discover his meaning.”[240] And Filiutius proves that in so speaking one does not even lie, because, says he, “it is the intention that determines the quality of the action; and one may avoid falsehood if, after saying aloud I swear that I have not done that, he add in a low voice, to-day; or after saying aloud, I swear, he interpose in a whisper, that I say, and then continue aloud, that I have done that, and this is telling the truth.”

With mental reservation and probabilism, they have sanctioned all sorts of crimes. The varlet might help his master to commit rape or adultery, provided he do not think of the sin, but of the profit he may reap from it—so says father Bauny. If a servant think his salary is not an adequate compensation for services, he may help himself to some of his master’s property to make it equal to his pretensions—so teaches the same father. You may kill your enemy for a box on the ear, as Escobar asserts in the following words:—“It is perfectly right to kill a person who has given us a box on the ear, although he should run away, provided it is not done through hatred or revenge, and there is no danger of giving occasion thereby to murders of a gross kind and hurtful to society. And the reason is, that it is as lawful to pursue the thief that has stolen our honour, as him that has run away with our property. For, although your honour cannot be said to be in the hands of your enemy in the same sense as your goods and chattels are in the hands of the thief, still it may be recovered in the same way—by shewing proofs of greatness and authority, and thus acquiring the esteem of men. And, in point of fact, is it not certain that the man who has received a buffet on the ear is held to be under disgrace, until he has wiped off the insult with the blood of his enemy?”

In short, you may be a fraudulent bankrupt, thief, assassin, profligate, impious atheist even, with a safe conscience, provided always you confess to a Jesuit confessor. It is doubtless in this that we are to see the efficacy of that miraculous gift, which we read at page 13 Loyola had received from heaven, and transmitted to his successors—the gift of healing troubled consciences; and this is even boldly asserted by themselves. In the Imago primi Sæculi, S. 3, ch. 8, are words to this effect:—“With the aid of pious finesse and holy artifice of devotion, crimes may be expiated now-a-days alacrius, with more joy and alacrity, than they were committed in former days; and a great many people may be washed from their stains almost as cleverly as they contracted them.” After this quotation, we need not trouble the reader with any more regarding the doctrine of the Jesuits on social duties. We only beg of him, in order that he may well understand all the enormity of these doctrines, to look at them from the point of view of the Papists, who consider the confessional as the only way of salvation, and who blindly obey their spiritual fathers, especially if they flatter their passions, and promise them paradise as the reward of their vices.

It is also of importance that our readers should be made acquainted with the doctrine of the Jesuits regarding religious duties, and the love which is due to God, that they may the better judge of the character of those champions of Romanism, those monks who are labouring hard to make proselytes to their religion—the only true one, as they pretend, out of which there is no salvation.

Father Antony Sirmond, in his book on The Defence of Virtue, has the following passage:—“St Thomas says that we are obliged to love God as soon as we come to the use of reason; that is rather too soon! Scotus says, every Sunday; pray, for what reason? Others say, when we are sorely tempted; yes, if there be no other way of escaping the temptation. Sotus says, when we have received a benefit from God; good, in the way of thanking him for it. Others say, at death—rather late! As little do I think it binding at the reception of any sacrament; attrition, in such a case, is quite enough, along with confession—if convenient. Suarez says, that it is binding at some time or another; but at what time? He does not know; and what that doctor does not know, I know not who should know.”[241]

And father Pinter can crown those execrable doctrines by the impious assertion, that the dispensation from the painful obligation to love God is purchased for us through the merits of Christ’s blood. “It was reasonable,” says that sacrilegious Jesuit, “that under the law of grace in the New Testament, God should relieve us from that troublesome and arduous obligation which existed under the law of bondage, to exercise an act of perfect contrition, in order to be justified; and that the place of this should be supplied by the sacraments instituted in aid of an easier exercise; otherwise, indeed, Christians, who are the children, would have no greater facility in gaining the good graces of their Father than the Jews, who were the slaves, had in obtaining the mercy of their Lord and Master.”[242]

And men guilty of all sorts of crimes—men who pretend that no love is due to God, that not even attrition is necessary for the remission of sins—such men shall be made worthy of the eternal blessedness through some idolatrous practices! Such is the doctrine taught by Jesuits, and, we must add, by most of the Roman Catholic clergy, some of whom we are going to bring under our reader’s eye. We beg permission to quote Pascal again. Our readers will certainly prefer the trenchant, sarcastic style of the celebrated Jansenist to our imperfect manner of narration. In a dialogue which he pretends to have had with a Jesuit, the father addresses him in the following words:—

“‘Would you not be infinitely obliged to any one who should open to you the gates of paradise? Would you not give millions of gold to have a key by which you might gain admittance whenever you pleased? You need not be at such expense; here is one—here are a hundred for much less money.’

“At first I was at a loss to know whether the good father was reading or talking to me, but he soon put the matter beyond doubt by adding:—

“‘These, sir, are the opening words of a fine book, written by Father Barry of our Society; for I never give you anything of my own.’

“‘What book is it?’ asked I.

“‘Here is its title,’ he replied—‘Paradise Opened to Philagio, in a Hundred Devotions to the Mother of God, easily practised.’

“‘Indeed, father! and is each of these easy devotions a sufficient passport to heaven?’

“‘It is,’ returned he, ‘Listen to what follows: “The devotions to the mother of God, which you will find in this book, are so many celestial keys, which will open wide to you the gates of paradise, provided you practise them;” and accordingly, he says at the conclusion, “that he is satisfied if you practise only one of them.”’

“‘Pray, then, father, do teach me one of the easiest of them.’

“‘They are all easy,’ he replied; ‘for example—”Saluting the Holy Virgin when you happen to meet her image—saying the little chaplet of the pleasures of the Virgin—fervently pronouncing the name of Mary—commissioning the angels to bow to her for us—wishing to build her as many churches as all the monarchs on earth have done—bidding her good-morrow every morning, and good-night in the evening—saying the Ave Maria every day in honour of the heart of Mary“—which last devotion, he says, possesses the additional virtue of securing us the heart of the Virgin.’

“‘But, father,’ said I, ‘only provided we give her our own in return, I presume?’

“‘That,’ he replied, ‘is not absolutely necessary, when a person is too much attached to the world. Hear Father Barry: “Heart for heart would, no doubt, be highly proper; but yours is rather too much attached to the world, too much bound up in the creature, so that I dare not advise you to offer, at present, that poor little slave which you call your heart.” And so he contents himself with the Ave Maria which he had prescribed.’[243]

“‘Why, this is extremely easy work,’ said I, ‘and I should really think that nobody will be damned after that.’

“‘Alas!’ said the monk, ‘I see you have no idea of the hardness of some people’s hearts. There are some, sir, who would never engage to repeat, every day, even these simple words, Good day, Good evening, just because such a practice would require some exertion of memory. And, accordingly, it became necessary for Father Barry to furnish them with expedients still easier, such as wearing a chaplet night and day on the arm, in the form of a bracelet, or carrying about one’s person a rosary, or an image of the Virgin. “And, tell me now,” as Father Barry says, “if I have not provided you with easy devotions to obtain the good graces of Mary?”’

“‘Extremely easy, indeed, father,’ I observed.

“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it is as much as could possibly be done, and I think should be quite satisfactory. For he must be a wretched creature indeed, who would not spare a single moment in all his lifetime to put a chaplet on his arm, or a rosary in his pocket, and thus secure his salvation; and that, too, with so much certainty, that none who have tried the experiment have ever found it to fail, in whatever way they may have lived; though, let me add, we exhort people not to omit holy living. Let me refer you to the example of this, given at page 34; it is that of a female who, while she practised daily the devotion of saluting the images of the Virgin, spent all her days in mortal sin, and yet was saved after all, by the merit of that single devotion.’

“‘And how so?’ cried I.

“‘Our Saviour,’ he replied, ‘raised her up again, for the very purpose of shewing it. So certain it is, that none can perish who practise any one of these devotions.’”[244]

We may, perhaps, mention here also, the greatest of all the Jesuitical devotions to Mary, the one which, according to them, is the sovereign specific for obtaining salvation—namely, the month of Mary.

The month which they have chosen to consecrate to the Virgin is the month of May. I dare not say for what reason. During its long thirty-one days, nothing is to be heard but songs and hymns in honour of the Virgin. Altars are dressed before every niche in which stands a Madonna. Sundry other images are placed around it—as smaller divinities, we may suppose—and, among images and burning lamps, a profusion of flowers of all colours send up their fragrant perfume as an offering to the Virgin. At different hours the devotees prostrate themselves before these altars, and offer their vows and their prayers to the Madonna. The most extravagant language is addressed to her, and she is represented as possessing the most extraordinary attributes. “Any person performing the month of Mary, should he die within the month, will be saved, even if he had murdered his parents.” In the churches and schools of the Jesuits are performed the same ceremonies as in the streets. God for this month is still more forgotten than He generally is.

We could fill volumes with such extracts, but must be content with those we have given, referring such of our readers as wish to know more of the Jesuitical doctrines to Pascal, to the Morale Pratique des Jésuites by Arnauld, and to the Principles of the Jesuits, developed in a Collection of Extracts from their own Authors (London, 1839).

We have also shrunk from polluting these pages by extracts from Lacrois, Sanchez, and such like, whose obscene and revolting lucubrations, the inevitable fruits of the celibacy of the cloister, have left far behind all that has been conceived by the most wanton and depraved imagination. We have omitted, moreover, to extract from the Secreta Monita, and for the following reason:—The Secreta Monita are a collection of precepts and instructions the most nefarious and diabolical, given, it is supposed, by the General of the order to his subalterns, as if to shew them the way how to proceed in all their perfidious plots for the aggrandisement of the Company. The book in which those precepts are collected, came out for the first time in Cracow in 1612, and was reprinted in Paris in 1761. The Jesuits assert that it owes its origin to an expelled Jesuit, Zaorowski, while their opponents contend that the Secreta Monita had been found by Christian of Brunswick in the Jesuit college of Prague or elsewhere. The Secreta Monita were condemned at Rome. But, to confess the truth, our opinion is, that the book is at best apocryphal. The Jesuits were too cunning foxes to expose their secrets to the risk of being discovered, by leaving copies of such a book here and there. They were not yet so firmly established as to risk the very existence of their order, if one of those copies were discovered, or if a member should be tempted to betray the Society. Besides, from the knowledge we have of the Jesuitical character, we feel assured that no superior would ever have inculcated with such barefaced impudence such abominable and execrable rules of roguery. So much are the Jesuits accustomed to dissemble and deceive, that even their conduct towards each other is one continued act of deceit. For instance, if the superior wishes to ruin the fair fame of a man adverse to the order, he will say to his subalterns, “What a pity it is that Mr N. should be guilty of such and such faults (and, generally speaking, he invents some calumny)! it would be well that, for the greater glory of God, others should be apprised that it is unbecoming a Christian to act so. Should you chance to meet any of his or your acquaintance, you may warn them of that, but take care not to slander your neighbour’s reputation.” Again, if a Jesuit chief should covet the wealth of some family, he would say to his subordinates, “It is a pity that so much wealth should pass into the hands of his son or nephew, who will spend it in offending God and gratifying their own evil passions. It would be a pious work if he could be induced to leave it to us, that we might use it to the greater glory of God.” And if a subaltern, less cunning than the rest, should openly and frankly propose to slander the reputation of the honest man, or to make an attempt to snatch the princely fortune of the wealthy, he would be reprimanded, as guilty of an action unworthy of a son of the holy Father Loyola. And, while the superior speaks in this manner, he not only knows that he cants, but he is also perfectly convinced that his hearers know it, and yet he will never speak otherwise. And it is to us altogether inconceivable, that men who are thus mutually conscious that they are playing a part—who, in their common intercourse, and even when forming the basest designs, are careful always to speak in the character of the pious devotee—should so far forget their cue as to give a broad unvarnished statement of their whole system of roguery. For these, and many other reasons which we might adduce, we believe that the book is apocryphal; but, though apocryphal, it certainly gives a true representation of the horrible arts and practices of the Jesuits; and we are inclined to credit the Jesuits when they assert that the book is the work of a discarded brother, so deeply does it initiate us in the secret arts of the Society. However, as we have thousands of unimpugnable testimonies to their impious and infernal doctrines, we shall not weaken the authority of our narrative by adducing contested proofs.

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CHAPTER XII.
1608-1700.
OVERGROWING INFLUENCE OF THE SOCIETY.

We now enter on a new phase of our history. Up to the period at which we are arrived (the beginning of the seventeenth century), the Jesuits have been obliged more or less to struggle for existence. Now they contend for supremacy and a domineering power in those same countries into which they had been at first refused admittance. Vagrant monks, who had but an hospital for a place of refuge, they now possess all over the surface of the earth hundreds of magnificent establishments, endowed with princely revenues, and in the West Indies are laying the foundations of a kingdom of their own. Cherished by the populace, in league with the nobility, they are become so powerful, that great monarchs themselves are obliged to put the fate of the Jesuits in the same balance in which are weighed the destinies of nations. Two of Ignatius’ disciples have a seat in the College of Cardinals, and the order, by the many exorbitant privileges it has obtained, forms a sort of separate church within the Church—the envy of other religious orders, the rival of bishops, and the dread of the Court of Rome itself. They possess the supreme sway in Portugal, Poland, Bavaria, have the utmost influence in Spain, Austria, Italy, and are rapidly advancing towards that power which they at last obtained in France, and which was productive of so many miseries to the French nation. In fact, the principal seat of the Jesuits’ power will henceforth be in France, as, of the many sovereigns whom the Jesuits more or less govern, the French monarch is the most powerful of them all. Henry IV., as a measure of precaution, in the letters-patent by which he re-established the Jesuits, had enacted that a man of authority in the order should always be near the king’s person, as preacher, and as a warranty for the conduct of his brethren; and the Jesuits made of this offensive clause the very pivot of their fortunes. The preacher became the confessor of the kings, and France will but too soon feel the persecuting power of Fathers Lachaise and Letellier. Before, however, they had attained the height of their power, they had to endure a passing storm. In 1610, Henry IV., while proceeding in his coach to visit his faithful Sully, who was dangerously ill, was stabbed to the heart. The Jesuits were accused by the parliament and the university, and even by some curates from the pulpit, of being the accomplices and the instigators of Ravaillac the assassin; but no proof whatever was adduced in support of this accusation. Public opinion absolved them from any participation in the crime, and to that judgment we ourselves subscribe; unless, indeed, we charge them with being morally accessory to the murder by their doctrines, and the abominable writings commending the murder of Sovening, with which they had covered France at the time of the League. The Jesuits had too great ascendancy over Henry’s mind, they derived from him too many benefits, to render credible the supposition of their connivance in the parricide. Some authors, too eager to find the Jesuits guilty of every crime, and not reflecting that by asserting controvertible facts they diminish the credit of their other assertions, have suggested that, as Henry was preparing to send an army to succour the German Protestants, the Jesuits contrived to have him murdered. But those authors are quite ignorant of the true spirit of Jesuitism. The great end which the Jesuits have ever in their view, the criterion by which alone we are able to judge of the probability of their acting in any particular way, is their own interest, and in no way the advantage of religion or the glory of God; and, as in this instance the interest of the Jesuits, and especially of those of France, was to preserve rather than destroy Henry’s life, we repeat our assertion—we do not believe them guilty. We do not think it necessary to fill our pages even with an analysis of the writings poured forth by both parties on this tragic event. The Anti-Cotton, a virulent pamphlet against the Jesuits, and, above all, against some assertions of Father Cotton, the late king’s confessor, who had addressed some apologetic letters to the queen on the subject, and who had now gone, according to Henry’s testamentary disposition, to deposit that prince’s heart in the Jesuits’ college of La Flèche, was and has continued to be famous in France, more for the sarcastic wit with which it is written than because it gives any proofs of the Jesuits’ guilt; and, therefore, we need not give any account of it.

The Jesuits, protected by the Court and the Archbishop of Paris, after the first commotion had passed away, reassumed their former position; and Father Cotton was appointed to hear the juvenile sins of Louis XIII., as he had formerly heard those of his gallant and profligate father.

But a real though inevitable calamity awaited the Society some few years after. On the 31st January 1615, expired one of their greatest men, Claude Acquaviva, the fifth General of the order. He had been in office thirty-four years, and may be accounted the second founder of the Society, as he has been, undoubtedly, its ablest legislator. During his government, external tempests and internal discord had menaced the very existence of the Society, but he had dissipated and appeased them all with admirable courage and prudence. His death was to the Company an irreparable loss. With him ended the prestige through which the Generals exercised such extraordinary authority over its members. For the future they will still be entitled by the Constitutions to the same blind obedience as before; but their mandates will be implicitly obeyed by none but some simple-hearted Jesuits, or by those far away in distant lands, who venerate their superior in proportion to the distance that separates them from him. And this it may be said is the case with all earthly powers. But the members who have some authority in the order, the provincials, the confessors or favourites of princes, will, generally speaking, act independently and according to their own views, without, however, losing sight of the Society, whose aggrandisement and glory is always the ultimate end which they all keep in view. The consequence will be that their conduct will in many respects be less uniform, and even their solemn assemblies will be wanting in that unanimity of purpose which had marked their former operations. A striking proof of this appeared in the election of Acquaviva’s successor itself. The old Spanish party revived after the General’s death, and hoping to regain the influence and power it had exercised under the first three Generals of the order, made a great stir; and, foreseeing that Vitelleschi, a Roman Jesuit, would be elected, they first intrigued with the French and Spanish ambassadors, and afterwards accused Vitelleschi to the Pope of being guilty of many vices and crimes, which was far from being true, he being, on the contrary, a simple, inoffensive, unpretending man. The contest for the election was very keen, and of seventy-five members who composed the congregation, Vitelleschi obtained only thirty-nine suffrages, being only one more than was necessary for the validity of his election. He assumed the office, but exercised very little influence in the affairs of the Company. It was, however, in the beginning of Vitelleschi’s generalate that measures were taken to get Loyola and Xavier enrolled in the Calendar of Saints. It is true that, even under Acquaviva’s lifetime, Henry IV., to please his father confessor, and render him still more indulgent to his immoralities, had, by an autograph letter, asked the reigning Pope to find a place in heaven for the two founders of the order; but Paul V., thinking, perhaps, that the recommendation of the ex-Huguenot Henry would be rather a suspicious passport for opening the gates of heaven, did not feel inclined to comply. There were, however, other sovereigns, as those of Bavaria, Poland, Spain, &c., who had Jesuits for their confessors; and now that those monarchs united in begging from the Holy See the canonisation of the two Jesuits, Gregory XV., who had been educated in the fathers’ schools, could no longer refuse to comply with their wishes. He accordingly solemnly pronounced them to be saints, but being surprised by death, the glory of having issued the bull for their apotheosis belongs to his successor, Urban VIII.[245]

As the Jesuits, in the short space of less than a century, have furnished eight or ten saints to the calendar, perhaps it will not be extraneous to our work to devote a few pages to shew in what manner, mortals such as we are, and who but yesterday were mere loathsome corpses, are, by the pretended power of another mortal man, transformed into privileged and divine beings, to whom is attributed a power almost equal to that of the Almighty. A word of any Pope, even of an Alexander VI., will change every fragment of those corrupted remains into sacred relics, possessing such miraculous powers, that the worship of them is deemed sufficient to insure eternal salvation.

The practice of investing certain persons with the honours of saintship originated with the people. In the early ages of Christianity, when an individual, whether a truly holy Christian or a consummate hypocrite, had struck the impressible imaginations of the multitude by a pious and extraordinary course of life, he was regarded by them as a supernatural being, and was addressed and worshipped as such. A little later, persons of this description began, with the help of the priests, to work miracles; and when the renown of their holiness and of the prodigies they had performed had spread far and wide, the Court of Rome interfered and gave them a regular patent for saintship.

If they had been extraordinary persons of their own class, their canonisation took place almost immediately on their decease, as was the case with St Francis, the founder of the ragged and beggarly order of monks which bears his name, and St Antony, the great miracle worker,[246] both of whom were ranked among the saints only a year after their death. The trade of saint-making proving very lucrative, from the many offerings presented at their shrines, the priests encouraged the multitude, always ready to believe in the marvellous, to credit extraordinary legends and to find saints everywhere. Above all, as we have said elsewhere, after the Reformation, the priests were creating saints in such alarming numbers, that Urban VIII. fearing, it would seem, that heaven would not be large enough to admit the whole of them, by two bulls, of 1625 and 1634, put a check upon the mania of saint-making, and swept away from churches, convents, and public places, the images of those poor blessed ones who had been patiently waiting in their niches for the supreme oracle of the Vatican to send them up to heaven; and who, doubtless, were now much annoyed at being removed from their places of adoration and worship. The bull ordained that no offering, no burning lamp, nor any sort of worship whatever, should be rendered to any one, no matter how great might have been the fame of his saintship, if he had not been recognised as a saint, either from immemorial time, immemorabilem temporis cursum, or by the unanimous consent of the Church, per communem Ecclesiæ consensum, or by a sort of tolerance of the apostolic see, tolerantiâ sedis apostolicæ. By immemorial time, the Pope says in his bull of 1634 that he means more than a hundred years. In consequence, all those persons who had been called saints, and worshipped as such for only ninety-nine years and some months, were to be discarded, and their images or statues removed from the place of worship;[247] unless, indeed, some money were spent, and a privilege or dispensation obtained from the all-powerful Pope. Alas! how many sinners, who had perhaps chosen those very saints as mediators between them and an offended God, must have been driven to despair by the unmerciful bull!

However, a regular canonisation may be obtained from Rome, and in two different ways. The first is the more simple:—Whosoever is interested in obtaining a canonisation must prove before the Congregation of the Rites,[248] that, for more than a hundred years, the man who is proposed as a candidate for saintship had been worshipped either by a burning lamp before his image or his sepulchre, or by a person praying before it, &c.; and that these signs of veneration had been repeated before they had been prohibited at no greater distance of time than ten years. If the congregation deliver their opinion in a dubious form, that the immemorial worship seems to them to be proved, videtur constare de cultu immemorabili; and, if the omniscient and infallible Pope affirm, constare, “it has been proved,” then the man becomes a beatifice, and mass, prayers, and offerings may be addressed to him with a perfectly safe conscience. This was the mode of canonisation resorted to after the famous bull of 1634.

More difficult is the other way, now generally followed, to obtain a canonisation. The man must pass through many stages—as it were, serve an apprenticeship before he become a saint; first, the name of Servus Dei, servant of God, must be obtained for the candidate; and that is neither difficult nor expensive. Then, if the Congregation of Rites find, on examining his printed life, that his virtues seem to be proved, videtur constare de virtutibus, and the Pope says, constare, the Servus Dei is to be called venerabilis Servus Dei, venerable servant of God. Again, if the authenticity of the life, and of the virtues and miracles, is proved in another congregation, in the same way, then the venerabilis servus Dei assumes the title of blessed, beatus; a feast, mass, prayers, &c., are voted to him, and the Pope goes to St Peter’s Church, to be the first of all to worship that same man who, had he pronounced only those two words, non constare, would have been a Pagan, or little better. That the blessed (beato) should become a saint, nothing more is necessary than that he should have worked three first-class miracles[249] (such as those performed by St Anthony, I suppose), and that there should be paid (not by the blessed—beato—for the offerings are only shewn to him, but by whosoever would make a saint of him) twenty thousand pounds sterling for the diploma. As may be perceived, the degree is somewhat dearer than in any other university; but only consider the difference betwixt a doctor and a saint![250] However, as the expenses are too great, families or religious communities who wish for a saint, now unite together, each proposing a candidate for saintship, and a single proceeding serves to decide the fate of five or six saints, and the expenses are paid in common. Under the last Pope, Rome witnessed two or three of those wholesale canonisations.

We Italians call the proceeding, fare una infornata di Santi, making an ovenful of saints. But under the reign of Leo XII., in 1826, a much more scandalous profanation took place. Saints being wanted by some town or other (almost every Italian borough has got one), and the Congregation of Relics, who dispense those Beati, having none at hand, one of the counsellors, we suppose, thought of a very expeditious way of making saints, and supply what was wanted. A sort of catacomb having been discovered at the church S. Lorenzo fuor delle mura, in which some skulls were found, five of them were extracted, and declared to be the skulls of martyrs. The Pope, with the advice of the Congregation of Rites, by his apostolic authority and certain knowledge, Apostolicâ auctoritate ac certâ scientiâ, declared that they were martyrs; and, two or three months after, they were exposed to the public worship in the Apollinare, the ancient Collegio Germanico, which had belonged to the Jesuits, and where now met the Congregation of the Relics. I have myself seen them thus exposed. Those having been disposed of, other skulls were dug up, and other martyrs made; till, at last, a learned antiquarian (I do not remember whether French or German) proved almost to a certainty that the place where these skulls were found had been a Pagan burial-place. The noise was great, and so great the scandal, that the Pope ordered the catacomb to be shut, and no more martyrs to be made. One may still see the excavation, and some bones may be seen through an iron grating, but they are called martyrs no more. If these were not facts which happened in our own days, and of which all Rome is witness, I would hardly have dared to mention them, so incredible do they appear.

We hope we shall be excused for this digression. The canonisation of Loyola and Xavier took place in 1623. We shall spare the recital of all the feasts, all the gorgeous ceremonies, all the pagan pageantry exhibited on the occasion. At Douay, above all, the whole of this theatrical representation was on a great and magnificent scale. Two galleries, supported by a hundred columns adorned with tapestry, and with no less than four hundred and forty-five paintings, were erected in the two streets leading to their college. The panegyrics in honour of the saints were not only ridiculous, but impious in the highest degree. In one of them it was said that “Ignatius,” by his name written upon paper, “performed more miracles than Moses, and as many as the apostles!” And again, “The life of Ignatius was so holy and exalted, even in the opinion of heaven, that only Popes like St Peter, empresses like the Mother of God, some other sovereign monarchs, as God the Father and his holy Son, enjoyed the bliss of seeing him.” We do not comment on these words; even the Sorbonne, now in league with the Jesuits, condemned them.

Some years after, another extraordinary and fantastic solemnity came to rejoice the Jesuitic world. From the year 1636, Vitelleschi had ordered that preparations should be made to solemnise, in 1640, the secular year of the establishment of the Society. We shall not give any description of it, but must mention a strange publication, which has given to this feast an historical celebrity; we mean the Imago Primi Sæculi Societatis Jesu. It is a huge folio of 952 pages, richly and superbly printed, embellished by hundreds of fantastic and extravagant emblems, and filled with absurd and ridiculous praises of the Society. Many were the contributors to this work, which was printed at Antwerp. “Many young Jesuits,” says Crétineau,[251] “found in the aspirations of their hearts poetical inspiration, accents of love, and words of enthusiasm!” The book is modestly dedicated to—God the Father; and among the poetical inspirations, we read as follows:—“The Society of Jesus is not of man’s invention, but it proceeded from Him whose name it bears, for Jesus himself described that rule of life which the Society follows, first by his example, and afterwards by his Word.”[252] And further on,—“The Company is Israel’s chariot of fire, whose loss Elisha mourned, and which now, by a special grace of God, both worlds rejoice to see brought back from heaven to earth, in the desperate condition of the Church. In this chariot, if you seek the armies and soldiers by which she daily multiplies her triumphs with new victories, you will find—(and I hope you will take it in good part)—you will find a chosen troop of angels who exhibit under the form of animals all that the Supreme Ruler desires in this chivalry.”[253]

“As the angels, enlightened by the splendours of God, purge our minds of ignorance, suffuse them with light, and give them perfection,—thus the companions of Jesus, copying the purity of angels, and all attached to their origin which is God, from whom they derive those fiery and flaming movements of virtue, with rays the most refulgent, putting off the impurities of lust in that furnace of supreme and chastest love in which they are cooked (excoquuntur), until being illuminated and made perfect, they can impart to others their light mingled with ardour—being not less illustrious for the splendour of their virtue than the fervour of charity with which they are divinely inflamed.

“They are angels like Michael in their most eloquent battles with heretics—like Gabriel in the conversion of the infidels in India, Ethiopia, Japan, and the Chinese hedged in by terrible ramparts,—they are like Raphael in the consolation of souls, and the conversion of sinners by sermons and the confessional. All rush with promptitude and ardour to hear confessions, to catechise the poor and children, as well as to govern the consciences of the great and princes; all are not less illustrious for their doctrine and wisdom: so that we may say of the Company what Seneca observes in his 33d epistle, namely, that there is an inequality in which eminent things become remarkable, but that we do not admire a tree when all the others of the same forest are equally high. Truly, in whatever direction you cast your eyes, you will discover some object that would be supereminent if the same were not surrounded by equals in eminence.”[254]

These quotations may suffice to give the reader an idea of the book. It will, however, be instructive to give the opinion of Crétineau upon it. He calls the work, indeed, a dithyrambic, and admits that there are some exaggerations in those academical exercises (he might as well have said that even the Court of Rome condemned the book); “but,” adds he, “the critics would not recollect the extravagances, the impieties even, of the book entitled Conformity of the Life of St Francis with that of Christ, by brother Bartholomew of Pisa, nor the Origo Seraficæ Familiæ Franciscanæ by the Capuchin Gonzalez;” and so on. Indeed we know that other monks are as boastful, as impudent, as impious as the Jesuits; yet it seems a very poor apology to exculpate one’s own faults by proving that our neighbour has committed similar ones. But so it is, we repeat it again, the Jesuits would inculpate God himself to justify their order. All we can say of the book is, that it is a most ingenuous and sincere exposition of the feelings of the Jesuits at such epochs, and of the opinion they had of themselves. They were at the height of their prosperity. The difficulties they had encountered—the battles they had fought—the victories they had obtained—the consciousness of their own strength and power, all combined to make them believe that their ambition had to recognise no limits short of the absolute dominion of the world. This idea is clearly expressed in every page of the Imago; and they struggled hard to realise it. Had the Jesuits united to this consciousness, and to the superlative force of will and perseverance which is characteristic of their order, the conception of some great and magnanimous object, which drew upon itself the interest and admiration of the multitude; and had they by bold and unequivocal conduct contrived to carry into execution the lofty design,—who knows what might have not been accomplished by a society so strongly and so admirably constituted? Such as they were, however, their influence became greater and greater every day. As when of two royal pretenders to a noble kingdom, the conqueror sees the crowd of his courtiers increased, not only by all those prudent persons who had waited for the result of the contest, but by a part of his former adversaries, now the most submissive and humble of all his flatterers; so the Jesuits, after they had mastered all opposition, and were in possession of power, saw themselves surrounded by a multitude of adherents and courtiers, eager to obtain their all-powerful influence. When to be a Jesuit became an honour, and the shortest way to ecclesiastical and secular dignities, persons of every sort, and especially such as were ambitious, resorted to the Society, to find the means of satisfying their several aspirations. Before Vitelleschi, the nobility had protected the Jesuits, but few of them had embraced the institute; but afterwards, the highest families in Europe, princely houses not excepted, had a representative in the Company, who gave to the order a new prestige, and imparted to it the love and veneration with which his name was regarded by the people. The houses of Lorraine, Montmorency, those of Gonzaga and Orsini, Medina-Sidonia and Abouquerque, Limberg, and Cassimir of Poland, and a thousand other great and illustrious families, respectively contributed members to the order of the Jesuits.

Our space will not allow us to enter into details, and to follow the Jesuits step by step in their prosperous course. Let it suffice that we have shewn how the Society developed itself by degrees, and by what means it arrived at the pinnacle of power and greatness. We shall now proceed to shew, in its principal facts, what use the Jesuits made of their ill-gotten influence.

As we have already said, France was now the chief seat of their power, and the field where they reaped their laurels. Under Louis XIII., or, to speak more correctly, under Richelieu, they could not pretend to a great share of authority. The despotic cardinal will only have them as his tools. He will protect them; he will go with his royal slave to lay the first stone of a Jesuit edifice in a faubourg of Paris (St Antoine), but he will cause to be condemned and burnt by the hands of the hangman, the books of Keller and Santarelli, that exalt the papal above the royal authority, which Richelieu considered his own. Cardinal Mazzarini was as little disposed as his predecessor to tolerate any rival domineering influence; and during his administration, the Jesuits had no considerable part in the public affairs. If Mazzarini shewed them some kindness, and afforded them his protection, it was because he wanted their support in opposition to the Jansenists, the partisans of the Cardinal of Metz, Archbishop of Paris, and Mazzarini’s rival in power and in gallant intrigues. But when Louis XIV., on reaching his twentieth year, assumed the government of his kingdom, then really began the reign of the Jesuits. Not that the man who entered the Parliament in his hunting apparel, with his whip in his hand, and was accustomed to say, L’état c’est moi, was much disposed to act by the advice and under the influence of other persons; yet the Jesuits had a great share in all the great events of his reign.

Louis had a Jesuit confessor from his childhood,[255] who, by insidious and daily-repeated insinuations, had rendered him a fanatical bigot, and made him believe that the greatest glory he could achieve would be the upholding of the Popish religion. In this point, as indeed in many others, Louis bears a resemblance to Philip II. of Spain. Both gloried in the appellation of champions of Popery, both had its persecuting spirit, both sacrificed the love of their people to the wish to appear most zealous Romanists; yet both, despotic and jealous of their royal prerogative, waged war against their god on earth when he attempted to impugn it. Philip sent Alva, who, having conquered the Papal troops, entered Rome, and obliged the Pope to subscribe his master’s conditions; while Louis took possession of Avignon, threw the Papal nuncio into prison, and obliged every member of the French clergy to subscribe the four articles of the Gallican Church, expressly got up against the pretensions of Rome. With such a man as Louis, the Jesuits could not succeed in gaining their ends but by the most complete subjection to his orders or caprices. So, accommodating themselves at once to the prince’s character, there was no mark of devotion and servility which they did not shew to him. They supported him in his schism against the Pope, subscribed the articles of the Gallican Church, and refused to publish the bull of excommunication the former had fulminated against the first-born of the Church of Rome,[256] persuading him, however, that he would always remain a good Roman Catholic while they confessed and absolved him. They praised him for his military achievements, and encouraged him in his profligacy, taking great care to abandon the former mistress the moment they saw the inclination of the prince directed towards a new one. For these criminal compliances, they obtained, in exchange, full liberty to persecute the Jansenists and Protestants to their hearts’ content.

The Jansenists were the first who experienced the vindictive hatred of the progeny of Loyola; not because they were considered more dangerous heretics than the Huguenots, but because they had dared to attack the Order openly; because the Provincial Letters had covered it with shame and confusion, and because the most considerable among them were related to that Arnauld who first opposed its establishment in France, and declared its members to be the accomplices of the crime of Jacques Clement. We insist upon that point, because it shews one of the most prominent characteristics of Jesuitism, never to forgive an injury, and to persecute the remotest descendants for the offences they may have received from their ancestors.

It would require volumes to relate all the persecutions to which the inhabitants of Port-Royal were subjected. Hardly had Louis assumed the reins of government than, at the instigation of the Jesuits, he convened an assembly of bishops, and declared his intention to extirpate the Jansenists. The crafty and unscrupulous De Marca, Archbishop of Toulouse, prepared a formula to the following effect:—

“I sincerely submit to the Constitution of Pope Innocent X., of May 31, 1653, according to its true sense, as defined by the Constitution of our holy Father, Pope Alexander VII., of October 16, 1656.[257] I acknowledge myself bound in conscience to obey this Constitution, and I condemn, from my heart and with my mouth, the doctrine of the five propositions of Cornelius Jansenius, which are contained in the book of Augustinus, which both the popes and the bishops have condemned; and the doctrine of St Augustine is not that which Jansenius has falsely set forth, and contrary to the true sense of the holy doctor.” All the clergy, and all persons who were in any way engaged in the tuition of youth, were required to subscribe this formula, and the most severe persecution awaited those who refused to do so. Neither the pure and uncontaminated life of those nuns of whom Bossuet himself said that they were “as pure as angels,” nor the learning, the piety, the austere and exemplary conduct of De Lacy, Arnauld, Nicole, and a hundred others, were a sufficient protection against the persecuting spirit of the Jesuits. Those noble and magnanimous men were dragged from their peaceable retreat, and sent to pine away their lives either in foreign lands or in the dungeons of the Bastille, of which the very passages were crowded with prisoners. Yet the noble resistance of the nuns could not be overcome, and the persecutors could only have amends of Port-Royal by levelling it to the ground.

Père La Chaise.

Hinchliff.

Fiercer and more sanguinary was the persecution exercised upon the Huguenots, who were very numerous in France at this epoch. Henry IV., after his cowardly apostasy, in order to pacify and calm his Calvinist subjects, had, in 1598, by an edict dated from Nantes, the principal town of Brittany, insured to them the free exercise of their religion; leaving in their hands some strong places as a warranty. This edict had afterwards been disregarded by the French Government on many occasions, and Richelieu almost hazarded the throne in reducing Rochelle, the stronghold of the Calvinists; yet no sanguinary measures were resorted to, from purely religious motives, and the Huguenots lived, we may say, almost unmolested. But after 1660, numberless and incessant petty persecutions, or tracasseries, must have made those Protestants aware of their impending ruin. The Jesuit Lachaise was the principal instrument of all the cruelties exercised afterwards upon them. This Lachaise was a relation of the famous Father Cotton, and confessor to the king. He was the very personification of Jesuitism—handsome, polite, courteous, pleasing in his manners, it seemed as if his whole care were directed to captivate the love of all sorts of persons; he was never heard to utter a word of dissatisfaction against any one. S. Simon says of him, “Il était fort Jesuite—but polite, and without rage;” and Duclos affirms that “he knew how to irritate or calm the conscience of his penitents always with a view to his own interests;” and that, “though he had been a fierce persecutor of every party opposed to his own, he always spoke of them with great moderation.” He became the king’s confessor in 1675, and, by the most skilful and adroit flattery, acquired a great ascendancy over him. But do not imagine that he forgot his Jesuitical cunning. The profligacy and the continual state of adultery in which Louis lived was too great a scandal to be overlooked by such a pious man as Lachaise pretended to be. Sometimes he got angry with his royal penitent, and denied him absolution. “The solemnity of Easter” (the time in which the confession is obligatory), says S. Simon, “gave him the political colic during the king’s passion for Madame de Montespan;” and Crétineau says that “he would not absolve the king, but sent him another Jesuit, who bravely absolved him.” Such was the man who undertook to extirpate the Huguenots.

In 1685 appeared the proclamation which recalled the Edict of Nantes, La révocation de l’édit de Nantes, and from that moment the poor Calvinists were consigned to the tender mercies of the ferocious Jesuits, who, with the help of the dragoons and the lowest of the populace, renewed the horrible scenes of St Bartholomew, carrying the rage of fanaticism and revenge so far as to exhume the buried bodies of the murdered victims, and throw them into the common sewers. How many thousand industrious families were driven naked and penniless into foreign lands! how many children were made orphans! how many decrepid old men were left without a child or descendant to close their eyes! Alas! let us draw a veil over the infernal saturnalia.

Lachaise became now a most important personage of the court of Louis. The king had built for this monk—who, though he made a vow of poverty, never travelled but in a coach and six—a magnificent house surrounded by a garden,[258] where the humble disciple of Loyola received his courtiers and flatterers, and where he freely distributed lettres de cachet.[259] He was the arbiter between Fenelon and Bossuet, between Montespan and Maintenon, between the sovereign and his clergy. It was Lachaise who united by a secret marriage the great king and the governess of his illegitimate children; but Madame de Maintenon never forgave him that he had not obliged his royal penitent to acknowledge her publicly as his wedded queen. But all the influence he exercised was nothing compared to the exorbitant and almost royal power which he possessed as king’s confessor. La feuille des bénéfices, that is, the right of disposing of all the livings of all the bishoprics in the kingdom, was attached to the office.[260] One may well imagine that Lachaise, who, as St Simon says, was fort Jesuite, was not very sparing in conferring rich benefices upon his own order. But a still greater advantage resulted to the Society from the subjection in which they held the French clergy, who, depending exclusively on a Jesuit for favours and advancement, renounced the opposition they had formerly shewn to the Company, and became the most humble and flattering adherents of the fathers. Even the Sorbonne, that fiery opponent, became the supporter of the Society.

To the pleasing and polite Lachaise, in 1709, succeeded as confessor the gloomy Letellier. He was cruel, ardent, and inflexible in his enmities, reserved, mysterious, and cunning in his dark projects,[261] concealing always the violence of his passions under a cold and impassive exterior. His predecessor had left him little to do in the way of wholesale persecution and massacre. The Huguenots had been murdered by thousands, and three hundred thousand Calvinist families had fled from their unrelenting enemies. The Jansenists had been in part disbanded, and death had removed from the contest the Pascals, the Nicoles, the De Lacys, and the whole of the Arnauld family. Only a few nuns, who could no more receive novices or pupils, and with whom, therefore, their order must necessarily be extinguished, remained in the monastery of Port-Royal for the ferocious Letellier. He sent thither a troop of rough and licentious soldiers, who dragged those delicate and feeble women from their abode, and conducted them prisoners as obstinate heretics, to be confined in different monasteries. Yet the dwelling which those sainted nuns had occupied, the church where they had worshipped the Lord, the tombs where many of them lay, and which they had sought in the hope to be delivered from their persecutors, and there to rest their wearied bodies in peace, still remained untouched. Letellier, to glut his revenge, turned his rage against their glorious monuments, had the monastery and church pulled down; and, violating with Vandalic ferocity the asylum of the dead, he caused the bodies to be exhumed and thrown together in a heap, to be devoured by the dogs, and had the plough driven over the sacred edifice.[262]

After such examples as these, it is unnecessary to add more to shew the influence the Jesuits possessed in France, and the abominable use they made of it. We have gone beyond the epoch we have prefixed to this chapter, the facts we have last reported having occurred in 1709, 1711, and 1713. And we have done so, because these events mark the time from which the power of the Jesuits began in France to decline from its ascendancy.

Let us now see what was the conduct and the influence of the Jesuits in other countries.

