Читать книгу The Footprints of the Jesuits - Richard W. Thompson - Страница 8

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Any reader of the last two chapters can see—without the admission of Bartoli to that effect—that the government of the society of Jesuits is entirely monarchical, and founded upon the paternalism set up by imperial rulers in proof of their divine right to govern. Like these rulers, Loyola maintained that mankind were not competent to govern themselves, and therefore that Providence has ordained that they can be rightfully and wisely governed only by their superiors, no matter whether they acquire and maintain their superiority by fraud, intrigue, or violence. He had observed society when it was accustomed to pay but little attention, if any, to the structure and details of government, and left all matters of public concern to drift into channels created by those who ruled them with the view of preserving their own power. And hence he imitated their imperial example by making this principle of paternalism the fundamental basis of his society; but transcended the despotism of antiquity by enslaving both the minds and bodies of its members, and annihilating all sense of personality among them. This society, consequently, has never been reconciled to any other form of government than absolute monarchy, nor can it ever be, so long as it shall exist. Without absolutism in its most extreme form it would lose its power of cohesion and fall to pieces, as inevitably as a ship drifts away from its course when the rudder is broken.

Having become thus familiar with the constitution and organization of this society, and the principles which underlie them, it is equally important to discover how these were administered by Loyola himself, and his immediate successors; for otherwise its real character can not be known. It has a history of its own—created by itself, and, in a great measure, when not subject to the inspection of others—and unless we shall become also familiar with this it will be hard, if not impossible, to understand the fierce and tireless animosity with which it has resisted all who have endeavored to block its way to universal dominion, including even popes and the Church. If any other society ever had such a history, it has not been written.

When Loyola obtained the approval of his society from Paul III, he undoubtedly accomplished a great triumph—greater than any he had previously known. It gave him the opportunity of foreseeing that, whensoever thereafter it should be demanded by his own or the interests of the society, he would have it in his power, with a servile host at his command, to create a factious rivalry to the papacy itself. It may be supposed that the pope acted with reference to what he regarded as the welfare of the Church, and under a due sense of his own responsibility; but Loyola experienced no such feeling. Backed by a mere handful of zealots, who were unable to withstand his importunities, and from whom he probably concealed his ulterior designs, he concentrated all his energies upon the single object of obtaining the centralization of power in his own hands, without troubling himself to inquire at whose expense it might be accomplished, or the means to be employed. The pope had his own character as the head of the Church to maintain, while Loyola was a mere "soldier of fortune," seeking adventure, and stimulated by personal ambition to acquire both power and fame by means of an organization with which the pope was not familiar, but which he had constructed in secret, so as to make possible any form of disguise or dissimulation necessary to accomplish his desired ends. It would be unfair to assert, in the absence of explicit proof, that the pope acted otherwise than with reference primarily to the interests of the Church, whilst at the same time he manifestly did not desire to weaken the papal—that is, his own—power. Although he ordered the assembling of what afterwards became the Council of Trent, he was not distinguished as a reforming pope, inasmuch as he was understood to have been constrained to this act to counteract the imperial policy of Charles V, who had threatened a National Council in his own dominions. Yet it is possible that some reforms might have been introduced to which he would have given his assent, provided they had not lessened the authority of the papacy. Loyola was not influenced by any of these motives. He attributed the corruptions of the clergy and the disturbed condition of the Church to the imbecility of the popes, and their inability to contend successfully against the impending evils. And thus influenced, he evidently hoped to put in operation, through the agency of his new society, such instrumentalities as would counteract the existing evils in a manner that would assure the glory of the achievement to himself and his society. He doubtless desired in this way to obtain such fame as would overshadow the papacy itself. Of the contemptuous disregard and defiance of popes who have opposed Jesuit pretensions, we shall hereafter see many and convincing proofs.

