"My dear friend," replied he, "such is the price at which we are admitted into the Society of Jesuits. It is necessary to do many things to which we may be naturally averse, many things contrary to our nature, and even to our conscience." (And here a sigh betrayed the anxiety he felt.) "You will perhaps ask, why I remained among the Jesuits, before I had received my degree? I can understand the question. But you, who are now a theologian and a preacher, turn to the 7th chapter of the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, where the apostle laments his own state, speaking of himself: 'For the good that I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do;' and concludes with that memorable exclamation, 'wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?' I can assure you that more than once I have proposed to myself to quit the Society while I had yet power to do so; and then a thousand thoughts came into my mind:—What will they say of me, if I leave the Society which hitherto has been as a mother to me? I shall have to endure the remorse of one who, as it is written, 'has put his hand to the plough, and has looked back;' and on account of my dereliction I shall be adjudged unworthy of the kingdom of heaven!
I desired so much to become a Jesuit, that I abandoned, as you know, my chair at the Sapienza, and gave up my inheritance to my brothers; I bade adieu to all the world, and buried myself in this cloak, which I have now worn for fifteen years. How was it possible to retrace my steps, to disclaim my own words, to give the lie to myself? Ah, my friend, I pray you may never repent having assumed your present habit, that you may never experience the regret I have endured! But all this has passed away. I am now a Jesuit, fixed in my vocation. In taking my last vows, I have sworn to die in my Order. Nothing can now alter my determination."
After this conversation several days passed without my friend's making his appearance; and I dared not inquire after him, fearing he might possibly have repented of the confidence he had reposed in me, and be desirous of breaking off our intimacy at once. I was however mistaken. He still retained his regard for me; but that which would have been commendable in any one else, was, it appears, in a Jesuit, a fault, a weakness, and contrary to the rules of the Order. The aged spiritual director of the establishment had found the conduct of my friend to be very reprehensible. This old man was not himself the Superior, but the superintendent; he was one of the assistants of the General of the Order, and usually resided at Tivoli, where he was well known as the celebrated Father Sineo. He was the oracle of the Society, and was consulted in all matters of importance. He generally inhabited an apartment secluded from the rest; like those idols of the Church of Rome which are withdrawn from the light of day, and shut up in obscure places, to inspire more veneration; or if placed in a niche, they are covered with a curtain, to guard them from the profane eyes of the multitude; who would go crazy, in their senseless adoration, if they saw them always before their eyes. In like manner, this Father Sineo lived at Tivoli, like the cuckoo in the fable, who delivered his oracular sayings from his hole in the rock, to those who went to consult him.
Now, this Reverend Father, seeing the intimacy that subsisted between my friend and myself, and fearing that he might disclose some of the secrets of the Company to me, summoned him into his presence, and told him that it was not befitting that a Jesuit should be seen more than once, in public company with a stranger to the Order; that our friendship might degenerate into familiarity, and so on into mutual confidence, to the danger of the betrayal of the secrets of the Institution. That, in fact, the General of the Order had learned that we were every day walking out together; and although this might not in itself be objectionable, still his Reverence advised him to break off such a public display. My good Jesuit had consequently to make a further sacrifice, and deprive himself of this little solace; he wrote to me on the occasion, assuring me that it was not from any diminution of friendship on his part if he could not meet me as usual.
I understood all this perfectly well, and continued my accustomed walks alone. Still my Jesuit was not forbidden to talk with me in private, and it was not long before he came to pay me a visit; when I expressed to him my satisfaction that our conversation had not been overheard.
"Oh!" replied he, "Father Sineo would not in that case have let me off so easily. Without doubt, I should have been immediately sent away."
"I trust they would have done you no further injury," I observed.
"The Jesuits are not like the friars and the nuns," he replied, "among whom those who transgress have to submit to a public penance; for instance, a Capuchin who cuts off his beard is obliged to eat with the cats,[30] until it grows again. But with the Jesuit it frequently happens that no one knows he is undergoing punishment; and he himself only perceives he has incurred the displeasure of his Superior, by finding himself constantly and most ingeniously thwarted in all his inclinations and wishes. In some cases the offender is made to change his residence, to leave his country, and to travel into Asia or America. Moreover, if a Jesuit commits any great crime, his offence is concealed, in order that no scandal may attach to the Company; for it desires, more than any other body, to be esteemed irreprehensible; as if its members were gifted with the privilege of impeccability. It is moreover always expected that a Jesuit thus protected by his Company, should consider himself bound to expiate his crime by the greatest possible show of repentance; after which he is again taken into favour. Generally, those who are sent into foreign countries are not allowed to return, until they have signalized themselves in some praiseworthy manner. It is considered a great favour to be called to Rome: as it is also a heavy punishment to be banished from it. For my own part, I have many times requested to be sent to some foreign country, but I never could obtain my wish. To tell the truth, I should much prefer a mission to England. I differ from my brethren in that respect; although a Roman, the air of Rome, and more particularly of the Vatican, is too oppressive for my liking."
"Well, for my part," said I, "I never could understand what business Jesuits can have either in England, or in the United States."