About this time, there was a German Jesuit, named Jacob Masen or Masenius, who was a professor of rhetoric in Cologne, and died in 1681. Among his manuscripts found after his death were three volumes, the first of which was a treatise on general literature, the second a collection of lyrics, epics, elegies etc., and the third a number of dramas. In the second manuscript was an epic entitled "Sarcotis." The world would never have known anything about "Sarcotis" had not a Scotchman, named Lauder, succeeded in finding it, somewhere, about 1753, i. e. seventy-two years after Masen's death. He ran it through the press immediately, to prove that Milton had copied it in his "Paradise Lost." Whereupon all England rose in its wrath to defend its idol. Lauder was convicted of having intercalated in the "Sarcotis," a Latin translation of some of the lines of "Paradise Lost," and had to hide himself in some foreign land to expiate his crime against the national infatuation. Four years later (1757), Abbé Denouart published a translation of the genuine text of "Sarcotis." The poem was found to be an excellent piece of work, and like "Paradise Lost," its theme was the disobedience of Adam and Eve, their expulsion from Paradise, the disasters consequent upon this sin of pride. Whether Milton ever read "Sarcotis" is not stated.
Frederick von Spee is another Jesuit poet. He was born at Kaiserwerth on the Rhine on February 25, 1591, entered the Society in 1610, and studied, taught and preached for many years like the rest of his brethren. An attempt to assassinate him was made in 1629. He was in Treves, when it was stormed by the imperial forces in 1635, witnessed all its horrors, and died from an infection which he caught while nursing the sick and wounded soldiers in the hospital. It was only in the stormy period of his life that he wrote in verse. Two of his works, the "Goldenes Tugendbuch," and the "Trutznachtigal" were published after his death. The former was highly prized by Leibniz as a book of devotion. The latter, which has in recent times been repeatedly reprinted and revised, occupies a conspicuous place among the lyrical collection of the seventeenth century. His principal work, however, the one, in fact, which gave him a world-wide reputation, (a result he was not aiming at, for the book was probably published without his consent), is the "Cautio Criminalis," which virtually ended the witchcraft trials. It is written in exquisite Latin, and describes with thrilling vividness and cutting sarcasm the horrible abuses in the prevailing legal proceedings, particularly the use of the rack. The moral impression produced by the work soon put a stop to the atrocities in many places, though many a generation had to pass before witch-burning ceased in Germany.
Perhaps it may be worth while to mention the wonderful Beschi, a missionary in Madura, whose Tamil poetry ordinary mortals will never have the pleasure of enjoying. Besides writing Tamil grammars and dictionaries, as well as doctrinal works for his converts, not to speak of his books of controversy against the Danish Lutherans who attempted to invade the missions, he wrote a poem of eleven hundred stanzas in honor of St. Quiteria, and another known as the "Unfading Garland," which is said to be a Tamil classic. It is divided into thirty-six cantos, containing in all 3615 stanzas. Baumgartner calls it an epic which for richness and beauty of language, for easy elegance of metre, true poetical conception and execution, is the peer of the native classics, while in nobility of thought and subject matter it is superior to them as the harmonious civilization of Christianity is above the confused philosophical dreams and ridiculous fables of idolatry. It is in honor of St. Joseph. His satire known as "The Adventures of Guru Paramarta" is the most entertaining book of Tamil literature. Beschi himself translated it into Latin; it has also appeared in English, French, German and Italian.
These are about the only poets of very great prominence the Society can boast of; but though she rejoices in the honor they won, she regards their song only as an accidental attraction in the lives of those distinguished children of hers. What she cherishes most is the piety of Sarbiewski and Balde, the martyrdom of charity gladly accepted by von Spee, the missionary ardor of Beschi, and the blood offering made by Southwell to restore the Faith to his unhappy country.
Apart from these, Gresset also may be claimed as a Jesuit poet, but unfortunately it was his poetry that blasted his career as an apostle, for the epicureanism of one of his effusions compelled his dismissal from the Society. His brilliant talents counted for nothing in such a juncture. He left the Order with bitter regret on his part, but never lost his affection for it, and never failed to defend it against its calumniators. His "Adieux aux Jésuites" is a classic. In vain Voltaire and Frederick the Great invited him to Potsdam. He loathed them both, and withdrew to Amiens, where he spent the last eighteen years of his life in seclusion, prayer and penance, never leaving the place except twice in all that time. On both occasions it was to go to the French Academy, of which his great literary ability had made him a member. In 1750 he founded at Amiens the Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters which still exists. It is said that before he died he burned all his manuscripts, and one cannot help regretting that instead of publishing he had not committed to the flames the poem that caused his withdrawal from the Society. For Gresset the Jesuits have always had a great tenderness, and it might be added here that he is a fair sample of most of those who, for one reason or another, have severed their connection with the Society. There have been only a few instances to the contrary, and even they repented before they died.