It should not be forgotten, in this connection, that the infallibility of the pope was not, at that time, an accepted part of the faith of the Church. The effort to make it so would, if then made, have been fruitless, in view of the recent pontificates of John XXIII, and Julius II, and Alexander VI, and the decrees of the Councils of Constance and Basel, as well as the general sentiment of the Christian world. Although there were some in the Church who maintained this doctrine, yet it was far from being approved by the multitude, and never actually became part of the faith until within our own time, when it was dictated to the Council of the Vatican at Rome by Pius IX, and forced to a final decree without free discussion. Mr. Gladstone has given a list of heretical popes before the time of Loyola, none of whom could have been infallible, unless infallibility and heresy may mingle harmoniously together in the same mind at the same time. Gregory I regarded the claim of universality—a necessary incident to infallibility—as "blasphemous, anti-Christian, and devilish." Even Innocent III admitted that a pope could "sin against the faith, and thus become subject to the judgment of the Church." Hadrian VI declared that a pope could err in matters of faith. Zephyrinus and Callistus both taught heresy in maintaining "that God the Father became incarnate, and suffered with the Son." Liberius subscribed an Arian creed, the most noted of all heresies, and condemned the orthodox Athanasius. Felix II was an Arian, and yet has been placed upon the calendar of saints. Zosimus indorsed the heresy of Pelagianism. Vigilius was upon both sides of the controversy about the Three Chapters. John XXII condemned Nicholas III and Clement V as heretics. Honorius was condemned and excommunicated for heresy by a General Council at Constantinople. Consequently, Mr. Gladstone, whose great learning and wisdom is recognized by all, felt himself warranted in affirming that "the popes themselves, therefore, for more than three centuries, publicly recognized, first, that an Ecumenical Council may condemn a pope for open heresy; and, secondly, that Pope Honorius was justly condemned for heresy."36

The contest in England about "Catholic Emancipation," covered a period of more than a quarter of a century after the ill-fated union by which Ireland gave up her independence. It terminated so near the present time that there are some yet living who may remember the rejoicing it occasioned among the friends of Ireland. It involved a practical political question, although it had a semi-religious aspect. Upon the part of Ireland it was insisted that, as the Irish were recognized by the British Constitution as subjects of the United Kingdom, they were entitled to hold civil office and participate in the legislation of Parliament. This was for a long time successfully resisted by the English Government and people upon the ground that, by the religion which the Irish professed, the pope was held to be infallible, and, consequently, as possessing the spiritual power to interfere with the temporal affairs and policy of Great Britain. As it had been always understood among European peoples that this was the legitimate consequence of that doctrine, it became absolutely necessary to the Irish cause to show that the religion which prevailed in Ireland did not include it; in other words, that the Irish people did not believe the pope to be infallible. In proof of this, it was insisted by the Irish hierarchy, with unusual earnestness, that the three leading universities in France, and three not less distinguished in Spain, had condemned and repudiated that doctrine, and that the Irish people accepted their opinions. In addition, several Irish bishops were examined before a committee of the House of Commons, and testified to the same effect. This turned the scale in favor of "Irish Emancipation," and the controversy ended by the passage of that measure by both Houses of Parliament.

There is nothing, therefore, to show, or tending to show, that Loyola considered Paul III, or any other pope, to be infallible. On the contrary, inasmuch as that doctrine was not a part of the faith of the Church, and he was not required to believe it, it is a fair inference, from all we can now learn of their intercourse, that he regarded the pope as fallible, and, consequently, wedded to a false and erroneous system of Church government, which had been attended with mischievous results, and for which he desired to substitute a better and more efficient system of his own, under his own direction. And all the contemporary facts combine to show that he intended, by the original Jesuit Constitution, to bring the pope, and through him the Church, to the point of recognizing him and his successors as infallible, because they were declared to stand in the place of Christ, and were to be obeyed accordingly. Whatsoever benefits he proposed to confer upon the Church, were intended by him to be consequential alone upon those he designed for himself and his society.

