Now if a young man is thus to give up all in behalf of the Society—if property is to be sacrificed, and parents abandoned—the very least that should be done by honest men is to set the whole system fully and frankly before him. He should at all events have the opportunity of considering well the consequences of his decision. But as he is cut off from seeking the counsel of his father, so is he forbidden even to make himself acquainted with the whole of the Constitutions of the Society; and I find a passage in the outset of the Examen, which expressly directs, “That all the Constitutions be not read by those who come as novices, but only a compendium of those parts from which they may learn what they have themselves to do.” [45] He is, therefore, to be gradually drawn on, step by step; he is never allowed to see the whole system, lest he should recoil from it; but he is led on, little by little, till he becomes so inextricably entangled, that there is not the slightest possibility of a return.
Truly the heart burns at the thought of such an outrage on every law of nature, on every principle of Christianity. Can that be Christianity which can resort to such expedients, and can depend for its power on such an instrumentality? Men may admire Jesuitism as a beautiful and well-adjusted machinery; they may be acquainted with individual Jesuits, and entertain a great respect for their talents, their acquirements, their mild and gentle manners; but let them look at the great broad facts of the system, at the cruel and oppressive apparatus, which is brought to bear on the conscience of its members, at the absolute crushing of all individual principle and conviction, at the early age at which sanguine youths are entangled and enslaved; and then let them decide whether it is possible that such a system can have the most distant connexion with that glorious liberty wherewith Christ has made us free. Does not the Gospel fill men with joy and peace in believing? Does it not elevate the soul to sweet and holy communion with God? Does it not purify the heart and make the conscience sensitive to sin? And can that be consistent, I appeal to any Roman Catholic, with such a system as that of Jesuitry, which seizes a young man at the age of eighteen, strips him of his property, isolates him from his home, deadens his conscience, closes against him every possibility of escape, and then sends him forth into society, the thinking tool, the acting instrument in the hands of his captor?
CHAPTER IV.
MORALITY.
It is stated by Mr. Seymour that the character of the Society is in high esteem for morality at Rome. One of them said to him, “We have been charged with being crafty intriguers—with intermeddling in politics—with swaying princes—with disturbing kingdoms—with embroiling families. We have been charged with everything but one. No man has ever charged us with personal immorality.” And Mr. Seymour adds, that this boast is certainly true as respects the Jesuits of Rome; so true that whereas all men in that city hesitate not to denounce the other Monkish orders as idle, debauched, licentious, they never breathe a whisper against the personal morality of the Jesuits. If morality were confined to the absence of profligacy, I believe that the same might be said of the personal behaviour of the great majority of modern Jesuits; but if we take the term in its wider and nobler sense, as expressing the moral will of God, or the reflection of it in the moral sense, which still remains within the heart, notwithstanding our ruin in the fall: if morality convey to us the idea of purity, truth, honesty, justice, and all those noble principles which should regulate man’s intercourse with man, then I believe it may be shown to demonstration that the Order has sanctioned principles which are sufficient to dissolve every moral tie, and, if extensively prevalent, to break up the whole fabric of society. I do not mean that such principles are boldly stated in their Constitutions and public documents, for, of course, it would not answer their purpose to avow them. But they are maintained and defended by their most celebrated writers, and if we only bear in mind that no Jesuit is permitted to publish any book without first submitting it to his Superior, it is clear that the Society becomes responsible for every publication of its members. The leading principles of the Order strips the writer of his individuality, and every publication of every individual amongst them becomes an authorized document of the Society. It cannot go forth without the imprimatur of the General, and if it has that imprimatur, then the Society becomes responsible for its sentiments. [48]
Let us take one or two specimens of their moral maxims.
The reader has doubtless heard of the doctrine of Probability; the principle of which is, that if any writer of repute has recommended a certain conduct, then that conduct becomes probably right. If any author, especially any modern, has advanced a certain opinion, then that opinion becomes probable. It matters not what evidence there is against it. It may be condemned by the concurrent voice of all honest men, but still it is rendered probable if defended by a single individual.
But what results from this probability? and what harm is done if the opinion be accounted probable? It is really almost inconceivable that any men should have had the daring to advance such a maxim as may be found in countless passages in the writings of the Order. It is nothing less than this. That if any opinion be probable it may be adopted with a clear conscience, and if any action be probably right, a man may perform it and be harmless, whatever be its character. Mr. Dalton quotes the following passage, amongst many others, from George De Rhodes:[49]—“The authority of one good doctor is a sufficient reason on which to ground the probability of any opinion; so that every one may safely follow it.” Where, Oh, where is the vaunted certainty of Romish teaching? We hear of men seeking rest in Rome’s authority in order that their soul may be satisfied with certainty. And the human mind requires certainty; the interests of eternity are far too solemn to allow men to rest satisfied if their only hope be in a doubt or an opinion. But who, we may boldly challenge them to answer us, has the certainty now,—the poor unhappy man who is floating hither and thither on a whole sea of Jesuitical probabilities?—or the man who can plant his firm foot on the immoveable rock of the unchanging word of the living God, and fearlessly declare, “This is certain, because it is inspired; this is truth, because God has revealed it in the Bible?”
It seems at first sight that such principles as these must lead to endless perplexity and embarrassment, and so they must if all love of truth be not first extinguished. But on the other hand it is clear that they give unbounded latitude in conduct, and by referring truth to the ever-varying standard of man’s opinion, enable the Jesuit to justify anything. Pascal puts this with great power in his “Provincial Letters.” He supposes a Jesuit father to be conversing with him as follows:—“They, the authors, are very often of different opinions; but that does not signify; every one renders his own probable and sure. We well know that they have not the same sentiments, it is all the better for that. On the contrary, they hardly ever agree. There are very few questions where you will not find that one says yes, and the other no. In all cases of that sort, one and the other of the contrary opinions is probable. But, my father, said I, we must be very much embarrassed in choosing! Not at all, said he, you have only to follow the one that pleases the most. What! if the other is more probable? It does not signify, said he. And if the other is more certain? It does not signify, repeated the father; here it is, well explained. It is Emmanuel Sa, of our Society, in his aphorism De Dubiis:—‘We may do what we think lawful according to a probable opinion, although the contrary may be more certain. The opinion of a grave doctor is sufficient.’ . . . We have certainly large scope, reverend father, said I, thanks to your probable opinions. We have fine liberty of conscience. And you casuists, have you the same liberty in your answers? Yes, said he, we answer as we please, or rather as pleases those who consult us, for here are our rules taken from our fathers, Layman, Vasquez, Sanchez, &c. Here are the words of Layman:—‘A doctor upon being consulted can give advice not only probable, according to his opinion, but contrary to his opinion, if it is estimated probable by others when his contrary advice is found more favourable and more agreeable to the person that consults him. But I say more, it would not be at all wrong that he should give to those who consult him, an opinion held probable by some learned person, even while he himself knew it to be absolutely false.’”
Are we then to place our souls under the guidance of such teachers? Are we to abandon the pure, the clear, the unerring truth of Scripture, at the bidding of one who is ready to declare black white, and white black, at the bidding of his Church? I solemnly appeal to any Roman Catholic into whose hands this Lecture may ever fall, Can this be Christianity? Can such a system be from God? Is this the Divine and eternal truth which you are seeking in the Church of Rome? Nay, more! Can you place the smallest confidence in any Jesuit, priest or confessor, when you find it boldly asserted that he may give you an opinion as to the great concerns of your soul’s salvation, which at the very time he gives it he knows in his own heart to be absolutely false?
But their principles of equivocation, mental restriction, and the direction of intention, are equally subversive of all that is trustworthy amongst men.