In Spain, the affairs of the Order were in the most flourishing condition. Their revenues amounted to a very considerable sum. The authority they possessed was almost unlimited. Philip III., who had loaded them with benefices, expired on the arm of a Jesuit; and hardly had Philip IV. taken the government into his own hands than he showered down upon the Society still greater favours than his predecessor.[263] He encouraged his subjects to build colleges for them; and many bishops and noblemen, to please the sovereign, vied with each other in endowing the Society with richly provided establishments, and in investing them with all power and influence. But it seems that when the haughty and imperious Olivarez possessed himself of the supreme power, he ruled with such a despotic hand both king and kingdom, that very little share of authority or influence was left to the reverend fathers. Inde iræ. The affront must be resented, and, although it was rather difficult to attack openly in Spain either the premier or the monarch, surrounded as he was by the devotion and the love of his subjects, yet the Jesuits were not the men to suffer patiently what they considered an injury. They then thought of snatching from the hands of Philip that same sceptre of Portugal which they had placed in the hands of his grandfather. They accordingly set themselves to work, and formed a conspiracy to transfer the crown to the head of the Duke of Braganza. The pulpit, the confessional, the congregations, were all made to subserve their designs; and the minds of the people being sufficiently prepared, they caused the duke to repair to Evora. He took up his abode in the Jesuit college; and when he descended into the church, thronged with people, Corea, a Jesuit father, addressing the duke from the pulpit, exclaimed, “I shall yet see upon your head the crown——of glory, to which may the Lord call us all!”[264] The church rung with plaudits at this well-managed réticence; and the mysterious prediction passed from the church to the street, and from thence throughout Portugal, to strengthen the hopes and inflame the courage of the Portuguese, already impatient to shake off the Spanish yoke. From that moment the conspiracy made rapid progress. The fathers publicly preached the revolt, without, however, altogether forgetting their Jesuitical duplicity. The provincial forbade all his subordinates to mix in political matters, and even imprisoned one of them for having from the pulpit too openly exhorted the citizens to rebel. But the greatest part of the fathers disregarded the order of their superior, who, nevertheless, except in the instance just mentioned, left them unpunished, and in the evening sat down with them at the same table as friendly as ever—a policy which, we must observe, was adopted by the fathers in all doubtful emergencies, in order that, on whichever side the scales declined, there might be a portion of the Jesuits claiming the merit of fidelity, and screening the others from the conqueror’s resentment.

Crétineau confesses frankly that the Jesuits had been the soul of the revolution, and says, “The Duchess of Braganza hoped to make her duke king, even against his own will; but it was necessary to obtain the co-operation, or at least the neutrality, of the Jesuits.”[265] The efforts of the Jesuits were crowned with success. In 1640 a revolution broke out at Lisbon, and was successful. “The house of Braganza did not forget what it owed to the Jesuits for the past and the present; and wishing, through them, to make sure of the future, it awarded to them unlimited influence. The Jesuits were the first ambassadors of John IV.”[266] After those very explicit words, let the Jesuits assert that they are a religious community, detached entirely from worldly interest, and merely occupied in the salvation of souls. It has been asserted that the Jesuits, besides being animated by hatred to Olivarez, were induced to co-operate in the revolution by the instigation and perhaps by the liberal promises of Richelieu, who, as everybody knows, was anxious by every possible means to harass and enfeeble the rival house of Austria. However this was, the Jesuits became the almost absolute masters of Portugal. Nothing was done without their consent. No minister would take any important step without first consulting the Jesuits and obtaining their permission. Lisbon became the seat of their extensive commercial operations, and the centre of their trade between Europe and the Indies; and Ranke says that the Portuguese ambassadors were empowered to draw upon the Jesuits of Portugal for considerable sums. And, strange to say, they at the same time enjoyed some influence in Spain under Philip IV.; and this appears to have increased to such an extent under Charles II., that the testament by which this monarch named a grandson of Louis XIV. to the throne of Spain, was dictated, it is asserted, by the Jesuits.

Here we are led to make a remark which will serve to illustrate the true spirit of Jesuitism. In the fifth general congregation was passed a decree forbidding all Jesuits to mix in any way in political or secular matters; and by the eighty-fourth decree of the sixth general congregation, all operations which have any appearance of being commercial are strictly forbidden to the members of the Society. Notwithstanding these decrees, the Jesuits dispose of the destinies of kingdoms almost at their pleasure, and are the earliest bankers in Europe. The General, who is armed by the Constitution with almost unlimited powers to punish the infraction of his orders, and who can dismiss the delinquent at any time he chooses, not only remains silent when such transgressions are committed, but connives at, and even encourages them, by raising those members who are the most skilful in political affairs to the most important offices in the Society, and by himself using and disposing of that money which has been acquired by a manifest breach of the Constitution.

For what purpose, then, those decrees, if they are not to be observed? What was the purpose contemplated by their framers, we cannot say, but the use the Society makes of them is a very simple one. When they are accused of mixing in political matters or commercial speculations, they answer: “This cannot be; the Constitutions or the decrees expressly forbid such things.” Thus, for example, Crétineau, after mentioning the decree which forbids any sort of operation of a commercial nature, adds, “This is the answer to the partial criticisms and interested injustice of those who will endeavour to attribute to the great work of the missions a sordid cupidity of lucre.”[267] We admire the boldness, not to say the impudence, of this panegyrist of the Order.

All throughout Germany the Jesuits spread desolation and misery whenever the cause of truth and freedom was overcome by the superior material force of despotism and bigotry. “They were the most able auxiliaries of Ferdinand in destroying the Protestants; they were in the imperial cabinet, in his armies, among the defeated sectarians, and they even dared to penetrate into the camp of the Lutherans”[268] (as spies, no doubt). The Jesuits had formed Tilly, Wallenstein, and Piccolomini, the three champions of the Catholic cause in the Thirty Years’ War.

“They (the Jesuits) accompanied the armies in their march, they followed them to the battle-field; and after the victory, they disputed with the Croats the fate of the prisoners of the day.”[269] Such is the version of their historian. How far from the truth! It is unquestionable that they had formed the three champions, and worthy of their masters did they prove by their spirit of revenge and persecution. But it is an impudent falsehood that the Jesuits interposed (as their calling made it their duty) betwixt the executioner and the victim, betwixt the sacred laws of humanity and the barbarous laws of war. No. On the contrary, they preached the extermination of the Protestants, and gave out that no work was so meritorious in the eyes of God as to kill those accursed heretics. They did not calm, but rather excited, the ferocious passions of their pupils the generals, and, above all, of Tilly, over whom they possessed a very great influence. Once, after the battle of Strato, in Munster, I believe the voice of the Jesuits was added to that of the citizens in imploring mercy for some hundreds of unfortunate prisoners on the point of being mercilessly put to the sword; and this single and exceptional instance, whether the act of some human and compassionate persons, or of cunning rogues eager to win for the Order an unmerited reputation for clemency, is reported by the Jesuits as a general practice: while the many acts of brutal Vandalism and revenge perpetrated under their very eyes, and at their instigation, when they cannot be denied, are laid to the account of others. This is a historical truth.

Nor were they disinterested persecutors. They fought here, as elsewhere, not for their faith or their Church, but for their idol—the Order. Let them speak for themselves:—“Corvin Gosiewsky, Palatine of Smolensk, met Gustavus Adolphus near the Dunamunde, defeated him, and, to consecrate the remembrance of this day, he founded a Jesuit house in the town he had delivered. Every victory of that Palatine was for the Jesuits a new mission,”[270] which means the erection of a new house or college. The greatest part of the properties of which the Protestants were iniquitously divested went to enrich the covetous and insatiable disciples of Loyola. The Pope, usurping the right of disposing of those properties, only because they had once belonged to the clergy, by a decree, ordered “that a part of the property which had been recovered be employed in erecting seminaries, boarding-schools, and colleges, as well for the Jesuits who have been the principal authors of the imperial proclamation,[271] as for other religious orders;”[272] which last clause was of course rendered illusory, the Jesuits possessing themselves of whatever portion of those properties was set apart for the aforesaid purpose of building houses and colleges.

We have already seen what influence the Jesuits had acquired in Poland, under Sigismund III., in whose reign “a systematic war of popular riots, excited by the Jesuits or their tools, was begun against the Protestants.”[273] In fact, their temples were overthrown, their burial-grounds profaned, their properties destroyed, their persons injured, and no redress whatever was given or could be expected from judges and magistrates appointed at the recommendation of the Jesuits. Their pupils not unfrequently celebrated Ascension-day by assaulting those of the evangelical persuasion, breaking into their houses, plundering and destroying their property. Woe to the Protestant whom they could seize in his house, or whom they even met on the streets on these occasions!

The evangelical church of Cracow was attacked in the year 1606, and in the following year the church was furiously stormed, the dead being torn from their graves; in 1611, the church of the Protestants in Wilna shared the same fate, and its ministers were maltreated or murdered. In 1615, a book appeared in Posen, which maintained that the Protestants had no right to dwell in that city. In the following year, the pupils of the Jesuits destroyed the Bohemian church so completely, that they left no stone remaining upon another, and the Lutheran church was burnt. The same things occurred in other places; and in some instances the Protestants were compelled by continual attacks to give up their churches. Nor did they long confine their assaults to the towns; the students of Cracow proceeded to burn the churches of the neighbouring districts. In Podlachia, an aged evangelical minister named Barkow was walking before his carriage, leaning on his staff, when a Polish nobleman approaching from the opposite direction, commanded his coachman to drive directly over him; before the old man could move out of the way, he was struck down, and died from the injuries he received.[274]

The University of Cracow, writing to that of Louvain, and referring to one of those expeditions against the Protestants, headed by Jesuits, in 1621, expresses itself as follows: “The Jesuits are very cunning, expert in a thousand artifices, and clever at feigning simplicity; but they were the cause of much innocent blood being shed. The town (Cracow) was deluged with it. The fathers were never satiated with murders, only the arms of those ruffians whom they employed for their crimes were tired; they were moved with compassion, and refused at last to proceed in the massacre.”[275] Indeed, the fiery spirit of intolerance and bigotry which the Jesuits had diffused was so strong and universal, that even Wladislau, Sigismund’s successor, notwithstanding all his efforts, could not arrest the religious persecution and protect his Protestant subjects from the sanguinary fury of the Papists. It is true that Sigismund, in following the Jesuits’ directions, and in attempting to re-introduce Romanism into all his dominions, had lost his hereditary kingdom of Sweden and the magnificent province of Livonia; but that was nothing to the fathers. Protestantism was broken, their opponents were despised or sacrificed, their houses and colleges had received great additional revenues—what did they care for the losses of others?

On the premature death of Wladislau, his brother Cassimir ascended the throne of Poland. He had been a Jesuit, and had sat in the College of Cardinals. The Pope, that he might assume the sceptre, had granted him a dispensation from all his vows. This Jesuit king, by his bad conduct and cowardice, very nigh lost his kingdom; and when his subjects recovered it from the hand of the imperious Charles Gustavus, king of Sweden, he, in gratitude for that fidelity and gallantry, “committed himself and the kingdom to the care of the Virgin Mary, and vowed to convert the heretics;” which meant, says Krasinski, to disperse and extirpate them.

The Jesuits triumphed. We shall not follow those pitiless and relentless monks in all the iniquities they committed, in all the miseries they inflicted on poor Poland, which owes in great part to them the loss of her literature, of her glory, and, in part, of her national existence.

Much has been said and written about the conversion to Romanism, by the Jesuits, of Christina, the daughter of the heroic Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden. But as this event did not produce any material change on that country, we shall be very brief in our account of it. No doubt, the Jesuits had a great share in bringing that capricious and haughty woman into the pale of the Roman Church. The sad glory belongs to Macedo, confessor to the Portuguese ambassador at the court of Sweden. He persuaded her to seek rest to her disquieted mind in the unchanged and unchangeable doctrines of Rome. By her order, Macedo went to Rome to ask the General of the Jesuits to send her some of the most trusted members of the order.[276] Some time after, two very handsome and young Italian noblemen, travelling, as they gave out, for their improvement, arrived at the Swedish court, and were introduced to the queen, and admitted to the royal table. In these two very pleasing young men were to be recognised two Jesuits, sent by the General; and these, being admitted to secret interviews with the princess, achieved the work begun by Macedo. Christina, on her conversion, renounced the crown, and went to Rome to worship on his own pedestal of pride the idol which the bigoted Papists adore in the place of God the Lord.

We must now return to examine the conduct of the Jesuits in England, and we could wish that we were spared the task; for, in connexion with their plots and crimes, we shall have to speak of the shameful and unchristian proceedings of their opponents, which were such as we cannot think of without sadness, and which convey but a poor idea of the goodness of human nature when acting under the influence of exciting passions. By the one party, the conception of a most abominable and infernal crime is extolled as a meritorious and heroic action; while the other, to punish the intended crime, violates the most sacred laws of justice and humanity.

There is no event in the annals of any nation, the memory of which has been so carefully perpetuated as has been in England the gunpowder plot. It is the first page of the national history which is taught to children by its annual commemoration every fifth of November. We therefore shall relate of it only so much as is necessary to demonstrate the part in it that may be attributed to the Jesuits. Here, as in the affair of Campion, it is rather difficult, amidst the many contradictory versions and documents, to arrive at a clear and satisfactory conclusion regarding the degree of culpability of the accused. We shall neither credit the apologists of the Jesuits, Eudemon and Bellarmine,[277] nor Abbott’s Antologia, and the assertions of James VI. himself, who, forgetting the dignity of a king, entered the lists to shew his pedantic learning and love of controversy. Instead of filling hundreds of pages with contradictory quotations, we shall frankly state the conclusions to which we have come after a careful examination of what has been written on the subject.[278]

That the Jesuits were from first to last the contrivers of all the machinations against Elizabeth and James, is an incontestable fact, and we have in part proved it. The notorious and unrelenting Parson, who, after he fled from England, became rector of the English college in Rome, and possessed very great influence at the Papal court, was the chief instigator of these plots. During Elizabeth’s lifetime, he had had the idea of unceremoniously disposing of the English crown in favour of the Duke of Parma, or of Cardinal Farnese, his brother; a ridiculous and absurd project of a fanatic conspirator, which was ridiculed at the time, by Pasquino,[279] in these words: “If any man will buy the kingdom of England, let him repair to a merchant with a black square cap, in the city, and he shall have a very good pennyworth of it.”[280] It was Parson, and his brethren the Jesuits, who obtained from Paul V., against the representation of Henry IV. of France, the bull which forbade all the Roman Catholics to take the oath of allegiance, and which produced so many miseries. It was he, too, who constrained the Pope to disgrace the arch-priest Blackwell for having taken it, and who compelled the secular priests to become rebels and victims against their own will; which circumstance elicited from them the memorial to the Pope which we have reported at p. 163. But, that no doubt may remain about it, listen to the ingenuous Crétineau, who, enumerating the benefits rendered by the Jesuits to Romanism, says, “Have they not preserved in England the germ (of Popery) which is now developing itself with such vigour, and which in Ireland, after three hundred years of martyrdom, BECAME A LEGITIMATE REVOLUTION?”[281] No words can prove better than these that the Jesuits were constantly and actively employed in Great Britain in propagating Romanism, a doctrine which, according to them, confers upon the Pope the right of supremacy, of disposing of the crown at his pleasure, and of releasing the subjects from their allegiance to a heretic sovereign, and which, consequently, amounts to high treason. In this aspect alone can be in part excused those sanguinary laws of persecution and tyranny enacted in the reigns of Elizabeth and James against the Roman Catholics. We insist upon this consideration.

Now, in the particular case which we are examining—the gunpowder plot—we believe that Catesby and Percy, at first, contrived the plot without the knowledge or participation of the Jesuits, as it is not denied that afterwards Gerard, Tezmund alias Greenwall, and Garnet, were made acquainted with it in all its horrid details. The whole question regarding Garnet, who alone suffered for the conspiracy, has hitherto amounted to this—whether he knew of it in any other way than as it was revealed to him by Father Gerard, under the seal of confession. And the Jesuits and Papists insist upon this point, pretending that, in such a case, Garnet could not reveal the conspiracy without committing sacrilege. To speak the truth, we are inclined to believe that he, literally speaking, did not know of it otherwise; and these are the reasons why we believe so. Garnet was not, like Parson, a bold and daring partisan, capable of braving any danger, of attempting any enterprise. He was a very poor conspirator, in no way disposed to earn the palm of martyrdom. Catesby, who had been his associate in the plots during the reign of Elizabeth, must have known him well, so that he and the other conspirators did not trust him at first even with their confession. It was Greenway who, in our opinion, violated the seal of confession by apprising his superior of what was going on. It is not improbable, then, that when afterwards Catesby proposed to disclose to him the whole plan of the plot, Garnet, who had nothing to learn, refused to listen to him, in order that, in case of ill-success, he might not be accused of being an accomplice. That all the Jesuits approved of the plot and wished it success, there is very little doubt, and we even believe that, without speaking openly to the point, Garnet must have indirectly, by cunning, adroit insinuations, encouraged the conspirators to consummate the horrible crime. It is a fact deponed by Bates, and indubitably proved, that Garnet and the other two Jesuits had frequent interviews with Catesby and the other conspirators some few days before that which had been fixed upon for the execution of the plot; and we do not hesitate to say, that had Garnet wished to deter the conspirators from their infernal projects, he might have found a thousand ways of doing so without at all betraying the secrets of the confessional. But suppose that, as we have said, Garnet and Greenway did not know of the conspiracy except under the seal of confession, and that they in no way encouraged and abetted it, yet we cannot acquit them of the charge of being accomplices in the crime.

We have related at p. 140 that at Grenada the Jesuits had propounded a doctrine that there are circumstances in which the confessor may oblige his penitent to discover his accomplices or permit him to inform the competent authorities of the crime. It is true that the crime specified was heresy, but we think that the same may be said of murder or any other crime, and that that doctrine which is good at Grenada must be equally good in England. But let that pass, and let us proceed. The conspirators, at least five of them, declared to the confessor, that they were meditating a horrible crime, that they were taking measures to accomplish it, and that they were sure of success. The confessor granted them absolution, and another Jesuit administered to them the communion. Now, the indispensable condition of the validity of absolution from a sin, is, that the penitent feel repentance or contrition for having committed it. How then could Father Greenway absolve the conspirators from a crime of which they not only did not repent, but which they were proceeding at all hazards to perpetrate? The evil spirit himself expounds this doctrine to the unfortunate Guido, to whom he proves that the absolution he had received from the Pope from a sin he had not yet committed was null.

“No power can the impenitent absolve,

Nor to repent and will at once consist,

By contradiction absolute forbid.”[282]

We conclude from this, that either your confession is merely a snare to entrap fools, or that Greenway considered the conspiracy not a hellish crime, but a meritorious deed!

But we have a still more stringent argument. Suppose that, following some of their probable opinions, the Jesuits thought that they were obliged to absolve the miscreants, and that their ministry obliged them faithfully to keep the secret, had they not the Pope, the omnipotent Pope to apply to, to absolve them from that obligation? Is there any precept, any sacrament, any law human or divine, from the fulfilment of which, according to their doctrine, the Pope cannot grant a dispensation? If there is any, let it be pointed out, and we shall absolve them. But if they cannot deny that the Pope could have released them from the secrecy of confession, and if they cannot prove that they asked such dispensation, it is evident that they did not wish to prevent the crime. And if this was connivance, and if this connivance was a capital crime, then their condemnation was undoubtedly a legal and just sentence, and they met with nothing but deserved punishment. We wonder that James, who was so well versed in theological controversies, did not find out any of these arguments, which would certainly have furnished more plausible grounds for a condemnation than the equivocal confession wrung from the Jesuits by the contrivance of ignoble and disgraceful snares. For if we unreservedly condemn the Jesuits, we exclaim with equal energy against the proceedings of their adversaries. All the forms of justice, all the laws of humanity, were scandalously violated. Garnet is confined in a prison, repeatedly interrogated, and, in order that he may betray himself, assured that his accomplice Father Greenway has been arrested, and that he has confessed everything. Then, after he has been long in a dungeon alone, a jailor, pretending to be touched with compassion, tells the desolate man, that another Jesuit is close by, and that he can converse with, and even see him; and opens a door through which the two friends can see each other. The manner in which his secrets were surprised; the misconstruction of his words; the interception of letters, which he was assured he might in safety write to his bosom friends; the strange imputation of roguery, because he did not consent to accuse himself, in clear and precise words; the promises which were held out to him and never kept; and, above all, the protracted, cruel, and inhuman moral torture which was inflicted upon him on the scaffold;[283] all deserve our severe and unconditional censure. Thank God! in England at least we are now far from those cruel times of injustice and fanaticism, and we sincerely hope we shall never see them back again.

The Jesuits were not appalled nor discouraged by the execution of Garnet, nor by that of Oldcorne, who had suffered at Worcester some days before.[284] We find them in almost all the conspiracies which were got up to impede the regular march of the government, and we find from time to time severe and inquisitorial laws enacted against them, some of which forbade them to set foot in England, under penalty of death. It is an incontestable fact, that the Jesuits, by their turbulent and treacherous conduct, were the cause of most of the rigorous measures taken by the government against the Roman Catholics, who ought therefore to consider those crafty monks as their most bitter enemies. Another inference may be drawn from what we have related, namely—that no danger, not even that of death, can deter a Jesuit from following out his projects, when once they are considered to be profitable to the Order, or necessary to avenge it of its enemies. The moment they could return from exile, the instant they were set free from dangers or untied from the rack, they returned to their plots and intrigues with unabated ardour and most wonderful obstinacy. A striking instance of this was furnished by the Jesuit Fischer, who, the moment he was liberated from the tower, undertook to convert to Catholicism the mother of the brilliant Buckingham, who did in fact abjure Protestantism, and, in union with France and Spain, contrived to render less cruel the laws of proscription against the Catholics.[285]

During the fatal struggle which Charles I. maintained against the Parliament, the Jesuits publicly and openly took part with the cavaliers, because Charles was evidently much better disposed towards them than were the Puritans. It is evident that, by shewing their devotedness to the king, if the contest had ended in his favour, they might not only have hoped for the free exercise of their religion, but for a considerable share of influence over him. But a very grave accusation was brought against them, which, if true, would shew them guilty of the most diabolical iniquity. We have no proofs to establish this accusation, which was produced some years after the event; but, if we are to declare our own conviction, we firmly believe them guilty; not because we credit in all its parts the narrative of Jurieu, but for the reasons we are about to give. Jurieu relates that the Jesuits, to re-establish the Roman Catholic religion, thought that it would be necessary that Charles, then prisoner, should fall, and the monarchy along with him. In consequence, eighteen of them, headed by a lord of the realm, went to Rome to consult the Pope. The matter was discussed in secret assemblies, and it was decided that it was lawful that Charles should die. The deputies, on their return from Rome, shewed to the Sorbonne the response of the Pope, of which many copies were distributed. The Sorbonne approved. On their return to England, the Jesuits set themselves to work, and sent many of the most ardent Catholics among the Independents, dissembling their religion, to inflame still more their passions, and push things to extremities. Their scheme having failed, they wished to have back the copies of the consultation of the Pope and the Sorbonne; but the priest who before abjuring Protestantism had been Charles’s confessor, and who was intimate with the Jesuits, would not give up his copy, and, after the return of the Stuarts, shewed it to many persons who were still living, and could afford actual evidence of the reality of what he narrated.[286]

This statement, literally taken, does not stand examination, and Crétineau, who reports it, triumphantly exclaims, that this manner of writing history renders all discussion impossible.[287] No, certainly not; such infernal projects as to drive the king to extremities, and make the king’s head fall for the fulfilment of their designs, if formed, were neither publicly nor secretly discussed at the Court of Rome in the presence of eighteen Jesuits and a lord, and much less was the conclusion they came to, and their approval of the project, put in writing and freely distributed: we readily acquit them of such foolish contrivances. But, knowing as we do the arts of the Loyolan brotherhood, we repeat that we firmly believe that it is more than probable that the Jesuits did mix among the Roundheads and excite their fanaticism to frenzy. I have recorded (page 171) an almost similar fact which appeared under our own eyes in Rome. And I must further add, that all the more virulent men who, in the beginning of Pius IX.’s reign, were proposing the most daring and extravagant measures, were afterwards discovered to be either in the pay of the fathers, or to be the unconscious tools of their secret agency.

Discouraged a little under Cromwell, the Jesuits took heart again after the restoration of Charles II., and resorted to their usual arts and machinations. If we are to believe what they boast of, it seems that they had plunged into a more dangerous and extensive conspiracy against the Protestant religion and the English liberties than we are aware of. “A secret treaty,” says Crétineau, “had been signed between Louis XIV. and Charles II., to re-establish the Catholic religion in Great Britain. Fathers Annat and Ferrier, successively confessors to the French king, and the English Jesuits, had not been strangers to this negotiation; Colman did not ignore those details, and he spoke of them in his letters to Father Lachaise.”[288] We do not know how far we may credit this assertion; we know that Charles debased himself by asking and receiving money from the French monarch, to whom he betrayed the interests of his allies and of his own kingdom; but, as to having stipulated for the re-establishment of the Romish religion, we would not be bold enough to assert that it was so. However it be, this statement is connected with the famous Popish plot which, in 1678, threw Great Britain into such a state of alarm and excitement, and which, although it was at first the cause of many innocent victims beings sacrificed, ultimately produced an immense and glorious result—the Habeas Corpus Act.

Oates and Bedloe are two names which have come down to posterity abhorred and execrated by every honest man. These infamous and abandoned men accused the Jesuits, the Pope, the Kings of France and Spain, many English noblemen, and some scores of thousands of the English citizens, of a plot so absurd, as to make, in our days, every one ashamed of repeating it. And yet the generality of the common people, and the greater part of the higher classes, at the time believed in its reality. Nothing else was talked of, and all the cares of the government, the activity of the parliament, and the energy of the citizens, were exerted to protect the nation from an imaginary impending ruin. This ought to teach us how the passions and spirit of party deprive us of our right feeling and judgment, and how dangerous it is to give way to the impulse of the moment in times of great commotion. Many noblemen and citizens were arrested upon the deposition of these scoundrels. Many suffered the extreme penalty of the law. Father Ireland, on the deposition of Oates, for which the latter was afterwards condemned for perjury, was sentenced to death and executed; and soon after, the provincial and four other Jesuits met with the same fate upon the same absurd and unjust accusation.

We do not pretend to say, however, that the Jesuits at such an epoch had quite renounced their intrigues and treacherous projects, and were not to be looked after. No; their restless and enterprising spirit rendered, and does still render, them very dangerous, and their conduct in Protestant countries may be said, with justice, to be a permanent conspiracy against the welfare and the interests of all other communities; and they themselves, as we said, confess as much. But they were guiltless of the crime of which they were accused, and for which they suffered. How much more mischief they were the cause of in the reign of the despotic and bigoted James II.! It was at their instigation that this bigoted monarch annulled the test act, imprisoned many Protestant bishops, had as many as four Roman Catholic priests consecrated bishops at a time, and had formed a plan for converting England to the Popish idolatry. Yet all these arbitrary and foolish acts resulted also at last in the great advantage of the English nation. The Jesuits’ influence had grown so powerful under James’s reign, that Father Peter was admitted into the privy council, and we do not hesitate to say, that the favour James shewed to the members of the Company and to the Catholics in general, and the authority they exercised over him, was one of the most efficient causes of raising up the people of England’s feelings of indignation, and to bring them to resolve upon and achieve the glorious Revolution of 1688.

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CHAPTER XIII.
1600-1753.
AMERICAN MISSIONS.

When we reflect that the Jesuits are our fellow-men, that their crimes and iniquities which we are compelled to stigmatise, are in some measure a stain upon the human species, we sincerely rejoice when we find some noble action to record, and when we may write a page of praise and eulogium. We think we have shewn this impartiality in our account of the Indian missions, when, while condemning with all our might the idolatrous practice of later times, we awarded to the first missionaries the praise that was due to their pure and generous intentions, and to their prodigious and unremitting activity. We are placed in much the same predicament in speaking of the American missions, when we find the evil inherent in the spirit of the sect, and in the religion they profess, united with noble and generous endeavours to make the happiness of a barbarous and savage population, by reducing it under benignant and humane laws, and by imparting to it the benefit of Christianity, at least in its effects upon the external conduct and mode of living. No doubt, a Christian Protestant—a man deeply imbued with the true spirit of the gospel, and who abhors any form of worship which consists in mere bodily service—will find much to blame in these missions. No doubt the Jesuits here, as in India, preached and taught superstitious practices and external observances, rather than the sincere devotion of the heart, and the faith to be reposed on the merits of Christ’s blood. No doubt they converted the spiritual and mystic religion of Christ into a sensual worship of material symbols. But, to be just, we think that these reproaches are due to Popery, to the Roman Catholic religion in general, and not to the Jesuits alone, and that we ought not to withhold from them the praise they deserve for any good quality or merits they possess, merely because they are Papists. This would be too invidious, and would render us guilty of capital injustice towards those Romanists or Jesuits who sincerely believe that theirs is the only true religion; and be assured that in all religions, there are some who think thus of their own. On the other hand, the Jesuits are accused of having undertaken these missions solely with a view to their private ends, to aggrandise and enrich the order, and not to advance the interests of religion and the glory of God. This we freely admit, and we have repeatedly said that the Order has always been the ultimate end of their conduct; but to refuse them the merit of having brought a savage population into the pale of civilisation, because they did so for their own private interest, would be the same as to apply the epithet of rogue to a landlord or manufacturer, who treats his dependants with unwonted kindness and humanity, because, by treating them in this manner, he himself receives immense advantage.

Our readers must not infer from what we have just said, that we do not find anything with which to reproach the Jesuits in their American missions. We shall have many things to censure in them, but, on the whole, their proceedings appear to us to be deserving of the greatest praise, and we feel obliged to defend them from the gross abuse which has been indiscriminately poured upon them on this score.

The character of the Western and Eastern missions differ widely, both in the means employed and the results obtained. In East India and China, the principal feature of the missions is the idolatry with which the Jesuits polluted the Christian religion. Having to deal with populations in possession already of more or less civilisation, and deeply imbued with the prejudices of their religion, the Jesuits thought of humouring them in their belief, and sometimes shewed themselves more inclined to idolatry than the pagans they were labouring to convert. Besides, having on one side to contend with the pagan priests, who wanted themselves to work the ignorance and prejudices of the Indians to their own account, and being harassed on the other by the chief of their own religion, who would not admit of any other idolatry than that which was approved by himself, the Jesuits could not obtain in the East Indies any great and permanent result.

Of a quite different character are the missions of America. The Jesuits found there a barbarous and savage population, zealous of their vagabond independence, fierce in their enmities, without any positive notion of a peculiar religion, and, consequently, easy to be subjected to any superior intelligence who should undertake to inculcate upon them no matter what new creed. The chief difficulty there lay in the impossibility of having any intercourse with the persons whose conversion was desired. The Indians, simple and kind when first discovered, had now become ferocious and excessively cunning, having been driven to extremities by the cruel and merciless treatment they had experienced from the rapacious Spaniards, a treatment which had inspired them with mortal hatred against all Christians, and against the very name of Christ, which had been sacrilegiously employed in the massacre of their kinsmen. Yet it was among the same savages, who avoided Europeans more than a ferocious beast, that the Jesuits, without arms or any compulsory means, simply by persuasion and kindness, succeeded in erecting an empire, all the laws of which were based upon the first principles of Christianity. Let us see how they performed such real prodigies.

The Spanish adventurers had brought into conquered America all the vices and the ferocious passions of their Inquisition. It might be said that South America had been transformed into a large inquisitorial tribunal, and that every soldier was an inquisitor and an executioner at the same time. The adventurers, to palliate their crimes, when they murdered the poor, inoffensive Indians, gave out that they did so to honour Christ, whom these obdurate pagans refused to worship. It is not our intention to detail all the crimes of those most Christian assassins, and we shall be contented with saying, that while they butchered tens of thousands of inoffensive people, in endeavouring to convert them to their religion, they succeeded with but very few; and those who, to avoid tortures and death, submitted to be baptized, hated still more than their pagan brethren the very name of Christians.

Ranke gives a very prosperous picture of the state of religion in America, and says, “In the beginning of the sixteenth century we find the proud fabric of the Catholic Church completely erected in South America. It possessed five archbishoprics, twenty-seven bishoprics, four hundred monasteries, and doctrines innumerable.”[289] Now, with all deference to so great a historian, we venture to say, that we admit the veracity of the statement as to the number of monks and monasteries, archbishoprics and bishoprics; but we believe that these establishments were in proportion to the extent of the country, not to the number of Christian inhabitants. Indeed, in every tract of land of which the Europeans had taken possession, there was erected a church, if not for the accommodation of these same Europeans, at least to furnish priests and monks with a pretext to claim a share in the spoils and wealth of the country; but we doubt much that many Indians frequented these churches. The swarms of monks who had flocked to America, finding in the climate a still greater stimulus to their usual propensity to indolence and luxury, indulged in all their vices, and thought only of making converts as far as was necessary to procure some subjects who might enrich their patrons, the soldiers, as well as their monasteries.[290] Such, however, was not the conduct of the Jesuits. There, as in Europe, they wished to be distinguished from other brotherhoods, and affected a more saintly and pious course of life. Concealing their ultimate purposes under the cloak of religion and piety, they spoke of nothing else but of converting infidels, and opposed, in the name of Christ, the sanguinary measures adopted by the conquerors, and approved by other religious communities. Perhaps we are not far from the truth when we assert that the Jesuits adopted a more humane and Christian policy, as well for their private purpose, as to set themselves in opposition to other religious communities. Because, it is a remarkable fact in the history of the Church of Rome, that while every other brotherhood has both friends and foes in the other bodies, the Jesuits alone have none but enemies. However it was, they set themselves to work; and, overlooking for a moment the greater or less holiness of the end they proposed, we repeat, that the means they made use of to acquire a standing among the savages of South America are deserving of the highest encomium. The conquerors of this unfortunate part of the globe, as Robertson remarks, had no other object in view than to rob, to enslave, to exterminate, while the Jesuits established themselves there in the view of humanity. They overran the country to a great extent, and wherever they could find an Indian, they overwhelmed him with so much kindness, shewed him so much affection, spoke so indignantly of the cruelty and avarice of the ferocious conquerors, with so much unction of the mercies of God, that these injured men yielded by degrees to the fascination, and accustomed themselves to look upon a Jesuit as a protector from the oppressions of the other Europeans. And protectors they were, and proved to be. Father Valdiva went purposely to Madrid to obtain from Philip III. orders enjoining officers to treat the poor Indians with a little more humanity, and brought back a decree, that those Indians who had settled within certain precincts ruled by the Jesuits, should neither be reduced to servitude, nor be forced to embrace the Christian religion.[291] In the Tucuman, in Paraguay, in Chili, the Jesuits in their wanderings were making many and devout proselytes, but with no other material advantage to the order except the envy of the other brotherhoods, and the hatred of the Spaniards, whose interests they were damaging. The sagacious and politic Acquaviva perceived at once that this state of things must be mended; and, in consequence, he sent to America, in 1602, a commissioner, who, re-uniting in Salta all the Jesuits dispersed in different countries, apprised them that the General thought it expedient to trace a plan to moderate the eccentricities (écarts) of zeal, and to direct its impetuosity;[292] in other words, to turn such zeal to account. In consequence, it was determined to concentrate all, or at least their greatest efforts, upon a point, and fix there the seat of their power in the New World. After having provided that a sufficient number of the order should remain at the stations throughout all South America, to keep up their schools and colleges, and their commercial establishments, Acquaviva wished that his disciples should employ all their energies in creating a new kingdom which they could call their own.

Paraguay, an immense and most fertile region, was chosen for a site on which to erect this principality, far from any rivalry, and with the view that the subject should know no other master, no other religion, no other God, than those presented to them by the fathers. The undertaking was difficult, and required a great deal of courage, patience, and intrepidity; but the Jesuits proved equal to the task. By degrees, they succeeded in bringing some tribes to listen to them. The Guaranis were the first who had friendly intercourse with the Jesuits, and who were persuaded by them to renounce their wandering and adventurous life, and to taste the sweets of a well-regulated society. Some houses were built under the direction of the fathers. The lay brothers, or temporal coadjutors, were the artisans who supplied them with what was most essential to render life pleasant and comfortable. Above all, the power of music was brought to bear on the vivid mind of those savages, who were charmed by the melody of the sacred songs repeated by the fathers.

The knowledge the Jesuits had of the art of healing wounds and bodily diseases, contributed also in great measure to procure them friends and admirers. Curiosity further favoured their efforts, while it brought the Indians to view what appeared to them such strange things in the Jesuit settlements, after they were sure that they should meet with nothing but kindness and presents. Where at first stood a few isolated houses, soon sprung up a village, which subsequently became a neat and regular little town. The plan traced for these towns was uniform, and very simple. The streets, of one breadth, extended in straight lines, and met in a central square. The church was built in the most conspicuous situation of the village, and was by far the most handsome and decorated building in the town. Near the church were the house of the fathers, the arsenal, and the storehouses. In every village there was also a workhouse, or a sort of penitentiary for bad women.

These villages were known under the general appellation of Reductions, but each of them was distinguished by a proper name. The first which was established was dedicated to the Madonna of Loretto; the second, to St Ignatius; and others to other saints and Madonnas. As early as the year 1632, the Jesuits possessed twenty Reductions, each containing a thousand families. Two Jesuits, the curate and the vicar, were appointed to the management of each Reduction, which they governed with absolute and unquestioned authority. They were the sovereigns, the friends, the physicians, the gods, of those barbarians who consented to live in the Reductions. They partook of their labours, of their amusements, of their joys, of their sorrows. They visited daily every house in which lay a sick person, whom they served as the kindest nurse, and to whom they seemed to be ministering genii. By such conduct they brought this primitive population to idolise them.

It must not be supposed, however, that the Jesuits obtained at once over the ferocious adult Indians a general and absolute power. Even those who had consented to receive baptism, and to live for some time in the Reduction, often deserted it, and disdaining to live that peaceful and comparatively effeminate life, returned to their forests, and to their former life of constant warfare, in search of their enemies, in order to gratify their cannibal appetites. Often they rebelled against the Jesuits’ authority, and not seldom menaced them with utter destruction. But the second generation—those children who were born within the Reduction, and had been brought up by the fathers—shewed themselves the most submissive and devoted of all subjects. Gratitude for the kindness they had experienced, admiration for the superior intelligence and acquirements of their masters, awe for the religion they were taught, fear of punishment and disgrace—all combined to render them faithful and submissive to the fathers.

When once the Jesuits had raised up a generation so devoted and obedient, they then brought into operation their system of government, and made a successful attempt to realise that republic preconceived of old by Plato, and which, with perhaps more interested views, is held out to us by the Socialists of our own day. In fact, their form of a republic was nothing else than that Communism which the famous Cabet is now trying to establish in nearly the same regions; the only difference being, that the Jesuits substituted themselves for the state or community.

The most perfect equality reigned in the Reductions. No mark of distinction, no difference of dress, of house accommodation, or of food, rendered one envious of the lot of another. In every Reduction there were workshops in which were exercised the most useful arts. The moment the boys were able to work, they were sent there to learn the trade to which they felt most strongly inclined, according to a principle to which the Jesuits invariably adhered—“that the art must be guided by nature.” The Jesuit lay brothers, or temporal coadjutors, were the artisans who instructed the youth, and they and the professed members themselves put their hand to the plough, to encourage the Indians in conquering their repugnance to labour the soil. Every family was assigned a portion of ground, which they were obliged to cultivate; and a severe vigilance insured a good cultivation. The women had also their occupations. Every Monday morning they received a certain quantity of wool or cotton, and every Saturday they were required to bring it back ready for the loom. All the produce, of whatever sort, was deposited in large storehouses, and distributed, by the Jesuits, in equal portions to every individual. Even meat was portioned from the public slaughter-houses in the same manner. In the distribution, the greatest attention was paid to the orphan, the helpless, and the superannuated. The surplus of the produce was exported, and partly exchanged for European wares which were wanted in the Reduction; and the remainder, after having paid a piastra (four shillings) for each individual from eighteen to fifty years of age, as a sort of tribute to the King of Spain, remained at the disposal of the fathers. No coin of whatever sort was permitted or known at the Reduction. A spot of ground attached to every house may be said to have constituted the only property belonging to the individual; and this was done to encourage and recompense industry: for, if he made it productive, he reaped all the profits himself, without diminishing the portion he received from the common store. The daily occupations were minutely regulated. There were fixed hours for work, for amusement, for prayers, and an hour was even fixed in the evening after which every person was obliged to return within the wall of his own habitation. Any transgression of any of the established rules met with public corporal punishment; but, in general, the transgressor feared more the anger of the father, than the castigation that awaited him. General suffrage was exercised in its fullest extent; and it was the people who elected their magistrates, and their civil and military officers. All these public functionaries were invariably chosen from the Indians; but, to flatter the pride, or lull the jealousy, of the Spanish king, they were distinguished by the Spanish appellations, Corregidor, Alcalde, &c. The choice of the people was submitted, pro forma at least, to the approval of the Spanish authorities, who, not knowing either electors or candidates, could not but approve of it; but, in reality, the sanction of the Jesuits was indispensable to the validity of the election.

To keep these people in such a state of dependence and submission, the Jesuits had secluded them from the rest of the world. No individual could leave the Reduction without permission, and no European was allowed to visit these Reductions unaccompanied, or to have free intercourse with the inhabitants. The knowledge of any other than the native language was altogether banished, and aversion and prejudices against the Europeans as carefully cherished as in ancient Egypt.

Nor were the Reductions left unprotected against the possible attacks of foreign enemies. All able-bodied men were drilled to arms, and formed into a militia, having its regulations, its officers, its arsenal, its artillery, its ammunition. The officers were chosen by the soldiers; the arms and ammunition, not excepting the cannon, were manufactured in the Reduction, always by, and under the direction of, the Jesuits. On the afternoon of every Sunday, and other holidays, the militia assembled and executed military exercises and evolutions. When that militia was called forth for the service of the Spanish king, “they had always at their head and among their ranks, Jesuits, who prevented all contact with other Indians or with Europeans, and who answered for their virtue before God, as the Indians answered for their courage before men.”[293] Nor, indeed, did they fail in their duty when an occasion presented itself. Tribes of savages often attacked the Reductions, but were met with undoubted courage, and, generally speaking, were repulsed after sustaining severe loss.

But if, on the one hand, the Jesuits cherished among the people distrust and aversion towards strangers, they, on the other hand, diligently inculcated the exercise of hospitality and friendship among the different Reductions. On the great festival days, and especially on the day of the patron saint of any Reduction, the neighbouring ones went thither in solemn procession, and were received with all possible marks of love and friendship.