The amendment of the original constitution, so as to require fidelity to the pope, was simply a measure of policy and expediency on the part of Loyola, having been suggested to him, as we have seen, after he reached Rome and discovered that it was the only method of removing the scruples of the pope, and obtaining the approval of his new society. Interpreted, therefore, in the light of all the facts, this amendment amounts only and simply to a recognition of the pope as the head of the Church, but not infallible, because that was not then part of the faith of the Church. At the same time, however, Loyola was sagacious enough to provide in the body of the constitution for the infallibility of the general of his society by declaring him as equal to God, and as occupying the place and exercising the authority of Christ. He expected the pope to recognize this by his act of approving the original constitution and establishing the society as a religious order, in imitation of the ancient monastic orders. Whether the pope so understood the constitution or not, can not now be decided; but it is perfectly apparent that Loyola did, as is evidenced by the fact that the vow of each member pledged him to this belief as one of the absolutely controlling principles of the organization. But Loyola made a more conspicuous exhibition of his sagacity by providing, in the secret but practical working of the society, a loophole of escape from the pledge of obedience to the pope whensoever the general deemed this expedient, as, in the sequel, it will appear he frequently did. It is well to repeat here, for illustration, that the pope was not permitted to hold immediate or direct intercourse with the individual members of the society. He was required to regard them only as a company whose members had no power over themselves, and were expressly prohibited from setting up any individual claim to independent thought or action. The pope could consequently convey his desires, or opinions, or commands to the society only through their general; that is, in Loyola's view, as well as in that of the society, the fallible head of the Church could make known his wishes to the infallible head of the society! If the latter occupied the place of God and pronounced his judgments—as the members declared by their vows, and the constitution asserts—then any violation of his commands upon their part was not only heresy within the society, but punishable by the general, no matter what the pope might do or say. The infallible head of the Jesuits became, consequently, in the estimation of the society, superior to the fallible head of the Church in everything that concerned the opinions, sentiments, or action of the members. A man would almost stultify himself who should argue that, in case of conflict between the pope and the general—which has frequently occurred—the society would hesitate about obeying the general and disobeying the pope.

This point requires deliberate consideration, for it is that at which the commanding ability and shrewdness of Loyola were exhibited most conspicuously. The society is allowed to know its general only upon all matters involving either duty or conduct. He, and not the pope, or any other authority upon earth, determines what the members shall or shall not do within the whole domain of individual or company action. The members are required and pledged by their solemn vows to think his thoughts, to utter his words, to execute his commands, and to suppress every emotion not in sympathy with his. And hence it has sometimes happened, in precise consistence with the plan of Loyola, that the Jesuits have obeyed the pope when commanded to do so by their general; whilst, at other times, his wishes have been disregarded and opposed by them because their general has so commanded. He alone is the god of the society, and nothing but his electric touch can galvanize their dead corpses into life and action. Until he speaks, they are like serpents coiled up in their wintry graves, lifeless and inactive; but the moment he gives the word of command, each member springs instantaneously to his feet, leaving unfinished whatsoever may have engaged him, ready to assail whomsoever he may require to be assailed, and to strike wheresoever he shall direct a blow to be stricken. Summed up, it amounts to this, that if the pope decides according to the will of the general, he is obeyed, because in that case the members show obedience to the general, according to their vow, and not to the pope, whose wishes they know only through the general; whereas, whensoever the pope decides contrary to the will of the general, he is disobeyed if the general shall so require, because the members have religiously vowed to accept his commands as expressing the will of God infallibly. With them the highest tribunal in the world is that presided over by him. He alone is equal to God. From all other judgments there may be appeal; but his are irreversible.

