By equivocation they mean the use of terms of so ambiguous a character that the hearer receives them in one sense, while the speaker employs them in another.
By mental restriction is intended the suppression of certain parts of a sentence, so as to give to the remainder a meaning opposed to truth. Pascal quotes the following passage from one Sanchez: “A man may swear,” says he, “that he has not done a thing, although in fact he has done it, meaning within himself that he did not do it on a certain day, or before he was born, or understanding some other similar circumstance, without permitting it to appear in any way through the words employed! and this,” he adds, “is very convenient on many occasions, and is always perfectly right when it is necessary for the health, the honour, or the interests.”
By the direction of intention is meant the proposing to oneself an object of intention entirely at variance with the act committed: as, e.g., the Jesuits in South India encouraged their converts to bow down before heathen idols, on the principle that though the act of adoration was given to the idol, the intention was directed to a small crucifix which each of the worshippers had concealed about his person. Thus, argues Pascal, with his keen satire, “They content the world by permitting the sinful action, and they satisfy the Gospel by purifying the intention.” “You give to men,” says he, “the outward and material effects of the action, and you render to God the interior and spiritual movement of the intention: so that by this equitable division you produce an alliance between the human law and the Divine.” Now there is nothing in the whole catalogue of crime which may not be justified by such a monstrous principle. Pascal quotes passages to show that a man may even commit murder, provided only that his intention be to preserve his honour, and not to take revenge upon his enemy; nor is there any one of the blackest crimes that have ever disgraced humanity, which may not be justified, if we are to admit the idea that the act can be separate from the will; that the heart can be pure, while the hand is defiled in blood, or the intention acceptable to God, while the outward action is in direct opposition to his law.
Such are specimens of the principles of moral conduct advanced by the writers of the Society. It is clear at a moment’s glance that they are destructive of every moral obligation, and give unbounded license to every kind of crime. Now, it is a question of very great interest, how far is the Church of Rome as a body identified with those principles of the Jesuits? I do not say how far are Romanists as individuals, because I am fully aware that a conscientious Romanist would recoil from them with as much aversion as ourselves. It is not a nice point of controversial theology, but a simple matter of right and wrong; and whatever men may think on such a subject as transubstantiation, no honourable man can approve of mental restriction. I take it for granted therefore, that the great body of Roman Catholic Englishmen condemn them. But how does the Church as a Church stand affected by them? It has been already shewn that as the Society claims an absolute control over all Jesuit authors, it becomes thereby responsible for their sentiments. But still this does not reach the Popedom; the Company may be guilty, and not Popery. But not so when we find that on August 4, 1814, Pope Pius VII. issued a Bull in which, by Pontifical authority, he solemnly sanctioned the re-establishment of the Order. It is true that this Bull was in flat contradiction to that of Clement XIV., so that one infallible Pope was in direct opposition to another. [55] But that is not our concern—it is not our business to decide which of the two infallibles was wrong,—all that we may leave to those who believe in their infallibility. The one important fact for us is this, that Pope Pius VII. re-established the Order in 1814, and that his Bull remains to this day unretracted in the archives of the Vatican. It is also important to observe that he did it with these moral enormities fully in view. Of course, as an infallible person, he must have known Jesuit doctrine through the simple power of his own infallibility; but even if that had failed him, he had in the archives of the Vatican the language of Clement stating distinctly:—“And further, concerning the use and exposition of certain maxims, which the Holy See has with reason proscribed, as scandalous and manifestly contrary to good morals.” So that our heavy charge against the Popedom is, that with all these facts clearly in view, the Pope put his seal and sanction upon the Company. He ordained that these letters of his should be “inviolably observed in all time coming,” and accordingly to this hour they are in force. He declares that he should “consider it a great crime against God if, amidst these dangers of the Christian republic, he neglected the aids which the especial providence of God had placed at his disposal;” a crime, that is, to neglect the aid of an Order which breaks down truth by the doctrine of probabilities, and gives a loose rein to every sinful action by the licentious theory, that in the midst of crime the intention may be pure. Are these, then, the weapons, and are these the principles, on which the Church of Rome relies for the maintenance of power? and if they be,—I ask the question fearlessly, Can it be the Church of God? Do not now perplex your minds by a few hard texts, or the nice subtilties of acute controversialists. But look at the great, broad, and admitted features of Jesuitical morality; and then look at the Papacy leaning for support on that very Order, though all its principles are open and exposed before the world, and decide, can that Papacy be the Spouse of Christ?—can that be the truth of God, which leans on such a system for its support?—can he be the Vicar of our blessed Lord who gives his unqualified sanction to a Society acting on such principles? to a body of men the very essence of whose system is that they are ready to declare black white, and white black, at a bidding of the Pope? [57]
CHAPTER VI.
RELIGION.