Such is a sketch of the civil government of the Reductions, and of the kind of life led by the inhabitants. Objections and reproaches, and perhaps not always unfounded, have been raised against such a system. It has been said that the inhabitants of the Reductions were low and abject slaves, led on by the scourge, deprived even of the faculty of thinking, and confined in a perpetual imprisonment, though within a large space. Quinet, with perhaps more eloquence than reason, exclaims, “Are we sure that it (Paraguay) contains the germ of a great empire? Where is the sign of life? Everywhere else, indeed, one hears at least the squalling of the child in the cradle; here, I greatly fear, I confess, that so much silence prevailing in the same place for three ages, is but a bad sign, and that the regime which can so quietly enervate virgin nature, cannot be any other than that which develops Guatmozen and Montezuma.” All this is very well said, and may be in part true. Doubtless, these people were kept in perpetual infancy. Doubtless, nothing great, nothing of a creating stamp, must be expected from them. Doubtless, they did not develop and expand the new element of life imparted to them, as other nations have done who were more left to themselves; nor did they exercise the noblest part of their nature—the intelligence—in that pursuit for which we think man was created—the search after truth. But surely there are nations who have been placed in worse circumstances, and subjected to more disastrous influences, and more deserving our pity and commiseration. Thus, if a nation, that has, through the free exercise of all its faculties and activities, arrived at a high state of civilisation and refinement, should be at once crushed, as France is at the present moment, under the iron hand of despotism, that people would be really miserable, and such doleful lamentations as those of the eloquent ex-professor of the College of France would not in this case be misplaced. But these Americans, who knew nothing of the pleasures of moral and intellectual refinement but what was presented to them by their instructors, and found therein contentment, we do not know how far they deserve to be pitied. Were these people, we ask in our turn, less happy or more miserable than those tens of thousands who wallow in vices of all sorts in the free and civilised towns of Paris and London? Are, then, squalid poverty, the groans of the oppressed, and reckless sensuality, necessary elements of national happiness? These are questions which in our opinion deserve some consideration; and although we think the human race has been destined by the Creator to greater and nobler purposes than the mere enjoyment of a material life; and although we know that humanity must progress in its career, and that this progress cannot be attained without great commotion and great evil, nevertheless, when we contemplate all the miseries which surround our state of civilisation, we freely forgive the Jesuits for having, in one part of the globe, let civilisation and progress sleep a while, to render these poor Indians happy.

Better founded are the charges brought by the pious and zealous against the Jesuits, with respect to the kind of religion they taught to their neophytes. In fact, though we cannot trace any such permanent system of gross idolatry as was practised by the order in the East Indies, nevertheless it is an undeniable fact, that what was taught by them under the name of the pure religion of Christ, was little else than a series of empty forms and superstitious observances, and that the worship which was rendered to God was little better than a continual and motley masquerade, if we may be allowed the expression. We shall not enter into details, the following passage from Crétineau sufficiently shewing what sort of Christians, if they can be called so at all, were those converted by the Jesuits. “Those Indians had a very limited intelligence; they only understood what fell under their senses; and the missionaries were so alarmed at their stupidity, that they asked themselves whether it was possible to admit them to the participation of the sacraments. They consulted, upon this point, the bishops of Peru assembled at Lima, who came to the decision that, baptism excepted, no act of Christian devotion should be imposed upon them, without infinite precautions.”[294] It is true that the panegyrist of the order adds, that the patience of the Jesuits was not discouraged for all this, and that they endeavoured to render them better Christians, and, we even believe, if the man who fulfilled all the imposed external ceremonies may be called a Christian, that they succeeded in their attempt.

However, it seems that the Jesuits had so completely perverted the true spirit of the Christian religion, that even Roman Catholic bishops, who, as every one knows, are not very scrupulous in these matters, were shocked and indignant at their conduct, and made an attempt to put a stop to it. Bernardin of Cardenas, Bishop of Paraguay, and John Palafox, Bishop of Angelopolis, were the most prominent in their efforts to put a stop to the Jesuitical superstitions; but both were unsuccessful; both were worsted in the contest; both were obliged to wander as poor exiles out of their dioceses; and both were at last compelled to give up their bishoprics. The history of Palafox in particular deserves to be briefly told.

Palafox was a man of the greatest piety, of a pure and uncontaminated life, and, after his death, was even proposed for canonisation. He bore no ill-will to the Jesuits; on the contrary, as a good Papist which he was, he even overrated their merits. In his letter to the King of Spain, he says of them, “The Company of the holy name of Jesus is an admirable institution, learned, useful, sainted, worthy not only of the protection of your majesty, but of all the Catholic prelates.”[295] A man who thus speaks of the order cannot be suspected of enmity; and it must be inferred that he would not have attacked the Society, unless constrained by duty or necessity. He attempted at first to bring them to reason by remonstrance.[296] He afterwards wrote a strong letter to Pope Innocent X., and asked for a reform of the Society, indispensable, he said, for the good of the Christian community. The result was, that the Jesuits raised such a storm, and excited so many bad passions against the virtuous prelate, that he, “not to be imprisoned or murdered, was obliged to fly, and to wander,” as he wrote to the Pope, “through inhospitable mountains and forests; to appease his hunger with the bread of affliction; to quench his thirst with the water of his eyes; to have no other house than caverns and the hard ground; and to pass his life with serpents and scorpions.”[297] Such was the life to which the Jesuits had reduced the poor bishop. But even this did not satisfy them. To satiate their spirit of revenge, they did not scruple to profane the episcopal dignity, and the most sacred mysteries of that religion which they professed to uphold. In 1647, on the day of the festival of their founder Loyola, the pupils of the college got up a procession, of which the following were the principal features. One of the scholars had the crozier hanging from the tail of his horse, and the mitre at the stirrup. Another carried an image of the bishop in caricature; others carried indecent images of highly respectable priests. This one gave a blessing with the horns of a bullock, saying, “Such are the true armorial of the Christians.” That others held up with one hand the image of the Saviour, and with the other an infamous thing which decency forbids us to name. All of them shouted out the Lord’s Prayer, at the end of which they repeated with thundering shouts, “Libera nos a Palafox—Deliver us from Palafox.”[298]

At last, the Court of Rome, in order to protect him, transferred him to the see of Osma in Spain, where he gave such proofs of virtue and piety, that he died in the odour of sanctity, received subsequently the title of Servus Dei and Venerabilis, and, about sixty years after, was proposed for canonization.[299] But can it be believed—would any one imagine—that Jesuits of the third generation would step forward to renew their attack against the ancient opponent of the order, and oppose his canonisation? And yet such was the case. The General of the Company actually interfered, and by the mouth of the promoter of the faith—promotore della fede,[300] calumniated his doctrines, his conduct, his life; and succeeded in postponing the canonisation till the storm which was gathering broke forth, and dispersed for a while the hated Company of Jesus.[301] This example goes far to shew how deeply is rooted in the heart of the Jesuit the spirit of hatred and revenge!

We have reported at some length the incidents connected with Palafox, as peculiarly exemplifying both the character of that individual, and the nature of the facts and the scandal they produced among the Papists themselves, and which is not yet alleged. But this is merely one example, amongst thousands, of the domineering and persecuting spirit of Jesuitism. “The innumerable and continual proceedings that were brought against you at the Court of Rome,” says Gioberti, addressing the order, “bear witness of the kind of concord and good friendship which the Company maintained with their companions in the priesthood and apostolate. The first cause of the quarrel has always been, that your missionaries wanted to be alone, and to exclude the other orders from any participation in the missions; and for this they first of all applied to the Holy See; and when they did not succeed there, they had recourse to all sorts of tricks, insidious calumnies, persecutions, and acts of violence.”[302] So speaks a man who glories in being a truly good Roman Catholic, and who enumerates many bishops, vicar-generals, popes, legates, &c., who had been sorely persecuted by the fathers. In fact, here is the policy adopted by the Jesuits towards the superior ecclesiastical authorities everywhere, and more especially in the East and West Indies. We beg the especial attention of our readers to the following statement, because it serves to explain the apparent anomaly existing among Popish bishops and other functionaries, in respect to the favour or hatred shewn by them to the Jesuits.

The bishop, or legate, or cardinal, or whoever possesses any authority, must be either friendly or adverse to the Company, and this especially in foreign and distant lands far from the control of Rome. In the former case, the Jesuits will load him with praises, whether deserved or not. They will pronounce him a saint, a luminary of the Church, a model of Christian virtue; and leaving to him all the external pomp and ostensible authority of his office, they will command and direct everything in his name. To such men they give the utmost outward respect, and make the most humble protestations of devotion, repeating at every word that they are the most obedient servants of the Holy See, and of its representative. And this same conduct of theirs, and the testimony which those same persons are ready to give to their dutiful behaviour, is held out by the fathers as an answer to those who reproach them with disobedience and irreligion. But if these ecclesiastical dignitaries refuse to submit to the guidance of the fathers, and pretend to exercise their own authority independently, they become profligate heretics, monsters of iniquity; and they may consider themselves fortunate if they escape with treatment short of that bestowed upon Palafox and De Tournon. Indeed, even the very Popes have been treated in nearly the same manner, and have been extolled or slandered, according as they were favourable or adverse to the Society. There are to be found in the Bullarium a quantity of briefs against the Jesuits for their disobedience to the representatives of the Holy See, and for the persecutions these had suffered from them.[303] Their disobedience, and spirit of revolt against the Court of Rome, with respect to their conduct in the missions, in which they persisted, had become so offensive and provoking, that first Innocent X., and then Innocent XIII., had resolved to abolish the Society, not by a bold and decisive measure, as did afterwards Clement XIV., but by forbidding the reception of any more novices. Innocent XIII., after having ordered the Inquisition to collect full evidence of the almost traitorous actions of the Jesuits, in answer to an apologetic letter of the General, who declared the Society to be innocent, or, at least, excused their insubordination and rebellion, issued a bull by which it was expressly forbidden to the General, and the Society, to give the habit to any novice, or to admit any to take vows, whether simple or solemn.[304] But while Innocent was determining to act with extreme vigour against the Society, he died, and by a death which awakened no unnatural suspicion of foul play.[305]

Such are the broad features of the American missions. We may as well add, that the Jesuits thought it prudent to refuse admittance into the Company to all the aborigines, in order that they might not lose the prestige which they exercised over them. We must also warn our readers not to imagine that the Jesuits had confined their establishment to the Reductions of Paraguay. Paraguay was their own private kingdom, we may say, but they had also magnificent establishments of all kinds throughout all South America. Particular incidents, minute details, miracles, wonders, as related by the Jesuits in their histories, and in their letters, annuæl or edifiantes, we shall not repeat; nor shall we record some partial acts of cruelty and wickedness with which some of the Jesuits have been reproached. We think we have given as fair an idea as possible of the general character of the missions, and this is all that can be done in a general history of the order. As we shall afterwards have occasion to speak at some length of the commercial operations of the Jesuits, and of the ultimate fate of the Reductions, we shall now bring this chapter to an end.

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CHAPTER XIV.
1617-1700.
INTERNAL CAUSES OF DECLINE.

We have seen in one of our former chapters, that during Acquaviva’s generalate, there broke out several partial insurrections against the exorbitant power of the General, and that, although they were quelled, they had left in the community seeds of disobedience and a spirit of independence, which it was to be feared would manifest itself again at the first favourable moment. In fact, the instant it was no more restrained by the iron hand of the inflexible Acquaviva, it pervaded all the classes of the order, especially the highest, that of the professed, and a turbulent and haughty aristocracy took, in the management of the Society, the place reserved by Loyola for the all-powerful General. The character of the immediate successors of Acquaviva greatly facilitated such an innovation, which ultimately produced the ruin of the order. Vitelleschi, Caraffa, Piccolomini, Gottifredi, were not the proper men to govern this brotherhood, now ascended to the height of its power and pride. They were neither saints nor rogues enough to succeed in the undertaking. They did not inspire veneration enough by their pious and saintly life as did Borgia, nor respect and admiration by their superior genius in governing the community, as Lainez and Acquaviva had done, and the consciousness of their own insufficiency rendered them still less suited to the task.

Vitelleschi, Acquaviva’s immediate successor, was a well-intentioned man, mild and conciliatory. He was called by his friends the angel of peace, and on his death-bed he found consolation from the conviction that he had never injured any one.[306] But it is evident that such a kind and indulgent man could not oppose any effectual resistance to the fast-spreading corruption of the order, nor to the demands of determined ambition. What under Acquaviva had only been the expedient of the moment, became under Vitelleschi a rule. The professed members became, if not exclusively, at least simultaneously with the coadjutors, the administrators of the temporal concerns of the Society; and the control which the two classes had exercised, the one over the other, according to the wise enactments of Ignatius, was for ever annihilated. While the number of the coadjutors decreased, that of the professed became out of all proportion numerous, but lost some of that veneration which they had earned in former times by a life, in appearance at least, wholly spiritual and ascetic. Besides, as we have said, persons of the highest families, eager for ecclesiastical dignities or temporal power, now sought admission into the order, and Vitelleschi had neither the intention nor perhaps the power to refuse them, whether they were qualified or not. The strict and searching scrutiny to which the candidate ought to have submitted, and to which in fact he had been subjected under Loyola and the two following Generals, had become gradually less severe; but under Vitelleschi it was altogether neglected, and the novices were absolved from many obligations to which the Constitution rightfully subjected them. The abuses resulting from the non-observance of the most essential rules increased so greatly, that Vitelleschi himself was much affected by it, and poured forth his affliction in a most eloquent and deprecatory letter, which he addressed to the members of the order. From this letter we extract the following passage:—“But whence can we suspect our disinclination to Divine things—our feeling of laborious irksomeness in recollection—in checking the wanderings of our vagrant imaginations, frequently tending in that direction which is least to be desired, because we have not repressed them when we could? What is that tenacious and entangling love of the lowest objects—the world, honour, parents, and worldly comforts?—that greater authority conceded to the rebellious flesh and blood rather than to the spirit in action, for I care not for words;—that enervated exhausted weakness in resisting the solicitations of the adversary in our conflicts with the domestic enemy, perhaps not entirely yielding, but still not evincing that alacrity and exaltation of mind to which only victory is granted? These are the fruits of timidity and of a dissolute spirit, which, unless it is raised betimes, and warmed anew, is clearly approaching a fall and destruction.” And the letter concludes with these remarkable words—“I eagerly call all to witness and proclaim to them, that with Bernard I expect an answer to this epistle, but an answer of deeds, not words.”[307] “So that,” says Gioberti, “during Vitelleschi’s government, the spirit of the Constitution was quite changed: the politicians prevailed over the saints, and a worldly spirit over that of mysticism.”[308]

The evil increased under Caraffa, who succeeded Vitelleschi in 1646, and who was still less able than his predecessor to govern the Society. Caraffa was a simple and innocent bigot, not altogether unworthy of commendation. He was remarkable for his humility: he would have no carriage, no servant, no mark of distinction, as to food or raiment, from the humblest of the brethren.[309] He repeatedly begged his disciples to lay aside all political and temporal concerns, and to live a religious and pious life. He was shocked and grieved at heart on account of the pervading spirit of licentiousness and avarice, and predicted that it would be the ruin of the order. In fact, the Society was continually departing more and more from the principles on which Loyola had established it. The rule, that all who entered the order should abandon every temporal possession, had been strictly enforced in former times, but now the act of renunciation was either delayed, or performed under conditions, and that under different pretences, and especially on the ground that any Jesuit was liable at any time to be expelled from the Society. So when a novice now made the transfer of his property to the order, he clearly specified that it was in favour of such and such a college to which he was attached, and often with the reservation of himself administering the property he bequeathed; so that, even when the property remained in the order, it was no more unconditionally at the disposal of the General representing the entire community, but of an individual, who, in a certain measure, still considered it as his own. Nay, many of the Jesuits, having more leisure and skill than their relations, undertook the management of their affairs.

Against those evils Caraffa could do nothing but write letters filled with complaints, and prescribing remedies which were never to be resorted to. Thus, speaking of those Jesuits who wished to retain their property, he says, “Having settled in their own minds in what houses or colleges they are to fix their abode, ... they labour strenuously to obtain for themselves the administration of what they have resigned to the Society.” And again, “Our procurators should be more cautious, for, although they seek what is just by lawful right, still they seem to seek it with avarice and cupidity, and exhibit too much avidity, which smells of the world.”[310] And as to profane conversation and licentiousness, Caraffa says, “Nor can I possibly pass over in silence that these errors are in a great measure the result of the error of the superiors.”[311]

What a poor idea these two generals give of the authority, the prestige exercised by them over the Community! what a contrast with their predecessors! How different would Loyola, Lainez, or even Acquaviva have acted! When a General of the Order, aware of the evils which have invaded the Society, can find no remedy but in complaints, the Society must inevitably perish; and so it happened to the Jesuits.

Piccolomini, who succeeded Caraffa in 1649, and Gottifredi, who succeeded this last in 1652, were men without any energy or capacity, perhaps less jealous than the two former Generals of the purity and morality of the order; and, in their short administrations, they could do nothing but witness its increasing corruption.

Here it is to be remarked, that in the election of the General, the choice of the congregation now invariably fell upon a person without character or authority, that the fathers might have no master over them; and when the next General, Goswin Nickel, attempted to assert, in part, his authority, he was soon made aware that the times of Loyola and Acquaviva were gone by.

Nickel, elected General in 1652, was a rude and obstinate man. He did not, indeed, contemplate any very deep or searching reforms; he suffered things to proceed, on the whole, as they had previously done; but it was his habit to insist on the observance of his orders with peculiar obstinacy, without having any regard to the feelings of others, and he offended so grievously the self-love of the aristocratic part of the Society, that the General Congregation of 1661 adopted measures against him, such as, from the monarchical character of the institution, could hardly have been supposed possible.[312] The Congregation, desirous of setting Nickel aside, and yet unwilling to pronounce a deposition, applied to the Pope for permission to elect a vicar-general, and Innocent X. not only granted their request, but pointed out for the office his friend Oliva, who was accordingly elected. Then the Congregation, having decided that the vicar-general should possess a primitive power, independent of the General, the authority of the latter was wholly superseded, and entirely transferred to the vicar; so that, when some Jesuits went to pay their respects to Nickel, he, in a lamentable tone, said to them, “I find myself here entirely abandoned, and have no longer power to do anything.”[313]

It is curious, if not instructive (the veracity of the Jesuit historians being very well known), to listen to Crétineau’s account of this transaction. “Nickel,” says the French historian, “felt that he was growing old, that his infirmities no longer permitted him to govern with the required vigour; he begged of the Jesuits to discharge him from a responsibility too great for him, by giving him an assistant; and they acceded to his prayers.”[314] Nickel survived his disgrace three years, and Oliva became General.

Oliva was descended from a noble family of Genoa, where his grandfather and his uncle had respectively been Doge of the republic. In Oliva the Jesuits found at last a chief according to their hearts. He worshipped a repose interrupted only by political intrigues, and the pleasures of the table.[315] He spent a great part of his time in the delicious villa near Albano, where he occupied himself with the cultivation of the rarest exotics. When in Rome, he retired to the noviciate of St Andrea, where he seldom condescended to give audience. He never went out on foot. He lived in a most sumptuously and elegantly adorned apartment, enjoying the pleasures of a table furnished with the most select delicacies, such as would have tempted the appetite of a Vitellius.[316] He was only studious of enjoying the position he held, and the power he had obtained. Reserving for his particular attention matters of political importance, he left the affairs of the Society to the entire management of subordinate officials; and from that moment it may be said that every individual (we speak of persons of some consequence, for in every society there are simpletons always ready for obedience) became, in a great measure, his own master. Not that the interests of the Society were neglected; on the contrary, they were never so prosperous.

The members of every religious community are individually great in proportion to the greatness of the society to which they belong, and the esteem in which it is held by the public. This of itself induces every individual member to seek with all his powers the aggrandisement and the splendour of his order; and if this is true of any other association, it is pre-eminently so of the Society of Jesus. The Jesuits of the seventeenth century worshipped the Order with as much idolatry as their predecessors, and, to serve it, were always ready to act the part of hypocrites, deceivers, perjurers, miscreants; but every one served it (except in great general emergencies, in which they all acted in union) according to his own views and his own affections, some of them assuming even an absolute independence; as, for example, Annat, Lachaise, Letellier, &c.

Under Oliva’s government, the Society acquired an immense political importance. Some years before his death, Oliva published his correspondence, which extended to almost all the monarchs of Europe, in which, indeed, he shews himself a consummate politician, and deeply engaged in most serious and important affairs. This already awakened some interest, and made people look upon the Order as a good auxiliary in political intrigues. Besides, the fact that the Jesuits were confessors to all the Roman Catholic sovereigns, and that through them the General had it in his power to become acquainted with the most secret dispositions and plans of these sovereigns, rendered his friendship of inestimable value, and an object to be eagerly sought for by the most potent princes. Again, the confessor, having less or more, but always a great influence over his royal penitent, became also a great personage in the country where he exercised his functions. Annat was a mediator between the great king and the Pope; and Alexander VII. thanked him for his good offices by a brief.[317] Lachaise and Letellier were possessed of still more power than Annat. The Court of Rome itself, at such an epoch, was obliged to succumb to the influence of the Order; and if any Pope, in an unlucky moment, ventured to oppose them in any of their contrivances, he was soon obliged to retract his orders, and to confess implicitly that he had done wrong. The Jesuits call this epoch the golden age of their Society; but we should rather call it the iron one, since it was during this epoch of splendour and glory that they departed furthest from the principles of their institution, and so prepared their own ruin. Possessed of very great wealth, enjoying an immense credit and influence with all classes of society, they yielded to the temptations peculiar to such a situation; and, disregarding every rule of prudence, and the restraints of public opinion, they gave themselves up to the lust of power and riches—prosecuting their ambitious projects by the most questionable means, and thinking of nothing else but reaping the advantage of the position they had attained. As few dared now to oppose them, and as the people were silent on their vices, they thought that these vices were now overlooked; and this encouraged them still more to persist in their reprehensible conduct. It was during the seventeenth century that the Jesuits, lifting up for a while the thick veil of hypocrisy under which they had perpetrated their crimes, allowed the world to penetrate into the heart of their conduct, and to discover what they really were. In vain, when they perceived they were known, did they pull down the veil again. Their faces had been observed, and ever after they were to be recognised, under whatever mask they attempted to conceal themselves. It was during the seventeenth century that they gave to their traffic a scandalous development, and that they set themselves up as dangerous rivals to the largest establishments. It was during the seventeenth century that they set all the other religious orders at defiance, and awakened in them sentiments of hatred and jealousy, which are not yet extinguished. It was during the seventeenth century that they abused, more scandalously than ever, the credulity of their votaries. The example which we are going to quote in this particular will serve for many.

Among the manuscripts in the British Museum, there is a passport given by the Jesuits in 1650, for the consideration of 200,000 florins (£10,000), to Hippolite Braem of Ghent, promising to defend him against all infernal powers that might make attempts upon his person, soul, or goods. Here is a translation of this strange document:—

“The undersigned protest and promise, on the faith of priests and true religious in the name of our Company, sufficiently authorised for that effect, that our Company, takes Master Hippolite Braem, LL.D., under its protection, and promises to defend him against all infernal powers which may make attempts upon his person, his soul, his goods, or his means; that we conjure and shall conjure for this effect (to prevent attempts upon his person, &c.), the most serene Prince our Founder, making use in this case of his authority and his credit, in order that the above-named Braem may be presented by him to the blessed chief of Apostles with much fidelity and carefulness, since our Company is infinitely obliged to him. In faith of which we have signed the present, and authenticated it with the seal of the Society. Given at Ghent, March 29, 1650, and signed by the Rector, Seclin, and two Jesuit priests.”[318]

It seems that in India the Jesuits made a great traffic of such passports. In those distant regions, the impudence of the fathers must have been still greater than it was in Europe. The Father Marcello Mastrilli, when in Japan, boasted that many times a-day he sent his guardian angel to pay reverence and deliver messages to St Francis in heaven, and that he received answers.[319] We are not surprised at the ridiculous and barefaced impudence of Mastrilli, who is celebrated for his ridiculous impostures; but we are surprised that Bartoli, such an accomplished writer, and not altogether despicable historian, should relate with imperturbable gravity such puerile absurdities.

In 1681, Noyelle, “who had not the same brilliant qualities as his predecessors,”[320] succeeded Oliva, and was himself succeeded, in 1687, by Gonzales, a harsh theologian, who died in 1705, and had for his successor Father Tambourini. Nothing remarkable happened during the rule of these generals; at least nothing that presents us with any new feature in the history we are writing. The Company followed the course it had entered upon, and marched with steady step towards its proper ruin. Not that there was any apparent sign of decay. The Society was, on the contrary, more powerful, more courted than ever. But its power did not lie any longer in its intrinsic merits, or its adaptation to the wants of humanity; and the interest and respect by which it seemed to be surrounded was ephemeral, and in some degree compulsory. With a few sincere devotees there was a crowd of courtiers who flattered for their own interest. The Company resembled an all-powerful minister, hated for his personal qualities, but worshipped and extolled to the skies by the crowd of those who fear his power or await his favour, impatient till the sovereign frown upon him, that they may manifest their real sentiments. Such was the state of the Society of Jesus during the seventeenth century.

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CHAPTER XV.
1700-1772.
DOWNFALL OF THE JESUITS.

We have brought down our history to the beginning of the eighteenth century, an epoch in which the power and greatness of the Society of Jesus had, by a gradual march, ascended to a point from which, following the law inherent in all human things, it could not but decline; for institutions, empires, and nations, have, as well as man himself, their successive periods of infancy, youth, manhood, old age, and decrepitude; and if institutions, doctrines, or nations, revive after their moral death, they never regain the same degree of force and vitality which they possessed when rising to the maturity of their power. According to this constant rule, it was evident to any profound observer that the Jesuits had attained that height from which they must inevitably descend; but, as always happens, they never dreamed of their impending fate, and scorned the sinister forebodings of some of their number who foresaw and predicted it. Then, when these predictions proved true, they laid the blame of their fall upon every one but its real authors—themselves; for it is to them that must be attributed the ruin of their institution. To the causes of decay which we have stated, we must add that which was perhaps the principal one—namely, that the Jesuits, once in possession of power, remitted their prodigious activity, for which they had been so remarkable at the commencement of their institution, and even disregarded those arts by which they had obtained that power. Even the Instruction, that all-powerful engine which had so admirably served their purposes, was neglected, and had lost its original character. It was no longer either gratuitous or universal; children of families known to be adverse to the Order, were, on one pretence or another, refused admittance, or sorely annoyed if admitted. Twice a year, at Christmas, and on their patron saint’s (Loyola’s) day, the pupils were obliged to bring presents to the masters; and rewards and marks of distinction were given in preference to the children of wealthy families, or to those who brought the richest present. This naturally produced in these young persons a consciousness of independence, so that they would no longer endure the severity of the ancient discipline.[321] Some of them even went so far as to stab their masters, and the revolts of the pupils of the Collegio Romano became proverbial. Besides, the zeal which the fathers had shewn at first to promote study, had not only cooled away, but was directed to oppose any sort of progress.

To those primary and internal causes which accelerated the downfall of the order, must be added also many external ones, all militating against them.

In those countries in which the Jesuits had had the greatest influence, as Spain, Portugal, and Poland, although they preserved, as yet, the favour of the court, they had lost that of all the other classes of society, who, at least in secret, accused them of being the cause of the abasement and the ruin of their respective countries. On the other hand, those sovereigns of Germany who had sought the Jesuits’ help to oppose their Protestant subjects, after the peace of Westphalia, wishing to calm rather than inflame religious quarrels, though they did not withdraw from the Jesuits that protection they had granted them, at least refused to give them that almost unlimited authority they had formerly enjoyed. But the surest, perhaps, of all the symptoms of their approaching ruin was, that the Court of Rome itself began to frown upon them, and to shew a determination to lower their pride, and to bring them to some sense of their duty. We have already seen (pp. 127, 128) many bulls condemnatory of their conduct in China and India, and that Benedict XIV. had applied to them the very harsh and offensive appellations of “disobedient, contumacious, crafty, and reprobate men.” The same Pope, at this period also accepted the dedication of Father Norbert’s Mémoires Historiques, of which we have already spoken; and encouraged the publication of many other books, all adverse to the Society. All this was ominous to the Jesuits.

It was, however, in France, the former seat of their power and glory during the seventeenth century, that the ruin of the order was most effectually prepared. The overthrow of Port-Royal, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the massacre of the Huguenots, and all the persecutions exercised in that country in the name of religion, were justly attributed to the Jesuits. Nor was this all; the exclusion from every office, civil or ecclesiastical, of every person who was not entirely devoted to the Order, had made their tyrannic yoke to be detested and abhorred in the highest degree.

While the despotic Louis XIV. ruled France with an iron hand, and Lachaise and Letellier had a full disposal of lettres de cachet, few dared openly to give vent to the hatred they bore to the Society; but hardly had the bigoted prince expired, when the long-restrained animosity broke forth, and the Jesuits were assailed on every side. The Jansenists, the other religious orders, the curates, the bishops, all now attacked the monks, who, some months before, had kept them in such awe, and had been masters of their fortunes. It has also been asserted—and the Jesuits repeat it every day—that the abolition of their order was due to the then fast spreading subversive doctrines of the Encyclopædists, and that Ganganelli suppressed this bulwark of the Christian religion to please the atheist Voltaire and his disciples. But this, in the exclusive sense in which the Jesuit takes it, is by no means true. The Encyclopædists were not the Jesuits’ particular enemies, nor the auxiliaries of the Jansenists. They were, perhaps, more opposed to the strict and ascetic character of the recluses of Port-Royal, than to the worldly and accommodating morality of the progeny of Loyola. But the Jesuits had identified themselves with the Roman Catholic religion, and all its bigoted and superstitious practices, and the philosophers were happy that they had introduced into it so many ridiculous superstitions and ceremonies, upon which they could exercise their sarcastic and trenchant wit. Voltaire and his school could not have awakened in the hearts of their contemporaries such dislike, nay, contempt and abhorrence, for the religion of Christ, had not the Jesuits furnished them the means, by having introduced into it contemptible and idolatrous superstitions. The Encyclopædists’ principal aim was to destroy the Christian religion; and for this purpose, coupling with malignant sagacity the sublime doctrines and pure morality of Christ with the ridiculous practices and impure doctrines of the Papists, and especially of the Jesuits, held up the whole to the derision and profanation of a superficial public; who, unwilling to make any distinction, boldly asserted that nothing was true, nothing was holy, nothing respectable, in the Christian code. Again, the philosophers, in their praiseworthy endeavours to introduce the principles of civil and religious liberty, attacked the Jesuits, now become the unconditional supporters of all despotism and tyranny. In this sense, and in this sense alone, it is true that the Encyclopædists largely contributed to the overthrow of the order. The pamphlets and books printed and widely circulated at that time against the reverend fathers were mainly a mass of evidence exposing their iniquity, and tending to effect their ruin in the opinion of Europe.

Nor did the Jesuits, blinded as they were by past success, oppose any efficacious resistance to the torrent which threatened to sweep them away. Without changing their conduct in the least, they had recourse to expedients, and thought that a little patience and cunning would suffice to shelter them from the passing hurricane. This was their general practice. However, not to be altogether passive spectators in the contest, they made an attempt to ingratiate themselves with the sceptical and profligate Philip of Orleans, regent of France, not, indeed, by granting him absolution, which he cared very little for, but by negotiating for him with the Papal Court, by discovering to him the secrets of Philip V. of Spain, who had intrusted to his confessor his intention of abdicating, and by procuring for the libertine and ignoble Dubois an episcopal seat and a cardinal’s hat. But if D’Orleans, for political ends, seemed to be the Jesuits’ friend, he was not assuredly the man to use his authority to defend them; and they were, from 1716 to 1729, deprived of the exercise of every ecclesiastical function, having been interdicted by Cardinal de Noaille. Under the sensual and voluptuous Louis XV., the Jesuits attempted again to regain their lost influence, and, as far as the favourable hearing of the sovereign was concerned, they in part succeeded. They contrived to insinuate to him that their cause was the cause of religion and of the throne, both menaced by the philosophers; and, to a certain extent, they persuaded many that such was the case, and their enemies did not remain unmolested. But while the parliament and the court, in their official capacities, condemned the Encyclopædists to the Bastile, and their works to be burnt, they individually read with avidity whatever epigram was aimed at the Jesuits and the Christian religion, and Louis XV. was not the last to participate in the sneer.

Meanwhile, the new doctrines of political reform and civil liberty had spread so fast, and were so eagerly embraced by the populations of different kingdoms, that their sovereigns thought proper to give some satisfaction to public opinion, and call to their councils reforming ministers. In France, Choiseul; in Spain, Wall and Squillace; in Portugal, Carvalho; in Naples, Tanucci—were placed at the helm of the state, and began to attack the most obnoxious abuses against which people had set their minds. Now, in this disposition of the public opinion, it was evident that, at the first favourable circumstance, the ruin of the Jesuits, who had been so greatly damaged in popular favour, would be actually consummated; because it was to be expected that in this case would happen what generally takes place in political movements, that when once the moral revolution is accomplished, the smallest pretext suffices to achieve the triumph of the material one also.

Either the Jesuits furnished this pretext to Carvalho, prime minister of the King of Portugal; or, at any rate, imagining that he had himself discovered it, he attempted the overthrow of the Order. But the causes of this overthrow were not, as is asserted by the able historian of the fall of the Jesuits, wholly local, and of a private and personal nature.[322] Any other occurrence would have served the purpose as well. It may be that Carvalho accelerated their ruin; but even without him the Jesuits must have fallen. We shall briefly trace the order of events which issued in their expulsion from Portugal.

The Jesuits, from their first entrance into the kingdom, had exercised a great influence over the destinies of Portugal. This influence, which they had in part lost during the interval that Portugal was under the sway of the Spanish monarch, became paramount under the new dynasty. The Jesuits governed in the name of the two queens, the widow of John IV. and the wife of Alphonso VI., who had married her brother-in-law during the lifetime of her first husband, whom she dethroned, and chained to a rock.[323] Under John V., their power reached its climax, and it was while they ruled the nation that “Portugal fell exhausted under the protecting power of England, never again to recover her position.”[324] At the commencement of Joseph I.’s reign, which we are now considering, they possessed an equal and again unlimited power; but at that juncture a man arose to arrest their progress. This man was Carvalho. He was born in 1699, of a family of the middle class, or at the most of the lowest grade of the nobility. He was endowed with many rare qualities, with a great aptitude for business and administration, with unequalled energy and courage, and with a mind vast and capable of great designs; but he was proud, vindictive, cruel, and not seldom unjust. To arrive at power, Carvalho (subsequently Count of Oeyras, and Marquis of Pombal, under which last name he is better known to history, and by which we shall henceforth designate him) had courted the friendship of the Jesuits, and was by them brought into favour. He soon became the favourite, and then the master, of the weak and contemptible Joseph I. Pombal, in appearance, shewed himself grateful to the Jesuits, and to the last moment assured them of his friendship. But whether, in his capacity of statesman, he thought them to be prejudicial to the welfare of the Portuguese nation, or whether he began to hate them, because the fathers, perceiving that they could in no way govern such a man as Pombal, had leagued with the nobility, a class of citizens whom the vindictive minister wished to annihilate, it is unquestionable that at a certain period Pombal resolved, if possible, to rid Portugal of these dangerous monks. But, prudent and crafty, he dissembled his sentiments till a pretext or a favourable moment should arrive.

A first unjust pretext he thought he had found in the conduct of the Jesuits in 1753. At this epoch a treaty between the Kings of Spain and Portugal effected a mutual exchange of provinces in America; and, in order that the inhabitants might remain under their former sovereigns, it was stipulated that they should respectively quit the ceded territories. These people resisted such an unjust and tyrannical order; and the population of the Reductions took up arms and fought bravely for their own country, although in vain. The Jesuits were accused by the minister of having excited them to revolt, which they have denied, even affirming that the General wrote to his subordinate of Paraguay to prepare the neophytes for such a change, and warning them that, if difficulties should arise, he would transport himself to the place, to see that the orders of the kings were obeyed.[325] But, from what we know of the power exercised by the Jesuits in the Reductions, it is evident that these submissive beings would never have dared to stir without the consent and the encouragement of the fathers—encouragement which possibly they may have given them underhand, while preaching, in public, obedience to the sovereign’s orders. By resorting to this duplicity, they incurred the blame of both parties, while, if they had boldly asserted their interference in vindicating the inalienable right of men not to be bartered as cattle at the caprice of every despot, they would have earned the applause and the eulogy of every noble and generous soul.

However, Pombal had not as yet acquired that unlimited power which he afterwards attained, and did not dare, or was not able, to strike the blow he was meditating against the Society, and was obliged to be contented to prepare the way for their ruin. But an event soon occurred which rendered him absolute master of the destinies of Portugal, and left him at liberty to deal with the Jesuits as he pleased.

On the 1st of November 1755, an earthquake destroyed three-fourths of Lisbon. A conflagration added to the desolation, and, that nothing might be wanting in this scene of horrors, an armed band of brigands preyed in open day on the unfortunate victims of the direful calamity. Discouragement and despair had seized on the boldest. The courtiers insisted that the court should emigrate to Oporto, and the king and the royal family ardently desired to leave the desolate Lisbon. Pombal alone refused to let them depart. “The king’s place,” said he to Joseph, “is in the midst of his people; let us bury the dead, and take thought for the living.”[326] Under appalling and difficult circumstances, the power belongs to the most energetic. Pombal seized on the helm of the state as his right, declared himself prime minister, and, unaided and alone, prepared to conquer all the difficulties with which Portugal was at this moment threatened. There was something of antique greatness in the courage which Pombal displayed that excited general astonishment.[327] In fact, he was everywhere; he thought about everything; he provided for every emergency; and soon, by his unequalled energy, a new town sprung up on the ruins of the ancient capital.

And now Pombal, having attained a position which permitted him to attempt everything, thought of putting in execution the two great projects he had conceived—the subjection of the aristocracy, and the expulsion of the Jesuits from Portugal. He had already published a number of edicts to restrain the power and humiliate the pride of the nobility, against whom he had conceived a great hatred, for the scorn they had offered him in refusing to admit him among them. And now the turn of the Jesuits had come. On the morning of the 19th September 1757, without any new motive or circumstance having determined the proceeding, he removed from the court the three Jesuit confessors, and assigned to the royal penitents three ordinary priests. This first act of enmity was immediately followed by manifestoes which soon inundated Europe, in which the premier brought against the Jesuits several terrible accusations. Then, to countenance his accusations, Pombal applied to the Pope, as ecclesiastical chief of these monks, and in his complaint he gave especial prominence to that which was most calculated to displease and provoke the censure of the Court of Rome. He represented to the Holy See that the great mercantile operations of the Society impeded the accomplishment of his commercial plans and the promotion of the national prosperity, and asked for a prompt and efficient measure to put a stop to it. The chair of St Peter was at that time occupied by the amiable, learned, and upright Lambertini. Benedict XIV. did not hesitate a moment to comply with Pombal’s desires, and committed the visitation of the Order to Cardinal Saldanha, a very intimate friend of the minister.

Before we proceed further, we think it necessary in this place to give our readers some general idea of the commercial operations of the Society.

The large donations which, at the commencement of the institution, had enriched the Society, having become less frequent, the Jesuits thought of increasing their wealth by applying themselves to trade. They pretended that there was no material difference between the practice of agriculture, which had formed the principal occupation of the first monastic orders, and the labour of commerce in which they were engaged. The Collegio Romano possessed a manufactory of cloth at Macerata, and though at first they produced it only for their own use, yet they soon proceeded to supply all the other colleges in the provinces, and ultimately the public in general, for which last purpose they attended the fairs. From the close connexion existing between the different colleges, there resulted a system of banking business; and the Portuguese ambassador at Rome was empowered to draw on the Jesuits of Portugal. Their commercial transactions were particularly prosperous in the colonies. The trading connexion of the order extended, as it were, a network over both continents, having Lisbon for its central point.[328] Such is the account given by our contemporary historian. We shall now quote the opinion of an eye-witness, a man high in power in India, and who could certainly have had the best information regarding the facts. M. Martin, general commander of Pondicherry, expresses himself thus:—

“It is certain that, after the Dutch, the Jesuits are the largest and the richest traders in India, richer even than the English, than the Portuguese themselves, who have brought them there.... Those disguised Jesuits intrigue everywhere. The secret correspondence they keep up amongst themselves, apprises them of the merchandises that ought to be bought or sold, and to what nation, in order to make a more considerable profit; so that those disguised Jesuits are of immense advantage to the Society, and are only responsible to the Order represented by other Jesuits, who overrun the world under the true habit of St Ignatius, and who possess the confidence, the secrets, and the orders of their chiefs in Europe. Those Jesuits, disguised and dispersed all over the earth, know each other by signals, like the freemasons, and act all upon the same plan. They send merchandise to other disguised Jesuits, who, having the goods from first hand, realise considerable profits for the order. However, this traffic is highly prejudicial to the interest of France. I have often written about it to the Company (of India), but under Louis XIV. I have received orders very precise, and often repeated, to grant and advance to those fathers all that they may ask. And Father Tashard alone owes at this moment more than 450,000 francs to the Company (of India).”[329] We have reported this document, because it was considered at the time, even in Rome, and by the Papal Court, as of great importance, and as representing the real state of things.

In the West Indies, Jesuits were to be found in all the markets with different kinds of produce; and this they do not even attempt to deny, but excuse themselves by saying that “the ecclesiastical law has never forbidden the sale of the produce of one’s own domains. The Jesuits were the guardians of the Christians, whom they had re-united in society in Paraguay; and in consideration of the inability of these savages to manage their own affairs, many Spanish kings granted to the missionaries the right of selling the produce of the ground cultivated by the neophytes, as well as that of their own industry.”[330] The Jesuits had so well used this liberty of trading, that the largest banking houses in South America belonged to the Company, and one of them[331] alone became bankrupt for more than two millions and a half of francs, an enormous sum at the epoch.

Nor had they been less busy and active speculators in Europe. In Malta, in the year 1639, during a famine, the Jesuits, who had five thousand sacks of corn in their granaries, in order that they might not be obliged to give it up to the government at a lower price than they expected for it, applied to the Grand Master Lascaris for succour to their actual necessities, and were relieved, on account of their supposed poverty, from the public storehouse. But the trick was at last discovered, and they were expelled from the island. But we could not adduce stronger proofs of their eagerness to accumulate wealth than the letters of Vitelleschi, Caraffa, and Nickel, some passages of which we have reported, in which they bitterly complain of that spirit of avarice and speculation which had pervaded all the classes of Jesuits, and which they vainly deprecated.

To return to our narrative; Saldanha, either to satisfy the impatience of Pombal, or because the proofs of the Jesuits’ guilt were too numerous and too clear, soon published a decree severely reprobating the commercial pursuits of the order, and empowering the royal authorities to confiscate all merchandise belonging to those ecclesiastics.[332]

But, in the meanwhile, the man who had ordered the visitation, and to whom belonged the ultimate decision, Lambertini (Benedict XIV.), had departed from this world. Had God granted him a longer life, he would probably have taken energetic and decisive measures against the order; and any other pontiff than the one who succeeded him, would in all likelihood, in one way or another, have given satisfaction to the public opinion. But, unfortunately perhaps for the Jesuits, Benedict XIV. was succeeded by a man wholly blinded in their favour, who declared that, to the last, he would be the protector and the friend of “the holy Company of Jesus.” This man was Raggonico, who assumed the name of Clement XIII. He was pure in soul, and upright in purpose. He was constantly engaged in fervent prayer, and his highest ambition was to obtain a canonisation. But he was a bigoted fanatic—was convinced that the power of the Papacy should be unlimited; and in the Jesuits he beheld the most faithful defenders of the Papal See and of religion. But, besides the disposition of the Pope in their favour, the Jesuits had, in the Court of Rome, a still more efficient supporter in the person of Cardinal Torrigiani, in whose hand actually resided all the power. “He had the reputation,” says Ranke, “of taking a personal interest in the farming of the papal revenues, and was said to be generally fond of power for its own sake.”[333] It is, then, easy to be conceived that the Jesuits, in order to preserve the bulk of their wealth, did not hesitate to sacrifice a part to satiate the avidity of the cardinal; and that to this is to be attributed the partiality, we should say the servility, evinced by Torrigiani towards the order. But this partiality of the Pope and his minister proved fatal to the Company. Had they consented to effect some substantial reforms, the Society might yet have existed for some time longer, or at least have only perished in the general shipwreck produced by the French Revolution, and they would not have had pronounced upon them the terrible and crushing sentence of Clement XIV.