The people of Europe were beginning to feel the influence of the Reformation—at the period here referred to—so extensively, especially in Germany, as to comprehend the fact that the evils which had afflicted them, as well as the decaying condition of the Church, were attributable to the long-continued union of Church and State. And their increasing intelligence caused them at least to suspect, if not absolutely to foresee, that a secret and mysterious society like that of the Jesuits would tend to increase rather than diminish these evils. That the Jesuits encountered this suspicion from the beginning, is as plainly proven in history as any other fact. Patient investigation will show how they were resisted in France, England, Germany, Spain, and Portugal, as plainly as the rivulet may be traced from its mountain sources to the sea. And he who does not take the pains to make himself familiar with the current of events to which this resistance gave rise, will fall far short of accurate knowledge of the philosophy of history. Nor, when he has acquired this information, will it surprise him in the least to know that, after Loyola had succeeded in providing for himself and his successors the means of possibly becoming superior to the pope and the Church, he encountered also the formidable opposition of the existing religious orders, as well as almost the entire body of the Christian people, when he undertook to introduce his new and strangely-constituted society into the various States of Europe. Even then, before the Jesuits had practically exhibited their capacity for intrigue, the public mind became convinced that the organization contained elements of mischief, if not of positive danger, which it was the duty of society to suppress rather than allow to be developed. From that time up till the present, nothing has occurred to remove this general impression, but much to strengthen and confirm it. So steadfastly imbedded has it become in the minds of the English-speaking race that they have invented and added to their language the new word, "Jesuitism," to signify the extremest degree of "cunning, deceit, hypocrisy, prevarication, deceptive practices to effect a purpose." There was nothing in the life and character of Loyola to remove this impression; but, on the contrary, as all his movements were shrouded in mystery, and the public had no sympathy for him, nor he any for the public, his whole conduct tended to excite suspicion against him and his society. Accordingly, even with the aid he may be supposed to have derived from the indorsement of the pope, he had to fight his way inch by inch among the Christian peoples of Europe—a fact of commanding significance.

The order of Dominicans had existed, under the patronage of the Church, for over three hundred years, and had made itself conspicuous for the part it took in the war of extermination prosecuted by Innocent III against the Albigenses, for having asserted the right to free religious thought and worship. The Dominicans were not restrained, therefore, by sympathy with any of the heresies which Loyola expressed the desire to suppress; so far from this, they sought after the most active and certain methods of putting an end to all heresy. Hence, it may be accepted as certain that they would willingly have accepted the Jesuits as coadjutors in the work of checking the progress of the Reformation if they had not seen in Loyola something to excite their indignation rather than their friendship. The conduct of the Jesuits at Salamanca, in Spain, had this effect in a high degree. Melchior Cano, one of the most distinguished and orthodox of the Dominican monks, having seen and conversed with Loyola at Rome, under circumstances which enabled him to form an estimate of his character, did not hesitate to denounce the Jesuits as impostors. What he said of Loyola personally deserves special notice, and was in these emphatic words:

"When I was in Rome I took it into my head to see this Ignatius. He began at once, without preliminary, to talk of his virtue, and the persecution he had experienced in Spain without deserving it in the least. And a vast deal of mighty things he poured forth concerning the revelations which he had from on high, though there was no need of the disclosure. This induced me to look upon him as a vain man, and not to have the least faith in his revelations." Referring also to the Jesuits, as a society molded and governed by Loyola, he said "he apprehended the coming of Antichrist, and believed the Jesuits to be his forerunners," and charged them with "licentiousness," and the practice of "abominable mysteries."37

This was the first experience that Loyola had in dealing with so conspicuous an adversary as Melchior Cano, and he realized the necessity of having him silenced in some way, so as to preserve his own personal influence. It furnished him, therefore, an opportunity—perhaps the first—to display his fitness for leadership, as well as to instruct his society in the indirect and artful methods by which he expected it, when necessary, to accomplish its objects. By means of the pope's bull approving the society, and the authority he claimed to have been conferred upon him by it, he succeeded in inducing the general of the Dominicans to cause Melchior to be made a bishop and sent to the Canaries, which removed him from Spain, and was equivalent to exile. The success he won in this way was, however, of short duration; for Melchior accepted his banishment for a brief period only, and, upon returning to Spain, he renewed his attack upon the Jesuits, which then became more violent and undisguised than before. He continued it as long as he lived, and at his death left this prophetic warning: "If the members of the society continue as they have begun, God grant that the time may not come when kings will wish to resist them, and will find no means of doing so!"38