It seems strange to mention the holy name of religion in connexion with such principles as those of probability and intention, and the first feeling of the heart is to rise up in holy indignation, and to declare it is utterly impossible that religion can have anything to do with such a system. But such a conclusion would be clearly incorrect; for not only do the facts prove that there is a certain religious principle in action, but I believe it may be shewn that such results could not be produced except through the power of a debased and perverted Christianity. The assertion may startle some, but I believe that upon investigation it will be found true, that there is less power in bare, barren, blank Infidelity, to break down the morality of a man, than there is in a Gospel, debased and defiled to suit his purposes. Infidelity gives no sop to the conscience, no chloroform to destroy the sense of sin, nor can it altogether root out the moral sense, however mournfully it may sear and deaden it. But the case is different with a debased religion. It overpowers conscience, by setting off against it the spurious principles of a pretended Christianity. It produces certain maxims, for which it claims pre-eminence, because it says they come from Christ; and, by the very authority which they derive from the misappropriation of that holy name, it tramples the moral sense under foot, and leaves the pervert ready for any enormity that it may require. I have no doubt, therefore, in my own mind, that a large proportion of the Company of Jesuits are, in one sense, religious men; nor can we look at the history of Jesuit missions, at their indefatigable zeal, untiring self-denial, patient endurance, and, in some instances, cheerful martyrdom, without the conviction that a deep religious feeling has been more or less their actuating power. But more than this,—you may see it even in their crimes; you may there obtain the most perfect illustration of the statement just made, that a perverted religion may be called in to give its sanction to those crimes which an Infidel without religion dare not commit. Look, for example, at the letter of Sir Everard Digby to his wife, written when he was under sentence of death for the Gunpowder Plot, in which he says,—“Now for my intention, let me tell you, that if I had thought there had been the least sin in the plot, I would not have been of it for all the world, and no other cause led me to hazard my fortune and life but zeal for God’s religion.” [59] Look again at the remarkable fact, that those conspirators received a solemn mass from a Jesuit father of the name of Gerard, when they solemnly swore to do their part in the conspiracy; and that the whole scheme was known to Garnett, the Provincial of the Society. [60] So that the solemn sanction of the Lord’s death and sufferings was thrown over all the enormous guilt of that long-premeditated and wholesale murder.
But then the question arises, What can be the perversion of Christianity which can lead to such an abandonment of the moral sense? The full answer to the question might occupy volumes; but there is one root to which, I believe, the whole may be traced; and although it may seem at first scarcely sufficient to produce so vast a Upas-tree, yet I believe it will be found in fact that the whole plant has sprung from it;—I mean, the substitution of man for God in the great business of the soul’s guidance and salvation.
The passages already quoted prove this substitution very clearly, with reference to the guidance of the Jesuit; but if there were any doubt of it, it would be removed by the oath of profession, in which it is sworn,—“I, N., make profession, and promise Almighty God, before his Virgin Mother, and before the heavenly hosts, and before all bystanders, and you, Rev. Father, General of the Society of Jesus, holding the place of God.” There is, therefore, a double transfer of Divine authority. The Pope stands between the General and God, and the General between the Jesuit and the Pope. There is a double delegation of Divine powers, the Lord being said to confer them on the Pope, the Pope conferring them on the General, and the Jesuit then swearing, in the most solemn moment of his life, that the General “holds the place of God.” And what must be the necessary result? That moral truth is no longer learned from the fountain of truth, but from the corrupt, the designing, the human authority that stands between the Creator and the soul. The Divine law is obscured, the human will is adopted in its place. The result of such a change must obviously be, that the character of the body must become the mere reflection of the character of the head; that his corruptions take the place of Divine perfections; and his schemes, whatever be their nature, are regarded as identical with the glory of the Lord. Hence the very religion of the Jesuit prepares him for any desperate measures provided only that his Superior gives his sanction to them; and the more that his soul feels in earnest, the more ready will he be to plunge on in any course of action, if only his head, a man quite as fallible as himself, and perhaps more corrupt, gives the word of command, and sanctions the foul act by his authority.
There is obedience, but, being transferred to a wrong object, the right principle produces a depraved and corrupt result. There is zeal, but it is all put out for the furtherance of the plans of a scheming man, instead of rising high to the blessed end of seeking God’s glory. There is some fear towards God, but it is directed not by God himself, but the Superior; and hence it follows that the Jesuits, whilst they set aside the practical use of Scripture, do in fact confirm its truth; for they stand out as living witnesses to the unfailing truth of that remarkable passage which connects alienation of heart with the substitution of human for Divine instruction, and says,—“This people draw near me with their mouth, and with their lips do honour me, but have removed their heart far from me, and their fear toward me is taught by the precept of men.” [62]
There is just the same substitution of man for God in the great work of a sinner’s salvation; and from this, as the root, may be said to spring the whole remainder of the system. Loyola, as is well known, struggled hard for peace. Deeply convinced of sin, he passed through an agony of soul in search of life; and, failing to find it as God has revealed it, in free grace and full redemption, he made a desperate plunge into Jesuitry, and the creation of the Order was the result. His book of “Spiritual Exercises,” written shortly after the time of his conflict, is still the standing work for the Jesuit’s personal religion. The reader has been already informed of the high authority by which it has been introduced to the British public, but few who are not acquainted with the mechanical character of the whole Romish system will be prepared for the mournful substitution of man’s action for God’s grace, which pervades both the preface and the book. The book contains a plan for passing a novice through a kind of spiritual manufacture in twenty-eight days; or rather, it used to be twenty-eight days in the time of Loyola; but we travel now by railroads, and everything moves quickly, so that Cardinal Wiseman states in his preface that the twenty-eight days may now be reduced to ten. [63a] Now, learn what may be accomplished in these ten days. The Cardinal says,—“It is not a treatise on sin, or virtue; it is not a method of Christian perfection; but it contains the entire practice of perfection, by making us at once conquer sin, and acquire virtue.” [63b] Now, it is a question of the deepest interest to ascertain the process by which sin is to be conquered in twenty-eight, or by us moderns in ten days. It is a secret that many a sin-burdened conscience would give worlds, if it had them, to discover. But really it is most deeply affecting to turn to the book, and see the utter emptiness of the whole scheme. According to the Cardinal, “it is divided into four weeks, and each of these has its specific object, to advance the exercitant an additional step towards perfect virtue. If the work of each week be thoroughly done, this is actually accomplished.” [63c]