Читать книгу The Footprints of the Jesuits - Richard W. Thompson - Страница 9

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The assistance rendered to the Jesuits at Saragossa by the regent, in the name of the Emperor Charles V, very greatly encouraged them. It gave them assurance of royal sympathy with the monarchical principles of their constitution, and taught them how to invoke that sympathy successfully in future controversies with their adversaries, although the latter might be ecclesiastics in the active service of the Church.

At Toledo, in Spain, they also encountered formidable opposition. On account of divers abuses and "many superstitious practices" which prevailed among them, the Cardinal-Archbishop of Toledo was constrained to condemn and reprove them in a public ordinance, whereby he prohibited the Christian people from confessing to them "under pain of excommunication," and required "all curates to exclude them from the administration of the sacraments." It should be understood from this, of course, that they must have been guilty of some extraordinary and flagrant conduct, or they would not have been so harshly dealt with by so distinguished a functionary of the Church as a cardinal-archbishop, to whom the management of the affairs of the Church at Toledo was confided. No other supposition can be indulged, especially in view of the fact that, besides this emphatic denunciation, he placed their college at Alcala under interdict. It is impossible, therefore, to escape the conclusion that their conduct had brought reproach upon the society and inflicted injury upon the Church. But again, as at Saragossa, the Jesuits were not discomfited by being placed under the ban of ecclesiastical censure, and organized resistance against the cardinal-archbishop, as they had done against the vicar-general at Saragossa. Their first effort was to seek the intervention of the pope—whom they supposed to be under the influence of Loyola—that of his nuncio in Spain, and that of the Archbishop of Burgos. They hoped in this way to overcome all opposition. But the effort was unavailing, for the reason that the cardinal-archbishop was so thoroughly convinced of their unworthiness that he could not be moved from his purpose, and sternly persisted in condemning them. Thus failing to obtain the desired assistance from the authorities of the Church, they invoked aid from the temporal and monarchical power of the Government, as they had done at Saragossa. They had become well assured, by their success with the regent, that all who served Charles V were in constant readiness to do whatsoever was necessary to protect their society, even against the highest officials of the Church, because of its tendency to preserve and perpetuate the principle of monarchism. They felt entirely secure under royal and imperial protection, understanding perfectly well the powers wielded by the monarchs of that period, especially that of Charles V in Spain. Accordingly they succeeded in having proceedings instituted against the cardinal-archbishop, who was summoned before the royal court of Spain to show cause why he had placed any impediments in the way of the Jesuits—why, in other words, he had dared to deny their absolute dominion over the regularly-constituted ecclesiastical tribunal at Toledo. Loyola understood how to influence the court of Spain, and felt entirely convinced, doubtless, that, with Charles V upon his side, he could easily bring all his enemies at his feet; and, in this instance, he was not disappointed. The royal court decided in favor of the Jesuits, and the cardinal-archbishop was condemned and silenced. In order to escape the prison of the Inquisition, he yielded obedience at last, and the Jesuits achieved another triumph over a distinguished ecclesiastic of the Church.41

The patronage of the king of Portugal enabled them to enter Portugal without difficulty. This so excited their anticipations of a brilliant and successful future, that they devoted themselves to the acquisition of riches, and fell into such vices as, in that day, almost invariably accompanied success among both clergy and laity. Nicolini says that, after having obtained "immense wealth" in Portugal, they "relaxed in the strictness of their conduct, pursued a life of pleasure and debauchery," until the king "began to frown upon them," and the people to withdraw their respect. They had a college at Coimbra which, according to him, bore very little resemblance to a cloister. Being no longer able, as in Spain, to appeal with confidence to the royal power for protection—as the confidence of the king of Portugal in their Christian integrity had become shaken—Loyola, yet alive, was forced to remove the provincial and rector of the college, out of seeming deference to public opinion. The new rector, by running and screaming through the streets like a madman, and flagellating his naked shoulders until they were covered with blood and dust, so succeeded in arousing the fears and superstition of the Jesuits that they were induced to introduce such reforms in the college as enabled them, in some degree, but not entirely, to regain their influence.42