Events, which deserve somewhat more particularity of detail, occurred also in Spain, at Saragossa, because they explain how the society was trained and disciplined from the beginning, under the inspiration of Loyola's immediate command. "As the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined," is an adage no less applicable to a compact body like the Jesuits than to individuals. Loyola understood this, and lost no time, after he put his society in working order, to teach the members the art of circumventing their adversaries—an art which their successors, so far from forgetting, have improved upon. In this primary lesson he also taught them that they were justified in disregarding any human law that stood in the way of their success; that public opinion in conflict with their interests was entitled to no respect whatsoever; and that by steadfastly adhering to the principle of monarchism, upon which their society rested, they might confidently invoke the aid of monarchs to assure them success in any conflict with the people. And he taught them, moreover, that they were entitled to resist the authorities of the Church when the latter attempted to check their progress. And thus, almost in the infancy of the society, its founder fixed indelibly in the mind of every member the idea of their superiority over every department of society, over all the ancient monastic orders, and over even the Church itself, when its authority was employed to check their progress. All this will appear in the conflict about to be detailed.

The city of Saragossa was the capital of Aragon, where the law prohibited, by strict and explicit provisions, "the erection of a chapel or monastery within a certain distance of an established parish church or religious community." The Jesuits found a place they desired to occupy, but were forbidden to do so by this law, which all others had obeyed, and which the public desired to maintain for satisfactory reasons. The law, however, did not restrain them in the least; and in utter disregard of it, and in open defiance of the public authorities, they asserted the right to take possession of and erect a building upon it for their own uses. They proposed to encroach upon the rights of the Augustinians, when the Franciscans—both being ancient religious orders of monks—united with the former in resisting this threatened violation of public law, which had been, up to that time, universally acquiesced in by both these orders, and by the public as a prudential measure of public policy. But the Jesuits did not consider any law as of the least consequence when it placed obstructions in their path, and, consequently, persisted in their purpose despite the protests of the Augustinians and the Franciscans, all of whom were esteemed by the citizens of Saragossa for their sanctity. The controversy soon assumed such importance that the vicar-general of the Church issued a formal order, in the name and by the authority of the Church, whereby he prohibited the Jesuits from erecting their new building within the forbidden limits. Any other body of men, professing the least respect for the Church and its official representatives, would at least have hesitated after this. But the Jesuits paid no more respect to the ecclesiastical dignity and authority of the vicar-general than they had proposed to show to the existing public law, or to the two protesting monastic orders. The consequence was, that the vicar-general was constrained, in vindication of his authority as the representative of the Church, to denounce the Jesuits as heretics for their flagrant disobedience, and to threaten them with excommunication if they did not desist. He declared them accursed, and hurled the thunders of anathema against them. But the Jesuits, realizing how much strength lay in Loyola's single arm, remained unterrified. These thunders, which had caused even monarchs to quake, were powerless against his commands, which were communicated to his followers by the superior who watched over the interests of the society at Saragossa. The latter ordered the ceremony of consecrating the forbidden ground to proceed, in the face of both the law and the commands of the vicar-general; and the infatuated and disloyal Jesuits obeyed him. This was a new experience to the citizens of the capital of Aragon, who had witnessed nothing like it before, and they became incensed and thoroughly aroused. They took the side of the Augustinians and the Franciscans, and the "priests and religious" who defended them, and proceeded to display their indignation in such public and emphatic manner that it could not be mistaken. The historic statement is that "effigies of the Jesuits being precipitated into hell by legions of devils, were exhibited in the streets, and it was even inculcated among the people that the town was profaned by the presence of the Jesuits, who, it was declared, had brought heresy into it, and that the whole of Saragossa was under excommunication, and would so remain until they left it." This account is substantially given by all who have undertaken to write the history of the Jesuits, but it is taken from Daurignac, one of their ablest defenders, whose language is here quoted. He further explains the estimate in which the Jesuits were held by the people of Saragossa, while obedient to the faith of the Roman Church, in these words: "At length the populace, whose feelings had been thus worked upon, became more violent; and, proceeding to the house of the Jesuits, they threw stones, breaking the panes of glass, and threatening the inmates with their vengeance, while a procession, similar to the one already described, paraded around the ill-fated house, uttering cries of disapprobation, reproach, and condemnation."39