Pombal perceived at once that no hope could be entertained that such a Pope would co-operate in the suppression, or even in the reform and abasement of the Jesuits, but did not, for that reason, renounce his projects; he only waited for a more fitting moment to effect his purpose by his own authority.

Circumstances served Pombal’s designs better than he could have expected. Joseph I. had an intimacy with Dona Theresa, the young wife of the Marquis of Tavora, one of the noblest families in Portugal, and one which, having scorned Pombal’s alliance, was particularly hated by him. Now it happened, on the night of the 3d of September 1758, that the king, returning to the palace from a visit to Dona Theresa, was wounded in the arm by a pistol-shot fired upon him. Next morning the court presented an unusual aspect. The gates of the palace were shut; the king did not make his appearance, and nobody knew exactly what was the cause of these strange measures. It was indeed whispered that an attempt had been made upon the king’s person; but nobody dared to speak it aloud, or knew to what extent it was true. The courtiers were all taciturn and in consternation. Pombal alone appeared calm and serene. This state of things lasted for some days. At last this anxiety was by degrees dispelled, and, a few weeks after, nobody thought any more about the attempt, and many doubted whether it had ever occurred. But on the 12th of September, the Duke of Averio, of the family of Mascarenhas, who, with Tavora, was at the head of the Portuguese aristocracy, the Marquis of Tavora, Dona Eleanor, his mother, and many of their relations and servants, were suddenly arrested and thrown into prison. Our limits will not admit of our examining whether or not the prisoners were culpable, or in what degree. It seems most probable that the young Marquis of Tavora may have attempted to avenge his injured honour; and indeed there is every reason to believe that some of the prisoners arrested were really accomplices of the crime; but, as the trial was not public, as it was conducted by an exceptional tribunal la inconfidenza, and as Pombal has never substantiated, by valid proofs, the accusation brought against them, it would be harsh to form any decided judgment. What is incontestable is, that all forms of justice were violated in the trial, and that the cruel and inhuman way in which the unfortunate prisoners were tortured and executed, would induce us to believe that this sacrifice of human life was offered rather to revenge than to justice. In the night of 12th of January 1759, a scaffold, eighteen feet high, was erected on the square of Belem, fronting the Tagus. At daybreak, this open space was filled with soldiers and the populace, and even the river was covered with spectators. The servants of the Duke of Averio appeared first upon the platform, and were fastened to one of the corners to be burned alive. The Marchioness of Tavora then ascended the scaffold with a rope around her neck, and a crucifix in her hand. She was scantily clad in some tattered clothes, but her whole figure and demeanour were stamped with firmness and dignity. The executioner, in attempting to bind her feet, accidentally raised the hem of her robe. “Stop!” cried she, “forget not who I am; touch me only to kill me.” The executioner fell on his knees before Dona Eleanor, and begged her to pardon him, whereupon she drew a ring from her finger, and said, “Here; I have nothing but this in the world; take it, and do your duty.” This courageous woman then laid her head upon the block, and received her death-blow. Her husband, her sons, the youngest of whom was not twenty years of age, her son-in-law, and several servants, perished after her in frightful torments. The Duke of Averio was led forward the last; he was fastened to the wheel, his body covered with rags, and his arms and thighs naked. Thus was he broken alive, not expiring till after he had endured protracted tortures, making the square and the neighbourhood re-echo with frightful cries. At length the machine was set on fire, and presently wheel, scaffold, bodies, all, were burned and cast into the Tagus.[334] Even if the sentence had been just, the merciless cruelty which Pombal shewed in accomplishing its execution has greatly tarnished his fame, and diminished the admiration due to his other eminent services rendered to Portugal.

Meanwhile, on the night which preceded the execution of the prisoners, the house of the Jesuits was invested, their chiefs were cast into prison, and three of them, Mattos, Alexander, and Malagrida, accused of having fomented the conspiracy. With what degree of truth this accusation was brought against them, it is also difficult to say. According to the sentence passed upon them, the suspicions of their having participated therein were confirmed by their arrogance previous to the attempt, and their desponding after its failure; by their intimate connexion with the chief of the accused (D’Averio), with whom they had formerly been at variance; by a conversation reported of Father Conta, who, it seems, had declared that a man who should murder the king would not be guilty of even a venial sin. Their intercourse with the conspirators was indeed unquestionable. They had been their friends and advisers, and had taken a decided part in the discontent, murmurs, and open opposition of the Fidalgoes.[335] But no other material proof was brought to confirm the charge, and although the three accused were condemned to suffer the highest punishment, the sentence was not executed. Malagrida, who some time after was burned, suffered for the crime of heresy, not for that of regicide. Whatever opinion our readers may form of the Jesuits’ guilt or innocence, Pombal, in his manifestoes, represented them as guilty, and called for the animadversion of Europe upon them, while he himself was taking more decisive measures to destroy the order.

As in Portugal, up to that moment, to the nuncio alone belonged the right of pronouncing judgment upon ecclesiastics, Pombal, although he had already resolved to transfer that right to a commission named by the sovereign, thought proper to solicit the Pope for a nominal authorisation; and as Clement’s answer did not come quick enough for the minister’s impatience, he, on 1st of September 1759, issued a decree for the expulsion of the Jesuits from all the states of his most faithful majesty. All the bishops of Portugal received a command to take the office of instruction out of the hands of the Jesuits, and supersede them instantly in the universities of Coimbra and elsewhere; and immediately after, all the Jesuits residing in Portugal were put on board royal and merchant vessels, and shipped over into Italy;[336] similar orders were given to the governors of all the Portuguese colonies, and immediately executed.

This was the first blow dealt to the Society of Jesus; and, as if it had been a signal, it was followed by a succession, till Ganganelli dealt it the last and mortal one. It seemed as if before no one had dared to attack such a powerful colossus: but when once the people saw with what facility it could be attacked, and even conquered, every one wished to break a spear upon it. France, as was to be expected, struck the second blow. When the minds of men were once bent upon it, any pretext would have been sufficient to expel the Jesuits; and it requires no great insight to perceive that the apparent causes which led to this step were only secondary. It is true that Madame de Pompadour, the king’s mistress, had resolved upon their destruction; but, although it is well known that she harassed the king to obtain it, it is by no means certain that Louis yielded to her influence alone, and we doubt much that she would have been able to effect it at all, had she lived a hundred years before. It seems that the Jesuit confessors of the marchioness and the king refused, we do not know for what reasons, to absolve them, unless the lady should quit the court. She herself has transmitted to us a long recital of her negotiations with the confessor;[337] and when she could not bring him to her wishes, she vowed a mortal hatred against the Society, which, however, remained for some years without result.

But in 1761 a more decisive occasion was offered to the enemies of the order to ask for their expulsion. Father Lavallette, the Superior General of Martinique—a bold and unscrupulous speculator, a priest who, by their own confession, began to operate not only on the produce of the goods belonging to the house, but who purchased large properties, and bought two thousand slaves to work them—was the means of creating this occasion.[338] He entered into vast and complicated speculations with different maritime towns of Europe; and as some of these speculations failed, he stopped payment—a measure which caused the ruin of several houses, among which were one of Lyons and another of Marseilles.

The house of Marseilles, Leoncy, held the Society responsible for the debt of its member, and applied to the General for payment. Ricci, the then chief of the order,[339] committed the irreparable error of refusing to recognise the debt. The Widow Grou & Son, of Nantez, then commenced a process before the consular tribunal of Paris. Leoncy followed the example. The Jesuits having been condemned, were blind enough to bring the cause before the parliament. This supreme court of judicature, the better to estimate the merit of the cause, ordered that the Constitutions of the Society should be brought before the tribunal. The Jesuits consented, and this decided their ruin. After prolonged examination, the parliament gave its judgment, by which the Society was condemned to pay all the engagements incurred by Lavallette, for which, according to the tenor of their Constitution, the whole order was answerable.[340]

Many authors, speaking of this affair, have expressed their astonishment that the Jesuits, who were accounted so cunning, could have committed such blunders. We have nothing to answer to this, except that they may be compared to those generals who, having lost their presence of mind in a difficult and critical moment, have suffered defeat by committing errors that a simple non-commissioned officer would never have been guilty of; or they may be compared perhaps to those consummate criminals who, having long eluded the vigilance of the police with extraordinary dexterity, at last commit such blunders, that one could almost swear they conspired for their own capture. Or it would be more correct to say that God had numbered their days, and their hour was come. Quem Deus vult perdere prius dementat.

From the moment when the Constitutions of this mysterious and dread Society were brought to light, Constitutions which had been kept jealously secret, all minor questions disappeared. Father Lavallette, the bankrupt, the bankers (who were never paid), all were forgotten in the great question affecting the Society itself. “Dogmatic disputes, which had so long been forgotten, now resumed all the force of present interest, and all the attraction of novelty. There was a universal eagerness to discover and apply those mysterious Constitutions. Women, and even children, were animated with the ardour of old practised lawyers. Pascal became the idol of the day, and La Chalatois its hero.”[341] Innumerable writings were daily printed and read with the greatest avidity by all classes of persons; and for a while nothing else was spoken of but the Society of Jesuits.

In these circumstances, fifty-one French bishops, under the presidency of the Cardinal of Luynes, assembled, and, after a prolonged examination of the Constitutions, declared that the unlimited obedience that the General residing in Rome was empowered to exact from every member, was incompatible with the laws of the kingdom, and with the general duties of the subject to his sovereign. Now the opponents of the Jesuits, and Madame do Pompadour at their head, pressed upon the king to take a decisive measure. Louis XV. was an indolent profligate, whose chief characteristic was the love and veneration of himself. Provided royalty did not perish in his own person, he cared little what should become of it after his death. He had no liking for any person but those who could amuse him—a thing in his old age by no means easy. He cared nothing for the Jesuits, but he feared them. He was persuaded that they had been accomplices in the assassination of Henry III. and Henry IV.; he had always before his eyes the poniard of Damiens, and attributed to the fathers both the will and the power to murder him. For this all-important reason, he resisted long all solicitations to expel them from France, but he consented to address a request to the Pope to grant a reform, but to grant it immediately, and without hesitation or subterfuge. Choiseul himself prepared a plan of reform, which, it may be said, centred in this principal point, namely, to propose to the General the appointment of a vicar-general for France, who was to fix his residence in that country, and pledge himself to render obedience to its laws—a measure which was in conformity with the statutes, since these authorised the General, in case of a great emergency, to name a vicar-general.[342] The fact of this most reasonable demand having been made, would of itself be a sufficient answer to the Jesuits and their partisans, who pretend that the destruction of the order was not the consequence of any of these misdemeanours, but that it had been planned long before between the Encyclopædists Choiseul and Pombal. Yet we shall adduce some further proofs to shew how unfounded their assertions are.

Pombal, although he was executing some of the reforms called for by the Encyclopædists, was no way connected with them, and he is perhaps the only man of mark of this epoch whom Voltaire has not favoured with a word of his inexhaustible correspondence. On the contrary, the Patriarch of Ferney often blames the marquis for his affected deference to the Pope and respect for religion, as well as for his cruelty, so displeasing to the naturally humane heart of Voltaire. Choiseul was indeed for a time the friend of Pombal, and acted in concert with him in affairs of general policy. But Pombal was too haughty, he had too exaggerated an opinion of his own capacity, to act under or by the direction of any man whatever. Besides, the well-known character of Choiseul renders it altogether incredible that he could have been long and deeply engaged in a plot to expel the Jesuits from Europe. The duke was the type of the French gentilhommes of the eighteenth century. He possessed the incredulity, the grace, the vanity, the courage, and that levity which would have sacrificed the dearest interests to the pleasure of an epigram, and which was so characteristic of the French noblesse in the former part of Louis XV.’s reign. He was too frivolous to be capable of nourishing in his heart for years a deep scheme of malice; nor did he honour or value the Jesuits enough to make them the object of a mortal enmity. On the contrary, with the Count of Kaunitz, the Austrian minister, he ridiculed the sort of passion with which the Marquis of Pombal persecuted the sons of Loyola. “Ce, Monsieur,” they would say, “a donc toujours un Jesuite a cheval sur le nez.”[343]

However, it is evident that Choiseul could not be the man to protect the Jesuits: it is evident that, to please Madame de Pompadour, and to court public opinion, he must have shewn himself unfavourable to the fathers, and must have pursued them with his sarcasms. It is also certain that afterwards he became their enemy, not out of hatred, but rather to comply with Charles III.’s wishes, and in order to get rid of them, and that he used all his influence to have them expelled from France, and ultimately abolished. The duke renders our assertions incontestable, when, in a memorial addressed to the king, after having reminded him that he had not been the man who had commenced the great measure of the expulsion of the Jesuits, he adds, “Your Majesty knows well that, although it has been said that I have laboured at the expulsion of the Jesuits, ... I have in no way, either at a distance or on the spot, either in public or in private, taken any step with this intent.” And he finishes by saying, that only at a later period, after he had known them, he had become their enemy. When, then, the duke made application to Rome to obtain the nomination of a vicar-general who should reside in France, with authority independent of the General, he was personally indifferent in the question.

It is well known what answer the General, Ricci, made to this application—“Sint ut sunt aut non sint,” Let them be as they are, or be no longer.

The parliament first abolished and suppressed all the congregations, those powerful engines of the order; then, on the 6th of August 1762, it declared that the Institute of the Jesuits was opposed to all authority, spiritual and temporal, ecclesiastical and civil, and was calculated to render them entirely independent of such authority by all sort of means, and even to favour their usurpation of the government; it therefore declared that the order should be irrevocably and for ever expelled from the kingdom.[344] In consequence of this decree, the eighty-four colleges of the Jesuits were shut up. The fathers were expelled from all their houses, their properties were confiscated;[345] each individual, however, being allowed a small income from the public treasury, and being permitted for the moment to reside in France, separately, and as secular clergymen. This permission was withdrawn two years after, and in 1764, the repugnance of Louis XV. having been overcome, the Jesuits were ordered to quit the French territories.

But a more serious and unexpected calamity befel the Company only three years after. Till the present moment, the Jesuits and their partisans had boasted of their defeats and persecution, and had haughtily proclaimed in the face of the world that they were only persecuted by the philosophic spirit which had pervaded Europe, and which, its principal aim being the destruction of the Catholic religion, had begun by attacking its firmest bulwark—the Society of Jesus. Pombal and Choiseul were but the emissaries of Voltaire; Joseph and Louis, indolent and voluptuous monarchs, entirely under the guidance and yoke of the two ministers. But what had they to say, now that they were going to be expelled from the dominions of a king not only adverse to the philosophers, not only a bigoted Roman Catholic, but, till the present moment, the friend and the protector of the Order? What had they to say against this exemplary Christian, Charles III. of Spain, loyal, frank, virtuous, chaste, and irreproachable, as he was? Narrow-minded, indeed, he may have been, but no less clear-sighted, active, and considerate; self-willed rather than disposed to succumb to the influence of any person; and if he can be reproached with anything, it were with the fault of having been rather partial to that nursery of monks and nuns which infested Spain, and for one or other of whom he was continually petitioning Rome for a canonisation. Yet this man, more than any other, contributed to the abolition of the order.

The motives which induced Charles to take such a decided part in the destruction of the Society are not very well ascertained, and the two parties attribute it to different causes. We will try to throw some new light on this obscure affair. As every one, in the absence of proofs, has been obliged to have recourse to conjectures, we beg leave to give our own also. We begin by relating the facts.

The long and ample cloaks, and the low, large-brimmed hats, worn at this epoch in Spain, served to facilitate the perpetration of many crimes, and to conceal the criminals. Squillace, the king’s prime minister, by Charles’s order, issued a proclamation prohibiting the use of them; but the populace of Madrid broke out in insurrection, besieged the minister in his house, pulled it down, repulsed the Walloon guards which had marched against them, and obliged the king, whose exhortation they despised, to retire for the moment from Madrid. The revolt lasted for several days, when the Jesuits, mingling amongst the rioters, appeased them in a moment with the greatest facility. This revolt, which happened in 1766, is known in history as the Emeute des Chapeaux.

This outbreak, which had no result, was entirely forgotten, when, on the 2d of April 1767, appeared a royal proclamation abolishing the Society of the Jesuits in the peninsula, and expelling them from the Spanish monarchy. Let the reader imagine the astonishment which the proclamation produced throughout Europe, and the consternation and despair into which it threw the Jesuits. What had happened that could furnish a motive for such a harsh and most severe measure? No sign of change had been the precursor of the storm; no warning had been given to the Jesuits; no signs of enmity had been shewn to them. The proclamation not only was silent as to the motives which had elicited it, but forbade every man to appreciate and discuss either the measure or its causes; and this redoubled the astonishment and the curiosity. Let us try to penetrate this mystery. First of all we shall give the reasons which, according to the Marquis d’Ossun, French ambassador at the court of Madrid, were adduced to him by Charles himself, as having induced him to the suppression of the order.

“Charles pledged his honour to the Marquis d’Ossun that he had never entertained any personal animosity against the Jesuits; that, before the last conspiracy, he had even repeatedly refused to sanction any measures inimical to them. Notwithstanding that he had been warned by confidential advisers, on whose word he could rely, that, ever since 1759, the Jesuits had incessantly traduced his government, his character, and even his faith; his reply to these ministers had uniformly been that he believed them to be either prejudiced or ill-informed. But the insurrection of 1766 had opened the king’s eyes; Charles was convinced that several members of the Society had been arrested in the act of distributing money among the populace. After they had prepared the way by poisoning the minds of the citizens with insinuations against the government, the Jesuits only awaited the signal to spring the mine. The first opportunity was sufficient, and they were content with the most frivolous pretexts;—in one instance, the form of a hat or cloak; in another, the misconduct of an intendant, or the knavery of a corregidor. The attempt (the émeute of 1766) failed, as the tumult had broken out on Palm Sunday. The time fixed upon had been Holy Thursday, during the ceremonies of visiting the churches, when the king was to be surprised and surrounded at the foot of the cross. Such is the substance of the motives stated by the King of Spain to the Marquis d’Ossun, accompanied by a reiterated protest of the truth of what he had said, and, in proof of this, he appealed to judges and magistrates of the most incorruptible integrity; he even reproached himself with having been too lenient to such a dangerous body, and then drawing a deep sigh, added, ‘I have learned to know them too well.’”[346]

These are the motives assigned for this conduct by the opponents of the Jesuits, and they rest, as may be seen, on very high authority. On the other hand, the Jesuits and their friends assert that the whole affair was an abominable and dishonourable plot of Choiseul. They pretend that the duke had managed to put into the hands of Charles an autograph letter supposed to be written by the General of the order to a provincial in Spain, in which it was asserted that Charles was an illegitimate son of Cardinal Alberoni, and that the throne belonged to Don Louis, the king’s younger brother, and that it was this letter that excited the resentment of Charles. Crétineau affirms that such was the case. “Charles, who remained a fervent Christian, would not have destroyed the institute, but that they affixed upon his royal escutcheon the stigma of illegitimacy.... This fact is certified by other contemporary testimonies, and by the documents of the Company.”[347] Ranke, without accusing either party, seems to incline to this supposition, and says, “Charles III. became persuaded that it was one of the purposes of the Jesuits to raise his brother Don Louis to the throne in his place.”[348] Now, rejecting the absurd accusation of the forgery of this letter, which many reasons render altogether impossible, and which is by no means consistent with the character of Choiseul, and adopting the version of Ranke or of Ossun, there still remains to be explained the enmity of the Jesuits against such a good Roman Catholic as Charles; and this enmity, no historian, as far as we know, has ever attempted to explain. Yet this is the point most necessary to be examined; because, unless we suppose that such a sagacious and clear-sighted man as Charles III., after a year of strict and severe investigation, came to the serious decision of condemning the Jesuits solely on the authority of a forged letter, without any other proof of their ill-will to him, it remains certain that the Jesuits were guilty, and adverse to his person and government. Whence, we repeat, this enmity? By considering a little the well-known character of the Jesuits, we may perhaps be able to answer the query.

Every one who directly, or indirectly even, opposes the wishes or the designs of the Society, is regarded as its mortal enemy, and every enemy must, by whatever means, be broken down. Charles, from the beginning of his reign, had constantly insisted upon the canonisation of Palafox, the abhorred opponent of the Society—first grief. Charles did not shew the Jesuits any particular affection, and had protected and befriended them only as he did all other monastic orders—second grief. Charles would not submit as his predecessors had done to the influence of the fathers, and his confessor was of the order of the Dominicans, the ancient and implacable enemy of the Company—third and most serious grief. Now, if once it is admitted that the Jesuits had reason to dislike Charles, all is easily explained. Then no act of enmity on their part ought to surprise us. They would not have hesitated a moment to spread the report that Charles was a bastard, to raise a conspiracy, to excite the people to revolt, and to endeavour to supplant the king by his younger brother. Thus it becomes clear how Charles, after obtaining the proofs of their machinations, became furious against them; and it may easily be conceived that, from pride and delicacy, he did not mention to the French ambassador, among the other causes of resentment against the Jesuits, that of their having slandered him as a bastard liable to be dethroned. This is the view we take of the matter, and we doubt if the conduct of Charles can be explained in any other plausible way.

Such, in our opinion, were the motives which induced the pious King of Spain to expel the Jesuits from all his estates. The way in which this was accomplished was also most remarkable, and deserves to be mentioned. Immediately after l’émeute des chapeaux, which seems to have awakened Charles’s suspicions, the proceedings against the Jesuits commenced, and were continued for a year with the greatest secrecy. D’Aranda, now the principal minister, conducted them. He neglected no precautions to insure the success of his plan. He took great care, above all, that the Court of Rome should have no suspicion of his projects. The king and his ministers admitted into their confidence only Don Manuel de Roda, an able jurist, and previously an agent of Spain in Rome. D’Aranda conferred with Moniño and Campomanes, two very influential magistrates, in a singular and romantic manner. They repaired separately and unknown to one another, to a kind of ruined house, worked alone, communicating afterwards only with the prime minister, who either transcribed himself their informations or intrusted them to his page, who was too young to be mistrusted. Those informations the minister carried himself to the king.[349] Notwithstanding these precautions, it seems the Jesuits were not altogether ignorant that some strange measures were contemplated against them. In fact, it would have been almost incredible that a judicial investigation, although surrounded with mystery and secrecy, in which many persons, no matter of what measure of discretion, were interrogated, could have been so conducted that not a word should have come to the ears of the fathers. They certainly were ignorant of the real state of things, and were perhaps far from suspecting the calamity impending over their heads. But what proves that they must have had some intimation of what was going on, is, that some short time before their expulsion they had requested of the king the confirmation of their privileges, and had removed their papers and their money.[350]

When all measures were ready, despatches were sent from Madrid to all the governors of all the Spanish possessions of Africa, Asia, America, and throughout all the peninsula. These despatches, signed by the king, and counter-signed by D’Aranda, were sealed with three seals. On the second envelop was written, “Under pain of death, you shall not open this despatch but on the 2d April 1767, towards the closing of the day.”[351] The orders to be executed in the different places, on the 2d of April, were all of the same tenor. The alcaldes were enjoined, on the severest penalties (Crétineau says on pain of death), immediately to enter the establishments of the Jesuits armed, to take possession of them, to expel the Jesuits from their convents, and to transport them within twenty-four hours as prisoners to such ports as were designated. The fathers were to embark instantly, leaving their papers under seal, and carrying away with them only a breviary, a purse, and some apparel.[352] The orders were executed everywhere with the utmost rigour, and six thousand Jesuits were very soon floating at the same time on the waste ocean on their way to the coast of Italy.

Charles had not notified his intentions either to the French Court, the indiscretion of whose minister he feared, or to the Court of Rome, which he knew would thwart the measure with all its might. Neither of these courts was informed of the fact till after it was accomplished. When the news reached Rome, the old and infirm Clement XIII. shed a flood of tears. His spirits were broken down by the misfortunes that had befallen his Jesuits. Already, after their expulsion from France, he had declared that the decree which banished them was null and void, adding, “We repel the grave injury offered to the Church and to the Holy See, and we declare in the plenitude of our certain knowledge, certâ scientiâ, that the institution of the Jesuits is in the highest degree pious and holy.”[353] In the present circumstances he again attempted to shelter the children of his predilection under the mantle of his infallibility, and addressed to the King of Spain a brief, in which we read as follows: “Of all the misfortunes that have afflicted us during the nine years of our unhappy pontificate, the most sensible to our paternal heart has been that inflicted by the hand of your Majesty. So you, too, my son, tu quoque fili mi, so the Catholic King Charles III., who is so dear to our heart, fills up the chalice of our suffering, condemns our old age to a torrent of tears, and precipitates us into the grave. The pious Spanish king ... thinks of destroying an institution so useful, so meritorious for the Church, and which owes its origin and its splendour to those saints and heroes whom God chose in the Spanish nation for His greater glory” (this rather savours of Jesuit composition).... “We call God and men to witness, that the Society is not only innocent of all crime, but that it is pious, useful, holy, in its pursuits, in its laws, in its maxims.”[354] Charles answered that he alone knew the crimes of the Society, and that he would keep them concealed in his own breast, to spare Christendom a great scandal.[355] Clement returned to his tears, and this was all that was left him to do in favour of his children.

Lorenzo Ricci.

Hinchliff.

However, there was a man in Rome who would not witness the ruin of the Company of Jesus without attempting a desperate effort to save it. This man was Ricci, the General. Ricci was a morose, obstinate, and narrow-minded bigot, extremely jealous of his authority, and altogether incapable of appreciating either circumstances or persons. Unlike Acquaviva, he placed all his glory in never yielding an inch of ground; and to partial loss, he preferred an entire ruin. Acquaviva would have by some timely concession deferred for a while the impending storm. Ricci accelerated its march by his intractability. “Let them be as they are, or not at all”—these words shew the man. And now that his disciples were expelled from a part of Europe, he, to save the Society, if possible, decided upon sacrificing some thousands of individuals. Either the persecution, which he studied to render more cruel, and in some measure effective, would bring the Pope, the other sovereigns, or the different populations, to some acts of energy, to retrieve the affairs of the order, or it must incur the last distressful consequences. He would submit to every extremity rather than to humiliation. In consequence, he obliged Torrigiani, whom he seems to have kept under a severe yoke (if the Cardinal received, or had received money, we can understand it), to write to the Spanish minister that his Holiness would not permit the Jesuits to land on his estates. Charles paid little attention to the letter, and gave orders to the commander of the fleet to land them, if necessary, by force of arms.

Torrigiani obeyed Ricci’s injunction to the letter. When after some days’ sailing the first vessels arrived before Civita Vecchia, they were received by cannon shot. The poor Jesuits, who thought they were near the end of their sufferings, and had smiled at the sight of the promised land, were furious when they saw themselves rejected from a country in which they knew that their General had the utmost influence, and loudly accused him of being the author of all their miseries. The Spanish commander, not wishing to employ violence, and to land by force of arms, coasted away towards Leghorn and Genoa, but there too they were refused a landing. A similar fate was reserved for them on their first approach to Corsica; and only after having been for six long months at the mercy of the winds and waves, were those unfortunate monks, decimated by illness, fatigue, and old age, permitted to disembark in Corsica, lately ceded by Genoa to France, and where Paoli at that same moment had begun to fight for independence.

The King of Naples and the Duke of Parma, both of the house of Bourbon, the former in the month of November 1767, the latter in the beginning of 1768, resorted to the same measures as France and Spain, and the Jesuits were expelled from their estates.

At the news of these repeated outrages, as he considered them, the old Pope, driven to extremities, and instigated by the Jesuits, resolved on an act of vigour, to test what the Supreme Pontiff could do for the sons of his predilection. It seems that he could not summon courage enough to strike the blow against France, Spain, or Naples, but he thought he could dare anything against the Duke of Parma. He did not view him in the light of a grandson of France and infant of Spain, but as a Farnese, over whose dukedom the Roman See had always, if not exercised, at least claimed, the right of suzerainty. In this persuasion, he published a “monitorium,” wherein he pronounced ecclesiastical censures against his vassal, and declared that he had forfeited his estates. Charles and Louis were aghast at the boldness of the old Pope, and although the indolent Louis shewed no great resolution to resent the insult, Choiseul and Charles contrived to stir up his indignation, representing to him the scorn which would fall on the house of Bourbon, if a son of a Venetian merchant (Clement) should insult with impunity a grandson of St Louis.[356] In consequence, the ambassadors of the three courts, France, Spain, and Naples, had orders to present to the Pope a memorial, asking him to revoke the “monitorium,” or to expect to see some of his estates confiscated. Torrigiani and the Jesuit partisans, who knew the demand that was going to be addressed to the Pope, fearing lest the old man should yield, represented to him how glorious it would be to uprear again the tiara, humbled by Benedict XIV., before the secular powers, and made him even descry in the distance the crown of martyrdom, an honour which the enthusiastic and pious Pope would have wished above all things. Clement accordingly, when the ambassadors presented themselves for the appointed audience, would hardly deign to look at the memorial; and when they spoke of reprisals, his whole frame trembled, and he exclaimed, in a broken voice—“The Vicar of Jesus Christ is treated like the lowest of mankind. True that he has neither armies nor cannon, and it is an easy matter to despoil him of all his possessions; but it is beyond the power of man to compel him to act against his conscience.”[357]

The moment this answer was made known to the monarchs, the troops of the French king seized on Avignon, those of the King of Naples on Pontecorvo and Benevento, all possessions belonging to the Roman states.

At such distressful news the poor Pope was overcome by grief, and perceiving that he was unable to offer any material resistance, resolved to endure patiently those injuries, but not to yield to threatening; and he remained firm in his determination, although the Romans loudly murmured against him, and menaced and offered insult to the Jesuit party as the sole cause of the public calamities. The Pope’s position became more and more desperate every day, and he did not know that he had a single friend left. To whom could he now turn for aid? Genoa, Modena, Venice, nay, all the Italian states, took part against him. Once more he directed his eyes towards Austria. He wrote to the Empress Maria Theresa, that she was his only consolation on earth; she would surely not permit that his old age should be oppressed by acts of violence.[358] But the empress answered him that the affair was one concerning not religion, but state policy, and that she could not interfere without injustice.

Nor was this the greatest affliction reserved for the old pontiff. While Clement was so overwhelmed by grief, in the beginning of 1769 the ambassadors of France, Spain, and Naples presented themselves, one after the other, before him, and demanded the irrevocable suppression of the whole Order of the Jesuits. The Pope, on hearing the proposal, was stupified, and remained for some time speechless. When he had recovered some composure, he answered, in a broken and faltering voice, that he would soon make known his intentions, and called a consistory for the 3d of February. But on the evening preceding the day on which that consistory was to assemble, he was seized with a convulsion, in which he expired.[359] The Jesuits have extolled the virtues and the holiness of this Pope to the skies, and consider him as the best friend the order ever had; while the philosophers, in their speculations, have attributed to him the ultimate ruin of the Society, on account of his obstinate resistance to the demands of reform.

Canova has immortalised the memory of Rezzonico by the most beautiful of all the monuments which have a place in St Peter’s. Strangers go there to admire the chaste and pure figure of religion weeping over his tomb, the majestic dignity of the vigilant lion, the imposing calmness of the sleeping one, and the admirable execution of the whole group.

With Clement XIII. the Popes lost all independence as secular princes, and, as such, have been ever after at the mercy of the strongest secular power that has wished to domineer over them.

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CHAPTER XVI.
1773.
ABOLITION OF THE ORDER.

After the death of Clement XIII., all the influence of the house of Bourbon was employed to secure that the choice of the College of Cardinals should fall on a man adverse to the Company of Jesus, as all the efforts of the members of that body were directed to bring about the contrary result. While D’Aubeterre, the French ambassador, speaking also in the name of Spain and Naples, was reiterating that an election contrary to the wishes of the house of Bourbon would lead to the ruin of the Roman See, thus endeavouring to intimidate the more pusillanimous of the cardinals, Ricci was hurrying about from place to place, imploring the one, threatening the others with the wrath of God, and freely distributing presents and money when necessary. At daybreak he was on foot, traversing every quarter of the city, and mixing with all classes of the people. He visited their eminences, their confessors, their varlets, not omitting some of the fashionable ladies, the——spiritual friends of the Eminentissimi! He and Torrigiani gave out, and repeated with great indignation and affected dignity, that it would be to the eternal shame and confusion of the Sacred College to renounce their independence, and submit to the demands of the imperious sovereigns.

The Court of Rome was divided at the time into two parties;—the Zelanti, who laboured to maintain all the privileges of the Church in their integrity and full extent; and the Regalisti, or the adherents of the crowns, who considered that the welfare of the Church must be sought in wise conciliation. Thirteen days after Clement’s demise, the Conclave assembled, and the Zelanti, notwithstanding D’Aubeterre’s insinuations and menaces, attempted to elect a Pope before the arrival of the French and Spanish cardinals. They nearly succeeded in their attempt. Cardinal Ghigi, one of them, having missed his nomination only by two votes. Then the struggle for the nomination began again more seriously. Choiseul, and still more than he, Charles III., being determined on the abolition of the Jesuits, were resolved not to give their assent to the election of a Pope, unless they should have a good assurance that he would abolish the Society. The French and Spanish ambassadors in Rome, and above all, the French and Spanish cardinals, were ordered to endeavour to effect this result. But the person to whom was assigned, by the Bourbons, the most prominent part in the Conclave, was Cardinal de Bernis. Bernis was a man endowed with many noble qualities, but vain, ostentatious, and devoured above all with the desire of playing a conspicuous part. He had been first minister of Louis XV., had been supplanted by his protégé Choiseul, who sent him back to his Bishopric of Alby, and who now intrusted to him the delicate mission of choosing a successor to St Peter. We say choosing, because, to flatter his vanity, Choiseul told him that such would certainly be his mission, and the cardinal entered the Conclave fully convinced that on him alone rested the choice of the future pontiff. He was confident that the authority of the monarchs of the house of Bourbon, and his own pleasing and insinuating manner, would be irresistible. “His affability,” says St Priest, “which was a little theatrical, but always winning, seemed to transport the Court of Louis XV. into the midst of the gloomy apartments of the Vatican.” On entering the Conclave, Bernis, in the most courteous and modest manner, and without shewing any pretension of a desire to exercise any empire over the holy College, said to his colleagues, “France has only the desire of seeing raised to the papal throne a wise and temperate prince, who may entertain the respect due to the great powers. The choice of the Sacred College can only rest upon virtue, since it shines forth in each one of its members. But virtue alone is not sufficient. Who could surpass Clement XIII. in religion and purity of doctrine? His intentions were excellent; nevertheless, during his reign, the Church was disturbed and shaken to its centre. Let your eminences restore concord between the Holy See and the Catholic States, and bring back peace to Christendom, and France will be content.”[360] As an inducement to the cardinals to comply with the wishes of the sovereigns, Bernis had permission to promise in their names the restitution of Avignon, Pontecorvo, and Benevento; and it may be well supposed that he made the most of the permission. To this, the Zelanti and the Jesuit party answered, that in the election of the supreme chief of the Church, no considerations should be regarded but the good of religion, and that the electors ought to listen to no advice, but implore fervently the Holy Ghost, and follow his inspiration. De Bernis’ position became rather embarrassing. Charles III., it seems, proposed to bind the future Pope by a written promise to abolish the order of the Jesuits. But when D’Aubeterre proposed to Bernis this arrangement, the cardinal drew back; his conscience would not allow him to be an accomplice in lowering so much the Tiara. He refused to make any such proposals, adding, with justice, that nothing could secure the execution of the contract, and that a cardinal who was capable of pledging himself beforehand to such a contract, would dishonour his future pontificate, as everything must ultimately come to light;[361] and although the ambassadors insisted anew with more pressing instances, Bernis remained firm in his opinion, that such conduct was disgraceful and illegal. Aubeterre endeavoured to overcome his repugnance by all sorts of arguments, and in a letter addressed to him on the 11th of April, we find the following passage: “I know well that I am unable to be the casuist of your eminence; but let your eminence consult Cardinal Ganganelli, one of the most celebrated theologians of this country, and who has never been accused of professing a lax morality.”[362]

While the cardinals were thus engaged in the supreme and all-important affair of choosing the chief of their Church, they, the Jesuits, the ambassadors, and all Rome, were on a sudden thrown into a state of anxiety and expectation. Joseph II., Emperor of Germany, accompanied by his brother Leopold, Grand Duke of Tuscany, arrived in Rome. Possessed of real personal merit, Joseph disdained ostentation, and appeared among the citizens of the eternal city with all the studied and striking contrast of an incognito, of which he was the inventor, under the modest title of Count of Falkestein. He mixed among the Romans without a suite, wearing no decoration, and without any pomp. Yet his presence in Rome produced a great sensation.

There are in almost every nation certain traditions, which are transmitted from generation to generation, tacitly without any apparent effort by any person to transmit them, which, however, pass to the remotest posterity as if by intuition, and form part of the moral life of a people. Such is in Rome the tradition, more or less correct, of a republic, and of emperors, which is at the bottom of the heart of every inhabitant of the metropolis of the world. Very few people are recorded in history to have fought as we Romans lately did. But I doubt much that we would have so fought even for the same prize—liberty and independence—in the name of prince or king, or any title in Christendom, or, indeed, in any name except that of the republic, and it may be that of an emperor.[363] Joseph, although a Roman Catholic, and anxious to respect the scruples of his mother, Maria Theresa, was a philosopher, meditating already part of those reforms he shortly after effected; and the moment he came within sight of Rome, he decided upon humbling her pride, and putting some restraint upon her immoderate pretensions. When in Rome, as may be imagined, he was courted by all parties, and his support was eagerly sought by every one, and especially by the Zelanti and the Jesuits. Every one waited with impatience to see the part he would take in the contest. But the young prince was, or affected to be, indifferent to the paltry question of the Jesuits, which was then paramount; and in speaking of it, he often repeated that he wondered that the fate of some thousand monks should cause so much uneasiness to such powerful sovereigns. Although he spoke of the Jesuits with the greatest contempt, nevertheless the fathers hoped that they might claim him as their partisan; an opinion which Joseph took care soon to dissipate. While visiting the different monuments of Rome, he went also to the Gesù, the principal and most magnificent establishment of the order. The fathers soon gathered round him in the most respectful and humble attitude; and the General, approaching him, and prostrating himself at the emperor’s feet with the most profound humility, was going to address him, when Joseph, without allowing him to go on, abruptly asked him when he was going to relinquish his habit. Ricci turned pale, and muttered some inarticulate words; he confessed that the times were very hard for him and for his brethren, but that they trusted in God and in the future holy Father, whose infallibility would be for ever compromised if he destroyed an order which had received the sanction of so many of his predecessors. The emperor smiled; and being then in the church, and chancing at the moment to fix his regards on a statue of Ignatius of massive silver, and glittering with precious stones, exclaimed against the prodigious sum it must have cost. “Sire,” stammered the Father General, “this statue has been erected with the money of the friends of the Society.” “Say rather,” replied Joseph, “with the profit of the Indies,” and departed, leaving the fathers in the utmost grief and dejection.[364] Joseph, assuming, on the other hand, a marked tone of superiority over the sovereigns of the house of Bourbon, affected the same indifference as to the election of a Pope, which he considered, as he said, of little moment, and unworthy of occupying the attention of a monarch of the eighteenth century; and, to prove by deeds the sincerity of his words, he gave orders to the Cardinal Pozzo-Bonelli, his minister, neither to support nor oppose any candidate.

The cardinals were distressed at this marked indifference of the only Catholic sovereign of rank who was then on good terms with Rome; and wishing to try whether they could not attract the young prince to the Holy See, by shewing him some extraordinary mark of respect and devotion, in general so flattering to the youthful mind, they, violating all their rules and regulations, invited the emperor to do them the honour of visiting the Conclave. Joseph went thither, and was met by all the cardinals in a body, one of whom took him by the hand, and introduced him within those precincts which no man can enter or leave from the commencement of the meeting till a Pope has been elected. The emperor received all those extraordinary advances with cold dignity. He addressed Bernis with rather condescending affability, which much flattered the vanity of the cardinal. But when Torrigiani was presented to him, he merely observed, “I have heard much of you,” and inquired immediately for the Cardinal of York. “Le voici,” answered the grandson of James II. Joseph saluted the last of the Stuarts with a marked expression of feature, and requested to be admitted to his cell. “It is very small for your highness,” said the emperor, after having visited it.[365]

When the emperor was on the point of leaving the Conclave, the demonstrations of the cardinals increased. “Sire,” cried they, “we trust that your imperial majesty will protect the new Pope, that he may put an end to the troubles of the Church.” The emperor replied, that the power to accomplish this rested with their eminences, by choosing a Pope who should imitate Benedict XIV., and not require too much; that the spiritual authority of the Pope was incontestable, but that he ought to be satisfied with this; and that, above all, in treating with sovereigns, he ought never to forget himself so far as to violate the rules of policy and good-breeding.[366] So saying, he left the Conclave, and even abandoned Rome the same evening, and set out for Naples to avoid the fêtes prepared for him.

The cardinals, when the agitation produced by the visit of the emperor was a little subdued, returned to their party intrigues, and vainly endeavoured, during three long months, to give a successor to St Peter. At last the Spanish cardinals, who seem to have purposely delayed their voyage till that moment, in order to decide by their votes and their influence a contest which must have by this time tried both parties, arrived in Rome, and entered the Conclave. La Ceda and De Solis, the latter Archbishop of Seville, and possessing Charles III.’s confidence, began at once to explore the ground, and to take all the necessary measures to succeed in their purpose, Bernis still pretending to be the negotiator of the Conclave. The Spaniards, leaving him to rejoice in this opinion, set themselves quietly to work, and soon succeeded in bringing the matter to a conclusion, by the choice of a candidate who was accepted by both parties. This candidate was Cardinal Ganganelli, of whom we must give some account before proceeding further.