It is not a little puzzling to those who have not investigated the history and character of the Jesuits, to understand how the immense wealth they acquired in Portugal and elsewhere was obtained, when each member was required to take a vow of "extreme poverty." There is, however, nothing easier for a Jesuit than to satisfy his own mind upon this subject, by aid of the casuistical method of reasoning which enables him to escape this, or any other difficulty. Bartoli, the biographer of Loyola, explains it in a few words. "The vow of poverty," says he, "does not deprive the person who is under trial of the ownership of the property which he previously possessed, nor of the possibility of acquiring more, until he has obtained a fixed and determined position, although he is indeed deprived of the use of his property, and can not, any more than a professed religious, dispose of a single farthing without the consent of his superior."43 And he repeats the same idea at another place, by saying, "The vow of poverty does not preclude the possession of property."44 Uninitiated minds may be embarrassed by this, but it is plain and simple to a Jesuit. He understands that his vow of "extreme poverty" does not require him to part with the property he has, or prohibit him from obtaining more if he can. There is but a single condition attached—that it shall be at the disposal of the superior. And thus, by the help of the casuists, this wonderful society, composed only of those who have solemnly vowed their absolute disdain of wealth, has, at several periods of its history, become the richest in the world, and would be so again if allowed to have its own way. The vow of "extreme poverty" means, therefore, in the minds of Jesuits, splendid palaces, marble churches, magnificent universities, and, in fact, the absorption of as much wealth as can be acquired through every variety of intrigue, by a body of men who boast that they have plucked every human sympathy from their hearts, and look upon all the tenderest relations of society with contempt. No written language furnishes words to convey fully to ordinary minds the Jesuit idea of "extreme poverty." One of the Jesuit fathers, quoted by Bartoli, calls it "a rich poverty," as he also does the bondage of the society "a free slavery."45 By familiarizing ourselves with this wonderfully dexterous use of words, we may soon learn to understand what is meant by white darkness and the blackness of sunlight.

In all the countries of Europe the first impressions with reference to the Jesuits were extremely unfavorable to them, and the most decided among those most conspicuous for devotion to the Church. There was nothing in the life of Loyola to inspire confidence, either in him or in his plan of operations. He was looked upon as an adventurer, who had abandoned a military life only because his person was disfigured by a wound, in order to acquire distinction in some other pursuit. Some of the ecclesiastics—as in the case of Melchior the Dominican—were disposed to rebuke his presumptuousness in assuming sanctity and superiority; while others of them, like the vicar-general at Saragossa and the Cardinal-Archbishop of Toledo, considered his teachings as tending to encourage heresy, not only because of their novelty, but because they blasphemously recognized him and all subsequent superiors of the Jesuits as equal to God in both attributes and power. They could not persuade themselves to believe that Christianity required them to recognize Loyola as infallible, whilst the pope, by the existing faith of the Church, remained fallible. Loyola was thus surrounded with embarrassments which would have subdued the courage of almost any other man. He, however, was rather strengthened than weakened by opposition; for he belonged to that class of men who need the excitement of conflict and the spur of necessity to develop their commanding qualities. He had laid his plans well and skillfully, and, with a perfect knowledge of the condition of society, had prepared to derive power from the only sources recognized as possessing it; that is, from the pope as head of the Church, and monarchs as the possessors of absolute dominion. So long as he could avail himself of their united support, he had little or no fear of the people, whom he could readily resist and humiliate as he had done at Saragossa. He soon realized that he could easily brush opposing ecclesiastics out of his way, so long as he could retain monarchism as the leading and central principle of his society; and hence he directed all his efforts to the suppression of the Reformation, and to the continued union of Church and State, so as to give additional strength to monarchism, upon which, as a reserved force, he could fall back whensoever the interests of his society and the exigencies of his affairs required it. Whilst the bulk of society were unable to penetrate his secret purposes and motives, enough transpired, even during the life of Loyola, to excite general suspicion against his own and the integrity of his society, on which account it was that he encountered such formidable opposition to the introduction of his society into Spain, and its loss of influence and reputation in Portugal, both of which States were eminently devoted to the Roman Catholic religion. In obedience to the general rule, that "the same causes produce the same results," the opposition to Loyola and his society became more violent and protracted in France than in either Spain or Portugal. The reason for this may be found in the peculiarity of the Church organization existing there; but from whatsoever cause it may have arisen, the long and tedious controversy which at last secured the admission of the Jesuits into France, is not merely historically instructive, but throws a flood of light upon Jesuit policy and character.

The French Christians had for a long period refused to concede to the pope the right to interfere with the temporal affairs of that kingdom. This attitude was so persistently maintained by them that what they considered their "liberties" came to be generally recognized as the foundation of the French or Gallican Church, as distinguished from the Papal Church at Rome. They regarded themselves under the jurisdiction of the pope in spiritual matters—that is, in so far as religious faith was concerned—but maintained that the domestic policy of France, in the management of her own temporal and internal affairs, could not be so mingled with Christian faith as to confer upon the pope any right to dictate or interfere with that policy. Upon these points there was entire unanimity among them before the time of Loyola, or if any opposing sentiment existed it was too inconsiderable to influence the public judgment.