In the matter of oratory, the Society has had some respectable representatives as for example, that extraordinary genius, Vieira, the man whose stormy eloquence put an end to the slavery of the Indians in Brazil, and whose "Discourse for the success of the Portuguese arms," pronounced when the Dutch were besieging Bahia in 1640, was described by the sceptical Raynal to be "the most extraordinary outburst of Christian eloquence." He is considered to have been one of the world's masters of oratory of his time, and to have been equally great in the cathedrals of Europe and the rude shrines of the Maranhão. He was popular, practical, profoundly original and frequently sublime. He has left fifteen volumes of sermons alone. Though brought up in Brazil he is regarded as a Portuguese classic.
Paolo Segneri, who died in 1694, is credited with being, after St. Bernardine of Siena and Savonarola, Italy's greatest orator. For twenty-seven years he preached all through the Peninsula. His eloquence was surpassed only by his holiness, and to the ardor of an apostle he added the austerities of a penitent. He has been translated into many languages, even into Arabic.
Omitting many others, for we are mentioning only the supereminently great, there is a Bourdaloue, who is entitled by even the enemies of the Society the prédicateur des rois et le roi des prédicateurs (the preacher of kings and the king of preachers.) For thirty-four years he preached to the most exacting audience in the world, the brilliant throngs that gathered around Louis XIV, and till the end, it was almost impossible to approach the church when he was to occupy the pulpit. Lackeys were on guard days before the sermon. The "Edinburgh Review" of December, 1826, says of him: "Between Massillon and Bossuet, at a great distance certainly above the latter, stands Bourdaloue, and in the vigor and energy of his reasoning he was undeniably, after the ancients, Massillon's model. If he is more harsh, and addressed himself less to the feelings and passions, it is certain that he displays a fertility of resources and an exuberance of topics, either for observation or argument, which are not equalled by any orator, sacred or profane. It is this fertility, this birthmark of genius, that makes us certain of finding in every subject handled by him, something new, something which neither his predecessors have anticipated nor his followers have imitated."
To this Protestant testimony may be added that of the Jansenist Sainte-Beuve in his "Causeries du Lundi." His estimate of Bourdaloue is as follows: "I know all that can be said and that is said about Bossuet. But let us not exaggerate. Bossuet was sublime in his 'Funeral Orations', but he had not the same excellence in his sermons. He was uneven and unfinished. In that respect, even while Bossuet was still living, Bourdaloue was his master. That was the opinion of their contemporaries, and doubtless of Bossuet himself. Unlike Bossuet, Bourdaloue did not hold the thunders in his hand, nor did the lightnings flash around his pulpit, nor, like Massillon, did he pour out perfumes from his urn. But he was the orator, such as he alone could have been, who for thirty-four years in succession could preach and be useful. He did not spend himself all at once, did not gain lustre by a few achievements, nor startle by some of those splendid utterances which carry men away and evoke their plaudits; but he lasted; he built up with perfect surety; he kept on incessantly, and his power was like an army whose work is not merely to gain one or two battles, but to establish itself in the heart of the enemy's country and stay there. That is the wonderful achievement of the man whom his contemporaries called 'The Great Bourdaloue', and whom people obstinately persist in describing as 'the judicious and estimable Bourdaloue.'
"He had what was called the imperatoria virtus, that sovereign quality of a general who rules every alignment and every step of his soldiers, so that nothing moves them but his command. Such is the impression conveyed by the structure of his discourses; by their dialectical form, by their solid demonstrations, which move forward from the start, first by pushing ahead the advance corps, then dividing his battalions into two or three groups, and finally establishing a line of battle facing the consciences of his hearers. On one occasion, when he was about to preach at St. Sulpice there was a noise in the church because of the crowd, when above the tumult the voice of Condé was heard, shouting, as Bourdaloue entered the pulpit: 'Silence! Behold the enemy!'"