Lorenzo Ganganelli was born in the town of St Arcangelo, on the 30th of October 1705, of a plebeian family, his father being a labourer. Like his predecessor, the goatherd of Montalto, Lorenzo entered at a very early age the order of St Francis (the Cordeliers),[367] and distinguished himself by a constant application, by the love of solitude, and by a calm, equal, and placid conduct. His principal occupation was the study of theology, in which he became a proficient and able professor. But his long meditation upon this science did not inspire him with a spirit of fanaticism and persecution, but, on the contrary, with a spirit of tolerance and love for his fellow-men; and, what appears still more rare, he did not in the least alter his jovial and agreeable manners. Nor did he, plunged as he was in the study of divinity, become insensible to the charms of nature, or to the attractions of the fine arts. He delighted in natural history, and spent many of his leisure hours in dissecting insects, or in collecting plants. He cultivated literature with some success; and if he was not a judicious connoisseur, he certainly was a warm protector of the fine arts, and was passionately fond of music.[368] One of his masters had once said of him in this particular, “No wonder he loves music, seeing that everything in his mind is in harmony.”[369] From his earliest youth, Lorenzo conceived hopes of rising to an extraordinary station in life; and his ambition, which was ardent and persevering, persuaded him that he was destined by Providence to perform extraordinary deeds; which persuasion gave to all his conduct the characteristic turn of a mysterious reliance on the future. When his parents dissuaded him from entering the cloister, Lorenzo, although he was then very young, answered that a monk’s frock had often preceded the purple, and that the two last Sistuses had issued from the convents of St Francis. Indeed, he cherished the memory of Padre Felice, of that Sistus who, even in our own day, is remembered by all the Italians, but, above all, by the lowest classes, with a loving veneration. Like Sistus, Ganganelli shewed little inclination for the aristocracy, and courted the favour of the multitude. Ganganelli, even after he had ascended to the highest dignity, remained an unpretending and popular monk. He was ambitious, and extremely jealous of real authority, but disdained the shows and appearance of it. “Notwithstanding his elevation, Ganganelli preserved his former simple habits. Pomp and ceremony were less to his taste than a frugal meal, long rides into the campagna of Rome, the friendship of Francesco,[370] the visit of a few well-informed strangers, and, above all, the conversation of the fathers of the convent of the Holy Apostles.”[371]

These were, indeed, very amiable and noble qualities, and assuredly Clement XIV. proved one of the most enlightened and well-intentioned Popes that ever ascended the pontifical chair. But almost all the historians, many of them influenced no doubt by the fact that he was the suppressor of the order of the Jesuits, have exaggerated the virtues and merits of Ganganelli, and made of him, either as monk or as Pope, an irreproachable and unexceptionable personage, gifted with almost supernatural qualities.[372] We are not quite so partial to him, and, while we give him credit for his many superior good qualities, we cannot overlook his faults, nor declare his conduct free from reproach. Thus, for example, it is evident that Ganganelli, as a thorough good Franciscan (an order from the first to the last inimical to the Company), and as a tolerant and conciliating man, could not be the friend, or have any regard for the Jesuits; and yet, perceiving how influential the fathers were under Rezzonico, Padre Lorenzo courted their favour, obtained the protection of Ricci, who presented him to the Pope’s nephew, and by their joint interest the poor monk was made an eminentissimo. This certainly does not prove much in favour of his straightforwardness; and his whole conduct during the Conclave proves also that Ganganelli was not over-scrupulous as to the means he adopted to satisfy his deeply-rooted ambition. Gioberti, his warm apologist, seeing that it would be rather difficult to exonerate him from the reproach of ambition, admits that he was indeed an ambitious man, but he says, “If it is true, according to St Paul, that the man who desires the office of a bishop desires a good work,[373] why will it not be permitted in certain cases to wish to obtain the Popedom, which is the supreme priesthood?”[374] And he (Gioberti) proceeds to prove that such ambition is permitted when the man seeks not his own but the public welfare, when he is sure that he is qualified for the task, and when he does not make use of any unworthy means to obtain the object of his ambition; and he pretends that Ganganelli fulfilled all these conditions. We, too, give credit to the poor cordelier for having fulfilled the two first, and we believe that, in aspiring to the supreme See, he had in view the public advantage, the welfare of the Church, and that, moreover, he thought himself perfectly qualified to be a Pope; but we shall leave our readers to judge whether all the means he resorted to were unexceptionable and honest.

During the Conclave of all the cardinals, Cardinal Ganganelli appeared the most unconcerned and indifferent as to the supremely important matter they were engaged in. He kept aloof from the intrigues of all parties, so that each might have considered him as one of its adherents. He ingratiated himself with the party of the sovereigns, by repeating often in public, but with the utmost timidity, just as an observation to be taken into consideration, “Their arms are very long, they reach beyond the Alps and the Pyrenees;” while to the partisans of the Jesuits he repeated, “We must no more think of destroying the Society of Jesus than of pulling down the dome of St Peter’s.”[375] It has been insinuated, and even asserted, by many historians, that while Ganganelli was speaking so ambiguously in public, he had secretly assured the French minister of his adverse disposition towards the Jesuits, and that France, from the beginning, had chosen him as her candidate. St Priest positively denies that this was the case, and affirms that Ganganelli was by no means the man upon whom France rested her confidence. “The cardinal was indeed mentioned in the list of bons sujets, that is to say, of persons who would not be unacceptable to the Bourbons; but his name, as well as that of many others, was accompanied with notes of reservation.”[376] And the French historian proceeds to say that France, far from preferring him to the rest of the candidates, suspected him of intrigues and duplicity; and Ganganelli’s conduct might have well given cause for such suspicion. He had been previously intimate with the French cardinals, and shewed himself rather favourable to their interests, but during the sitting of the Conclave had affected to shun them, evidently with the intention of not giving offence to the other party. He lived alone, shut up in his cell, and seemed as if what was going on did not concern him in the least.

How, then, did it happen that he was chosen to the vacant throne? The Jesuits have accused him of simony, and have asserted that, in exchange for a written promise to suppress their order, the Spanish cardinals gave him all the votes that were at the disposal of the house of Bourbon.[377] The admirers of Clement have, on the other hand, indignantly denied the ignominious traffic, and affirm that he was chosen as the most moderate, tolerant, and virtuous of all the cardinals, and as one who could alone heal the wounds of the Church; and the fact is, that neither party may be said to be altogether wrong in their assertion. It rests on many good authorities; and in our eyes the fact admits of no doubt, that Ganganelli, two or three days before the scrutiny for the nomination of a Pope, gave a written note to De Solis, conceived in the following terms:—“I admit that the Sovereign Pontiff may in conscience abolish the Society of the Jesuits, without violating the canonical regulations.”[378] Now, how far this proceeding may constitute the sin of simony, we do not pretend to decide. Evidently, in the strictest sense of the word, here is no specified contract constituting simony. In this note Cardinal Ganganelli expresses his opinion, as a theologian, that the Supreme Pontiff may, in perfect safety of conscience, abolish the Order of Jesus; and this opinion is perfectly sound and orthodox. But, as plain matter of fact, it may be asked, was this answer intended to win for the adviser the support of Spain, who was firmly resolved not to consent to any nomination without having obtained from the future Pope a written promise to suppress the Society of Jesus? It seems that the Spanish cardinals, with whatever intention Ganganelli may have given the note, took it not as the opinion of the theologian, but as the solemn engagement of the future Pope, so that, soon after the note was written, as if the Holy Ghost had of a sudden decided on the choice, and suggested to the electors the same name, Ganganelli was elected to the chair of the apostles.

However, between the negotiation of the Spanish ministers with Ganganelli and the scrutiny for the nomination, Bernis, who saw that all opinions were growing warm in favour of the Franciscan, and perceived that he had been played upon by his Castilian colleagues, since all had been done without his participation, to save at least appearances, hastened to the probable candidate, and boasted to him that his election would be due to the influence of France. The Spaniards willingly allowed him to play this specious part, so suited to his ostentatious character, and Ganganelli, who perhaps felt embarrassed as to how he should express his pretended gratitude, answered in these strange words, “I bear Louis XV. in my heart, and the Cardinal de Bernis in my right hand.”[379] Bernis then, with a sort of diplomatic importance, requested distinctly to know Ganganelli’s opinions with respect to the Jesuits, and the affair of the Infant of Parma. On the latter point the future Pope answered in the most satisfactory manner, and promised not only to recall the monitorium, but to consecrate himself, in the Basilica of St Peter, the duke’s approaching marriage. But on the Jesuit question he was not so explicit; he admitted that their suppression appeared to be necessary, and that most likely the future Pope would not be satisfied with mere words; and, “in short,” says St Priest, “Ganganelli promised De Bernis all that he desired.”[380] This being so arranged, and the Austrian party, to which also adhered that of the Jesuits, having accepted the candidature of Ganganelli, he was, as we have said, elected Sovereign Pontiff, and assumed the name of Clement XIV.

Ganganelli having at last attained the summit of his ambition, enjoyed for a short moment with rapture his good fortune, and the immense popularity which immediately surrounded him, and gave way to all the naturally good impulses of his heart. On the day of his coronation, upon entering the Basilica of the Vatican, his eye fell upon a stone on which he had once stood when a simple monk, to see the cortege of Pope Rezzonico pass by. “Look,” said he, pointing it out to one of his suite, “from that stone I was driven ten years ago.”[381] The very commencement of his pontificate gave great satisfaction to the sovereigns, and to all the friends of a liberal and tolerant policy. He began by prohibiting the reading of the Bull in coena Domini, so offensive to all monarchs; he suspended the effect of the monitorium against the Duke of Parma; he declared that he would send a nuncio to Portugal; and he extended some concessions made by Benedict XIV. to the King of Sardinia, and which his predecessor had refused to recognise. Had not the question of the Jesuits been at issue, there is no doubt that Ganganelli would have given general satisfaction, and he himself have lived and died a happy and honoured Pope. But this unfortunate affair poisoned all his joy from the commencement of his reign. To whatever side he turned himself, he saw nothing but almost insurmountable obstacles. On the one hand, the sovereigns demanded imperatively the abolition of the order, and Clement had to fear that his refusal to comply would divest Rome not only of the valuable possessions of Avignon and Benevento, but also of the filial obedience of Spain, France, and Portugal. On the other hand, how could he, the supreme chief of the Roman Catholic Church, abolish an order which had been considered the firmest bulwark of this same Church, and, as such, recognised and approved by many of his predecessors? What would be the judgment of posterity and of the followers of his creed? Would they ratify his sentence, and ascribe to him the gift of infallibility at the expense of the other mistaken pontiffs? or would he be accounted peccable, and his predecessors infallible? In both cases the Papal infallibility would be greatly damaged, and the authority it gave to the decisions of the Holy See greatly diminished, which neither Ganganelli nor any other Pope ever wished that it should be; because it is a remarkable fact, that the Popes, elective sovereigns, and who alone of such have no hope whatever of transmitting to their issue or their relatives any portion of their power, have always been, and still are, scrupulously careful not to diminish the splendour and glory of the Papal chair, although they may sometimes foresee that after their death it will be occupied by their bitterest enemy. What then could the poor Pope do in these critical circumstances? Although he liked to be compared to Sistus V., whose memory he dearly worshipped, he was far from possessing the firmness of character and the indomitable energy of the quondam goatherd of the Abruzzi. He did not act as Sistus would have done; like all persons without energy, in perilous and difficult emergencies, he took no decisive measure, but directed all his efforts and artifices to gain time, incessantly promising to the sovereigns to come to a determination, and always evading the fulfilment of his promises at the decisive moment.

To obtain some delay from France, he thought that the best he could do was to flatter the vanity of De Bernis, now the accredited ambassador of the court of Versailles, and to render him an unwilling accomplice in his dilatory system; and Bernis, although an intelligent and shrewd man, was so blinded by his vanity, as to be easily duped by his arts. St Priest has given, from Bernis’ letters to Choiseul, a relation of some interviews which took place between the Pope and the cardinal. “When the cardinal went to pay his respects to the Pope, the latter would not accept the customary homage; he forbade his genuflexion, repeatedly he offered him his snuff-box, and even compelled him to be seated in his presence. Bernis retired with every mark of profound respect, but Clement said, in a familiar tone, ‘We are alone, and no person sees us; let us dispense with etiquette, and resume the old equality of the cardinalate.’”[382] A few days afterwards, when Bernis presented a letter from Louis XV., Clement seized and kissed it with transport, exclaiming, “I owe all to France. Providence has chosen me among the people like St Peter, and the house of Bourbon has, under Providence, been the means of raising me to the chair of the prince of the Apostles. Providence, too, has permitted,” he added, embracing Bernis, “that you should be the minister of the king at the Papal court. I place unlimited confidence in you, my dear cardinal; let there be no indirect intercourse, no mystery, between us.”[383]

These assurances flattered the vanity of Bernis, who was continually asking his court to sanction the delays which the dignity of the Pope rendered necessary, and which he represented to be inevitable in matters affecting ecclesiastical discipline. These representations had some influence upon the mind of Louis XV., who in his profligacy was often assailed by transitory fits of remorse; and he prevailed upon the King of Spain, though with some difficulty, to be a little more patient, and to grant to the Pope some reasonable delay for the settlement of the question.

Clement’s joy at the good success of his policy was irrepressible. Not only did he feel proud of his own cleverness, but he hoped to be able to find fresh pretexts for an indefinite delay. This brief moment of illusion was the happiest in all his pontificate; indeed it was the only happy one. His countenance beamed with contentment, his manner became still more amiable, and nothing could exceed his good-humour. To wrap himself in his happiness, he went to the enchanting residence of Castel-Gandolfo, and spent many happy hours on the charming shore of the Lake of Albano, with no other witness or suite than the old friend of his youth, the poor lay brother, Francesco.

But the felicity was of short duration. Scarcely had Ganganelli returned to Rome, when all his illusion vanished. Ardent and restless in the furtherance of his projects, Charles III. was impatient to see the destruction of the Jesuits accomplished; and seeing that no progress was made towards this end, he accused Bernis to Choiseul either of incapacity, or of connivance with Clement. Choiseul, to whom Charles left all liberty to act as he pleased in the general policy of Europe, was very anxious to comply with his wishes in this affair. He had already, some time before, written to Bernis a letter full of remonstrances, and ending thus:—“And if I was ambassador at Rome, I should be ashamed to see Father Ricci the antagonist of my master.”[384] But now he pressed the cardinal more and more strongly to bring the Pope to a speedy decision. The Spanish king, on his part, not content with stimulating Choiseul, was pressing the Pope harder and harder. First he held out a menace against the Court of Rome; then, when Clement represented that there was some danger that the measure of suppression would cause an outbreak, or the interference of other monarchs, or of the pious friends of the Jesuits, he proposed to land at Civita Vecchia 6000 men to defend the Pope against his enemies; and, to frighten Ganganelli still more, he publicly and explicitly denounced Cardinal de Bernis to the Court of France, and asked for his recall.

Bernis was stunned by the shock, and felt as if his embassy, the thing of all things dearest to his heart, for the pomp and power which it imparted, had already been torn from him. The sympathy which he had for Clement, the desire to be agreeable to him, and to repay the Pope for the confidence which he thought his Holiness placed in him, vanished at once, and all his thoughts were directed to find out how he could constrain the Sovereign Pontiff, his spiritual and immediate chief, to obey his temporal masters, and thus maintain himself in his embassy. Instead of his previous easy acquiescence, he now became stern and exacting; and not seeing any more efficient step to take to calm Charles III.’s impatience, he urged the Pope to write to the king, and to make peace with him.[385] Ganganelli, overjoyed to escape the present evil, consented inconsiderately to what was asked of him, without reflecting that, by pledging himself in writing, he rendered his position still more difficult and perilous for the future. In his letter to the Spanish king, declining the assistance offered by his Catholic majesty, he requested time to accomplish the suppression of the Jesuits, admitting, at the same time, that this measure was indispensable, and announcing, in plain terms, that “the members of the Society had merited their fall from the restlessness of their spirit, and the audacity of their proceedings.”[386] This letter, which was written in 1770, has been denied by some, and by others confounded with the more vague note which, as we have seen, it was asserted that Ganganelli had written previous to his ascension to the pontificate. This is a grave error; and, to dispel any doubt, we shall quote the words of Cardinal Bernis himself, in his despatch of April 29, 1770. They are, as will be seen, of the gravest importance:—“The question is not whether the Pope would wish to suppress the Jesuits; but whether, after the formal promises he has given in writing to the King of Spain, his Holiness can for a moment hesitate to fulfil them? This letter, which I have induced him to write to his Catholic majesty, binds him so firmly, that, unless the court of Spain should alter its opinions, the Pope will be obliged to complete the undertaking. By gaining him, it is true, he might effect something, but the power of delay is limited. His Holiness is a man of too much clear-sightedness not to perceive that, should the King of Spain cause his letter to be printed, he would lose his character as a man of honour, if he hesitated to fulfil his promise, and suppress the Society, a plan for whose destruction he had promised to communicate, and whose members he considered as dangerous, discontented, and turbulent.”[387]

On the existence of this letter, to which they wrongly assign, as we have said, a date anterior to the election of Ganganelli, the Jesuits have founded their system of defence. They have asserted that the Pope was compelled to the act of abolishing their Society, which act Clement personally did not consider either just or necessary; and it cannot be denied that the sovereigns exercised a kind of constraint upon him. But was, then, Ganganelli favourable to the order, and would he, if left to himself, have let the Jesuits live in peace, and protected them against a great part of Europe conspiring for their destruction? No! undoubtedly no. We have already observed that Ganganelli could not be the friend of the Jesuits. The man who took Sistus V. and Benedict XIV. for his models, and with whom he had so many points of resemblance, could only have wished what these his predecessors wished and attempted to do, namely, to put a stop to the Jesuits’ pride and arrogance. But we say more. Had not Clement been pressed too hard by the sovereigns, we are convinced that he would have acted more energetically and with more decision. We must remember that Ganganelli, though little exacting in regard to outward shows of pomp and power, had the highest opinion of the dignity with which he was invested, and was by no means disposed to see the tiara lowered or dishonoured in his person. Once, when Florida Blanca, the Spanish ambassador, in order to support his argument, suggested to the Pope that immediately after the publication of the Brief of Suppression, Avignon and Benevento would be restored to the Holy See, Clement answered with majestic dignity, “Remember that a Pope governs the Church, but does not traffic in his authority,”[388] and, breaking short the conference, retired in indignation. Besides, Ganganelli, though wanting in energy, and though he may be reproached with somewhat equivocal conduct in order to satisfy his ambition, was a man too religious and too noble-hearted, of too sound principles of morality and honesty, to subscribe to a measure which he considered unjust. He would have preferred every inconvenience, martyrdom itself, to such iniquitous and dishonourable conduct. Why, then, did he hesitate so long to accomplish a measure which he considered useful and just? Let Clement answer for himself first, and we shall give our reasons afterwards. In the Brief of Suppression the Pope says: “We have omitted no care, no pains, in order to arrive at a thorough knowledge of the origin, the progress, and the actual state of that regular order commonly called the Company of Jesus.”[389] And Ranke, whom the Jesuits often quote as authority, and who seems to be rather partial to them, says, “Clement applied himself with the utmost attention to the affairs of the Jesuits. A commission of cardinals was formed, the archives of the Propaganda were examined, and the arguments of both sides were deliberately considered.”[390] It is evident, then, that Clement wished to give a judgment with a perfect knowledge of the affair. It must be remembered that there is a wide distance between the opinion that Ganganelli might have entertained of the Jesuits, and the fact of the Supreme Pontiff, the chief of the religion, condemning, by a solemn irrevocable act, a religious order approved and protected by thirteen former Popes. It must be remembered that Clement was himself a monk, and that, at the very beginning of the Brief of Suppression, he informs us what his sentiments were towards the monastic communities. “It is beyond doubt,” says the Brief, “that among the things which contribute to the good and happiness of the Christian Republic, the religious orders hold the first place. It was for this reason that the Apostolic See, which owes its welfare and support to these orders, has not only approved, but endowed them with many exemptions, privileges, and faculties.”[391] Besides these powerful and principal reasons, many other secondary ones must have induced Clement to defer the all-important act. It was repugnant to his mild, benevolent, and conciliating character to have recourse to harsh and severe measures. The nobleness and generosity of his heart, on another side, suggested to him, that to the Jesuits, perhaps, he was indebted for the supreme dignity he had obtained, since it was by their influence that he had been named cardinal; and this leads us to believe that, had the measure been less urgent and indispensable to the welfare of the Church and Christianity, he, in memory of past benefits, would never have suppressed the order. As a last, not least reason, for Ganganelli’s hesitation, it may be adduced that the Roman Catholic world would have received it with astonishment, and not without murmurs, if he had abolished a society for which his benefactor, Rezzonico, whose ashes were yet warm, had nourished such a particular affection, and which he had taken under the protection of his infallibility—an infallibility which, though Clement never spoke, he no doubt would not have liked that others should have called in question. In one word, in judging of Ganganelli’s conduct, the different parties have too often forgotten that he was a Pope and a monk.

All the motives we have adduced to explain and excuse Clement’s delay in suppressing the order, were noble and praiseworthy; but it must be confessed that with them was mingled one that was less noble, and not so creditable to the Pope’s character. He was afraid lest the Jesuits should assassinate or poison him; and his fears were not, as we shall see, without foundation.

The Jesuits, it may be imagined, had spared no pains to influence Clement’s mind, and to deprecate the scheme of their destruction. At first they set at work all the influences they still possessed. In Rome, above all, they were as yet all-powerful among the nobility. They were the agents of the husbands, the confessors of the wives, the tutors of the children; and by means of these nobles they endeavoured to influence the Pope in their favour. But as Ganganelli received few persons of that rank, and listened to none, this expedient of the fathers proved abortive. They obtained afterwards from the sovereigns of Austria, Bavaria, Poland, and Sardinia, letters of recommendation to the Holy Father; and when they perceived that even these proved ineffectual, they had recourse to threats, and, by many ingenious and sly contrivances, conveyed to Clement’s mind the persuasion that they would take away his life, whatever precautions he should take. To make a still stronger impression upon his mind, they had his death predicted by a set of impostors, whose predictions were, as is generally the case, readily believed by the people; and the Jesuits took good care to strengthen this belief. Bernardina Renzi, a peasant of Valentano, giving herself out as a prophetess, predicted the vacancy of the Holy See by the mysterious initials P. S. S. V. (presto sarà sede vacante). Another Pythoness of Montefiascone also put forth similar strange and mysterious predictions.[392] The Pope was too enlightened, too religious, to believe in such impostures; but, just because he did not believe in them, he feared them the more, knowing that those who had put them forth would find the means to accomplish them. Two Jesuits, Fathers Coltraro and Venizza, along with the confessor of Bernardina, were thrown into prison, as having been suspected of being the advisers of the prophetess. In the various circles of society, almost publicly and aloud, the Jesuits and their partisans accused and cursed Clement, heaping reproaches on his name, and even insinuating the possibility of a deposition. Insulting images and hideous figures were put forth, announcing an approaching catastrophe, under the form of vengeance of Providence. Father Ricci, far from feeling any repugnance to the support of such shameless deception, did not even shrink from an interview with the sorceress of Valentino.[393]

Surrounded as he was by treachery, Ganganelli could not long resist the impressions which such a state of things was calculated to make upon him. His natural gaiety gave way; his health became impaired; and evident signs of weariness were stamped on the whole of his countenance. He lived more secluded than ever, and would not taste of any dishes but those prepared by his faithful Francesco, or by his own hands.

On the other hand, the sovereigns became more and more urgent. To Anzpurù succeeded, as Spanish ambassador, that same Muniño who, in his capacity of magistrate, had assisted D’Aranda in the mysterious examination of the Jesuits’ conduct, after the émeute of 1766, and who was now the Count of Florida Blanca. He was stern and inflexible, and pressed hard the poor Pope to take the dangerous leap. The transitory, delusive hope which the Jesuits had enjoyed, of escaping ruin, after the disgrace of Choiseul, and the paramount influence which had been acquired over the king by their friend Madame Dubarry, the successor of Madame de Pompadour, soon vanished. D’Aiguillon, to deprecate the anger of Charles III. for the fall of his friend Choiseul, seconded the Spanish king vigorously in his cherished project of obtaining the Suppression; and, as Austria had abandoned the cause of the order,[394] the ruin of the Jesuits became inevitable. Yet Clement resisted all those importunities and menaces, and held firm, till, after a long and protracted investigation, his conscience was satisfied that the act he was called upon to perform was an act of supreme justice and of immense advantage to Christianity. Then, although he felt sure that he should forfeit his life, he decided upon sacrificing it to the fulfilment of a duty, which gives to the act a more imposing and solemn gravity. On the 23d July 1773, he affixed his signature to the Brief, saying, in the very act of writing his name, “We sign our death”—Sottoscriviamo la nostra morte.[395]

We shall now lay before our readers a great part of this Brief, which we should wish them to attentively read and consider, because, as a Roman Catholic priest observes, “It is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful and honourable of the Roman Church; and so much so, that I dare assert that there is no ecclesiastical ordinance where shines more brightly the wisdom, the holiness, the moderation, and the true philosophy of the apostolic chair. The idea which is predominant in the Brief is, that of the unity and peace which the Man-God brought to mortals, by establishing his religion,” &c.[396] In fact, the Brief is extremely remarkable in all its parts, and shews with what accuracy, with what patience, Clement had examined the question. It begins by pronouncing a high eulogium on the monastic orders, and on the good intentions of Loyola in founding that of the Jesuits. It then points out many of these orders which were abolished by different Popes. It recapitulates all the favours that the Holy See had bestowed on the Jesuits. Then, in a rapid sketch of the history of the order, it shews in it the principle of discord, of schism; of a continual war waged by it against all other religious communities; the dissensions it excited in various Catholic countries; the obstinacy of the Jesuits in persisting in their reprehensible conduct, notwithstanding a number of briefs and admonitions of the Supreme Pontiff; and, finally, concludes by declaring it to be impossible that the Church could recover a firm and durable peace, so long as the said Society subsisted. Here follows this memorable document,[397] which we give at length, as the most correct epitome of the history of the Company, written by the most high and competent authority:—

“Brief for the effectual Suppression of the Order of Jesuits.

“Clement XIV., Pope, &c.

“Jesus Christ, our Saviour and Redeemer, was foretold by the prophets as the Prince of Peace: the angels proclaimed him under the same title to the shepherds at his first appearance upon earth; he afterwards made himself known repeatedly as the sovereign pacificator; and he recommended peace to his disciples before his ascension to heaven.

“Having reconciled all things to God his Father, having pacified by his blood and by his cross everything which is contained in heaven and in earth, he recommended to his apostles the ministry of reconciliation, and bestowed on them the gift of tongues, that they might publish it; that they might become ministers and envoys of Christ, who is not the God of discord, but of peace and love; that they might announce this peace to all the earth, and direct their efforts to this chief point, that all men, being regenerated in Christ, might preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace; might consider themselves as one body and one soul, as called to one and the same hope, to one and the same vocation, at which, according to St Gregory, we can never arrive, unless we run in concert with our brethren. The same word of reconciliation, this same ministry, is recommended to us by God in a particular manner. Ever since we were raised (without any personal merit) to the chair of St Peter, we have called these duties to mind day and night; we have had them without ceasing before our eyes; they are deeply engraven on our heart; and we labour to the utmost of our power to satisfy and to fulfil them. To this effect we implore without ceasing the protection and the aid of God, that he would inspire us and all his flock with counsels of peace, and open to us the road which leads to it. We know, besides, that we are established by the Divine Providence over kingdoms and nations, in order to pluck up, destroy, disperse, dissipate, plant, or nourish, as may best conduce to the right cultivation of the vineyard of Sabaoth, and to the preservation of the edifice of the Christian religion, of which Christ is the chief corner-stone. In consequence hereof, we have ever thought, and been constantly of opinion, that, as it is our duty carefully to plant and nourish whatever may conduce in any manner to the repose and tranquillity of the Christian republic, so the bond of mutual charity requires that we be equally ready and disposed to pluck up and destroy even the things which are most agreeable to us, and of which we cannot deprive ourselves without the highest regret and the most pungent sorrow.

“It is beyond a doubt, that among the things which contribute to the good and happiness of the Christian republic, the religious orders hold, as it were, the first place. It was for this reason that the Apostolic See, which owes its lustre and support to these orders, has not only approved, but endowed them with many exemptions, privileges, and faculties, in order that they might be so much the more excited to the cultivation of piety and religion; to the direction of the manners of the people, both by their instructions and their examples; to the preservation and confirmation of the unity of the faith among the believers. But if, at any time, any of these religious orders did not cause these abundant fruits to prosper among the Christian people, did not produce those advantages which were hoped for at their institution; if at any time they seemed disposed rather to trouble than maintain the public tranquillity; the same Apostolic See, which had availed itself of its own authority to establish these orders, did not hesitate to reform them by new laws, to recall them to their primitive institution, or even totally to abolish them where it has seemed necessary.”

[Here follows a long list of religious orders suppressed by different Popes, without giving them the opportunity of clearing themselves from the accusations brought against them. It then proceeds as follows:—]

“We, therefore, having these and other such examples before our eyes, examples of great weight and high authority—animated, besides, with a lively desire of walking with a safe conscience and a firm step in the deliberations of which we shall speak hereafter—have omitted no care, no pains, in order to arrive at a thorough knowledge of the origin, the progress, and the actual state of that regular order commonly called ‘The Company of Jesus.’ In the course of these investigations, we have seen that the holy founder of the order did institute it for the salvation of souls, the conversion of heretics and infidels, and, in short, for the greater advancement of piety and religion. And, in order to attain more surely and happily so laudable a design, he consecrated himself rigorously to God, by an absolute vow of evangelical poverty, with which to bind the Society in general, and each individual in particular, except only the colleges in which polite literature and other branches of knowledge were to be taught, and which were allowed to possess property, but so that no part of their revenues could ever be applied to the use of the said Society in general. It was under these and other holy restrictions that the Company of Jesus was approved by the Pope Paul III., our predecessor of blessed memory, by his letter sub plumbo, dated 27th September 1540.”

[Here Clement enumerates the other Popes who had either confirmed the privileges already granted to the Society, or had explained and augmented them.]

“Notwithstanding so many and so great favours, it appears from the apostolical Constitutions, that, almost at the very moment of its institution, there arose in the bosom of this Society divers seeds of discord and dissension, not only among the companions themselves, but with other regular orders, the secular clergy, the academies, the universities, the public schools, and lastly, even with the princes of the states in which the Society was received.

“These dissensions and disputes arose sometimes concerning the nature of their vows, the time of admission to them, the power of expulsion, the right of admission to holy orders without a sufficient title, and without having taken the solemn vows, contrary to the tenor of the decrees of the Council of Trent, and of Pius V., our predecessor; sometimes concerning the absolute authority assumed by the General of the said order, and on matters relating to the good government and discipline of the order; sometimes concerning different points of doctrine concerning their schools, or such of their exemptions and privileges as the ordinaries and other civil or ecclesiastical officers declared to be contrary to their rights and jurisdiction. In short, accusations of the greatest nature, and very detrimental to the peace and tranquillity of the Christian republic, have been continually received against the said order. Hence the origin of that infinity of appeals and protests against this Society, which so many sovereigns have laid at the foot of the throne of our predecessors Paul IV., Pius V., and Sixtus V.

“Among the princes who have thus appealed, is Philip II., King of Spain, of glorious memory, who laid before Sixtus V. not only the reasons of complaint which he had, but also those alleged by the inquisitors of his kingdom, against the excessive privileges of the Society, and the form of their government. He desired likewise that the Pope should be acquainted with the heads of accusation laid against the Society, and confirmed by some of its own members remarkable for their learning and piety, and demanded that the Society should undergo an apostolic visitation. Sixtus V., convinced that these demands and solicitations of Philip were just and well founded, did, without hesitation, comply therewith; and, in consequence, named a bishop of distinguished prudence, virtue, and learning, to be apostolical visitor, and at the same time deputed a congregation of cardinals to examine this matter.

“But this pontiff having been carried off by a premature death, this wise undertaking remained without effect. Gregory XIV. being raised to the supreme apostolic chair, approved, in its utmost extent, the institution of the Society, by his letter, sub plumbo, dated the 28th of July 1591. He confirmed all the privileges which had been granted by any of his predecessors to the Society, and particularly the power of expelling and dismissing any of its members, without any previous form of process, information, act, or delay; upon the sole view of the truth of the fact, and the nature of the crime, from a sufficient motive, and a due regard of persons and circumstances. He ordained, and that under pain of excommunication, that all proceedings against the Society should be quashed, and that no person whatever should presume, directly or indirectly, to attack the institution, constitutions, or decrees of the said Society, or attempt in any manner whatever to make any changes therein. To each and every of the members only of the said Society, he permitted to expose and propose, either by themselves or by the legates and nuncios of the Holy See, to himself only, or the Popes his successors, whatever they should think proper to be added, modified, or changed in their institution.

“Who would have thought that even these dispositions should prove ineffectual towards appeasing the cries and appeals against the Society? On the contrary, very violent disputes arose on all sides concerning the doctrine of the Society, which many represented as contrary to the orthodox faith and to sound morals. The dissensions among themselves, and with others, grew every day more animated; the accusations against the Society were multiplied without number, and especially with that insatiable avidity of temporal possessions with which it was reproached. Hence the rise not only of those well-known troubles which brought so much care and solicitude upon the Holy See, but also of the resolutions which certain sovereigns took against the said order.

“It resulted that, instead of obtaining from Paul V., of blessed memory, a fresh confirmation of its institute and privileges, the Society was reduced to ask of him that he would condescend to ratify and confirm, by his authority, certain decrees formed in the Fifth General Congregation of the Company, and transcribed word for word in the Brief of the said Pope, bearing date September 4, 1606. In these decrees, it is plainly acknowledged that the dissensions and internal revolts of the said companions, together with the demands and appeals of strangers, had obliged the said companions assembled in congregation to enact the following statute, namely:

“‘The Divine Providence having raised up our Society for the propagation of the Faith, and the gaining of souls, the said Society can, by the rules of its own institute, which are its spiritual arms, arrive happily, under the standard of the Cross, at the end which it has proposed for the good of the Church and the edification of our neighbours. But the said Society would prevent the effect of these precious goods, and expose them to the most imminent dangers, if it concerned itself with temporal matters, and which relate to political affairs and the administration of government; in consequence whereof, it has been wisely ordained by our superiors and ancients, that, confining ourselves to combat for the glory of God, we should not concern ourselves with matters foreign to our profession: but whereas, in these times of difficulty and danger, it has happened, through the fault perhaps of certain individuals, through ambition and intemperate zeal, that our institute has been ill spoken of in divers places, and before divers sovereigns, whose affection and goodwill the Father Ignatius, of holy memory, thought we should preserve for the good of the service of God; and whereas a good reputation is indispensably necessary to make the vineyard of Christ bring forth fruits; in consequence hereof, our congregation has resolved that we shall abstain from all appearance of evil, and remedy, as far as in our power, the evils arisen from false suspicions. To this end, and by the authority of the present decree of the said congregation, it is severely and strictly forbidden to all the members of the Society to interfere in any manner whatever in public affairs, even though they be thereto invited, or to deviate from the institute, through entreaty, persuasion, or any other motive whatever. The congregation recommends to the fathers-coadjutors, that they do propose and determine, with all diligence and speed, such further means as they may think necessary for remedying this abuse.’

“We have seen, in the grief of our heart, that neither these remedies, nor an infinity of others, since employed, have produced their due effect, or silenced the accusations and complaints against the said Society. Our other predecessors, Urban VII., Clement IX., X., XI., and XII., and Alexander VII. and VIII., Innocent X., XII., and XIII., and Benedict XIV., employed, without effect, all their efforts to the same purpose. In vain did they endeavour, by salutary constitutions, to restore peace to the Church; as well with respect to secular affairs, with which the Company ought not to have interfered, as with regard to the missions; which gave rise to great disputes and oppositions on the part of the Company with the ordinaries, with other religious orders, about the holy places, and communities of all sorts in Europe, Africa, and America, to the great loss of souls, and great scandal of the people; as likewise concerning the meaning and practice of certain idolatrous ceremonies, adopted in certain places, in contempt of those justly approved by the Catholic Church; and further, concerning the use and explanation of certain maxims, which the Holy See has with reason proscribed as scandalous, and manifestly contrary to good morals; and, lastly, concerning other matters of great importance and prime necessity, towards preserving the integrity and purity of the doctrines of the gospel; from which maxims have resulted very great inconveniences and great detriment both in our days and in past ages; such as the revolts and intestine troubles in some of the Catholic states, persecutions against the Church in some countries of Asia and Europe, not to mention the vexation and grating solicitude which these melancholy affairs brought on our predecessors, principally upon Innocent XI., of blessed memory, who found himself reduced to the necessity of forbidding the Company to receive any more novices; and afterwards upon Innocent XIII., who was obliged to threaten the Company with the same punishment; and, lastly, upon Benedict XIV., who took the resolution of ordaining a general visitation of all the houses and colleges of the Company in the kingdom of our dearly beloved son in Jesus Christ, the most faithful King of Portugal.

“The late apostolic letter of Clement XIII., of blessed memory, our immediate predecessor, by which the institute of the Company of Jesus was again approved and recommended, was far from bringing any comfort to the Holy See, or any advantage to the Christian republic. Indeed this letter was rather extorted than granted, to use the expression of Gregory X. in the above-named General Council of Lyons.

“After so many storms, troubles, and divisions, every good man looked forward with impatience to the happy day which was to restore peace and tranquillity. But under the reign of this same Clement XIII. the times became more difficult and tempestuous; complaints and quarrels were multiplied on every side; in some places dangerous seditions arose, tumults, discords, dissensions, scandals, which, weakening or entirely breaking the bonds of Christian charity, excited the faithful to all the rage of party hatreds and enmities. Desolation and danger grew to such a height, that the very sovereigns, whose piety and liberality towards the Company were so well known as to be looked upon as hereditary in their families—we mean our dearly-beloved sons in Christ, the Kings of France, Spain, Portugal, and Sicily—found themselves reduced to the necessity of expelling and driving from their states, kingdoms, and provinces, these very Companions of Jesus; persuaded that there remained no other remedy to so great evils; and that this step was necessary in order to prevent the Christians from rising one against another, and from massacring each other in the very bosom of our common mother the Holy Church. The said our dear sons in Jesus Christ having since considered that even this remedy would not be sufficient towards reconciling the whole Christian world, unless the said Society was absolutely abolished and suppressed, made known their demands and wills in this matter to our said predecessor Clement XIII. They united their common prayers and authority to obtain that this last method might be put in practice, as the only one capable of assuring the constant repose of their subjects, and the good of the Catholic Church in general. But the unexpected death of the aforesaid pontiff rendered this project abortive.

“As soon as by the divine mercy and providence we were raised to the chair of St Peter, the same prayers, demands, and wishes were laid before us, and strengthened by the pressing solicitations of many bishops, and other persons of distinguished rank, learning, and piety. But, that we might choose the wisest course in an affair of so much importance, we determined not to be precipitate, but to take due time; not only to examine attentively, weigh carefully, and wisely debate, but also, by unceasing prayers, to ask of the Father of Lights his particular assistance under these circumstances; exhorting at the same time the faithful to co-operate with us by their prayers and good works in obtaining this needful succour.

“And first of all we proposed to examine upon what grounds rested the common opinion, that the institute of the Clerks of the Company of Jesus had been approved and confirmed in an especial manner by the Council of Trent. And we found that in the said Council nothing more was done with regard to the said Society, only to except it from the general decree, which ordained that in the other regular orders, those who had finished their novitiate, and were judged worthy of being admitted to the profession, should be admitted thereto; and that such as were not found worthy should be sent back from the monastery. The same Council declared, that it meant not to make any change or innovation in the government of the clerks of the Company of Jesus, that they might not be hindered from being useful to God and his Church, according to the intent of the pious institute approved by the Holy See.

“Actuated by so many and important considerations, and, as we hope, aided by the presence and inspiration of the Holy Spirit; compelled, besides, by the necessity of our ministry, which strictly obliges us to conciliate, maintain, and confirm the peace and tranquillity of the Christian republic, and remove every obstacle which may tend to trouble it; having further considered that the said Company of Jesus can no longer produce those abundant fruits, and those great advantages, with a view to which it was instituted, approved by so many of our predecessors, and endowed with so many and extensive privileges; that, on the contrary, it was very difficult, not to say impossible, that the Church could recover a firm and durable peace so long as the said Society subsisted; in consequence hereof, and determined by the particular reasons we have here alleged, and forced by other motives which prudence and the good government of the Church have dictated, the knowledge of which we reserve to ourselves, conforming ourselves to the examples of our predecessors, and particularly to that of Gregory X. in the general Council of Lyons; the rather as, in the present case, we are determining upon the fate of a society classed among the mendicant orders, both by its institute and by its privileges;—after a mature deliberation, we do, out of our certain knowledge, and the fulness of our apostolical power, suppress and abolish the said Company: we deprive it of all activity whatever, of its houses, schools, colleges, hospitals, lands, and, in short, every other place whatsoever, in whatever kingdom or province they may be situated; we abrogate and annul its statutes, rules, customs, decrees, and constitutions, even though confirmed by oath, and approved by the Holy See or otherwise; in like manner we annul all and every its privileges, indults, general or particular, the tenor whereof is, and is taken to be, as fully and as amply expressed in the present Brief as if the same were inserted word for word, in whatever clauses, form, or decree, or under whatever sanction their privileges may have been conceived. We declare all, and all kind of authority, the General, the provincials, the visitors, and other superiors of the said Society to be FOR EVER ANNULLED AND EXTINGUISHED, of what nature soever the said authority may be, as well in things spiritual as temporal. We do likewise order that the said jurisdiction and authority be transferred to the respective ordinaries, fully and in the same manner as the said generals, &c. exercised it, according to the form, places, and circumstances with respect to the persons and under the conditions hereafter determined; forbidding, as we do hereby forbid, the reception of any person to the said Society, the novitiate or habit thereof. And with regard to those who have already been admitted, our will is, that they be not received to make profession of the simple, solemn, absolute vows, under penalty of nullity, and such other penalties as we shall ordain. Further, we do will, command, and ordain, that those who are now performing their novitiate be speedily, immediately, and actually sent back to their own homes; we do further forbid that those who have made profession of the first simple vows, but who are not yet admitted to either of the holy orders, be admitted thereto under any pretext or title whatever; whether on account of the profession they have already made in the said Society, or by virtue of any privileges the said Society has obtained, contrary to the tenor of the decrees of the Council of Trent.