When the attempt was first made to introduce the Jesuits into France the knowledge of their operations elsewhere led to the belief—at all events, the fear—that the society could not exist there without conflicting with the Gallican liberties, and subjecting the French Christians to foreign authority more odious than that of the pope, to whom they had steadily refused the concession of any temporal power over them. They were willing then, as they had always been, to look to the pope for the regulation of all affairs of the Church that concerned religious faith; but it was impossible for them to admit the superior jurisdiction claimed by Loyola without conferring upon him authority and distinction they had denied to the pope, and creating a threatening antagonism to the liberties they had long enjoyed, and which distinguished them from other Roman Catholic populations of Europe. They could readily see that if the Jesuits, under the guidance of an ambitious adventurer like Loyola, were permitted to establish this jurisdiction, it would surely lead to interference by his society with the temporal affairs and interests of the kingdom. Consequently the Gallican Christians, backed by their highest ecclesiastical authorities, sternly resisted the introduction of the Jesuits into France. They could not have done otherwise without a tame and absolute forfeiture of their boasted liberties. As neither Loyola nor his followers had any respect whatsoever for this Christian sentiment, notwithstanding it was maintained with extraordinary unanimity in France, and persisted in the effort to plant the Jesuit society in the midst of it with the view of its extermination, an exciting and angry struggle ensued, in which the Jesuits displayed their habitual disregard of public opinion, and whatsoever else stood in the way of their success. Neither the interests of the French Church, nor the sentiments and wishes of the French people, nor the possibility of imperiling the cause of Christianity, nor any other consideration beside that of their own triumph, weighed the weight of a feather with them when in conflict with their secret plans and purposes.

The Jesuits sought the aid of the pope, and through him that of the king of France, so that by the combined influence of the spiritual and the temporal powers, they might bring to bear upon the French Church and people such pressure as would render them powerless to resist encroachment upon liberties long held in religious veneration. Their manifest object was to center this union of Church and State upon what they considered the only "legitimate authority," with the special view of engrafting upon the faith of the Gallican Christians the principle of "uninquiring obedience" to whatsoever policy should be dictated by the interests of that combination, whether relating to spiritual or temporal affairs. Realizing how readily the pope yielded to the entreaties and influence of Loyola in approving his society, it was doubtless supposed that he would as readily be persuaded to secure the co-operation of the king, whose temporal power would thus be invoked to bring the French Church and people to obey whatsoever the Jesuits should dictate. The scheme was adroitly planned, and displayed, not only the despotic policy of the Jesuits, but their unsurpassed capacity for cunning and intrigue.

During the reign of Henry II, France had become, in a large degree, relieved from the complications in which she had been involved in the lifetime of Francis I, his father, growing out of the protracted controversy in which the Emperor Charles V and the pope both bore conspicuous parts. He was enabled therefore to turn his attention to internal and domestic affairs, which placed him in a condition favorable to the adoption of any methods of procedure that promised to bring society into perfect obedience to monarchical dominion; or, as he, along with Loyola and the Jesuits, regarded it, to "legitimate authority." Loyola could not fail to realize that the occasion was most opportune for him, and therefore availed himself of it with the utmost promptitude, taking advantage of everything seemingly favorable to the ends he desired to accomplish. The Reformation had progressed with astonishing rapidity, and nothing aroused his ambition so much as the hope of arresting its progress; for without the stimulating influence of that object his occupation would have been threatened with a speedy ending, and his society would have expired almost at its birth. This would have caused him to sink down into an inconspicuous position, condemned alike by ecclesiastics and people as a disturber of the public peace.