In a matter which involved, as this did, the mere enforcement of a public law universally approved, the duty of the Jesuits was plain and simple, not admitting of any equivocation. Like all others who enjoyed the protection of law, they were bound to obey the public authorities, to which was superadded their obligation to obey also the vicar-general as the official organ of the Church. But the reader should not be so far misled as to suppose that they were influenced by any such idea, or that they were in the least discouraged by the severe ecclesiastical and popular rebuke they received at Saragossa. No man understood better than Loyola what complete control can be obtained over the sentiments, opinions, and conduct of individuals by educational training; and he had taken the precaution so to discipline the novices of his society, from the moment of their initiation, as to make their blind and passive obedience the effectual method of consolidating his influence and authority over them. It is perfectly apparent, from the occurrences at Saragossa, that one of the first lessons they had learned was that form of obedience which required them to disregard and defy any law whatsoever, when commanded by their superiors to do so, without inquiring or caring what consequences might follow, either to the public or to individuals. Consequently, when compelled by the combined influence of the public authorities, those of the Church, and the indignant population of Saragossa, to abandon the erection of their new building upon the forbidden ground, they treated it as mere suspension, and not abandonment, still intending, by some means or other, to overcome this array of adversaries and defeat the execution of the law. With this view they ceased operations, seemingly yielding to the existing necessity. At this point in their history, however, they learned their first lesson in duplicity and deceit—and the sequel proves how well they learned it—by showing that, although apparently discomfited, they did not consider themselves as defeated. Loyola himself was not familiar with defeat, when success depended in any measure upon strategic intrigues with imperial rulers, all of whom fully understood that his society represented the most absolute monarchism then existing in Europe, and on that account, if no other, required them to extend to it every possible degree of protection, especially where, as at Saragossa, the people had taken active steps to require the enforcement of law. He had also prepared for escaping defeat in any matter concerning the Jesuits by fixing in their minds the conviction, as a religious sentiment, that there was no degree of courage so high and commendable as that exhibited by them when their obedience was carried to the extent of resisting whatsoever and whosoever stood in their way when commanded to do so for the interests of the society, which he required them to believe was for "the greater glory of God!" He had taught them to consider this as courage, but it was a misuse of terms so to call it; for, in its rightful sense, courage invokes the best and most ennobling faculties of the mind. Instead of this, the sentiment he inculcated proceeded from that indifference to public opinion and insensibility to shame which, as Bartoli concedes, is a necessary feature of Jesuit education. It is rather to be compared to the animal instinct of the tiger, which, after his coveted victim has once escaped, prompts him to approach it thereafter by stealthy steps, crouching in concealment until the time shall come when the final plunge may be successfully made.

The superior of the Jesuits at Saragossa was too well instructed in the policy dictated by Loyola not to understand wherein the main and real strength of the society consisted. Having, undoubtedly, full knowledge of the designs of Loyola, and molded to all his purposes, as the human form is chiseled from the lifeless block of marble, he proceeded at once to invoke the aid of the monarchical power of the Government of Spain, in order to bring the vicar-general of the Church, the Augustinian and the Franciscan monks, together with the priests and religious who adhered to them, and the people and local authorities of Saragossa, into absolute humiliation at his feet. For the first time, therefore, there was then opened to the Jesuits a new and broad field, wherein they were incited to display their wonderful capacity for intrigue. They were to be practically taught with what facility they could obtain the intervention of monarchical power to trample upon the rights of the ancient religious and monastic orders, violate the public laws, defy the ecclesiastical representatives of the Church, and make the people realize how powerless they were to influence the policy of the society, to modify its principles, or to impede its progress to the ultimate dominion it had started out to obtain.

