Let us, however, to be impartial, listen to their justification. Crétineau asserts that these accusations were calumnies, and gives us the following as proof:—On the marriage question, he produces part of a letter written by the accused Father Consalves himself, in which, after having contradicted most of the calumniations which had been heaped upon him, he adds—“So, if I have anything to reproach myself with, it is for insisting too much that the marriage might take place. Those who told the Pope that the heart of the king was in my hands, and that I can direct his affections as I please, think of Sebastian what they would believe of any other young man of his age.... But he is obstinate, and in this matter he remains immovable to all my advices.”[160] We shall scarcely be blamed, however, if we confess ourselves sceptical regarding the truth of these justifications.
To exculpate the fathers for having induced the king to undertake the expedition against Morocco, Crétineau quotes a passage from Mendoza, a man entirely devoted to the Jesuits, in which he simply asserts, “That all the Jesuits were opposed to the expedition to Africa.” These two lines, written long after the event, and by a partisan of the order, constitute the only proof of their innocence which the Jesuits can adduce.
After such attempted justifications, there can remain no doubt that the Jesuits wrested the crown from the head of Don Sebastian, to place it upon that of Philip II. Philip was at that time the friend and the most powerful supporter of the Jesuits. He was the chief of the Roman Catholic party—the hope of the Papists—the dread of the Protestants. These reasons, I believe, induced the Jesuits to accomplish this abominable treachery. At the death of Don Sebastian, Cardinal Henry assumed the name of king, and asked from the estates of Portugal that Philip should be declared his successor. They refused. Philip invaded Portugal. The Jesuits used all their influence in his favour, excommunicated Don Antonio de Crato, the legitimate heir of the crown, and placed Philip on the throne of their benefactors. We must observe, that we believe that neither the honest and conscientious Borgia nor the old and insignificant Mercurianus were privy to this treacherous transaction. They were persons in no way to be trusted with such secrets. It thus happened that the Portuguese monarchs, who first nursed these sons of Loyola in their bosoms, found that they had been giving life to a serpent, which now stung them to the heart. But unfortunately the example was lost; the Portuguese monarchs continued to submit to the Jesuits, and one of them, Joseph I., barely escaped falling under the poniard of the assassin hired by the fathers.
FRANCE.
We have seen the Jesuits executed in England as traitors. We beheld them in Portugal, as successful conspirators, dispose of a sceptre wrested from the hands of their benefactors. We shall now see them in France acting the part of traitors, conspirators, and regicides, and the principal cause of an indescribable evil. We have already mentioned the famous arrêt (decision) of 1554, by which the parliament of Paris refused to admit the Jesuits into the kingdom. From this time, down to the year 1562, the disciples of Loyola had repeatedly obtained from the French sovereign letters patent authorising their establishment; but the parliament by repeated arrêts refusing to register them, rendered these letters nugatory, and the contest went on, with no prospect of decision. The king, the Guises, and a party of the nobles, sided with the Jesuits. The parliament, the university, the Bishop of Paris and his clergy, were against them. The principal objection to the admission of the Jesuits which was advanced by their adversaries was, that they had obtained from the Court of Rome privileges[161] which made them independent of the ordinary and of every other ecclesiastical authority. To obviate this objection, the Jesuits, in 1560, determined to carry their point, presented a petition to the king, in which they renounced their privileges, and solemnly engaged to respect the laws of the realm and those of the Gallican Church, and to submit to the jurisdiction of the ordinaries.[162] The court now imperatively commanded the parliament to admit the Jesuits. The Archbishop de Belley, vanquished by “the urgency of the court, from which he expected the Cardinal’s hat,”[163] partly withdrew his opposition, and gave his consent, but under so many restrictions, that, as Crétineau says, it was rather a protest against them than anything else. The parliament, which till now had withheld its consent, leaning on the archbishop’s opposition, now registered the king’s letters patent, but under the same restrictions; adding, that the Jesuits might appeal to the next national council or assembly. At this very time a national council was convened at Poissy, to put an end, if possible, to religious dissension, and heal the wounds of the Church. Catherine de Medici, whose favourite maxim was, divide et imperia, shewed herself impartial in this contest, thinking to retain the obedience of one party by the fear it had of the other. She herself, therefore, along with the king and the whole court, assisted at the Council of Poissy. We shall not enter into the theological discussions of this assembly. We shall only say, that although a Roman Catholic cardinal presided over and directed it, and although the Roman Catholics had a large majority, yet the eloquence of the Calvinistic divines, and especially that of Beza, was so overpowering, that Lainez, after having had a thrust or two at the redoubted champion, declared it to be almost a mortal sin to admit Protestants to a discussion; and by his advice, the Council broke up without any result.
The assembly, before it broke up, after a great deal of debating, decided that the Jesuits should be admitted on the condition that they submitted to the laws of the nation and of the Gallican Church, that the ordinary bishops should have all authority over them, and that they should renounce all their privileges, and take another name than “The Society of Jesus,” or “Jesuits.” By this decision, the Jesuit question was at last settled. Now, to shew with what facility these wily monks can renounce their most approved doctrines, and invent a new principle for every contingency, that they may succeed in any of their undertakings, we shall set forth the principal points of doctrine of the Gallican Church, which were already received in France, and which were more solemnly sanctioned in 1662.
“The Pope is the chief of the Roman Catholic religion, but he can neither excommunicate the king, nor lay an interdict upon the kingdom; nor has he any jurisdiction over temporal matters; nor can he dismiss the bishops from their office, who hold their power from Christ as his successors, and who, when he ascended up into heaven, bade them go and preach the gospel to every creature. The Pope’s legate cannot exercise any authority in France, unless empowered by the king. An appeal from the sentence of the Pope is permitted to be made to a general council, which possesses a power superior to that of the Pope; but even the decrees of council are not received in France, when they attack the rights of the king, or those of the Gallican Church; for which reason the Council of Trent itself was received in France regarding articles of faith, but not regarding matters of discipline.”[164]
These were the principal points to which the Jesuits swore conformity. How despicable must be the man who is ready to take a special oath for every occasion, and to invoke the God of truth to witness his perjury and infamy!
The Jesuits had no sooner set their foot in France than they began to spread rapidly over the country, and soon after aspired to enter the university and monopolise the whole of the education of the youth. With part of the immense fortune bequeathed to them by the Bishop of Clermont, of which they at last got possession, notwithstanding the opposition of the parliament, they built a college in the Rue St Jacques, near the Sorbonne, and, pretending to obey the orders of the parliament, which enjoined them to renounce the name of the Society of Jesus, they inscribed on the front of it, “College of the Society of the Name of Jesus.” But the university would not admit them into its bosom, notwithstanding all the intrigues of the fathers and the orders of the Court. Of this protracted contest, which terminated in favour of the Jesuits in 1616, we shall only transcribe part of an apology addressed by the university to Pope Gregory XIII.—“We do not,” wrote the university, “vex either churches or private persons; we do not trouble the order of succession; we do not solicit testaments in prejudice of the heirs, or appropriate the profits to our own interest; we do not plot devices to seize upon the benefices of the monasteries, or of any other ecclesiastical establishment, to enrich ourselves with their property, without being subject to the conditions imposed by the founders; we do not make use of the name of Jesus to deceive the consciences of princes, affirming that no one remains longer than ten years in purgatory.”[165]
Our history is becoming too pregnant with grave events to allow us to relate matters of secondary importance. We shall therefore bring down our readers to the year 1577, when was formed the celebrated league which gave occasion to the bloody and protracted civil wars of France, and of which the Jesuits were the chief instigators.