In addition to what the Reformation had accomplished in Germany—where its defenders had been inspirited by the presence, intrepidity, and eloquence of Luther—its influences had become so extended in France as to alarm all who saw in it the probable loss of power, and the end of those oppressions by which they had so long and successfully maintained their authority. Protestant churches were erected, not only in Paris, but in all the principal cities and in every province of France. Henry II saw all this with intense dissatisfaction, and was therefore in a condition to look favorably upon suggestions from any quarter that would give promise of forcing back the advancing tide of popular enlightenment and Protestant progress. He inherited from his father the most intense malignity toward what he called the "new religion," mainly on account, unquestionably, of its tendency to endanger the absolutism of monarchy. And he also inherited a persecuting spirit, which, by indulgence, had outgrown that of his father. All students of French history are familiar with the chief events of his reign, which caused Henry of Navarre—afterwards Henry IV—Anthony de Bourbon, Louis de Condé, Admiral de Coligny, Francis d'Andelot, and other lords, to unite with the reformers, and place themselves in the lead of the Huguenots. With such accessions as these, the persecuted Protestants of France became formidable in all parts of the country, and Henry II found employment for all his royal resources in contriving methods for their suppression, an object of which he seldom lost sight. Wheresoever Protestantism appeared, the spirit of persecution rose up to extinguish it. An eminent French historian says: "During the reign of Francis I, within the space of twenty-three years, there had been eighty-one executions for heresy. During that of Henry II, twelve years, there were ninety-seven for the same cause; and at one of these executions Henry II was present in person on the space in front of Notre Dame, a spectacle which Francis I had always refused to see." He states also that during the reign of Henry II, and the year before his death, "fifteen capital sentences had been executed in Dauphiny, in Normandy, in Poitou, and at Paris," and that, within that period, the penal legislation against heretics had been greatly increased in severity.46

Francis II was distinguished for nothing so much as for his uncompromising animosity to the Reformation, to all its legitimate fruits, and to those who professed Protestantism. He was entirely under the dominion of the Guises, who were the bloodiest and most unrelenting persecutors in France. To signalize his submission to them, he issued a royal proclamation, which they dictated, for razing to the ground and demolishing the houses in which the Protestants met for religious worship. Protestant assemblages were declared unlawful, and those who attended them were punishable with death, as were also those who sheltered and protected them. In about five months of this merciless reign, "eighteen persons were burned alive for heresy"—that is, for having professed the Protestant religion.47

In this condition France opened a broad and attractive field of operations for the Jesuits. Keeping steadily in view the principal and primary purpose of their organization—the suppression of the Reformation—they must have thirsted for an opportunity to bring their peculiar tactics into practice, not only for the accomplishment of this cherished object, but to reduce the Gallican Christians into such obedience to the papacy as would subject the temporal affairs of France to the dominion of Rome, when they expected to become, through the influence of Loyola over the pope, the chief agents in executing the papal mandates. The Cardinal of Lorraine—one of the Guises—was in full sympathy with them; and as he had been instrumental in dictating the persecuting policy of Henry II and Francis I, he must have rejoiced at the opportunity of obtaining Jesuit assistance in a work so congenial to himself and them. He was "inordinately vain; intensely selfish; an adept in the art of dissimulation, which he used without scruple,"—and these qualities must have commended him to the Jesuits, as they, on account of possessing the same, were doubtless commended to him. That he was ambitious and a special favorite of the pope is indicated by the multiplicity of offices he filled at the same time. Besides being cardinal, he held two archbishoprics, six bishoprics, and was abbot for each of four monasteries.48

Such a man as the Cardinal of Lorraine could, of course, render most essential aid to the Jesuits, as the Jesuits could to him. He and Loyola were "par nobile fratrum," each possessing such qualities as fitted him to become a proficient auxiliary of the other in the pursuit of a common object. After he had succeeded in combining against the French Protestants all who were under royal influence, he hastened to Rome, where, under the immediate auspices of the pope, he desired to arrange with Loyola personally for the introduction of the Jesuits into France. To facilitate the measure, he proposed the establishment of the Inquisition in France, with the purpose of disposing of heretics according to the method employed against the Albigenses by Innocent III, and which had been, after many years of disuse, successfully revived in Italy, Spain, and Portugal, under papal patronage and protection. He was received with marked distinction at Rome by both the pope and Loyola; and, having experienced no difficulty in obtaining their approval of his proposed plan of operations, he returned to France to carry it into execution by exterminating Protestantism, destroying the liberties of the Gallican Christians, and re-establishing the unity of religious faith by inquisitorial compulsion. He found the king still in full sympathy with him, and consequently had no difficulty in procuring from him royal letters-patent, by which he gave his consent to the Jesuits to enter France as an organized religious society, to build a house and college in Paris, and to "live therein according to their rules and statutes."49

These facts—narrated with all possible brevity—show the extraordinary means of which Loyola availed himself, in his lifetime, to force his society into France in opposition to the Gallican Church, the almost entire body of the Gallican Christians, and the people. Relying upon the aid of the pope, the king, the Cardinal of Lorraine, and such courtiers as crowded about the royal palace and echoed the royal will, he expected to overcome all opposition, and, by employing the terrible machinery of the Inquisition, to make himself master of France, or prepare the way for his successors to do so. And thus the founder and builder of the Jesuit society himself stamped upon it one of its leading and most distinguishing characteristics—the utter disregard of everything that does not contribute to its own ends and objects.