“And whereas all our endeavours are directed to the great end of procuring the good of the Church and the tranquillity of nations; and it being at the same time our intention to provide all necessary aid, consolation, and assistance to the individuals or companions of the said Society, every one of which, in his individual capacity, we love in the Lord with a truly parental affection; and to the end that they being delivered on their part from the persecutions, dissensions, and troubles with which they have for a long time been agitated, may be able to labour with more success in the vineyard of the Lord, and contribute to the salvation of souls; therefore, and for these motives, we do decree and determine that such of the companions as have yet made professions only of the first vows, and are not yet promoted to holy orders, being absolved, as in fact they are absolved, from the first simple vows, do, without fail, quit the houses and colleges of the said Society, and be at full liberty to choose such course of life as each shall judge most conformable to his vocation, strength, and conscience, and that within a space of time to be prescribed by the ordinary of the diocese; which time shall be sufficient for each to provide himself some employment or benefice, or at least some patron who will receive him into his house, always provided that the time thus allowed do not exceed the space of one year, to be counted from the day of the date hereof. And this the rather, as, according to the privileges of the said Company, those who have only taken these first vows may be expelled the order upon motives left entirely to the prudence of the superiors, as circumstances require, and without any previous form of process. As to such of the companions as are already promoted to holy orders, we grant them permission to quit the houses and colleges of the Company, and to enter into any other regular order already approved by the Holy See. In which case, and supposing they have already professed the first vows, they are to perform the accustomed novitiate in the order into which they are to enter according to the prescription of the Council of Trent; but if they have taken all the vows, then they shall perform only a novitiate of six months, we graciously dispensing with the rest. Or otherwise, we do permit them to live at large as secular priests and clerks, always under a perfect and absolute obedience to the jurisdiction of the ordinary of the diocese where they shall establish themselves. We do likewise ordain, that to such as shall embrace this last expedient, a convenient stipend be paid out of the revenues of the house or college where they reside; regard being paid, in assigning the same, to the expenses to which the said house shall be exposed, as well as to the revenues it enjoyed. With regard to those who have made the last vows, and are promoted to holy orders, and who, either through fear of not being able to subsist for want of a pension, or from the smallness thereof, or because they know not where to fix themselves, or, on account of age, infirmities, or other grave and lawful reasons, do not choose to quit the said colleges or houses, they shall be permitted to dwell therein, provided always that they exercise no ministry whatsoever in the said houses or colleges, and be entirely subject to the ordinary of the diocese; that they make no acquisitions whatever, according to the decree of the Council of Lyons, that they do not alienate the houses, possessions, or funds which they actually possess. It shall be lawful to unite in one or more houses the number of individuals that remain, nor shall others be substituted in the room of those who may die; so that the houses which become vacant may be converted to such pious uses as the circumstances of time and place shall require, in conformity to the holy canons, and the intention of the founders, so as may best promote the divine worship, the salvation of souls, and the public good. And to this end a member of the regular clergy, recommendable for his prudence and sound morals, shall be chosen to preside over and govern the said houses; so that the name of the Company shall be, and is, for ever extinguished and suppressed.

“In like manner we declare, that in this general suppression of the Company shall be comprehended the individuals thereof in all the provinces from whence they have already been expelled; and to this effect our will is, that the said individuals, even though they have been promoted to holy orders, be ipso facto reduced to the state of secular priests and clerks, and remain in absolute subjection to the ordinary of the diocese, supposing always that they are not entered into any other regular order.

“If, among the subjects heretofore of the Company of Jesus, but who shall become secular priests or clerks, the ordinaries shall find any qualified by their virtues, learning, and purity of morals, they may, as they see fit, grant or refuse them power of confessing and preaching; but none of them shall exercise the said holy function without a permission in writing; nor shall the bishops or ordinaries grant such permission to such of the Society who shall remain in the colleges or houses heretofore belonging to the Society, to whom we expressly and for ever prohibit the administration of the sacrament of penance, and the function of preaching; as Gregory X. did prohibit it in the Council already cited. And we leave it to the consciences of the bishops to see that this last article be strictly observed; exhorting them to have before their eyes the severe account which they must render to God of the flock committed to their charge, and the tremendous judgment with which the great Judge of the living and the dead doth threaten those who are invested with so high a character.

“Further, we will, that if any of those who have heretofore professed the institute of the Company, shall be desirous of dedicating themselves to the instruction of youth in any college or school, care be taken that they have no part in the government or direction of the same, and that the liberty of teaching be granted to such only whose labours promise a happy issue, and who shall shew themselves averse to all spirit of dispute, and untainted with any doctrines which may occasion or stir up frivolous and dangerous quarrels. In a word, the faculty of teaching youth shall neither be granted nor preserved but to those who seem inclined to maintain peace in the schools and tranquillity in the world.

“Our intention and pleasure is, that the dispositions which we have thus made known for the suppression of this Society shall be extended to the members thereof employed in missions, reserving to ourselves the right of fixing upon such methods as to us shall appear most sure and convenient for the conversion of infidels and the conciliation of controverted points.

“All and singular the privileges and statutes of the said Company being thus annulled and entirely abrogated, we declare that as soon as the individuals thereof shall have quitted their houses and colleges, and taken the habit of secular clerks, they shall be qualified to obtain, in conformity to the decrees of the holy canons and apostolic constitutions, cures, benefices without cure, offices, charges, dignities, and all employments whatever, which they could not obtain so long as they were members of the said Society, according to the will of Gregory XIII., of blessed memory, expressed in his bull bearing date September 10th, 1548, which Brief begins with these words—Satus superque, &c. Likewise we grant them the power which they had not before, of receiving alms for the celebration of the mass, and the full enjoyment of all the graces and favours from which they were heretofore precluded as regular clerks of the Company of Jesus.

“We likewise abrogate all the prerogatives which had been granted to them by their General and other superiors in virtue of the privileges obtained from the Sovereign Pontiffs, and by which they were permitted to read heretical and impious books proscribed by the Holy See; likewise the power they enjoyed of not observing the stated fasts, and of eating flesh on fast days; likewise the faculty of reciting the prayers called the canonical hours, and all other like privileges; our firm intention being, that they do conform themselves in all things to the manner of living of the secular priests, and to the general rules of the Church.

“Further, we do ordain, that after the publication of this our letter, no person do presume to suspend the execution thereof, under colour, title, or pretence of any action, appeal, relief, explanation of doubts which may arise, or any other pretext whatever, foreseen or not foreseen. Our will and meaning is, that the suppression and destruction of the said Society, and of all its parts, shall have an immediate and instantaneous effect in the manner here above set forth; and that under pain of the greater excommunication, to be immediately incurred by whosoever shall presume to create the least impediment or obstacle, or delay in the execution of this our will: the said excommunication not to be taken off but by ourselves, or our successors, the Roman Pontiffs.

“Further, we ordain and command, by virtue of the holy obedience to all and every ecclesiastical person, regular and secular, of whatever rank, dignity, and condition, and especially those who have been heretofore of the said Company, that no one of them do carry their audacity so far as to impugn, combat, or even write or speak about the said suppression, or the reasons and motives of it, or about the institute of the Company, its form of government, or other circumstance thereto relating, without an express permission from the Roman Pontiff, and that under the same pain of excommunication.

“We forbid all and every one to offend any person whatever on account of the said suppression, and especially those who have been members of the said Society, or to make use of any injurious, malevolent, reproachful, or contemptuous language towards them, whether verbally or by writing.

“We exhort all the Christian princes to exert all that force, authority, and power which God has given them for the defence of the holy Roman Church, so that, in consequence of the respect and veneration which they owe to the Apostolic See, things may be so ordered, that these our letters have their full effect, and that they attentively heeding all the articles therein contained, do publish such ordonnances and regulations as may prevent all excesses, disputes, and dissensions among the faithful, whilst they carry this our will into execution.

“Finally, we exhort all Christians, and entreat them by the bowels of our Saviour Jesus Christ, to remember that we have one Master, who is in heaven, one Saviour, who has purchased us by his blood; that we have all been again born in the water of baptism, through the word of eternal life; that we have all been declared sons of God, and co-heirs with Jesus Christ; all fed with the same bread of the Catholic doctrine, and of the Divine Word; that we are all one body in Jesus Christ, of which we are members, consequently it is absolutely necessary that, united by the common bond of charity, they should live in peace with all men, and consider it as their first duty to love one another, remembering that he who loveth his neighbour fulfilleth the law, avoiding studiously all occasion of scandal, enmity, division, and such-like evils, which were invented and promoted by the ancient enemy of mankind, in order to disturb the Church of God, and prevent the eternal happiness of the faithful, under the false title of schools, opinions, and even of the perfection of Christianity. On the contrary, every one should exert his utmost endeavours to acquire that true and sincere wisdom of which St James speaks in his canonical epistle, ch. iii. v. 13.

“Further, our will and pleasure is, that though the superiors and other members of the Society, and others interested therein, have not consented to this disposition, have not been cited or heard, still it shall not at any time be allowed them to make any observations on our present letter, to attack or invalidate it, to demand a further examination of it, to appeal from it, make it a matter of dispute, to reduce it to the terms of law, to proceed against it by the means of restitutionis ad integrum, to open their mouth against it, to reduce it ad viam et terminos juris, or, in short, to impugn it by any way whatever, of right or fact, favour or justice; and even though these means may be granted them, and though they should have obtained them, still they may not make use of them in court or out of court; nor shall they plead any flaw, subreption, obreption, nullity, or invalidity in this letter, or any other plea, how great, unforeseen, or substantial it may be, nor the neglect of any form in the above proceedings, or in any part thereof, nor the neglect of any point founded on any law or custom, and comprised in the body of laws, nor even the plea of enormis enormissimæ et totalis læsionis, nor, in short, any pretext or motive, however just, reasonable, or privileged, not even though the omission of such form or point should be of such nature as, without the same being expressly guarded against, would render every other act invalid. For all this notwithstanding, our will and pleasure is, that these our letters should for ever and to all eternity be valid, permanent, and efficacious, have and obtain their full force and effect, and be inviolably observed by all and every whom they do or may concern, now or hereafter, in any manner whatever.

“In like manner, and not otherwise, we ordain that all the matters here above specified, and every of them, shall be carried into execution by the ordinary judge and delegate, whether by the auditor, cardinal, legate à latere, nuncio, or any other person who has, or ought to have, authority or jurisdiction in any matter or suits, taking from all and every of them all power of interpreting these our letters. And this to be executed, notwithstanding all constitutions, privileges, apostolic commands, &c. &c. &c. And though to render the abolition of these privileges legal they should have been cited word for word, and not comprised only in general clauses, yet for this time, and of our special motion, we do derogate from this usage and custom, declaring that all the tenor of the said privileges is, and is to be supposed, as fully expressed and abrogated as if they were cited word for word, and as if the usual form had been observed.

“Lastly, our will and pleasure is, that to all copies of the present Brief, signed by a notary public, and sealed by some dignitary of the Church, the same force and credit shall be given as to this original.

“Given at Rome, at St Mary the Greater,
under the seal of the Fisherman, the
21st day of July 1773, in the fifth year
of our Pontificate.”

Immediately after the promulgation of this Brief, the prelates Macedonio and Alfani, accompanied by the Corsican soldiers, presented themselves at the Gesù, called together all the members of the Society, read to them the Brief of Suppression, and dispersed them, for the moment, in different ecclesiastical establishments; the General Ricci being confined to the English College. The two prelates, who were members of a commission appointed to examine and proceed in all this important matter, then took possession of the building, put the seal on all papers and other valuable things, and left the house in the keeping of the soldiers. Other commissioners resorted to the same proceedings in the thirty-one establishments which the Jesuits possessed in Rome; while in the provinces, the bishops received and executed the same orders. Next morning, the Collegio Romano, and all the other different schools of the Jesuits, were taken possession of, and served by the Capuchins. But we must here observe, that even before the Brief was published, the Jesuits had been brought before divers tribunals in Rome, and in other parts of the Papal States, accused and found guilty of various misdemeanours; that several of their houses, as in Bologna Mecerata Frascati, had been, by the bishops, subjected to visitation, and some of them shut up; and that even the possessions, and all the valuable things of the Collegio Romano, had been confiscated to pay creditors. So that it may be said that even had Ganganelli wished to preserve the Jesuits, he would have found it difficult to resist public opinion, which, even in his own dominions, was so decidedly against the order.

It will be perhaps well to take here a retrospective glance, and rapidly examine the progressive march of the famous Society.

As we have seen, ten homeless and penniless enthusiasts, under the guidance of a remarkable and superior intelligence, had decided upon establishing a new religious order in a country already so infested by such leprosy, that the Holy See itself had forbidden the establishment of any new brotherhood. They were without friends, without supporters; they met with many obstacles, which nothing but the courage and indomitable energy of their chief could enable them to overcome. They were obliged to beg, from door to door, a hard piece of bread, and had nothing to shelter their wearied heads but the roofs of hospitals. Yet all difficulties were vanquished, the Society was established, and sixteen years after, in 1556, when Ignatius died, the order numbered more than a thousand members, was established in thirteen provinces, and was in possession of many valuable establishments. A hundred years afterwards, the members of the Society had increased to twelve thousand, the provinces to thirty-four, their wealth and the number of their establishments to a very considerable extent. Already, at this epoch, they boasted of having three saints, eight or ten martyrs, and ten or twelve of Loyola’s disciples had sat in the College of Cardinals. At the time of the Suppression, the Society numbered thirty-nine houses of professed members, 669 colleges, 61 novitiates, 196 seminaries, 335 residences, 223 missions, and 22,782 members, dispersed all over the surface of the earth. The order then reckoned, as its chief glory, in the register of its members, 24 cardinals, 6 electors of the empire, 19 princes, 21 archbishops, 121 titular bishops (so much for the article in the Constitutions which forbids the member to accept of any dignity), 11 martyrs, and 9 saints.

We wish we could give, with an equal degree of exactness, the amount of their fortune, raised by some to a fabulous amount, and by others represented as very insignificant. Nevertheless, we shall try to come to a fair estimate of the whole, from what we know, from their own confession, to have been a part of it.

Crétineau gives a very minute detail of the fortune possessed by the Jesuits in France; and the total sum, according to his calculations, amounted to 58 millions of francs.[398] In the same volume, at page 303, the same historian says that the fortune the fathers possessed in Spain was much more considerable—beaucoup plus considerable—than that they had in France; let us, then, say 80 millions; while that which they possessed in Austria, according to the same authority, amounted to 125 millions.[399] So that the total sum of their fortunes in those three estates amounted, by their own account, to 263 millions of francs. We, who know almost all the establishments they had in Italy, do not hesitate to say that what they possessed there amounted to an equal sum, 263. Now, let us add to these 526 millions their other possessions in Belgium, Poland, in the remainder of Germany, in Portugal, in other small states, and in those rich mercantile establishments in both Indies, and we think it may be boldly asserted that their fortune amounted, in the whole, to a sum certainly not short of 40 millions sterling. So much for the article of the Constitution recommending holy poverty as the bulwark of religion. To this prodigious and almost incredible amount of property—which, however, was not all productive, part of it consisting in houses and colleges—the reverend fathers added the annual income arising from pensions, or incomes assigned by princes, towns, or chapters for the maintenance of divers colleges, some of which assignments were so considerable as to amount to £3000 yearly. Besides this, they had the annual revenues arising from the presents which twice a year they received from two or three hundred thousand pupils; the emoluments received by some of them as private tutors, agents, or stewards of great families; and, lastly, the——alms!!! Is not that a wonderful and astonishing fact, which proves forcibly the cunning and cleverness of those monks, who, to appearance, had nothing at heart but the conversion of souls and the gratuitous education of children, and who were able, in the space of 230 years, to accumulate the immense sum of forty millions sterling?

However, when Ricci was examined, he swore that he had no hidden treasures nor money laid out at interest; and we suppose that the good father, not to tell an untruth, must have added secretly after the words, we have no hidden treasures, “in the places where you have looked for them, or where you supposed them to exist.” We know, however, that after the Jesuits had been driven from France, Spain, Naples, and Parma, “they were so terrified, that Father Delci started instantly for Leghorn, carrying off the treasures of the order, with the intention of transporting them to England; but the General, who was less pusillanimous, stopped him in his flight.”[400] What then became of all the moneys and valuable things which the Jesuits possessed, since little or nothing was found in their establishments? This is a mystery which we are not able to explain. We can conceive, and every one may easily imagine, that the Jesuits, who, during the last twelve years of their existence, expected to be suppressed from day to day, were not so simple as to leave their transportable wealth at the mercy of their enemies; but we would not hesitate to affirm that the Society must have possessed a large treasure at the time, though, what became of it, we cannot say. Indeed they were so cautious, and so eager to accumulate specie, that for many years the revenues of the Collegio Romano were not employed for its maintenance, and the fathers preferred having their immovable possessions confiscated to pay its debts, in lieu of disbursing money. We know also, that when they were re-established in 1814, they at once got up their establishments in the most splendid style, and soon after made many acquisitions. How did they come by the means by which all this was effected? Was it the ancient treasure? and who had it in charge during all the forty years of their legal suppression? This rather resembles a romance than pure historical truth, and we have no means whatever of elucidating it.

Meanwhile a commission was named to commence proceedings against Ricci and some others of his brethren. The old General, when interrogated, answered with sufficient simplicity, and without any apparent resentment. He enlarged on the innocence of the Society, and protested that he had neither concealed nor lent out at interest any money; and of all the accusations that were brought against him, he only admitted that he had a correspondence with the King of Prussia; we shall see afterwards for what purpose.

About two months after, Ricci, the assistants, the secretary of the order, the Fathers Favre, Forrestier, Gautier, and some others, were sent to the Castel St Angelo, the state prison. The crimes of which they were accused and convicted were, that they had attempted, both by insinuations, and by more open efforts, to stir up a revolt in their own favour against the Apostolic See; that they had published and circulated throughout all Europe libels against the Pope, one of which had for its title, De Simoniaca electione fratris Ganganellii in Summum Pontificem—Simoniacal election of brother Ganganelli to the office of Chief Pontiff; while Favre, Forrestier, and Gautier were loudly repeating everywhere that the Pope was the Antichrist, and that the five cardinals of the commission were to be compared to the five propositions of Jansenius.[401] And in the following chapter, we shall see that they did not confine their anger to threatenings and imprecations.

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CHAPTER XVII.
1774.
DEATH OF CLEMENT XIV.

During the struggle which Clement had to undergo before the suppression of the order, his health, as we have seen, had been injured, and his gay, placid humour much altered. But the moment he had affixed his signature to the document, after pronouncing those foreboding prophetic words, “This suppression will cause our death”—wrung from his heart by the knowledge he had of the enemies he was going to offend, as if those words were the last doleful thought he was going to give to the subject—he became an altered man, or, to speak more correctly, he again became the same good-humoured, mild, and affable monk he had ever been. The facility with which his orders were executed filled him also with extraordinary joy. “His health is perfect, and his gaiety more remarkable than usual,” wrote Bernis on the 3d of November 1773. Whatever discontent the nobles and the cardinals may have felt, they remained silent spectators of the event; and the generality of the citizens of Rome, and, in particular, the Trasteverini, hailed the Pope with loud acclamations. In vain did the conquering party foment a revolt; Rome remained tranquil; Clement was delighted; and, as if to compensate for the sad moments he had passed, and the irascible humour he had shewn, his character became still more joyful, and almost infantine. One day, followed by the Sacred College and all the Roman prelates, he went on horseback to the Church La Minerva. Suddenly a heavy rain came on; Porporati Monsignori all vanished, and the light horsemen themselves sought shelter. The Pope, left alone, and laughing at the terrors of his escort, proceeded bravely on his way amidst the storm, and the people were delighted at the sight, and loud in their applause.[402]

Clement XIV. (Ganganelli)

Hinchliff.

All the authors are unanimous on this point, and agree in representing Ganganelli as full of vigour, and enjoying the most perfect health. “The Pope,” says Botta, “enjoyed rather good health, because he was of a strong constitution, and his natural strength had not been wasted by an intemperate and licentious life; for, on the contrary, he had always lived with frugality and moderation, according to his own natural inclination.”[403] And the ex-Jesuit Georgel, who certainly can be accused of anything but partiality to the suppressor of his order, says “that Ganganelli’s strong constitution seemed to promise him a long career.”[404] Nevertheless, in spite of appearances, sinister rumours were afloat not only in Rome, but throughout all Italy. At the very time that the Pope was seen in the public ceremonies, in all the churches and everywhere else, enjoying the most perfect health and strength, the rumour of his death was widely circulated. The Pythoness of Valentano announced it with a characteristic obstinacy; and a Jesuit, writing to a brother of the order, and relating such impious predictions, says, Aplica ut fiat systema.[405]

Nor was it long before the ominous predictions were realised. This man, represented by everybody as strong and healthy, suddenly, on the approach of the holy week of 1774, some eight months after the signature of the Brief, was taken ill, confined to his palace, and unable to grant any audience, even to the diplomatic body. What had happened to Clement, who, when on the 17th of August the ambassadors of the great powers were admitted into his presence, appeared a MERE SKELETON? Whence such strange and fatal change? The answer to these questions will appear from the following statement of facts.

One day, on rising from table, the Pope felt an internal shock, followed by a great cold; and although he was for a moment alarmed, he soon recovered from his fright, and attributed his indisposition to indigestion. But soon after, the voice of the Pope, which had always been full and sonorous, was lost in a singular hoarseness; an inflammation in his throat compelled him to keep his mouth continually open. He had repeated attacks of vomiting, and felt such feebleness in his limbs, that he was obliged to discontinue his long habitual walks. His step became interrupted by sharp pains, and at length he could not find any rest at all. An entire prostration of strength suddenly succeeded a degree of even youthful activity and vigour; and the sad conviction that his fears were realised, and that his life had been attempted, seized upon Clement, and rendered him strange even to his own eyes. His character was changed as by magic. The equability of his temper gave place to caprice, his gentleness to passion, and his natural easy confidence to continual distrust and suspicion. He saw poison and poniards everywhere. Sometimes, under the conviction that he had been poisoned, he increased his malady by inefficacious antidotes; at other moments, in the hope of escaping an evil which he imagined not yet accomplished, he would feed upon dishes prepared by his own hands. His blood became corrupted, and the close atmosphere of his apartments, which he would not quit, aggravated the effects of an unwholesome diet. In this disorder of his physical system his moral strength gave way; all trace of the former Ganganelli disappeared; and even his reason became disordered. He was haunted by phantoms in his short moments of rest; and, in the silence of night, he started up continually, as if dreams of horror had struck his imagination. Often he ran from one place to another as if he was pursued, exclaiming, as in the act of asking mercy, “Compulsus feci! compulsus feci!”—I have been compelled![406] Indeed, that his reason had abandoned him, is generally believed; and Pius VII., when prisoner at Fontainebleau in 1814, exclaimed that he should die mad, as Clement XIV. These words are reported by Cardinal Pacca, a fellow-prisoner of Pius.[407] Ganganelli passed seven months in this dreadful state; at last his reason resumed its sway. For a while he shewed himself superior to his terrors and infirmities. “He resumed some tranquillity,” says Botta, “as generally happens some moments before man arrives at the last moment of his life, as a warning of God to mortals to think of their own affairs in that last moment. Already the attendants were rejoicing as if their master was returning to life; but the calm was the forerunner of death. The fatal signs soon re-appeared, and on the 22d September Ganganelli breathed his last—giving back his courageous soul to Him from whom he had received it.”[408]

The Romans heard of the Pope’s demise with indifference, as of an event daily expected; but the Jesuits and their partisans gave an indecent and unblushing expression to their joy, conveyed in the most infamous and sacrilegious satires, which they carried themselves from place to place; and this circumstance, together with what was known of Ganganelli’s illness, left no doubts whatever in the people’s minds that the unfortunate Clement had died by poison. “The human mind,” says Gioberti, “is reluctant to believe in certain atrocious crimes, and I confess that I have hesitated to believe the sect guilty of the death of Ganganelli; nor have I consented to believe it till forced by the evidence of the facts.”[409] Although our opinion exactly coincides with that of our illustrious countryman, yet we shall put the facts and documents under the eyes of our readers, and let them form a judgment for themselves.

What was Clement’s illness? How did his strong and healthy constitution undergo such an instantaneous and fatal change? And what complaint brought him to his grave? The partisans of the Jesuits, and some not very well informed historians, as Gorani, for example, Schoël, and others, deny that Ganganelli met with foul play. Georgel pretends that he died of remorse—that he made a full retractation; and, in proof of this, he points to his habitual exclamation, “Compulsus feci!” Of his retractation we shall not speak. It is contested by every historian; no mention is made of it except in the writings of the ex-Jesuit Georgel and his followers, who cannot produce a single proof or witness of their assertion. But is it true, at least, that the remorse, which had rendered him mad, as Crétineau affirms, brought him to the grave? We question whether the Jesuits can make good this other assertion. How can it be affirmed that Clement died of remorse, since, during eight long months after he had signed the Brief, he enjoyed not only his ordinary health and calmness, but was, on the contrary, more playful than ever? How came the remorse at such a late hour? What new crime had he committed in the interval? Does remorse admit of postponement? Does remorse produce all the physical diseases with which Ganganelli was suddenly affected? The extinction of voice, the inflammation of the throat, vomiting, complete prostration of strength—are these the symptoms of remorse? It is true that he often exclaimed “Compulsus feci!” and asked for mercy; but the unfortunate man asked for mercy from his assassins, not from the Supreme Judge. In his delirium, he supplicated his murderers to spare him; not to repeat the dose; or to administer to him some antidote, that his sufferings might cease. “Spare me! spare me!” he repeated; “I have been forced to the act, not so much, indeed, by the sovereigns, as by your own iniquities. Spare me, spare me these horrible sufferings!” he cried to everybody, and called upon his cherished Madonna to entreat for him, and to put an end to his tortures. Are delirium and insanity consequences of remorse, or rather the effects of several poisons—the belladonna, for example?

But let us see what other symptoms preceded and accompanied his death, and we shall be better able to judge of the quality of the illness which brought him to his grave.

“Several days before his death, his bones were exfoliated and withered—to use the forcible expression of Caraccioli—like a tree which, struck at the root, dies away, and sheds 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 heart was much diminished, and all the muscles detached and decomposed in the spine. They filled the body with perfumes and aromatic substances; but nothing would dispel the mephitic exhalations. The entrails burst the vessels in which they were deposited; and when his pontifical robes were taken from his body, a great portion of the skin adhered to them. The hair of his head remained entire upon the velvet pillows upon which he rested, and with the slightest friction his nails fell off.”[410] The sight of Ganganelli’s dead body was quite sufficient to satisfy every one as to the sort of death he had met with. It did not even retain those lineaments which nature leaves to our remains at the moment when death seizes upon them, and the funeral obsequies convinced all Rome that Clement XIV. had perished by the acqua tofana of Perugia.[411]

However, Dr Salicetti, the apostolic physician, and Adinolfi, Clement’s ordinary doctor, on the 11th of December, three months after Ganganelli’s death, gave in a long procès verbal, declaring that it was false that the Pope had been poisoned; but they adduced no proofs whatever, and explained the fact of the body’s corruption by such strange and suspicious reasons, as rather to strengthen than diminish the opinion of those who thought differently. The fact is, that in Rome, after the doctors’ statement was made public, even the few who had some doubts as to the cause of this mysterious death, were now firmly of opinion that the Jesuits had poisoned the poor Pope. Gioberti, among other proofs which he adduces of the poisoning of Ganganelli, names a Dr Bonelli, famous for learning and probity, almost an ocular witness of the facts, who had often asserted to many persons still living that there was no doubt that Ganganelli had been poisoned.

But there is a witness far more respectable and trustworthy, who puts the question beyond doubt: that witness is Bernis; and no one that knows anything of the loyalty and nobleness of his character, would ever dare to impugn his testimony in an affair of such magnitude, when he, as ambassador, gives an account to his court of facts of which he was an eye-witness. Bernis, during the illness of the Pope, while every other person believed that Clement had met with foul play, alone had doubts; and his very hesitation, which proves his candour, leads him more surely to the discovery of the truth, which he attains step by step.[412]

On the 28th of August, twenty-four days before Ganganelli’s death, he wrote to the French minister: “Those who judge imprudently, or with malice, see nothing natural in the condition of the Pope; reasonings and suspicions are hazarded with the greater facility, as certain atrocities are less rare in this country than in many others.” Six days after the Pope’s demise, on the 28th of September, he wrote: “The nature of the Pope’s malady, and, above all, the circumstances attending his death, give rise to a common belief that it has not been from natural causes.... The physicians who assisted at the opening of the body are cautious in their remarks, and the surgeons speak with less circumspection. It is better to credit the account of the former than to pry into a truth of too afflicting a nature, and which it would perhaps be distressing to discover.” A month after, Bernis’ doubts are vanished, and on the 26th of October he writes: “When others shall come to know as much as I do, from certain documents which the late Pope communicated to me, the suppression will be deemed very just and very necessary. The circumstances which have preceded, accompanied, and followed the death of the late Pope, excite equal horror and compassion.... I am now collecting together the true circumstances attending the malady and death of Clement XIV.,[413] who, the Vicar of Jesus Christ, prayed, like the Redeemer, for his most implacable enemies; and who carried his conscientiousness so far, as scarcely to let escape him the cruel suspicions which preyed upon his mind since the close of the holy week, the period when his malady seized him. The truth cannot be concealed from the king, sad as it may be, which will be recorded in history.”

But there is another and a more imposing testimony to the fact—that of Pope Pius VI., the successor of Clement XIV.; it is transmitted to us also by Bernis, who speaks in the following cool and dispassionate terms, more than three years after the death of Ganganelli. He wrote on the 26th of October 1777, as follows:—“I know better than any one how far the affection of Pius VI. for the ex-Jesuits extends; but he keeps on terms with them rather than love them, because fear has greater influence on his mind and heart than friendship.... The Pope has certain moments of frankness, in which his true sentiments shew themselves. I shall never forget three or four effusions of his heart which he betrayed when with me, by which I can judge that he was well aware of the unhappy end of his predecessor, and that he was anxious not to run the same risks.”[414]

Such was the end of a man born with the best possible dispositions, and endowed with truly noble and amiable qualities. His spirit of tolerance, above all, deserves the highest eulogium. He tolerated all sorts of opinions, provided they were expressed in decorous language; and although he condemned the doctrines of the philosophers, he kept on good terms with them. He would not, as Benedict XIV. had done, write to Voltaire; but, in answer to some sporting jests made upon his person, which were reported to him, he intimated to the Patriarch of Ferney, through his old friend De Bernis, that he “would willingly take him to his heart, provided he would end by becoming a good Capuchin.”[415]

Ganganelli was, no doubt, a man incapable of governing under difficult circumstances. He had neither energy nor skill enough in handling difficulties, and he placed all his merits in evading them. But his moderation, his genuine spirit of tolerance, the purity of his morals, his modesty, his benevolence, deserve the sincerest respect, and his deplorable death a lasting compassion.[416]

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CHAPTER XVIII.
1773-1814.
THE JESUITS DURING THEIR SUPPRESSION.

The Brief of Suppression, as our readers may have seen, made a provision by which the Jesuits might, as secular priests and individuals, exercise sacerdotal functions, subject, of course, to the episcopal authority. In consequence, some few of them had settled themselves quietly in different capacities. Others thought to conceal the Ignatian device under the new title of Fathers of the Faith, Fathers of the Cross, &c. But the greater part, the most daring and restless, would not submit to the Brief of Suppression, impugned its validity in a thousand writings, called in question even the validity of Clement’s election, whom they called Parricide, Sacrilegious Simoniac, and considered themselves as still forming part of the still existing Company of Jesus. Regardless, as we have shewn they always were, of the injuries they may cause to the faith, they declared war against Rome, against religion, and surpassed even the school of Voltaire in audacity in mocking and insulting a virtuous Pope.[417] Although overwhelmed on every side, they were not daunted, and their courage was still greater than their misfortunes. Driven from those countries in which they had been nurtured and cherished, and which ought to have been their natural abode, they turned their regards to the camp of their former enemies. As Themistocles, seeking protection from his ungrateful country, under the canopy of that Persian throne which he had shaken and almost destroyed, so those fiery persecutors of all religious sects which were out of the pale of Rome, and especially the Lutherans, had recourse for protection to the Lutheran Frederick of Prussia, and to the schismatic Catherine of Russia; and we do not hesitate to advance that, had those monarchs, in exchange for some advantages and privileges, asked of them to combat the Papal doctrines, they would not have imitated the Athenian hero, but would have fought against the Roman Catholic religion with the same ardour which they had employed in defending it.

But if it is easy to understand the versatile and interested behaviour of the Jesuits, strange must appear the conduct of the sovereigns who gave them protection and help. Above all, the anomalous proceeding of Frederick, the Solomon of the North, as the philosophers called him, ought to be explained.

We have already seen that Ricci, in his examination, confessed that he was in correspondence with his Prussian majesty; and it is a fact that Frederick, even before the suppression of the Society, proved himself its friend and protector, notwithstanding the reproaches and sneers of his friends and masters, the philosophers. D’Alembert, above all, assailed the king in all his vulnerable points; but in vain: Frederick remained firm in his purpose of supporting the Jesuits. “They say,” wrote D’Alembert on the 16th June 1769 to his royal friend, “that the cordelier Ganganelli does not promise sweet meats (poires molles) to the Society of Jesus, and it may be that St Francis of Assisi may kill St Ignatius. It appears to me that the holy father, cordelier as he is, will commit a great blunder in thus disbanding his regiment of guards out of complaisance to the Catholic princes. It seems to me that this treaty resembles much that of the wolves with the sheep, which were obliged, as a principal condition, to give up their dogs. Every one knows how they fared for this. However, it will be singular, sire, that while their most Christian, most Catholic, most Apostolic, and most Faithful majesties endeavour to destroy the grenadiers of the most Holy See, your most heretic majesty should be the only one who wishes to preserve them.”

This letter was written, as may be seen, before the suppression, and many other missives were addressed to Berlin by D’Alembert after the Brief was issued. When the Jesuits of Silesia, refusing to obey the Papal orders, remained in their convents and houses as before, and acted as if nothing had happened, D’Alembert, on the 10th of December 1773, wrote to Frederick, telling him that he “wished that neither he nor his successors might ever have cause to repent of granting an asylum to intriguers, and that these men might prove more faithful than they had been in the last war of Silesia.” Another time, sneering at Frederick’s condescension, he says, that “he much doubted whether the Jesuits would ever pay his majesty the honour of admitting him to their order, as they did the great Louis XIV., though he could well have dispensed with it, and the poor, miserable James II., who was much more fit to be a Jesuit than a king.”—January 1774. And passing from personal arguments to more general considerations, he says: “It is not on your majesty’s account that I dread the re-establishment of these formerly self-styled Jesuits, as the late Parliament of Paris called them. What harm, indeed, could they do to a prince whom the Austrians, the Imperialists, the French, and the Swedes united, have been unable to deprive of a single village? But I am alarmed, sire, lest other princes, who have not the same power as you have to make head against all Europe, and who have weeded out this poisonous hemlock from their gardens, should one day take a fancy to come to you and borrow seed to scatter their ground anew. I earnestly hope your majesty will issue an edict to forbid for ever the exportation of Jesuitic grain, which can thrive nowhere but in your dominions.”[418]

Frederick remained unmoved; and when the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Breslau, thinking it was his duty to see the orders of the Holy See obeyed, attempted to interdict the Jesuits, the king interfered, confiscated the bishopric, and haughtily proclaimed that the fathers were under his protection. Then all throughout Silesia sprung up a great number of houses and colleges, and Jesuits assembled here from all quarters. It was on this occasion that the old Voltaire, laughing at his quondam disciple’s strange conduct, exclaimed that “it would divert him beyond measure to think of Frederick as General of the Jesuits, and that he hoped that this would inspire the Pope with the idea of becoming mufti.”[419]

Meanwhile, the courts of France and Spain were pressing Ganganelli’s successor to execute rigorously the Brief of Suppression, pointing out all the different places, and especially Prussia, where the Jesuits were still in existence and prospering, and asking, not without a certain arrogance, the Pope to comply with their wishes. But the reigning Pontiff was not a man to be easily frightened. To the humble, plain, unpretending monk had succeeded, on the chair of St Peter, Ange Braschi, a prince in the best acceptance of the word. In the Conclave, he, after a long struggle between the two parties, had re-united the votes of both, as a man really indifferent to all political intrigues, but possessing in the highest degree qualities which commanded esteem and admiration, and as one who could restore to the low-fallen tiara some of its ancient splendour; and if any man could accomplish such a miracle, Braschi was indeed the man. In all his personal qualities shone forth something royal and great. Tall, handsome, with a slightly bald forehead, his features were impressed with majesty, tempered by a sweet and serene expression. His expenditure was royal, his magnificence such as Rome had not witnessed since the time of Leo X. His ideas were lofty and great, his love for the arts enlightened and persevering. Many are the monuments which he has left to posterity of his love for the arts and for useful enterprises. He formed and enriched the museum begun under his directions in the Pontificate of Clement, which, as we said, bears the name of Museo Pio-Clementino, and which is the greatest wonder of modern times. He spent an immense sum of money to prevent the entire fall of the Coliseum. He attempted, though with little success, to drain the Pontine Marshes, and was a generous friend and protector of all literary persons. In his capacity of Pope, Pius VI.—such was the name he assumed—was also extraordinary. While he opposed every reform, even the most necessary and urgent, and decided upon taking the singular step of going himself—the Pope—to Vienna to dissuade Joseph II. from accomplishing them, in Rome, the churches and his own chapel were filled with persons of all religions, to whom Pius granted the same protection and favour as to his own subjects.

In regard to the Jesuits, in which we are more particularly interested, Braschi, according to Bernis, neither loved nor hated them. He was persuaded that they had poisoned Ganganelli; and as he set an immense value on his own life, he would not endanger it by following the example of his predecessor. It seems that Pius, naturally of a benevolent disposition, pitied them; and, if he had not feared to irritate the Bourbons, would perhaps have bettered their condition. Under him the Jesuits made Titanic efforts to regain the position they had lost. They assembled in Rome, and set at work every engine which was still at their disposal, to attain their desired object; but in vain. Florida Blanca was implacable in his hatred toward the disciples of Loyola, and, as we have said, made the strongest remonstrances against the favour which he pretended was shewn to the Jesuits by the Court of Rome. Braschia, as we say, was not so pusillanimous as Ganganelli, and those intrigues or diplomatic negotiations were not able to affect him so much as to disturb his constant placid serenity; yet he thought proper to do something to appease the Bourbons, and live on good terms with everybody. He accordingly sent a copy of the remonstrances he had received from Spain and France to Frederick, asking him to withdraw his protection from those monks whom the Holy See had condemned. Frederick’s satiric spirit must have rejoiced to see the Pope implore him to disperse Roman Catholic votaries; but he answered scornfully, as a great monarch aware of his rights and dignity. The Pope insisted anew with infinite management, till at last Frederick, while maintaining the Jesuits in all their revenues and charges, consented that they should change their garb. The Pope, satisfied perhaps with this solution, wrote to the King of Spain: “I have done all in my power; but the King of Prussia is master in his own dominions.”

The accurate and impartial historian of the fall of the Jesuits, in an admirably well written chapter, explains the conduct of Frederick, in supporting the Jesuits, by the fact, that the Prussian monarch had got angry with the philosophers, when the latter, not content with attacking the Christian religion, set to work to destroy monarchy, and ridicule every noble sentiment which had till then been held sacred. He says that not only Frederick, but almost all the ministers of other princes, if not the princes themselves, and the aristocracy, far from restraining the audacity of the philosophers, had, to follow the fashion, made it a point of honour to encourage and protect it while attacking religion and priestcraft; but when they, leaving the churches and cloisters, penetrated into the antechambers and staterooms, and their attacks became personal, then the great of the world, who had treated Christ and the Apostles with irreverence, would not endure the like towards themselves. He says, moreover, that when the school of D’Holbach produced the too famous work, the Système de la Nature, Frederick’s indignation knew no bounds. In this book, in fact, written by thirty clever, daring, and excited individuals, nothing was left standing: “each of them found something to take to pieces; one began upon the soul; another, the body; one attacked paternal love, gratitude, conscience; all subjects were examined, dissected, disputed, denied, condemned loudly without appeal. It was a kind of Old Testament, which prefigured the new by types and symbols.... Frederick read this hideous but prophetic book; a fatal light gleamed across his mind, and made him dread the future.”[420] All this is admirably well said; and by the answer which the King of Prussia made to the Système de la Nature, it clearly appears that Frederick would not go the length of the new school, and wished to have nothing more to do with them.

But, with all deference to the noble writer, we cannot see what connexion existed between the King of Prussia fearing the downfall of monarchical government and the protection he granted to the Jesuits. Does the French historian pretend to affirm that Frederick, the clear-sighted and remarkably sensible Frederick, considered the Jesuits in the light in which they themselves desired to be viewed, namely, as the foremost defenders of the throne and the altar? We scarcely should have believed St Priest capable of attributing to such a man as Frederick so erroneous a notion, yet his words leave little doubt that this is the opinion he attributed to his majesty. But, it may be asked, if this is not the case, how, then, shall we account for the favour bestowed by the Prussian monarch on those detested monks? We believe that, by assigning, as the efficient and principal causes, those which St Priest, in a dubitable tone, esteems only as secondary, we should be nearer the truth. The first of those reasons is to be found in what the king wrote himself to D’Alembert: “I did not offer,” said he, “my protection to the Jesuits while they were powerful, but in their adversity: I consider them as learned men, whom it would be extremely difficult to replace to educate youth. This most important object renders them most valuable in my eyes; for, among all the Catholic clergy in my kingdom, the Jesuits alone are given to letters;” and this was true as regarded the newly-acquired province of Silesia. The other all-powerful and efficient reason, which the French writer little insists upon, is, that Frederick wished, through the agency of the Jesuits, to gain the goodwill of those Poles whom he had so shamefully betrayed. We have seen what immense influence the Jesuits possessed over the Poles. It is known what authority they exercised everywhere over ignorant and bigoted Papists. Frederick knew this, and was very well aware that the Jesuits, who had no other asylum but his estates, would, without being asked, of their own free-will, do their utmost to persuade the unfortunate Poles who had been despoiled of their nationality, and who had been set up in lots as the booty of a conquered town, to endure patiently the yoke of the new master for their own personal interest and the greater glory of God. This was the all-powerful motive which induced Frederick to stand forth as the protector of a brotherhood for which he could not have any sort of esteem, but which he in no way feared.

The same motive induced Catherine II. to grant them a refuge and protection in her estates, and especially in White Russia, formerly a province of Poland, but which, in the partition, had fallen to the lot of the Russian sovereign.