Charles V was then emperor; but, as he was absent from Spain, his daughter, the Princess Jane, was the acting regent, with the full possession of imperial power. The superior of the Jesuits at Saragossa appealed to her by arguments which, although not preserved, may be fairly presumed to have centered in the necessity for establishing and preserving the society as the best and most certain method of perpetuating the monarchical principle, so absolutely essential to kings that, if it were destroyed, they could not exist; or, if they did exist, it would be with greatly diminished powers, and subject, in some degree, to the control of popular opinion. The regent was fully informed of the determination of her imperial father to maintain this principle at every hazard, and was aware of the fact that he was not at all choice about the methods of doing so. She understood how well fitted he was, by his vacillating course, for any emergency he might encounter; and that she was not mistaken in his character, history attests by the facts that, although a native of the Netherlands, he persecuted his own countrymen for daring to assert freedom of conscience for themselves; and at one time plotted with the king of France against the pope, at another with the pope against the king of France, and at still another succeeded in enticing the Protestants of Germany into an offensive alliance against both. As the representative of such a monarch—so unscrupulous about the means employed, either by himself or by others, in his behalf—the regent became a willing and easy convert to the appeal of the Jesuit superior. Holding both the law and public opinion in contempt, and looking upon the people as having no rights which kings were bound to recognize, she took the side of the Jesuits at Saragossa, and at once inaugurated the measures necessary to secure their triumph over all their adversaries. The pope's nuncio in Spain was easily brought to the same side, because it was the royal side; and, thus supported, the Jesuits soon reached the end they had sought after so anxiously by their triumphal re-entry into Saragossa, and the compulsory submission of the vicar-general, the Augustinians, the Franciscans, the priests, and the people! No combination which all these could then form could any longer resist the power and insolence of the Jesuits, when backed by the enormous monarchical power which Charles V had placed in the regent's hands. Daurignac, the Jesuit historian, tells all this in praise of his society, boastingly informing his readers how the vicar-general was "compelled to remove the ban of excommunication," and how the Jesuits were thereby enabled peacefully "to take possession of their house," and occupy it without further resistance. Of course, their adversaries were all subdued, not because of any change of opinion with regard to the Jesuits, but because they feared to disobey the regent, who held in her hands the power of the merciless Charles V. And the Jesuits, with the vanity inspired by success, marched the streets of Saragossa, through the subdued and humiliated crowd, in such conspicuous exultation as told emphatically with what indifference and contempt they looked upon human institutions and laws, or the rights of the monastic orders, or the sanction of local ecclesiastical authority, or municipal regulations, or the interests and sentiments of the people, or all these combined, when they undertook to place a check upon their ambition, or subject them to any other obedience than that they had vowed to their superior.40

These details, under ordinary circumstances, might seem tedious to the general reader, but they are justified by their necessity in showing how the Jesuits obtained their first signal triumph. There has been a long list of similar triumphs since then to which this contributed. The events themselves, in so far as they involve merely the occupation and use of a piece of ground, are comparatively insignificant; but they serve, far better than many of greater magnitude, to display the prominent and most dangerous characteristics of the Jesuits. They show their absolute disregard of all rights and interests in conflict with their own, and how thoroughly Loyola succeeded in making this the governing and cardinal principle of the society; and their significance is increased by the fact that the affair at Saragossa inaugurated a policy which the Jesuits have steadily pursued throughout their history, varying their methods according to the character of the objects they have endeavored to attain. In this sense, they are introductory to a proper estimate of them.