But the enemies of the Jesuits in France were not so easily reduced to submission as the Cardinal of Lorraine, the pope, and Loyola had supposed. The powerful combination they had formed, with the assistance of the king and his courtiers, was not sufficient to remove or counteract the deep-seated antipathy existing in France against the Jesuits. The orders of the king were not mandatory without the approval of Parliament, which was the highest public representative body in France. When the letters-patent of the king, admitting the Jesuits, came before Parliament, they were rejected with great unanimity, for the avowed reason that their introduction into France would be prejudicial to the public welfare and the Gallican Christians.50 The bulk of the French clergy, and the entire faculty of the University of Paris, also took strong and decided grounds against the Jesuits. The king, offended by this opposition to his royal will, and assuming an air of monarchical supremacy, commanded Parliament to register his letters-patent. But Parliament again refused, and appealed for advice to the Archbishop of Paris—the chief ecclesiastical functionary of the Church. The archbishop also decided against the Jesuits. The Faculty of Theology in the university unanimously charged them, among other things, with arrogant presumption in assuming "the unusual title of the name of Jesus," and with admitting into their society "all sorts of persons, however criminal, lawless, and infamous they may be." They further declared the society to be "dangerous as to matters of faith, capable of disturbing the peace of the Church, overturning the monastic orders, and were more adapted to break down than to build up." This severe indictment is made more important and conspicuous by the fact that it was not preferred by Protestants, but by Roman Catholics, who had for many centuries faithfully adhered to such teachings of the Church as had universally prevailed, before the popes, in imitation of temporal monarchs, had built up the papal system. In addition to all this, the Archbishop of Paris issued an interdict against them, forbidding their exercise of any of the sacred functions.51 The Bishop of Paris followed with other interdictions, and the entire clergy denounced the Jesuits in the pulpits. Placards in censure of them were hawked about the streets. At last the public indignation against them became so intense and violent that they were driven out of Paris, and compelled to seek shelter elsewhere. They did this, however, as they had done when forced by the popular tumult to leave Saragossa; that is, with the seeming appearance of submission, but with the real purpose of renewing their efforts when some occasion attended by more favorable circumstances should arise—when the royal authority could be more successfully employed to defy the Gallican Church and the popular sentiment. This was at that time, has been ever since, and is to-day, an essential part of Jesuit tactics, in the pursuit of which they are persistent and tireless. And where they have had the united aid of popes and monarchs, of Church and State, they have generally succeeded among populations not awakened by Protestant influences to a just appreciation of their own rights and dignity. In the case we have been considering they did not have very long to wait before the king, the Cardinal of Lorraine, and their allies, patronized by the pope, secured for them a conspicuous triumph over public opinion in France. The combination formed for that purpose needed their assistance in the bloody and congenial work of persecution, and this furnished a pretext for their introduction into France, notwithstanding the odium in which they were almost universally held. Nicolini says: "Soon they were called into France to help and cheer that atrocious and cruel hecatomb, that bloody debauch of priests and kings—the Saint Bartholomew."52

Thus far a clear and distinct view is furnished of the estimate in which the Jesuits were held during the lifetime of their founder by those who were steadfastly obedient to the Christian teachings of the Roman Church. None of the opposition here noted came from Protestants, but alone from those attached to the Church which the Jesuits professed to be serving. It originated with those who had a most favorable opportunity of becoming familiar with the general character and purposes of Loyola, many of whom, in all probability, had opportunities of seeing and conversing with him, as Melchior, the Dominican monk, had done. His boasts of extraordinary sanctity, of his frequent interviews with Christ and the Virgin Mary, and his impious pretense that he occupied the place of God in the world, and, like him, possessed miraculous powers, misled very few besides those who became his minions, or those who expected to profit by alliance with him. We shall see all this still more fully in the subsequent events which attended the final introduction of the society into France, all of which combine to show the methods by which, in the course of time, it became odious to the Christian populations of Europe, was expelled ignominiously from all the Christian nations, and was, at last, when its iniquities could be patiently borne no longer, suppressed and abolished by a pope distinguished for his Christian virtue and purity of life.