Nor was Catherine deceived in her expectation. The Jesuits at first proved of immense service to her. Before the first partition of the unfortunate Poland in 1772, the fathers resided at Polotsk, in a magnificent college, surrounded by an immense tract of land, cultivated for the fathers’ benefit by more than ten thousand serfs, partly on the right and partly on the left bank of the river Dwina. After the Brief of Suppression, the Jesuits found themselves either obliged to submit to the sentence of the Holy See, and cease to exist as a body, or to accept the offered protection of Catherine. They embraced the latter alternative, abandoned the left bank of the Dwina, which was still Polish, for the right bank, which was now Russian, and there not only preserved their garb and their name, but obtained the favour that the Brief of Suppression should not be published in all the Russian states. From that moment, setting at defiance the Papal authority, those monks, who, as a religious community, could have no existence without the consent of Rome, established in Russia a sort of patriarchate, a supreme seat of the Roman Catholic religion, represented by individuals who, by a solemn decision of the supreme chief of this same religion, were excommunicated and out of its pale.

Meanwhile, Ricci was dying in the state prison of Castel St Angelo. Pius VI. had not dared to set him at liberty, but had rendered his captivity as supportable as possible. Yet the old man expired in November 1775, making an insignificant testament, exculpating the Society from every charge which had been brought against it.[421]

The Jesuits in Russia, some time after they had heard of the death of Ricci, convened a general congregation to elect a vicar-general, with full authority over all those members who should consider themselves as Jesuits. This being accomplished, they pitched upon a man worthy of their protection, Siestrencewiecz, formerly a Calvinist, now a priest of equivocal orthodoxy, as are all those converts who have left their former religion from motives of personal interest or consideration; and through his agency they trusted to revive the Society. This is the method they adopted: They prevailed upon Catherine to nominate him Bishop of Mohilow, and have one of their number, Benislawski, appointed his coadjutor. The latter, supported by the authority of the empress, proceeded to Rome, boldly presented himself at the Vatican, and required the Pope to grant the Pallium to Siestrencewiecz, the man whom they had chosen as bishop; and as he could not at first get admittance to the Pope’s presence, he firmly declared, that, should he spend his whole life in the antechamber, he would not quit it until he was satisfied on every point. And he succeeded in his mission. Now, this Siestrencewiecz, who was afterwards named Legate for White Russia, at once permitted the Jesuits to erect a novitiate, and to receive candidates for the Society, regardless of any other consideration but that of pleasing his protectors. The Nuncio of Warsaw, and the Court of Rome, on hearing of such an abuse of authority, reproached him with this violation of the Papal decrees, and menaced him with interdiction; but Catherine took him under her protection, and upheld him with all her power. And thus was presented the singular spectacle of a Popish prelate denounced by the Holy See for upholding a sect of priests accounted the most fervent Roman Catholics, while he was defended by a princess for affording protection to these same priests, who, as devotees of Rome, were the bitter enemies of her own faith. The Jesuits, emboldened by the favour they obtained in Russia, acted entirely at their own discretion, conferred upon the Vicar-General the title and the absolute authority of General, named an assistant and an admonitor, received novices and scholastics, and nothing seemed changed in the Society excepting the residence of the General.

To exculpate them from these continued acts of rebellion against the Papal authority, Crétineau, and after him Curci, a Neapolitan Jesuit, assert, that although Pope Pius VI. had not, by any public act, re-established the Society, yet that he had, in the presence of Benislawski (mark!), pronounced the words, “Approbo Societatem Jesu in Alba Russia degentem; approbo, approbo,”—I approve of the Society of Jesus residing in White Russia; I approve, I approve. We suppose we must rely upon the veracity of Father Benislawski for this revelation of the sentiments of the Holy Father.

Three or four obscure and insignificant names[422] succeeded one another as Generals of the Order, while it still laboured under the anathema launched by Clement. At last, Pius VII., who had succeeded Braschi in 1800, authorised the Society to establish itself in White Russia, and to live according to the Constitution of Loyola. This brief bears the date of 1801, and was the forerunner of their re-establishment.

Meanwhile, the Society made wonderful progress in Russia; and, as if all conspired to favour them, there chanced to be among them at the epoch a man whom they had the tact to choose for their General, and who was little inferior to the Lainez and Acquavivas. This man was Grouber, a learned and very able individual, who had long been at the court of St Petersburg, a welcomed guest of Catherine, much esteemed by Paul, and employed by Alexander on some delicate missions. Grouber was a man who had an exact and just idea of the times in which he lived, and repressed the immoderate zeal of proselytism displayed by his subordinates, who already spoke of working miracles, and establishing new missions in the East. Grouber received the congratulations of all the partisans of the Jesuits, and, with admirable dexterity, he made use of the influence and resources the Society still possessed, to obtain the re-establishment of the order in various parts. They had already re-entered Parma, though only on toleration, and in 1804, the Pope granted to the Jesuits of the two Sicilies the same favours he had granted to those of White Russia. He re-established them in Sicily, of course under the authority of the General residing in Russia.

Unfortunately for the Society, Grouber perished in a conflagration in 1805. After his death, the Jesuits, renouncing the wise policy adopted by their late General, and encouraged by partial success, returned to the inveterate policy of the order, and attempted to domineer over a country which had sheltered them during their days of trouble and misery.

No pages of ours could convey to our readers a more accurate idea of the conduct of the Jesuits in Russia, than a passage of the imperial decree by which Alexander expelled them from his capital. We consider this expulsion, and the motives alleged by the sovereign as having impelled him to adopt the measure, as most significant, and as stigmatising more forcibly than any pamphlet or declamation the abominable arts and practices of the incorrigible progeny of Loyola.

Alexander, after having recorded, that while the Jesuits were persecuted in the rest of Europe, Russia alone, from a spirit of humanity and tolerance, had protected them, had showered favours upon them, had put no constraint on the free exercise of their religion, and had confided to their care the education of youth; thus continued in the imperial document: “It has been, however, proved that they have not relished the duties imposed on them by gratitude, and that humility commanded by the Christian religion. Instead of remaining peaceable inhabitants of a foreign land, they have endeavoured to disturb the Greek religion, which, from time immemorial, has been the predominant religion in this country. They began by abusing the confidence they had obtained, and have turned away from our religion young men who had been intrusted to them, and some weak and ignorant women whom they have converted to their own Church. To induce a man to abjure his faith, the faith of his ancestors, to extinguish in him the love of those who profess the same belief, to render him a stranger to his country, to sow tares and animosity among families, to tear the son from the father, the daughter from the mother, to stir up division among the children of the same Church,—is that the voice and the will of God, and of his holy Son Jesus Christ?... After such actions, we are no more surprised that these monks are expelled from all countries and nowhere tolerated. Where, in fact, is the state that would tolerate in its bosom those who sow in it hatred and discord?” For all these reasons, the emperor, in 1815, expelled the Jesuits from St Petersburg, and forbade them to re-enter either that capital or Warsaw. And mark, that to prove that he did not expel them because they were Catholic priests, the emperor, in the same decree, adds, that he has already sent for monks of other orders for the benefit of his Roman Catholic subjects!

But let no one imagine that this severe admonition from a sovereign to whom and to whose ancestors the Jesuits were so deeply indebted, had the effect of bringing them to some sense of their duty. On the contrary, they redoubled their intrigues and their malignant practices; and as their numbers increased, rapidly rising in 1820 to 674,[423] and they might have become dangerous, Alexander, by another decree, of 13th March 1820, expelled them from all his dominions. In the statement of motives which the Minister of Worship presented to Alexander in asking for the expulsion, we read: “The expulsion of the Jesuits from St Petersburg has not made them change their conduct;” and it then goes on to enumerate all the mischiefs caused by the fathers in Russia and Poland. We can hardly imagine what the Jesuits can have to answer to these accusations. It is also to be remarked that their own creature, Siestrencewiecz, Archbishop of Mohilow, was one of the most ardent in procuring their expulsion.

No Jesuits are now in Russia or Poland, except those who, in Galicia, assist the Austrian sovereign to govern that province—every one knows how.

---

CHAPTER XIX.
1814.
RE-ESTABLISHMENT.

The events which took place in Europe in 1814 are known to every one. Napoleon, who represented abroad that same French Revolution which his military despotism had smothered at home, fell under the united efforts of Europe, favoured by the elements and by the treachery of his former companions in arms, to whom he had given either the staff of the field-marshal or the sceptre of the king. The restoration of all the dethroned sovereigns followed, and on re-entering their dominions, these monarchs directed all their cares to obliterate even the remembrance (foolish and useless attempt!) of all that had been done, said, and published, in the past time of hurricane and revolution, and hurried back with inconsiderate earnestness to their old and primitive system of governing. The Jesuits, skilful in profiting by every circumstance, then stepped forward, and offered to those sovereigns their unconditional services. Already, after their suppression, and during the ascendant march of the French Revolution, they, with infinite address, had persuaded the different sovereigns, either menaced on their thrones or already hurled from them, that their overthrow—the crimes which, it is unfortunately true, in a moment of delirium, had been committed in the name of liberty—the impious and subversive doctrines which had invaded Europe, and extinguished every sense of morality and religion—all were to be attributed to the suppression of the order. They asserted that the Encyclopædists, after the destruction of the Society, the surest bulwark of the throne and the altar, finding no more opposition, and passing from theory to practice, had caused the revolution, and set the whole of Europe in a blazing conflagration; and this is even now repeated by the fathers and their partisans. We must, before proceeding any farther, give the answer Gioberti makes to their assertions. He grants that the Encyclopædists did make the revolution. “But,” says he, “the Society, by altering and disfiguring, in the opinion of many, the Catholic faith, the morality of the gospel, the authority of princes, and all those fundamental laws which form the basis of all states and governments—in fact, by substituting for religion their own sect—had shaken all principles of morality, religion, and good government, and had indeed brought the Encyclopædists into existence; the most conspicuous of whom, in fact, as Voltaire, Diderot, Helvetius, Marmontel, St Lambert, Lametrie, and many others, had issued from Jesuitical colleges, or had had Jesuits as their tutors.”[424]

However, these monks, who, as we have seen, had conspired against the life and independence of almost all the sovereigns of Europe, now had the art to persuade the reigning monarchs that they would be always insecure on their thrones without the assistance and the support of the Company; and, strange to say, some actually believed them, while others feigned to do so. From that moment to our days, in the eyes of such bigoted and short-sighted despots as the Ferdinands of Naples, the Leopolds of Tuscany, the Francis Josephs of Austria, and all the supporters of absolutism, the Jesuits have been considered as the best pillars and supporters of despotism and tyranny. Nor is this belief destitute of foundation so far as the intentions of the fathers are concerned. The Liberals in our time are in their eyes what the Reformers were two centuries back. Against them are now directed all their efforts; the Liberals are now the accursed of God, the impious whom all the courage and ability of the sons of Ignatius can hardly keep at bay. Nor is this the first time that these mendacious and impudent monks have contrived to impose themselves on different states, representing their interference as indispensable to the welfare of society and to the repression of its enemies. Thus they had imposed themselves as necessary to combat the Reformers in the sixteenth century, the Jansenists and Calvinists in the seventeenth, and again, in the eighteenth, the philosophers and the approaching revolution; although it was not till very late, and when the first persecutions had awakened them from their state of beatitude, that they proclaimed themselves the opponents of the Encyclopædists. In the nineteenth century, the adversaries with whom they are wont to contend are, as we said, the Liberals; and the fathers must, indeed, be skilful and powerful instruments for suppressing all ideas of liberty, all free aspiration, all generous sentiments, all personal dignity, and for keeping the people in servitude, since the supremely cunning Louis Napoleon has chosen them as his most useful auxiliaries, and lavished on them all sorts of favours.

Among the sovereigns who, in 1814, re-ascended the thrones from which a daring and unscrupulous conqueror had hurled them, was the old Pontiff, who, after his captivity at Fontainebleau, had, on the 24th of May, re-entered Rome amidst unfeigned marks of love and veneration from his people. Indeed, the man who at this epoch occupied the pontifical chair was, for many reasons, worthy of the greatest admiration and respect. This person was Barnaba Chiaramonti, a Benedictine monk, who assumed the name of Pius VII. His life was pure and uncontaminated; his intentions were good; his character was mild and benevolent; and before his misfortunes, he had shewn some readiness to make concessions required by the times and the circumstances; but after his captivity, after the series of direct miseries which had befallen him and the Sacred College, miseries which he attributed to the spirit of irreligion then prevalent in Europe, Pius VII., now a feeble old man, gave way to all the propensities of a fanatical, bigoted monk, which in his better days he had subdued and restrained by reasoning. His first care, therefore, was to re-establish all the monastic orders he could, and among the first was that of the Jesuits, who had already flocked to Rome from every part, with the certainty of soon re-acquiring their former position and splendour. Nor were they disappointed in their expectations. On Sunday, the 7th of August 1814, Pius VII. went in state to the church of the Gesù, celebrated himself the mass before the altar consecrated to Loyola; heard a second mass, immediately after which he caused to be read and promulgated the bull by which the Society of Jesus was re-established according to the ancient rules.

Party writers, too eager to find Popes in contradiction with each other, and to hold up their pretended infallibility to the ridicule of their readers, have taken up these two acts, and asked, “Who was infallible—Clement XIV., who abolished the Society, or Pius VII., who re-established it?” We do not aspire to so easy a triumph, and we shall consider Chiaramonti’s bull in a somewhat more serious manner.

In our opinion, the bull of Pius VII. is less in contradiction than may be supposed with the brief of Clement. Pius does not in the least condemn either the brief or its author; nor does he say that it had been extorted, as Ganganelli said of the bull of Rezzonico. On the contrary, he speaks of it as of a legal and perfectly authoritative act by which the Company had ceased to exist; and when he is obliged in some sort to annul it, he does not annul it, except in that part which is contrary to his own bull, namely, that which affects the existence of the Society. In the whole bull there is not a word, not a syllable, to contradict or to weaken the long list of terrible accusations brought against them by Clement. If it was an injustice done to the Jesuits, which Pius wished to repair, he ought at least to have mentioned that they had been wronged, and that it was the duty of the Supreme Chief of the Church to reinstate them in the good estimation of Europe. But the bull is silent as to any such wrongs, and is very chary of its commendations of the sons of Ignatius. Why, then, one may ask, did Pius VII. re-establish the Company of Jesus? First, as I have stated, because he was a bigoted monk, and thought that it might be in the power of the fanatical and idle brotherhoods of all kinds to extinguish the light spread by the new doctrines, and to bring humanity back to the blessed darkness of the middle ages. In other words, he thought, and many of the sovereigns, some of them not Roman Catholics, thought with him, that the priests and monks would be able to arrest the progress of civilisation; for it must be remembered that the horrors and acts of barbarity which were committed during the last ten years of the eighteenth century, and which were the consequences of a forced and exaggerated application of the new theories on government and religion, could in no way be laid to the charge of the doctrines themselves, which are calculated to promote the real and beneficent progress of society. Besides Chiaramonti’s predilection for all monks, to whose re-establishment, as he says in the bull, “all his care and all his solicitude are given,” Pius was requested by all the sovereigns to re-establish the Company; and he says that he should consider himself as wanting in his duty if, while the bark of Peter was tossed to and fro amidst dangerous rocks, he should disdain the help of those vigorous and experienced rowers.

Such were the motives, of a purely political nature on the part of the sovereigns, and of a mixed nature on the part of the Pope, which induced the former to request, and the latter to grant, a new existence to the Society of Jesus. But observe, that in the act itself, by which he re-instated the order, Pius reserved to the Holy See the power of modifying it if its provisions were abused. He subjects the members of the Company, in the exercise of all their spiritual functions, to the jurisdiction of the ordinaries, thus despoiling it of the most precious of its privileges, the whole of which he expressly recalls. And the bull is still more significant, when it conjures all the members of the Society to return to the primitive rules of Ignatius, and to take him as their model. The Pontiff does not say, return to your occupation, to those exercises in which you were engaged before the Suppression. But he tells them to return to the primitive spirit of their institution, from which they had so far departed. The noble and virtuous Pontiff hoped that their past misfortunes would have instructed those inconsiderate and wicked monks, and warned them not to incur again the hatred of Christendom. Vain hopes! useless admonitions! Before fifteen years shall pass, the whole of Europe, except, perhaps, some despots and their supporters, will look anxiously for the happy day when the troublesome progeny of Ignatius shall be irrevocably banished from its bosom!

However, as the bull is very short, we shall submit it to the calm and serious consideration of our readers, and we feel confident that they will form the same opinion of it that we have done, namely, that in the act itself, in which Pius re-establishes the Jesuits, he modifies their institutions and condemns their past conduct.

“Bull for the Re-establishment of the Order of the Jesuits.[425]

“Pius, Bishop, Servant of the servants of God (ad perpetuam rei memoriam).

“The care of all the Churches confided to our humility by the Divine will, notwithstanding the lowness of our deserts and abilities, makes it our duty to employ all the aids in our power, and which are furnished to us by the mercy of Divine Providence, in order that we may be able, as far as the changes of times and places will allow, to relieve the spiritual wants of the Catholic world, without any distinction of people and nations.

“Wishing to fulfil this duty of our apostolic ministry, as soon as Francis Karew (then living) and other secular priests, resident for many years in the vast empire of Russia, and who had been members of the Company of Jesus, suppressed by Clement XIV., of happy memory, had supplicated our permission to unite in a body, for the purpose of being able to apply themselves more easily, in conformity with their institutions, to the instruction of youth in religion and good morals, to devote themselves to preaching, to confession, and to the administration of the other sacraments, we felt it our duty the more willingly to comply with their prayer, inasmuch as the reigning emperor, Paul I., had recommended the said priests, in his gracious despatch, dated 11th August 1800, in which, after setting forth his special regard for them, he declared to us that it would be agreeable to him to see the Company of Jesus established in his empire under our authority; and we, on our side, considering attentively the great advantage which these vast regions might thence derive, considering how useful those ecclesiastics, whose morals and learning were equally tried, would be to the Catholic religion, thought fit to second the wish of so great and beneficent a prince.

“In consequence, by our brief, dated 7th March 1801, we granted to the said Francis Karew, and his colleagues, residing in Russia, or who should repair thither from other countries, power to form themselves into a body or congregation of the Company of Jesus; they are at liberty to unite in one or more houses, to be pointed out by their superior, provided these houses are situated within the Russian empire. We named the said Francis Karew General of the said congregation; we authorised them to resume and follow the rule of St Ignatius of Loyola, approved and confirmed by the Constitutions of Paul III., our predecessor, of happy memory, in order that the companions, in a religious union, might freely engage in the instruction of youth in religion and good letters, direct seminaries and colleges, and, with the consent of the ordinary, confess, preach the Word of God, and administer the sacraments. By the same brief, we received the congregation of the Company of Jesus under our immediate protection and dependence, reserving to ourselves and our successors the prescription of everything that might appear to us proper to consolidate, to defend it, and to purge it from the abuses and corruptions that might be therein introduced; and for this purpose we expressly abrogated such apostolical constitutions, statutes, privileges, and indulgences, granted in contradiction to these concessions, especially the apostolic letters of Clement XIV., our predecessor, which begun with the words Dominus ac Redemptor Nostra, only in so far as they are contrary to our brief, beginning Catholicæ, and which was given only for the Russian empire.

“A short time after we had ordained the restoration of the order of Jesuits in Russia, we thought it our duty to grant the same favour to the kingdom of Sicily, on the warm request of our dear son in Jesus Christ, King Ferdinand, who begged that the Company of Jesus might be re-established in his kingdom and states as it was in Russia, from a conviction that, in these deplorable times, the Jesuits were instructors most capable of forming youth to Christian piety and the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom, and to instruct them in science and letters. The duty of our pastoral charge leading us to second the pious wishes of these illustrious monarchs, and having only in view the glory of God and the salvation of souls, we, by our brief, beginning Per alias, and dated the 30th July 1804, extended to the kingdom of the two Sicilies the same concessions we had made for the Russian empire.

“The Catholic world demands with unanimous voice the re-establishment of the Company of Jesus. We daily receive to this effect the most pressing petitions from our venerable brethren, the archbishops and bishops, and the most distinguished persons, especially since the abundant fruits which this Company has produced in the above countries have been generally known. The dispersion even of the stones of the sanctuary in these recent calamities (which it is better now to deplore than to repeat), the annihilation of the discipline of the regular orders (the glory and support of religion and the Catholic Church, to the restoration of which all our thoughts and cares are at present directed), require that we should accede to a wish so just and general.

“We should deem ourselves guilty of a great crime towards God, if, amidst these dangers of the Christian republic, we neglected the aids which the special providence of God has put at our disposal, and if, placed in the bark of Peter, tossed and assailed by continual storms, we refused to employ THE VIGOROUS AND EXPERIENCED POWERS who Volunteer their services, in order to break the waves of a sea which threaten every moment shipwreck and death. Decided by motives so numerous and powerful, we have resolved to do now what we could have wished to have done at the commencement of our pontificate. After having by fervent prayers implored the Divine assistance, after having taken the advice and counsel of a great number of our venerable brothers, the cardinals of the Holy Roman Church, we have decreed, with full knowledge, in virtue of the plenitude of apostolic power, and with perpetual validity, that all the concessions and powers granted by us solely to the Russian empire and the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, shall henceforth extend to all our ecclesiastical states, and also to all other states. We therefore concede and grant to our well-beloved son, Tadder Barzozowski, at this time General of the Company of Jesus, and to the other members of that Company lawfully delegated by him, all suitable and necessary powers in order that the said states may freely and lawfully receive all those who shall wish to be admitted into the regular order of the Company of Jesus, who, under the authority of the General, ad interim, shall be admitted and distributed, according to opportunity, in one or more houses, one or more colleges, and one or more provinces, where they shall conform their mode of life to the rules prescribed by St Ignatius of Loyola, approved and confirmed by the Constitutions of Paul III. We declare, besides, and grant power, that they may freely and lawfully apply to the education of youth in the principles of the Catholic faith, to form them to good morals, and to direct colleges and seminaries; we authorise them to hear confessions, to preach the Word of God, and to administer the sacraments in the places of their residence, with the consent and approbation of the ordinary. We take under our tutelage, under our immediate obedience, and that of the Holy See, all the colleges, houses, provinces, and members of this order, and all those who shall join it; always reserving to ourselves and the Roman Pontiffs, our successors, to prescribe and direct all that we may deem it our duty to prescribe and direct, to consolidate the said Company more and more, to render it stronger, and to purge it of abuses, should they ever creep in, which God avert. It now remains for us to exhort, with all our heart, and in the name of the Lord, all superiors, provincials, rectors, companies, and pupils of this re-established Society, to shew themselves at all times, and in all places, faithful imitators of their father; that they exactly observe the rule prescribed by their founder; that they obey with an always increasing zeal the useful advices and salutary counsels which he has left to his children.

“In fine, we recommend strongly in the Lord, the Company and all its members to our dear sons in Jesus Christ, the illustrious and noble princes and lords temporal, as well as to our venerable brothers the archbishops and bishops, and to all those who are placed in authority; we exhort, we conjure them, not only not to suffer that these religions be in any way molested, but to watch that they be treated with all due kindness and charity.

“We ordain, that the present letters be inviolably observed according to their form and tenor, in all time coming; that they enjoy their full and entire effect; that they shall never be submitted to the judgment or revision of any judge, with whatever power he may be clothed; declaring null and of no effect any encroachment on the present regulations, either knowingly or from ignorance; and this notwithstanding any apostolical constitutions and ordinances, especially the brief of Clement XIV. of happy memory, beginning with the words Dominus ac Redemptor Noster, issued under the seal of the fisherman, on the 22d day of July 1773, which we expressly abrogate as far as contrary to the present order.

“It is also our will that the same credit be paid to copies, whether in manuscript or printed, of our present brief, as to the original itself, provided they have the signature of some notary public, and the seal of some ecclesiastical dignitary; that no one be permitted to infringe, or by an audacious temerity to oppose, any part of this ordinance; and that, should any one take upon him to attempt it, let him know that he will thereby incur the indignation of Almighty God, and of the holy apostles Peter and Paul.

“Given at Rome, at Sancta Maria Major,
on the 7th of August, in the year of
our Lord 1814, and the 15th of our
Pontificate.

(Signed) “Cardinal Prodataire.

“Cardinal Braschi.”

The moment the bull of 1814 had given to the Society a new existence, nearly two hundred fathers, who had survived the calamities of 1773, re-assembled at the Gesù, and in the novitiate of St Andrea in Rome. Along with the old remains of the Company, many young Jesuits, who during the suppression had been received into the order in their houses in Silesia, Russia, and Palermo, re-entered the abode of their past glory and splendour, and opened their hearts to new and brilliant prospects. Neither were they deceived in their expectations. In those first moments of violent reaction in Italy, the priests and monks were considered as almost saints, and Pius VII. was actually worshipped as God. The overthrow of Napoleon’s empire was in Italy considered as due to the hand of God, who had punished him for laying his impious hand on the anointed of the Lord—the Vicar of Jesus Christ. Napoleon, who was considered in France as the restorer of religion, was in Italy regarded as the greatest heretic who had ever lived—worse than Luther, Calvin, Zuingle. As the ignorant and bigoted people of the peninsula, at such an epoch, made religion consist in monks, nuns, and processions, so the man who had abolished these was in their eyes the greatest enemy of God and religion; and those friars, though held in very little consideration as individuals, were, when re-instated in their convents, cheered and worshipped. Even those whose sentiments were anything but of a religious character, thinking that the clerical party would now re-acquire the supreme sway, and would exercise it in a more absolute and exclusive manner, feigned to be devoted to the reigning power, either to avoid persecution or to obtain favour as devout supporters of the Roman Catholic faith. Thank God, this is no longer the case.

The Order of the Jesuits, above all, fixed the attention of every one, and admission into it was sought with passionate eagerness, as the surest way to fortune and consideration. Many younger brothers of good families entered the novitiate of St Andrea, which had the rare honour to see as a postulant for admission into the brotherhood, a once crowned head. Charles Emanuel of Savoy, who had already renounced the crown of Sardinia in favour of his brother Vittorio, entered the novitiate, fulfilled with unfeigned humility all the duties of a novice, and died some three or four years after, asking, as a last favour, to be buried in his garb of a Jesuit.

Another fortuitous circumstance soon came to relieve the Jesuits from great difficulties. In 1820, the death of General Barzozowski, whom Alexander would never permit to leave Russia, and without whom nothing definitive could be done, put an end to this anomalous state of things. The new election restored the chief of the Company to the metropolis of Christendom; and from the Gesù, where Loyola and Ricci had sat, Fortis, the elected General, now watched over the interests and the prosperity of the Society, which he hoped to see again in all its former glory.

In our peninsula their progress was rapid.

——Come di gramigna,

Vivace terra,[426]

so Italy was soon covered with the noxious weed. Most of their former establishments were given back to them, others they bought; and, in perfect concord with the Court of Rome, as each stood in need of the other, they set to work to reduce the unfortunate country to the lowest possible degree of ignorance and degradation, to extinguish every noble aspiration, to suppress every generous sentiment, and to force us into that mould in which idle, debauched, and corrupt monks are cast. But their united efforts, thank Heaven! proved ineffectual. The genius of ancient Rome, though clad in sable, watched over us from the ruins of the Coliseum, and from the summit of the Capitol, and pointed out to us written on every stone of our cities, a page of glory, an inscription of noble and heroic deeds! Yes! in the very names of our monuments, even when they are not present to our eyes, there is something magical, some mysterious power, which thrills all the fibres of the heart, and makes one long to restore the glories of the past. And in this, we believe, more than in anything else, is to be found the explanation of that historical fact, that while in the middle ages the Popes were almost supreme umpires of the different kingdoms of Europe, they could never obtain a stable footing in Rome, but were often driven from it, often besieged in their castles or made prisoners, while their court and government were generally held in the greatest contempt. So now, though the Jesuits were supported by all the petty Italian despots, and by their master the Emperor of Austria, and though they almost had at their disposal the thunderbolts of the Vatican and the dungeons of the Inquisition, they could only persuade old women, and feeble and bigoted men, but none of the thinking and active population of Italy. The revolution of 1848 proved once more how deeply rooted was the hatred of the Italians against the brotherhood of Loyola, the only religious order among such an immense number which was forcibly expelled from the whole peninsula.

However, the Jesuits, the moment they were re-established, lost no time in invading other countries where they thought they could retrieve their fallen fortunes. Immediately after the restoration, they re-entered Spain, France, Belgium, Austria, Switzerland, and many countries in the New World. We shall endeavour, in the little space left to us, to sketch the history of the fathers in those different countries.

The Jesuits, to the number of about one hundred, mostly members of the Society who had been expelled in 1767, re-entered Spain, and were associated with Ferdinand VII. in all the acts of revenge which that cruel and stupidly ferocious prince exercised upon the unfortunate Spaniards. They increased so rapidly, that as early as 1820, they numbered already 397 members.[427] But at that time the Castilians revolted against the cruelty of the despotic king. Successful in their revolution, they established the Constitution of 1812; and one of the first acts of the Cortes was to enact a law which expelled the Jesuits from all the Spanish dominions. But it was not long before they re-entered in the rear of the French army, conducted by the Duke of Angouleme, to replace Ferdinand on the throne, and became the most efficient instruments of his bigoted and cowardly policy. In 1825, a general military college was established at Segovia, and, strange to say, the Jesuits were made the preceptors of those future officers in all that was not strictly military. In 1827, another college for the nobility and children of courtiers and chamberlains was established, and also delivered to the Jesuits’ direction. But their prosperity was put a stop to by the death of Ferdinand. The right of Isabella, the infant daughter of the late king, was contested by her uncle Don Carlos, and long and murderous civil war was the consequence of this contest. The Jesuits took the part of the Carlists secretly at first, and acting only as informers when they were able. In an émeute in 1834, the people of Madrid murdered some of them, and in 1835 they were legally abolished by a decree of the legislature, sanctioned by the sovereign. But they did not on that account quit Spain. They recovered their standing in those provinces in which the armies of Don Carlos were predominant, and were chosen as tutors to the pretender’s sons. They built a novitiate in Quipuzoa, and seemed to set at defiance the government of the country. After the convention of Vergara, Espartero caused them to be expelled from their new colleges, and ordered them to leave the Spanish territories; but although, since this epoch, they have no legal existence in the land of Loyola and Xavier, according to the best information, in 1845, about 250 Jesuits were to be found there, apparently as single individuals, but in reality forming part of the order, and being attached either to the province of Belgium or to that of South America.

Their history in Portugal may be more summarily narrated. In 1829, some French Jesuits, invited by the usurper Don Miguel, arrived in Portugal, and were honourably received, as they pretend, by the grand-daughter of Pombal, who offered to intrust to them four of her children to be educated.[428] The authorities also contrived to get up a sort of manifestation, given by the other monks on the Jesuits’ entrance into Coimbra, where they stayed two or three years. But hardly was Don Pedro master of Portugal, than, by a decree in 1834, he expelled the fathers from all the dominions of his daughter Dona Maria. We are not aware that there are many Jesuits now in Portugal.

In Germany, the fathers were far from regaining the position they had formerly held. Austria itself refused to re-admit them. Metternich, brought up in the school of Joseph II. and Kaunitz, was not disposed to let the bad seed take root again in the German soil. However, when, in 1820, the Jesuits, expelled from Russia, passed through Vienna, they found means to obtain permission to settle in Galicia, where they soon opened schools and colleges, the principal of which were in Tournow and Lemberg, and where they met with such success, that the latter college, in 1823, counted 400 pupils. The number of Jesuits in the province went on increasing, and their influence, especially over the rural population, who are almost all Papists, is now all-powerful and irresistible. Now, our readers, who remember the atrocious and inhuman acts which desolated the unfortunate country in 1846, may form an estimate of the good which their system of education has produced.

They also attempted to establish themselves in Styria, though with little success. But in 1838, they were at last permitted to re-open their former college at Innspruck, where they are now in the most prosperous and flourishing state. In no other part of the German Confederation have they a legal existence; and the late King of Prussia very wisely forbade any of his subjects to pass into foreign countries to be educated by the Jesuits.

In Holland, the Jesuits acted in very nearly the same way as they did in Russia. It seems as if, at the time of the Suppression, the Protestant countries, forgetful of all prudence, merely to shew their opposition to the Papal Court, vied with each other in cheering and patronising those monks whom Rome was persecuting. Even in England, Jesuits were never so well treated, nor perhaps so prosperous, as during their legal suppression. Some of the Jesuits recovered a standing in Holland, and lived there unmolested and protected, till the French armies drove them away, or obliged them to disguise themselves under another garb; but they re-appeared in 1814, and with their wonted activity they began to erect houses and novitiates. King William of Nassau tolerated them; but it would appear that they were not contented with being tolerated—they aspired to higher destinies. Spreading dissatisfaction among the Roman Catholic population, they encouraged them not to accept of, or submit quietly to, a constitution so unfavourable to their interests, and were preparing materials for a revolution. De Broglio, the Archbishop of Ghent, entirely devoted to the order, wrote in the same sense to all his subordinates. Aware of their intrigues and machinations, the government thought it necessary, by a decree of 1816, to banish them. The audacious monks, instead of obeying, repaired to the archbishop’s palace, as if to brave the laws. But the government maintained its rights. A warrant was issued against De Broglio, who, however, took to flight, and accompanied into France the Rector of the College of the Jesuits. The fathers then left the country, but not all of them. “Some sons of Loyola, nevertheless, remained on the spot directed by Father Demeistre, and, enrolled under the standard of the Church, they fought as volunteers.”[429] In other words, under different disguises, they kept up their intrigues, and breathed the spirit of revolution into the Popish population of Belgium. At the first opportunity, this spirit broke out. “The revolution of 1830 was made in the name of the Catholics and of the Jesuits.”[430] Very well! we like this bold and frank language; and the Jesuits have our felicitation for having helped an oppressed people to shake off a yoke which brutal force had imposed upon them. But then let them never come again and assert they are a religious order, entirely occupied in spiritual concerns, and quite indifferent to political matters.

Since the revolution of 1830, the influence of the Jesuits has greatly increased in Belgium, and this country is now one of the most flourishing provinces of the order, numbering more than 400 members. The extreme prudence and sagacity of Leopold has prevented them from doing much mischief; but they have done their best to acquire a supreme sway in that country, and to extinguish in it every civil and religious liberty. At the very moment we are writing these pages, they are striving hard to prostrate Belgium at the feet of their worthy protector, Louis Napoleon.

In France, the fathers have led a much more agitated and unsettled existence since their expulsion in 1765. Portugal and Spain, in expelling them, had resorted to such rigorous and universal measures, that few or no Jesuits were to be found in the two countries for some time after their banishment. But it was not so in France. No stringent measures had been taken to see the decree of expulsion executed. The Jesuits, it is true, had disappeared from their colleges and houses, and dropped the long mantle and large-brimmed hat; but a great part of them remained in the French territory, changing residences, and many of them metamorphosing themselves into the Fathers of the Faith, or the Brethren of the Doctrine Chretienne. Then, when the opportunity presented itself, they re-appeared everywhere in their own garb, and nobody knew whence they came, or where they had been. We find few traces of them during the first years of the French Revolution of 1789; but the moment Napoleon, for his own political ends, re-established the ancient form of religion, and restored to the clergy some liberty to fulfil their duties, the Jesuits, under the name of the Fathers of the Faith, re-appeared, and set themselves at once to work, endeavouring, by new contrivances, to re-acquire at least some of their lost influence and power. In 1800, the sister of Father Barat, under the direction of her brother, founded the Sisterhood of the Sacred Heart; while Father Baruffe established the Congregation of the Sacred Family; the first to preside over the education of the daughters of the aristocracy, the latter to instruct governesses and servants, whom they distributed especially amongst families whose secrets they were interested in knowing. Father Despuits was still more audacious, and established the Congregation of the Holy Virgin, in which he enrolled all sorts of persons, but particularly those of the upper class of society, and military men as often as he could. The two first institutions are at the present moment very flourishing in France, and almost all the French nobility send their daughters to be educated at the famous convent of Les Oiseaux, in Paris. The Congregation of the Virgin decayed after the revolution of 1830.

However, Napoleon, alarmed at the progress and the intrigues of the Fathers of the Faith, by a decree of Messidor, anno XII. (1804), abolished the brotherhood, and, by another imperial decree of 1810, the Congregation of the Virgin, and for some little time the Jesuits were obliged to be more prudent and less meddling.

But, in 1814, those monks, who had for a moment disappeared from the scene, came forth again more alive and more intriguing than ever. They dropped the borrowed name of Fathers of the Faith, and reassumed that of Jesuits. The congregations received a new impulse, and that of the Virgin, above all, was eminently active in inducing military men to join it. Rendered wise by past experience, they perceived that they should never succeed in their designs without the concurrence, or at least the neutrality, of the secular clergy. To disarm, then, its animosity, which had been so ardent in former times, they spontaneously renounced their privileges, and shewed the utmost deference to the secular priests of all ranks. Father Simpson, the Provincial in 1819, writing to his subordinate, says to him: “Let us remember that we are only the auxiliaries of the secular priests, that we, in our quality of monks, must look upon them as our superiors, and that St Ignatius has given to our Society, as its distinctive title, The Little Society of Jesus.”[431] We wonder whether Lachaise or Letellier would have written so. Then, supported by a great part of the bishops, and encouraged by the government, part of the Jesuits went over to France as missionaries, to try what they could do to restore the reign of superstition and bigotry, and to bring back France to the good old times of civil and religious bondage; part again undertook to monopolise the education of youth; and in both undertakings they were, with certain classes, prodigiously successful.

But the sacrifices France had made to obtain liberty were of too fresh date that it should quietly submit to a priestly domination, which had become now too visible and threatening. Public opinion declared itself so strongly and so irresistibly against all priests in general, and against the Jesuits in particular, that the bigoted Charles X. himself was forced, in 1828, to issue an ordinance which deprived the fathers of the faculty of instructing youth, and providing, moreover, that no person whatever should be admitted to teach without taking an oath that he did not belong to any religious community not approved by law. The Jesuits, however, secretly encouraged by the court, and supported by the aristocracy, eluded these ordinances by a thousand different stratagems; and, although not so openly, they never rested from their intrigues, and from taking an active part in education.

The Revolution of 1830, due in a great measure to the aversion of the French nation to the domination of the priests and Jesuits, again dispersed them for a while. They left the scene; nobody knew when they disappeared, whither they went, and when they returned, till, towards 1836, they came to be spoken of and pointed out as becoming numerous, powerful, and dangerous; they, nevertheless, went quietly and prudently on, continually progressing, till 1845, when an affair of money now, as in 1761, again brought them into momentary trouble. A certain Affnaër—an arch-Jesuit, it would seem, since he cheated his dupes by feigning to be a converted sinner—became their confidential agent, and robbed them of the immense sum of £10,000, of which embezzlement they remained ignorant till he took to flight—(so poor they are!) The fathers had the imprudence to apply to the tribunals. The swindler was indeed condemned, but at the same time was brought to light the existence of the Jesuits, not as private citizens, but as a religious community, already possessing immense wealth and establishments of all kinds, till then almost ignored, or at least overlooked—all this being contrary to the existing laws. Thiers, courting popularity, called upon the government to advert to this subject, and the parliament unanimously declared that it felt confident that the ministry would see the laws of the land strictly executed. To avoid an open rupture with Rome, Rossi was sent thither, to obtain from the Pope and the General of the order a voluntary acquiescence in the wishes of the nation. Roothaan, the then chief of the Society, more prudent than Ricci, granted the request, and ordered his brethren to quit their establishments. However, not to renounce all the advantages they were deriving in educating the rising generation of Frenchmen, the fathers established a college on the very limits of the French territory, at Brugellette, and the French nobility sent their children either there or to Fribourg, where a part of the French fathers had emigrated. Once more the Jesuits were supposed to have left France. Little was seen of them in the last two years of Louis Philippe’s reign, and during the eventful year of 1848; but in ’49 they re-appeared, hesitatingly at first, but more boldly afterwards; and now, in 1852, they possess such an influence, that even the unscrupulous military usurper is obliged to court their friendship. In 1845, the number of the Jesuits in France amounted to 870.

In Switzerland, the bloody and inhuman acts by which the Jesuits sought to enter Lucerne are of too recent and terrible recollection to require to be related by us at length. The expedition of the Corps Franc, their defeats, 112 dead, 300 wounded, 1500 prisoners, the Sonderbund, and all the fraternal blood spilt in Switzerland in 1844, 45, and 46, must be laid to the charge of the Jesuits, who insisted on entering Lucerne against the will of half the population. Had they been true Christians, and religious men, they would have renounced their projects of installing themselves by force where they knew that the attempt would cost the lives of so many of their Christian brethren, and an Iliad of miseries to the unfortunate country.

Although we find few indications of the presence of the Jesuits in England, after the accession of the house of Hanover to the throne, till the last few years of the past century, Crétineau, who may be relied upon as having written his apology of the Society upon the register of the order, and under the dictation of the fathers, informs us that, “from the day on which liberty was no more a deception, the Jesuits perceived that they had no more to fear the extraordinary rigours of past times.... They then began to live in fixed abodes, at first in secret, then a little more openly, and in community. Such were at first the missions of Liverpool, Bristol, Preston, Norwich, and many other towns. A little chapel was annexed to the house (which means, that an altar had been constructed in a room); and without exciting the least suspicion, the faithful could repair thither and pray.”[432] This, according to the French historian, was the way in which they lived till 1795, when the Jesuits of Liège, flying from the victorious republican armies of France, sought a refuge in Great Britain which granted them that hospitality she never refuses to the unfortunate. Then Mr Weld, a wealthy Roman Catholic, with a liberality for which, whatever gratitude the Jesuits may owe to his memory, England certainly owes him none, presented them with an old manor and some property in Stoneyhurst, near Preston, in Lancashire. Thither the worthy fathers instantly repaired, and at first conducted themselves with all humility, avowing it to be their intention to earn a subsistence solely by tuition. As we have said, the Protestants of that epoch seem to have taken a sort of pleasure in protecting these rebellious monks, and the more so, perhaps, because they persisted in being monks against the will of Rome. Hence the Jesuits quietly settled themselves in Stoneyhurst, nemine contradicente. By degrees, finding all sorts of encouragement, they changed the manor into a college, where, besides the boarders and pupils who paid them regular fees, they gave gratuitous instructions to every one who would attend their classes. Improvements to a great extent were made upon the house, by which it was rendered capable of receiving at first 150, and subsequently, by additional buildings, 300 pupils. Weld gave up to them a large tract of land, and one of his sons entered the order. “All the ancient Jesuits flocked to Stoneyhurst. Among the first were Fathers Stanley, O’Brien, Lawson, Church, Jenkins, Plowden, Howard, and some others.”[433] All together consecrated their cares “to make priests, and to form young men equally devoted and learned, who should bring into their families the courage and the faith of which they gave and received the example in the college.”[434] In a little while the college of Stoneyhurst was deemed insufficient for the number of pupils who repaired thither from every part; so that, within a quarter of a mile, at Greenhurst, was established a seminary for boarding and educating boys preparatory to their entering Stoneyhurst. The most striking characteristic of Jesuit education, as we have already frequently remarked, was, and still is, that almost all the persons educated in their colleges consider themselves in a certain way attached to the order, and to the end of their lives work to their utmost for its aggrandisement. And this art of binding to their Society all their disciples, makes the Jesuits powerful and dangerous, especially in those countries where they are adverse to the government or to a class of citizens. We insist upon this consideration.

