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.
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.