Whatever we may think of the political delinquencies of their leaders, their bitterest enemies have never ventured to charge the Order of Jesuits with moral irregularities. The internal policy of that body precluded the possibility of gross misconduct. No Jesuit could step out of doors without calling on the superior for leave and a companion, in the choice of whom great care was taken to vary the couples. Never were they allowed to pass a single night out of the convent, except when attending a dying person: and, even then, they were under the strictest injunctions to return at whatever hour the soul departed. Nothing, however, can give a more striking view of the discipline and internal government of the Jesuits than a case well known in my family, which I shall here insert as not devoid of interest. A Jesuit of good connexions, and more than common abilities, had, during a long residence at Granada, become a general favourite, and especially in a family of distinction where there were some young ladies. On one of the three days properly named the Carnival, he happened to call at that house, and found the whole family indulging with a few intimate friends in the usual mirth of the season; but all in a private domestic manner. With the freedom and vivacity peculiar to Spanish females, the young ladies formed a conspiracy to make their favourite Jesuit stand up and dance with them. Resistance was in vain: they teased and cajoled the poor man, till he, in good-natured condescension, got up, moved in the dance for a few minutes, and retired again to his seat. Years elapsed: he was removed from Granada, and probably forgot the transient gaiety into which he had been betrayed. It is well known that the general of the Jesuits, who made Rome his constant residence, appointed from thence to every office in the order all over the world. But so little caprice influenced those nominations, that the friends of the unfortunate dancer were daily expecting to see him elected provincial governor of the Jesuits in Andalusia. To their great surprise, however, the election fell upon a much inferior man. As the elections were triennial, the strongest interest was made for the next turn. Pressed on all sides, the general desired his secretary to return a written answer. It was conceived in these words: “It cannot be: he danced at Granada.”
I have seen Capuchin friars, the most austere order of Franciscans, rattling on a guitar, and singing Boleros before a mixed company in the open fields; and I have heard of a friar, who being called to watch over a death-bed, in a decent but poor family, had the audacity to take gross liberties with a female in the very room where the sick man lay speechless. He recovered, however, strength enough to communicate this horrid insult to his son, from whom I have the fact. The convent to which this friar belonged, is notorious, among the lower classes, for profligacy.
I shall add a little trait illustrative of Spanish manners. A friar in high glee is commonly reminded of his profession, in a jeering tone, by the wags of the company. Cries of, Cáñamo, Padre, (hemp, my father!) are heard from all sides, alluding to the scourge used for the discipline, which is made of that substance, and recommending it as a proper cure for rebellious spirits. These two words will cut a friar to the heart.
NOTE E.
“On the Prevalence of Scepticism among the Catholic Clergy.” [p. 100].
I once heard an English gentleman, who had resided a long time in Italy, where he obtained lodgings in a convent, relate his surprise at the termination of a friendly discussion which he had with the most able individuals of the house, on the points of difference between the Churches of England and Rome. The dispute had been animated, and supported with great ability on the Catholic side by one of the youngest monks. When, at length, all, except the chief disputants, had retired, the young monk, turning to his English guest, asked him whether he really believed what he had been defending? Upon receiving a serious answer in the affirmative, he could not help exclaiming, Allor lei crede più che tutto il convento.
NOTE F.
“The Child God.” [p. 147].
The representation of the Deity in the form of a child is very common in Spain. The number of little figures, about a foot high, called Niño Dios, or Niño Jesus, is nearly equal to that of nuns in most convents. The nuns dress them in all the variety of the national costumes, such as clergymen, canons in their choral robes, doctors of divinity in their hoods, physicians in their wigs and gold-headed canes, &c. &c. The Niño Jesus is often found in private houses; and in some parts of Spain, where contraband trade is the main occupation of the people, is seen in the dress of a smuggler with a brace of pistols at his girdle, and a blunderbuss leaning on his arm.