At Stoneyhurst, the ambition of the fathers rose with their prosperity, and inspired their restless activity with bolder and more extensive plans. The exertions of these same young men who were educated by them, and some of whom had become priests, spread the seed of Jesuitism in all parts of England, and, above all, in the surrounding neighbourhood of Stoneyhurst, where their large properties and considerable annual expenditure gave the fathers an additional influence, so that soon Roman Catholic chapels were to be seen over all the country round; and a modern author[435] affirms, that while, before the establishment of the Jesuits, there were only five Papists near Stoneyhurst, they were now numbered by thousands.

From England, part of the successful colony of Ignatius passed over into Ireland in the beginning of the present century, and at once fixed their regards upon the most important position for acquiring an extensive influence. Father Kenney, one of the three first Jesuits who migrated thither, found means to be appointed vice-president of Maynooth College, of which he became the leading and influential member, and in which have ever since been taught the Jesuitical doctrines both in the matter of theology and of discipline; so that it is a notorious fact, that of all the Roman Catholic clergy, the English are those who profess the most absolute and unrestricted principles of ultramontanism. As to Father Kenney, who was indefatigable in his vocation, and had already acquired an immense authority, some scruples now arose in the morbid consciences of strict Papists, whether he really was a legitimate Jesuit, since he had only taken his vows at Stoneyhurst while the Society had no legal existence. Sensible of the justness of these observations, Kenney hastened to Palermo, where the Society was in some sort re-established. He was there received and recognised as a genuine son of Loyola, and returned to Ireland to resume his office. But, as Maynooth College was established only for the education of priests, Kenney thought of creating another college for laymen. Clongowes was chosen for the purpose. Kenney was appointed president of it, and his exertions were so successful in attracting pupils thither, that, from 1814, the epoch of its opening, to 1819, it already numbered 250 pupils; while, by the liberality of Mary O’Brien, a Popish devotee, another college was erected in the district of King’s County.[436]

The moment the bull of 1814 relieved them from the interdict under which they laboured, the number of Jesuits increased so very rapidly, that, according to a return printed by order of parliament in 1830, Ireland, at that epoch, possessed 58 fathers, and 117 were to be found in England. To what extent their number has increased up to the present moment is rather difficult to ascertain. The clause in the Emancipation Bill, which forbids any man to make vows or to receive vows in England, or to come into it after having made them elsewhere, obliges the Jesuits to observe some moderation and secrecy. Not, indeed, that they pay any attention, or submit to the law, because, as Crétineau expressly says, “the Jesuits felt that such a law (the schedule on the religious communities in the Emancipation Act) was enacted against them; but they made little account of it,”—Ils en tinrent peu de compte.[437] But they use some prudence, to avoid trouble, if possible, and because it is their practice not to oppose boldly any measure, but to find a certain pleasure in eluding the law, and thus shew themselves more cunning than their neighbours. Nevertheless, whoever should inspect the general register kept in the Gesù in Rome, might get at the exact number of the four avowed classes of the Jesuits—novices, scholastics, coadjutors, and professed; but who could tell the number of persons belonging to the fifth secret class, who, by the confession of Father Pellico, constitute the strength and the power of the Society, and who, we may add, render it also very dangerous? Who can count those innumerable agents who, partly intentionally, partly in ignorance, are actively employed in furthering the success of the well-contrived and deeply-laid plans of the fathers—those secret conspirators against the civil and religious rights of mankind? Nobody can; and in this, we repeat, lies the danger. A Jesuit, when known, is as little dangerous as a robber who should give you intimation of his intention to steal your property. Should they present themselves boldly and frankly, and say: “Here we are—we, the Jesuits, the most determined adversaries of the Protestant faith, the most strenuous supporters of the Court of Rome. Renounce your religion, burn your Bible, tear your Thirty-nine Articles, and embrace the doctrine of Rome, which is the only true one; you may believe it on our word.” Should they speak so, they would effect no mischief at all. But the manner in which the Popish missionaries attempt to proselytise is a very different one, and shews that their religion is not in itself forcible, and that it does not possess such irresistible evidence of truth, that the simple and unvarnished exposition of its principles is sufficient to persuade one to embrace it. From the tiny images distributed by monks to little boys, to the gorgeous pageant, to the theatrical representation of the Vatican, all is intended to be the means of proselytising heretics, or of retaining believers in the communion of their Church. Then comes the confessional for those who wish to sin in all surety of conscience; then, again, masses and indulgences for those whose sins could not be cleansed by the absolution, but required the excruciating fires of Purgatory. Formerly, in the good old times of Popery, they resorted to still more persuasive arguments; witness the unfortunate Albigenses, Huguenots, Indians, and many others, who were so blind as not to see in Popery a revelation of Him who is at once the Father of Mercies and the Father of Lights. Nor does the agent of Rome, and, above all, the Jesuit, expound at once the whole system of his religion, such as it is; but, with diabolical dexterity, he first insinuates himself into the confidence of the man he has marked for a proselyte, captivates his benevolence by all sorts of arts, and then, step by step, he leads him as a convert into the fold of the modern Babylon. The same method is resorted to by those individuals who aim at wholesale conversions. They bring one to apostasy in the name, so to speak, of one’s own religion. See, for example, the Puseyites; observe their progressive march from their first tracts, in which loads of abuse were heaped upon Popery, to the recent attempt to introduce auricular confession, and you will discover the same proceeding as that by which the Roman agent—the Jesuit—endeavours to convert—we should say seduce—a single individual. And who would take his oath that Dr Pusey does not belong to that fifth secret class of the Order of Jesus? or that my lord Bishop of Exeter is not one of its members? We could not affirm the fact, of course, but no more would we deny it. What we know, and what ought to be well considered and borne in mind by all English Protestants, is, that the Jesuits are loud in their praises of the Puseyites, and that they frankly confess that this Anglican sect will be the means of bringing back England to the Roman communion. May God avert the ill-omened prediction! Let our readers well ponder upon the following extract from Crétineau, who, after having traced the history of the Puseyites from its origin, and exalted to the skies their principal leader, says:—“The Puseyites, carried away against their wills, by the force of evidence, towards the Roman faith, pretended, it is true, that they would never go over to Rome. Nevertheless they, in fact, embraced one part of her dogmas and even her practices. A certain number of their disciples went frankly back to Catholicism. From April 1841, the publication of tracts had been suspended, it is true, but the party was at no loss for means for propagating its doctrines. It reigned in many seminaries and universities; it spread in America, and even in India. The British Critic went on with its quarterly labours; and renouncing by degrees its attacks against Rome, it exercised its learned hostilities against the Reformation of the sixteenth century.... This school (Puseyism), in its pacific progress, shakes Anglicism from its base. It exercises an immense influence for the extent of its reports and its literature, and makes numberless proselytes. Many Puseyites, carried away by the truth, were not long in renouncing their theories. They sought a logical unity: the Church of Rome offered it to them, and they accepted of it!”[438] We add no comment.

To return to our history, we say that the influence of the Jesuits in the three kingdoms has increased since 1814, and its bad effects may be daily traced. We would almost be bold to assert that every obstacle which has come in the way to impede the progressive march of a free and powerful nation, is, to a certain extent, due to the hidden hand of a Jesuit. It must be borne in mind that Rome, of all things, desiderates the ruin of heretic England, and endeavours, to the utmost of her power, to create troubles and difficulties to that free country; and if this be admitted, we shall remind our readers that all the arduous missions, all the delicate and secret undertakings for that purpose, since the times of Salmeron and Brouet, were always intrusted to the fathers. The secular priest, especially in countries distant from Rome, looks upon the Jesuit as his superior in knowledge of the affairs of religion, as better informed of the intentions of Rome; and is always disposed to shew all deference to his advice, and not seldom to execute his orders. “Already, from 1829,” according to Crétineau, “the Jesuits were the right arm of the bishops, the living models proposed by the prelates to the clergy.”[439] And this renders the Jesuits more dangerous than any other religious community. Indeed, I would rather see all the various species of those parasite animals called monks transplanted into the English soil, than let one Jesuit live in it a single day; and it is not without good reason that we speak so in this Protestant country. The order of the Jesuits was purposely instituted to combat, to extinguish Protestantism; and we have shewn whether the fathers were scrupulous about the means they employed to effect their object. The extirpation of heresy is their principal occupation, the work which renders them meritorious in the eyes of Rome. Deprive the Jesuits of the vocation of annoying, persecuting, or converting heretics, and they become the most insignificant of all corporations, having no end whatever. Every monastic order is distinguished by a peculiar character. Plots and machinations against Protestants, and against all civil and religious freedom, are the characteristics of the Jesuits. A Benedictine monk will sit calmly in his very comfortable room, sip his chocolate, take a hand at whist, and not even dream of converting any one. A Franciscan, of any denomination, will sit jocosely before a succulent dinner, which he has provided by going from door to door, distributing, in return for provisions, snuff and images, without uttering a word about his or your religion, and only relating some pleasing anecdotes of the holy founder of his order, St Francis. A Dominican will assuredly report your conduct to Rome, and will try to convert your daughter to——his principles, but will care very little about the conversion. The Auto-da-fè, in which he formerly delighted, was regarded by him as a means not so much of converting heretics, as of procuring for himself a barbarous pastime. He was forbidden to assist at bull-fighting! The Jesuit, on the contrary, has, as we have said, no other occupation or desire than to make converts; and this we need not take the trouble to prove, since they themselves confess it. They glory in it, and it forms their title to the gratitude of the Holy See, and of all bigoted Papists. We will not say that other Roman Catholic priests will not endeavour to make converts. Nay, they are obliged by their calling to labour hard at it. In their orisons, in their anthems, in all the solemn ceremonies of the Church of Rome, prayers are addressed to the Almighty, not so much for the conversion, as for the extirpation of heretics; and every bishop takes an oath to do his utmost for this purpose; so that a Roman Catholic priest must either neglect the principal duty of his ministry, or become the bitterest enemy of all Protestant institutions, if not of every Protestant. Yet they are not as the Jesuits, prepared to resort to the most criminal arts to bring about conversion.

The conduct of the Jesuits in Holland, Prussia, Russia, clearly proves that no benefits can ever make any impression on that fraternity, or prevent them from conspiring your ruin; and if Protestant England do not soon awake to a sense of her danger, we fear she will repent, too late, of having fostered in her breast those poisonous vipers. Behold what is going on! See whether Romanism has ever been so menacing! See the arrogance of the Court of Rome! Behold the almost uninterrupted state of rebellion in which the priests keep the fanatic Papists of Ireland, and be sure that such would not be the case if you had not Jesuits among them. All our life long we have fought for equality of rights, for civil and religious liberty, and we would not preach intolerance now. We should like to see no difference whatever in respect of civil rights and privileges between Roman Catholic laymen and Protestants; but, most assuredly, we would execute to the letter the clause against the religious fraternities, and think long before we should grant money to bring up a set of priests, who, from the very nature of their calling, are strictly bound to sue for your destruction.

I beg to be excused for having indulged in these remarks. They are not vain declamations; I trust to be believed. I have been born and brought up among monks and Jesuits; and it is because I thoroughly know them, that, grateful for the hospitality afforded me, I warn England to beware of all monks, but especially of Jesuits. They are inauspicious birds, which cannot but infect with their venomous breath the pure and free air of Great Britain.

We shall now conclude our history with a chapter on the present condition of the Company in Europe.

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CHAPTER XX.
1848-1852.
THE JESUITS IN AND AFTER 1848.

Before the Suppression, the Jesuits, with alternate vicissitudes, possessed less or more influence in all Roman Catholic countries, in some of which, at different epochs, they were all-powerful and domineering. But since their re-establishment, their real effective power, it may be said, is confined to the Italian peninsula. It was my unfortunate country that, from the beginning of their restoration, more than any other part of Europe, experienced the pernicious effects of their revival. As from the first they had stood up as the natural enemy of the liberal party, the sovereigns of the peninsula, who wished to reign despotically, without granting any concession required by the times, countenanced and protected the Jesuits in the most decided manner. Charles Felix had delivered up Piedmont to them, and they had taken possession of it, and governed it, as if they were its absolute masters. Even Charles Albert was unable or unwilling to counteract their influence. In Modena and Parma they possessed an equal authority; while in Naples their dominion was still more tyrannical, inasmuch as it rested not only on the support of the court, but also on the superstition and fanaticism of the populace, the most blindly bigoted of all Italy. But the supreme seat of their power, as may be easily conceived, was Rome—Rome, now in perfect friendship with the fathers. Odescalchi, a Jesuit, was Cardinal Vicar of Rome, the highest ecclesiastical authority in the world after the Pope. The whole of the public administration was filled with persons either belonging to the Society, or protected by them. Public education was entirely in their own hands, or of those protected by them. The nomination of every teacher or professor was submitted to the approval of the bishop. Recommendation from the fathers was listened to as if it were the orders of a superior; and few, if any, of the established authorities dared to oppose them in any of their undertakings. Poor Italy was in a lamentable condition. The different governments of Italy, encouraged by the fathers in their tyrannical and intolerant policy, had spread such dissatisfaction among the higher classes of society,[440] that every other year attempts were made at a revolution, some of which were in part successful, as those of 1821 and 1831. They were, however, always crushed by the overwhelming forces of Austria, and only served to increase the number of victims, and the cruelties of the governments, inflexible in their despotic policy. Yet the population, driven to despair, and preferring death to ignominy, were ready to shed their blood to mend the wretched condition of the country. In the latter part of Gregory XVI.’s reign, matters were brought to such a state, that every moment was expected a new general outbreak throughout all Italy; the consequences of which, from the exasperated state of the popular mind, would have been incalculable. In these circumstances, Gregory XVI. died, and Giovanni Mastai was, after only two days’ conclave, raised to the pontifical chair. It was thought that the meekness of his character, the purity of his life, his decided aversion to every act of tyranny, might in part calm the exasperated state of the population of the Roman states, the most oppressed of all the states of Italy, as well as the readiest for a revolution; and the beginning of Pius IX.’s reign promised to the unfortunate peninsula a new era. Fugitive and deceitful hope! Alas! the new era is now such as to make the future generation curse the day that Mastai ascended the throne!

However, a month after his elevation, Pius IX. granted an amnesty, reformed some gross abuses, discarded the most obnoxious agents of the past tyrannical government, and promised to reign according to just and paternal laws. We extolled his clemency to the sky, and saw in him the palladium of freedom; we celebrated his virtues in a thousand different ways. The world was soon filled with the eulogiums of Pius, and for a brief period Europe prostrated herself at the feet of the idol raised up by our gratitude.

But while we were loud in the praises of Pius IX., hoping that he would prove a reformer and a benefactor to Italy, the Jesuits, united with the old despotic party, which recognised Austria for its chief, contrived, by all sorts of means, to oppose his acts of benevolence, slandered his person, abused his ministers, and openly conspired against him. The Romans feared that he would meet with the fate of Ganganelli; and those fears were not only expressed in all writings and in all pieces of poetry, but when the Pope passed through the streets of Rome, the Trasteverini shouted out, “Holy Father, beware of the Jesuits!” A very significant fact, which shews the opinion in which the fathers are held where they are best known.

The good understanding, however, which existed for some eighteen months between the liberal party and the Pope, began to be shaken when the Romans, tired of benisons and insignificant concessions, asked for liberal organic laws, and wished, above all, to snatch from the hand of the priests and monks their ill-gotten and ill-used authority, extending to all branches of the administration, even to those most inconsistent with their calling. It is well known that no office of any importance in the Roman states was filled by a layman—even the general of the army was a Monsignore. We wished for a radical reform on this point. Unfortunately, at this time, Grazioli—a high-minded and tolerant priest, the Pope’s confessor—died, and Pius fell into the hands of a confessor devoted to the Jesuits, and from that moment his conduct became hypocritical and deceitful, and afterwards cruel and inhuman. To the Jesuits is certainly to be attributed the change in the politics of the Pope. From the beginning, Pius had been displeased when he heard abuse poured upon the Company; but his desire of popularity and applause had modified the propensities of the priest, nay, of the narrow-minded, bigoted chief of the priests. But now, divesting himself of the borrowed character of a tolerant and liberal man, Pius returned to the former error of all Popes, and would not listen to a word about reform touching the priesthood. It was this inflexible opposition to our just and reasonable desires, and not our petulance, which brought things to extremities, and the Jesuits were even the apparent cause of the rupture.

Although the Romans were resolved to be no longer the vassals of the priesthood, and were determined not to leave a vestige of authority in civil matters to any churchman except the Pope, nevertheless, no injury, no abuse, was offered to any secular priest or monk, with the exception of the Jesuits. But against them there was raised a great commotion. Publications of all sorts were daily poured into the streets of Rome against the fathers; and along with the shout for Italy, was mingled the cry, “Down with the Jesuits!”

Gioberti’s book, Il Gesuita Moderno, was in everybody’s hands, and when that courageous priest came to Rome, the people shouted his name as that of a benefactor; a guard of honour was stationed at his hotel, and almost royal honours were rendered to him for having so unreservedly laid bare the iniquities of the fathers.[441] All this irritated the Pope in the highest degree. From the balcony of the Quirinal he reproached the Romans with slandering venerable ecclesiastics; and when the news arrived that the Neapolitans had expelled the Jesuits from their city, he issued a proclamation, in which he threatened us, if we were tempted to imitate them, with his anger, and with the curse of God’s indignation, who would launch His holy vengeance against the assailants of His anointed.[442]

But the Papal protection was no longer sufficient to shelter the Jesuits from public hatred. Pius IX. lost a great part of his popularity, but could not save them. They were expelled from the whole of the peninsula—not as a general revolutionary measure, since all other religious communities lived unmolested, but as a manifestation of the public opinion against the hateful descendants of Ignatius. The Pope’s indignation at this sacrilegious act knew no bounds, and from that instant he vowed an implacable and intense hatred against the liberals of whatever nation.[443]

Not only did Pius now refuse to grant any new concession, but he attempted to recall those which he had been forced to grant; and when he saw that he could not effect his purpose, he fled to Gaeta, in the hope that Rome and Italy would soon fall into a state of anarchy and confusion, so that the great powers of Europe would be obliged to interfere, and restore him to the throne as an absolute master. The wisdom and moderation of the people again disappointed his hopes. Never was Rome more true to her duty than during the absence of the Pope. For a while, even the government was carried on in the name of a sovereign who had abandoned the state, and who refused even to listen to three deputations sent to Gaeta to come to some understanding. This exasperated Pius still more than anything else. From Gaeta he poured forth his curses on his subjects. And while he was giving these manifestations of his paternal heart, the Jesuits and Cardinal Antonelli were laying the plan of that infernal compact between the Court of Rome and almost all the despots of Europe, for crushing and annihilating all seeds of civil and religious liberty, and for murdering, with merciless ferocity, all those who had shouted for reform, in the name and under the auspices of Pius IX.; a just retribution, it should seem, for having trusted in a priest, and thought him capable of being an honest and liberal man. Monsignor de Falloux, a Jesuit, brother of the then all-powerful minister of Louis Napoleon, was notoriously the soul of the negotiation, and it was he who decided the court of Rome to accept the succour of the French. The crusade undertaken against Rome, by four nations so different in character, and having such opposite interests, as Austria and France, Spain and Naples, was the signal of that fiery reaction against the liberty of all nations which still rages, and which, we fear, will not cease till another general outbreak shall teach the tyrants that it is not always safe to try too severely the patience of the people.

Distressful consequences for the people followed the league. The Roman states were first made to feel the rage of the allies. Louis Napoleon, who, in 1831, had fought along with us to overturn the Papal throne, now sent an army in support of the Pope. He thought (I expressed this opinion in my History of the Pontificate, written two years ago) that priests and peasants would assist him to grasp the imperial sceptre, and that he could not better ingratiate himself with them, than by replacing the Pope on the throne; an act which would also be very acceptable to the other despots. In consequence, he hastened to send his troops to crush the new republic. The French army landed at Civita Vecchia. The general chosen to command it was worthy of the end proposed. Oudinot is the type of Jesuitism: and Louis Napoleon himself has, more recently, given him his desert. Hardly had he landed on our shores, when many of the fathers (we here relate facts of which we ourselves were witnesses)—as an envenomed brood, sprung by magic from the soil—put themselves in communication with him. The very proclamation by which he announced the landing of the army was a masterpiece of Jesuitical craft. According to its tenor, every party might have considered the French expedition as coming to its own support. Oudinot informed the first deputation sent by the republican government to inquire about the motives of this unwelcome visit, that the French came as its friends; but, some hours after, when pressed by a second deputation to be more explicit, he at last confessed that they came to replace the Pope on the throne.[444] It would be to our glory, but not to the purpose, to describe the prodigies of valour performed by our inexperienced volunteers, in contending for three months with forty-five thousand of the best troops of Europe. We fought as only citizens combat for home and liberty. Men and women were in the mêlée. Neither wife nor mother attempted by tears and entreaties to stay her husband or son, but with a blessing and a kiss sent him forth against the enemy. O Rome! O my noble country! when I remember thy noble deeds, the readiness with which thou didst sacrifice the noblest of thy children to achieve thy liberty, hope lends me patience to endure the longing and miseries of my exile! Thou canst not be long under the yoke of the priests!

But our valour availed us nothing. Left alone, we could stand no longer. Four nations were leagued against us, and not a friendly hand was stretched forth to succour us. England must reproach herself for having left us to contend, unaided and alone, against four Catholic powers, combined together to re-establish the Pope, who is as much her enemy as ours. She must now feel the consequences of her culpable indifference. The result was—and this is of great importance for England—that at last, masters of our destinies, the Austrians have established a military port at Leghorn, the French one at Civita Vecchia. Englishmen are cut down in broad day in the streets of Florence,[445] condemned to death by an Inquisitorial tribunal at Rome,[446] imprisoned at Verona,[447] and insulted and ill-treated throughout all Italy. An English ambassador sues in vain for the friendly interference of the Pope in English affairs; he is not listened to, and the newspapers of the peninsula, and of the powers adverse to England, laugh at his discomfiture. But there is in the looming a still darker and more serious prospect, threatening to punish England for having abandoned the cause of civil and religious freedom. Eighteen millions of Englishmen live, we will not say in perpetual fear—they are too brave for that—but not without apprehension of seeing their shores invaded by the same army which conquered Rome, and which would carry with it the blessing and the good wishes of Pius IX.—God forbid that it should also have the support of the most fanatical and ignorant portion of the Irish Papists, led by priests and Jesuits. We hope that this will not be the case; yet we must remind our readers, that every time the French speak of a war with England, they count on the Irish as their natural allies.

We are not of those who, possessed by the fixed idea that impending dangers threaten the Protestant religion, believe and affirm that Louis Napoleon will be ready, at the bidding of the Jesuits, to send an expedition against heretic England. On the contrary, we think that, having once possessed himself of the imperial diadem, and having firmly established himself on the throne, through the instrumentality of the priests, and by the magic power which he seems to possess, of making the electoral urn yield exactly the amount of votes asked from it, he will soon put a stop to the insolence of the clergy, which, we are sure, will increase in the direct ratio of the services they are rendering to the usurper, and of the favours he has lavished upon them. But at the same time, we firmly believe that, should Napoleon, in order to give employment to his troops, and to gratify the national animosity, attempt to invade Great Britain, or should he succeed in landing his adventurous battalions on the British shore, then, though England may not have to lament the treachery of the fanatic Papists of Ireland, she must expect to find in her bosom as many spies and allies of her enemy as she has Jesuits on her soil. All this is the result of the indifference shewn by England to the affairs of the peninsula. Had she interfered when the Romans were bravely struggling for their liberties, the Pope and Louis Napoleon would not have cemented with our blood their anomalous alliance, and the before-mentioned disastrous results would have been averted with less difficulties and sacrifices than are now required to check the insolence of that monstrous coalition. And let no one affirm that England could not have justly interfered with the internal policy of other nations. What! shall then intervention only be lawful and commendable when employed to oppress a nation awakened to a sense of its rights, and to extinguish every spark of freedom and patriotism? Shall it only be permitted to outrage humanity, and never to benefit it? And to apply the rule to the case now in question, we ask, shall the ferocious bands of Croats, and the degraded soldiers of Louis Napoleon, trample upon our unfortunate country, and dispose of its destinies at their pleasure, and England remain an indifferent spectatress of their atrocious proceedings? These are considerations which we beg leave to submit to the meditation not only of the statesmen of Great Britain, but also of every free and enlightened English citizen.

To return to our narrative: the French entered Rome (3d July 1849), and with them priests and Jesuits, who had concealed themselves, or assumed different disguises (not unfrequently that of patriots), re-appeared, to enjoy their triumph, and the groans of the unfortunate country. Oudinot, covered with the blood of the brave Romans, hastened to Gaeta to receive the Pope’s blessing and acknowledgment, and was hailed there as an angel of deliverance. The vindictive priests rejoiced at the recital of the slaughter of the flock committed to their paternal care, and made the General repeat the names and the numbers of the victims. Then, when the hero of St Pancrace[448] returned to Rome, the priests, to enjoy a barbarous pleasure, ordered a solemn Te Deum to be sung in all the churches of the state; and those of the unfortunate Italians whose sustenance and liberty were in the power of their relentless enemy, were obliged to assist at the ceremony, and with their lips, at least, thank the Almighty for the slaughter of their best friends and nearest relations.[449] Blasphemous profanation! Then began that ceaseless persecution which is still continued; and the priests gratified their thirst for revenge by crowding the dungeons with victims, and by driving thousands into exile in foreign lands.

I will not prolong the painful history of our miseries. I will not speak of ruined families—of forlorn and wandering children. I will not dwell upon the fate of the ten thousand captives taken by Papal sbirri and French gens-d’armes, and who fill the prisons of the state. I will not implore the reader’s compassion for the many victims who have been again immured in the dungeons of the Inquisition, some of whom, for the last three years, have never seen a friendly face or heard a compassionate word. I will not point out the inhuman and hypocritical conduct of the so-called Vicar of Jesus Christ, who, while speaking with devout emotion of his clemency, his paternal heart, and the mercies of the Christian religion, has not granted a single pardon, dried a single tear, shortened for a single day the torments to which he has condemned thousands of his subjects. I shall only give an account of the wholesale execution which, in the last month, took place at Sinigallia and Ancona, and which has filled Italy and Europe with horror and amazement. As the Jesuits are notoriously the soul and spirit of Popery, and are at the present moment the recognised advisers and ministers of the Court at Rome, this short narrative will not, we hope, be considered extraneous to our subject.

Those who, in times of calm and tranquillity, judge of events that occur in epochs of commotion and revolution, when the passions of men are excited to the highest paroxysm, and the voice of reason imposes a feebler restraint upon their actions, leaving them little liberty to judge of the character of their actions, are apt to commit serious injustice; for they are too prone to brand as criminal, and deserving the highest reprobation, deeds which, although culpable in themselves, were yet committed under the impulse of heroism and devotedness. We do not intend by this to approve or countenance crime, no matter under what pretext it may have been committed. But assuredly there are circumstances that ought to be taken into account which might render it, if not excusable, at least less heinous and worthy of reprobation; and whoever would form a just judgment in such cases, will never lose sight of these considerations.

The first two years of Pius IX.’s pontificate are remarkably characteristic of the nobleness and generosity of the liberal party. Though the liberals had been, for the thirty years previous, so cruelly and mercilessly treated, and though they were now the dominant party in the state, they cannot be reproached with having offered an insult to their late oppressors, nor with a single act of revenge. But it is, unfortunately, true that, latterly, when the Pope had fled to Gaeta for the very purpose of exciting civil war, when the priests were plotting against the republic, calling in strangers to their aid, and menacing us with foreign invasion, many political assassinations were committed in Ancona and Sinigallia. This cannot be denied or palliated; only it is to be remarked, that the crimes were confined to these two towns—the latter the Pope’s birthplace; and both places being the residence of his family, relations, and friends, a suspicion naturally arose in the minds of many that these crimes were committed by persons misled by the advice of some hidden Jesuits and partisans of the Pope, whose endeavour it was to bring matters to the worst. The suspicion acquired strength from the circumstance, that nobody belonging to the Mastai family was injured. Although, as we have already reported, we were witness of the fact that those who, during the late commotion in Rome, proposed the most energetic and revolutionary measures, were, in the end, discovered to be the agents or the tools of the Jesuits, nevertheless we would not like to affirm that the political murders committed at Sinigallia were due to the perfidious instigation of the priests. We do not like to believe in the reality of such hellish perfidy; yet why had Sinigallia and Ancona the sad preference of seeing their streets stained with fraternal blood? Were there not exasperated minds also in other places? Had no other populations of the state good grounds for calling to a strict and severe account the agents and supporters of the past tyrannical government? Why, we repeat, was the sad pre-eminence in guilt assigned to the native town of the Pope?

However it were, after the Papal restoration, about 150 individuals were thrown into prison, accused of being the accomplices or the abettors of these crimes. Some of the accused, perhaps the guilty, were never taken, having fled from the country. About eighty were condemned to the galleys for life, the remainder to death.[450] Forty of the unfortunates have already been executed, and the rest will meet the same fate when the Pope shall find executioners as clement and humane as himself;—the garrison of Ancona having to a man refused to be any longer the accomplices of the Papal revenge.

What is of more importance than all this, is to place before the eyes of our readers and civilised Europe the manner in which political trials are conducted in the Roman states, in order that they may be aware of the justice, charity, and humanity which characterise the acts of him who blasphemously calls himself a god upon earth, the representative of Christ.

Whoever has the misfortune to incur the displeasure or the hatred of his Holiness, his ministers, a policeman, a sbirro, the bishop, the curate, a monk, or any other of such rabble, which form an integral part of the biform Papal government, is thrown into a dungeon, helpless, comfortless, alone, and during several months hears and sees nothing else than the grating sound of the rusty bolts, and the inauspicious face of his guardian, who comes to bring his miserable pittance of food, and to ascertain that the victim cannot make his escape. After a longer or shorter space of time, but never shorter than three or four months, according to the hatred or fear the prisoner has inspired, or the interest possessed by his friends without, he is brought before a cancelliere o giudice processante, a sort of scribe, by whom he is interrogated.[451] In that examination all the care of the man of police—we cannot call him a magistrate—is directed to elicit from the victim a confession of his crime, or the name of his accomplices, if he is supposed to have had any. Promises of liberty, favour, and recompence, are held out to him as an inducement to dishonour or perjure himself. These examinations are repeated every three or four months; and when at last the man of the law has, after some years, obtained what he wished, or despairs of obtaining it, the process is announced to be closed, and the judgment is going to be delivered. Then, and not till then, the accused may confer with a legal adviser, generally assigned to him, ex officio, by the tribunal; and some little space of time is granted to him to prepare his defence. But how can he defend himself? He knows neither the names of his accusers nor of the witnesses who have made the accusation good. He is not allowed to confront and cross-examine them. Even his answers to the different questions put to him by the cancelliere are noted down, not as actually given by him, but as it was desired that they should be given, in order that he may appear a criminal, the only result which the judges wish to obtain. When the advocate has delivered his defence, the secret tribunal pass judgment without even seeing the face of the prisoner; and this judgment is without appeal. Such is the general practice observed in political trials. Robbers are a little better treated. In the peculiar case which we are considering, we have to add, that, as far as has transpired, all the witnesses who were called to give evidence against the accused belonged to the adverse party—the party of the Jesuits, thirsting for revenge, and eager to shew their devotion to the sect. It may be easily understood that those witnesses were not very scrupulous as to the charges they brought against the accused, being assured, as they were, that their names would never be made public, and that they would not be confronted with the prisoner, nor be cross-examined by anybody.

And nevertheless, it was upon such testimony that the tribunal of the Consulta, composed of cardinals and prelates, condemned sixty unfortunate young men to suffer the last punishment of the law. We must further observe that, had those men who composed the tribunal, which they call Sacred, been judges, and not persecutors, had they had any sentiment of humanity in passing the sentence, even though the crime had been proved, they would have borne in mind the time and the motives which led the culprits to commit the murder, and would not have added another red page to the annals of their Church, already overcharged with innocent blood.[452]

Sinigallia, in which the executions were the most numerous, had not yet recovered from the horror inspired by such a bloody tragedy, and had not dried its tears for the cruel fate of its butchered citizens, and especially for the innocent and unfortunate Simoncelli,[453] when, to complete its miseries and insult its grief, there appeared a Papal ordinance, granting to the Jesuits £40,000 sterling to erect a college in the desolate city. Ah! so they reign in the Papal states!

When the Jesuits re-entered Naples in 1849, the superior held a sort of levee, when the generals of the army, the first magistrates of the kingdom, and all the civil and military authorities, went to pay their respects to those very humble monks. The addresses which were delivered on the occasion in praise of these men of Providence, these messengers of God, these restorers of all moral and sainted institutions, were, from their hyperbolical style, amusing in the extreme; and it is curious to find that some of them were repeated almost literally (plagiarism seems to become very fashionable now-a-days) by some bishops to Louis Napoleon, the saviour of society, the man of Providence, the pearl of chastity and virtue—just as was done to the fathers themselves.

If in Rome the Jesuits must shew deference to the chair of St Peter, in Naples they are masters of the situation. St Ignatius has superseded even St Januarius, and both have almost obliterated the name of Christ. The superstition and bigotry of that part of the peninsula exclusively under the sway of the Jesuits is almost incredible; and the government, conducted on those principles, has reached the highest point of immorality and corruption, and is held up by every honest person, no matter of what party, to the execration and contempt of Europe; while, to leave no doubt as to the influence which predominates there, the Pope, the Jesuits, and the priests, their abettors, represent Ferdinand II. as a model of Christian perfection, and the kingdom of the two Sicilies as the best governed in the world; the Roman states being of course excepted.

Unfortunately, the wretched Neapolitans, and the noblest and best amongst them, have to pay with their liberties and their lives for the eulogium awarded by the Jesuits to the merciless Bourbon. The policy of the Neapolitan governments is a disgrace to civilisation. A band of ruffians, under the name of police or government, seize upon all persons who have had the misfortune to displease them; their victims are thrown into prison, and are accused of imaginary crimes; while the accusers, changing themselves into witnesses, often into judges, in order to make good the charge, keep them chained for three or four years in Ischia, as in the case of Poerio and Dragonetti, and finally pass a sentence of death upon them, in order to give the pious and clement Ferdinand and his Jesuit confessor the merit of having commuted the infamous sentence into a horrid and perpetual imprisonment; and to all this complication of iniquities they give the name of a state trial. Such is the Neapolitan government under the conduct of the sons of Loyola.

But the malignant spirit of the Jesuits, in breaking forth from Naples and Rome, has lately made an inroad into a province which, till then, had been spared its pernicious influence. Among all the other provinces of Italy, Tuscany had been favoured with a comparatively just and tolerant government; and this, it was openly asserted, was owing to the absence of the Jesuits from the country. Now, whoever has followed the march of events there, must have been struck by the wide difference that exists between the former policy of the government and the new one introduced after Leopold II. had been some time at Gaeta, under the influence of Antonelli and the Jesuits. From that moment all things changed in Tuscany. The priests re-acquired an influence which they had never possessed since the time of Leopold I., and made it subservient to their unworthy ends. Madonnas became again miraculous. Feasts and processions were got up with the greatest pomp, and were numerously attended by all those who had anything to hope or fear from the government. A furious war was declared against all doctrines but those harmonising with the strictest ultra-Popish principles. Books and newspapers were interdicted, and no efforts were spared to bring the enlightened, lively, and intellectual people of Tuscany to limit their literary pursuits to the perfect knowledge of the Catechisms.

The influence of the too notorious Bocella, by his own confession a Jesuit, was, above all, fatal to the country. While he was the chief adviser of the Grand Duke, the Grand Duchess went in procession to worship a miraculous Madonna at Rimini, and Leopold himself ordered a sumptuous and extraordinary feast for another Madonna in Florence, to whose church he repaired in state. But at the same time, the most respectable citizens of Florence, Count Guicciardini and others, were prosecuted and exiled for the heinous crime of reading the Bible; and two unfortunate and inoffensive creatures—the Madiais—have been condemned to the punishment of malefactors (hard labour), for having in their possession the sacred volume, and for discussing and endeavouring to prove its veracity. Later still, an ordinance of the Grand Duke re-establishes capital punishment, which had long since been abolished; while another ordinance of the minister of police expels from the hospitable soil of Tuscany hundreds of unfortunate Italians, who had sought there a refuge against the ferocious and relentless persecution of the Roman Court. Such are the effects of the influence of the Jesuits.

What will become of Lombardy, already so wretched, now that Austria has decided on re-establishing the Jesuits there on an extended scale, it is disheartening to contemplate; while, on the other hand, it is cheering in the extreme for an Italian, and for every true friend of civil and religious liberty, to see the conduct of the Piedmontese government towards the Jesuits and the priesthood.

The Jesuits, after their expulsion, were never permitted to re-enter the kingdom, and the priests are now subjected, like other citizens, to the laws of the land, and are obliged to submit to that equality which they consider as a disgrace to their privileged caste. For it must be borne in mind that the priest, and the conscientious one more than others, considers himself a superior being, a man far above any layman, even though he were a king. He imbibes this idea from childhood, when he begins to dress in a peculiar garb, and is accosted by a respectful appellation. According to the canonical law (and in Italy that law is universally respected and strictly enforced, except, indeed, in Piedmont), the moment an infant assumes the garb of a priest, and receives the first order (tonsura), he is no more subject to the civil authorities; he is henceforth only amenable to the ecclesiastical court, and whoever strikes him, incurs de facto excommunication. After he has been consecrated priest, he pretends, or in reality believes, that it is in his power to oblige the Almighty to descend from heaven into his hands, and that at his bidding the flesh and blood of the Divine Redeemer is transubstantiated into bread and wine, and in that form goes to sanctify his breast. Again, he believes, or feigns to believe, that it rests with him to open or shut the gates of heaven, and that he has the power of bestowing everlasting beatitude or dooming to eternal damnation, according as he absolves from sin or refuses absolution. In fact, he puts himself in the place of God, of whom he calls himself the Anointed, and whose name he often usurps. When we consider all this, we do not wonder that the priests cannot endure equality of rights with other citizens. We are rather astonished that serious and enlightened people of this country can for a moment entertain the idea that the Irish Roman Catholic priests are sincere when they ask for equality of rights. Look to Piedmont; there the Romish priesthood enjoy this equality—nay, more than equality. Their religion is acknowledged to be the religion of the state; and many are the writers who have lately been condemned for disparaging it. They possess, also, some other less considerable privileges over the other citizens; and yet they are far from being satisfied. On the contrary, they accuse the government of tyranny. The bishops are in open rebellion against the sovereign; priests and curates oppose the laws of the country. The pulpit, the confessional, are made subservient to their hatred of the new state of things; and all this because the legislature attempts, not to deprive them of any right, or subject them to any incapacity, but to introduce equality, and to subject ecclesiastics of all sorts to the common law. The rage of the priesthood at this sacrilegious audacity on the part of the parliament, in seeking to assimilate them to other men, is such, that they have launched a solemn act of excommunication against all those who shall read the newspapers advocating such infamous measures. The Jesuits are at the bottom of all this, and their intrigues brought Piedmont but the other day to the brink of ruin. Fortunately, public opinion declared itself so strongly, and the king shewed such firmness, that their machinations proved abortive. It must be remarked in all this, that when the liberal newspapers reproach the clerical party with their acts or words, they always stigmatise them with the name of Jesuits—so universally is the abhorred name coupled with all that is bad, cunning, and criminal!

Appalling and ominous of incalculable consequences is the influence which the Jesuits have acquired in France—in that country which has prostrated all its past glory and its dignity as a nation, at the feet of an unscrupulous, merciless tyrant; endeavouring, at the same time, to forget its ignominy in the intoxication of feasts and champaigne. The Jesuits and priests are the firmest supporters of Louis Napoleon; and it is worthy of remark, that the bishops who are known for their ultramontane principles and their adherence to the Jesuitical discipline are those who lavish the highest eulogiums on the unprincipled usurper. This affords us another instance of the worldly spirit of the Popish clergy, and may be a salutary lesson for the future. For our own part, indeed, we are inclined to recognise in it the hand of Providence consummating the speedy downfall of the Popish religion. The conduct of Pius IX. has already extinguished in Italy the last lingering sentiments of respect and devotion towards the Papal religion. The Italians had hopes for a moment that Pius would reconcile them to the religion of their forefathers, by shewing that it is not a religion of blood and persecution, but of love and brotherhood, eminently liberal and national. They had hoped that Popery, to which Italy owes all its misfortunes, would now change, and restore to it part of its former glory. And this idea prevented them from renouncing altogether religion such as it is preached to them. But now that no doubt remains as to the true spirit of Popery, now that no one can reasonably entertain the least hope that it will ever change from what it has been—an institution founded on superstition, cemented with blood, and maintained by the axe of the executioner—now that the last testing experiment has shewn to all the world its utter helplessness against free physical force, it may be truly said that Popery has been irrevocably doomed in Italy. It may linger yet a while by the aid of despotic bayonets, but never again will the Italians, of their own free will, repose their faith in the religion of the Popes.

In precisely a similar manner are the priests and Jesuits now giving the last blow to the Popish religion in France. Let the present transient moment of delirium pass over, and the French nation will reconsider the servile and ignominious part played by the clergy in the recent immoral saturnalia. It will remember that the man who had perjured himself—who had caused thousands of citizens to be butchered because they were faithful to the laws—who had been a traitor to all governments from his youth—who had never kept his word—who had been distinguished for immorality and debauchery even among the unscrupulous lions of London and Paris—that this man was exalted by the surpliced emissaries of Rome as the man of Providence, the messenger of God, the restorer of morality and religion, and the benefactor of humanity. Who, need it be asked, will once again believe them, when speaking of the things of heaven, after they have lied so impudently and deliberately in speaking of the things of this world? But till a reaction take place, the Jesuits triumph in France.

As we have had occasion to speak incidentally, in various parts of this work, of the arts and practices employed at the present moment by the Jesuits against England, and as our readers have daily so many means of ascertaining the manners of the fathers in the public prints, we do not think it necessary to add anything more in this place. We have also little to say about the actual missions of the Jesuits in both Indies. They are neither prosperous nor important, and are only distinguished by their intrigues and by the war which they keep up against all other missionaries, whether Popish or Protestant. The actual wealth of the Jesuits, though considerable, is far from approaching the fabulous amount it possessed before the suppression. If our information and calculation are correct, and we believe they are, the total number of the members to be found on the register of the Order amounts to nearly six thousand—an enormous increase since 1814, and such, indeed, as to give to reflective minds serious apprehensions. But we have nearly exhausted the space we had allowed ourselves. We must pass to the conclusion.

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