Chapter II

1540-52.

CONSTITUTIONS OF THE SOCIETY.[17]

The times in which Ignatius wrote the Constitutions were, for the Court of Rome and the Catholic religion, times of anxiety and danger. The Reformation was making rapid progress, and all Christendom, Catholic[18] as well as Protestant, resounded with the “Hundred Complaints” (_Centum gravamina_) brought forward at the Diet of Nuremberg against the Roman court—complaints and accusations which the wonderfully candid Adrian VI. acknowledged to be too well founded. This pontiff, by his nuncio, frankly declared to the Diet, “that all this confusion was originated by men’s sins, and, above all, by those of the clergymen and prelates—that for many years past the _Holy See had committed many abominations_—that numerous abuses had crept into the administration of spiritual affairs, and many _superfluities into the laws_—that all had been perverted—and that the corruption, descending from the head to the body, from the Sovereign Pontiff to the prelates, was so great, that there could hardly be found one who did good.”[19] When a pope confessed so much to Protestant ears, it may well be imagined to what a degree of rottenness the moral leprosy must have arrived.

But, besides this corruption, great confusion reigned throughout the Roman Catholic world. The different monastic orders were at war with one another. The bishops accused the Pope of tyranny; the Pope denounced the bishops as disobedient. The mass of the people were deplorably ignorant, and general disorder prevailed.

Now, mark with what admirable art, what profound sagacity, Ignatius modelled a society, which, by displaying the virtues directly opposed to the then prevailing vices, should captivate the affections and secure the support of the good and the pious, whilst, by underhand practices, and, above all, by shewing unusual indulgence in the confessional, it should obtain an influence over the minds of the more worldly believers.

In order that diversity of opinion and the free exercise of individual will should not produce division and confusion within this new Christian community, Loyola enacted that, in the whole Society, there should be no will, no opinion, but the General’s. But, in order that the General might be enabled profitably to employ each individual member, as well as the collective energy and intelligence of the whole Society, it was necessary that he should be thoroughly acquainted with his character, even to its smallest peculiarities. To insure this, Ignatius established special rules. Thus, regarding the admission of postulants, he says—

“Because it greatly concerns God’s service to make a good selection, diligence must be used to ascertain the particulars of their person and calling; and if the superior, who is to admit him into probation, cannot make the inquiry, let him employ from among those who are constantly about his person some one whose assistance he may use, to become acquainted with the probationer—to live with him and examine him;—some one endowed with _prudence_, and _not unskilled_ in the manner which should be observed with so many various kinds and conditions of persons.”[20] In other words, set a skilful and prudent spy over him, to surprise him into the betrayal of his most secret thoughts. Yet, even when this spy has given a tolerably favourable report, the candidate is not yet admitted—he is sent to live in another house, “in order that he may be more thoroughly _scrutinised_, to know whether he is fitted to be admitted to _probation_.”[21] When he is thought suited for the Society, he is received into the “house of first probation;” and after a day or two, “he must open his conscience to the superior, and afterwards make a general confession to the _confessor who shall be designed_ by the superior.”[22] But this is not all, for—“in every house of probation there will be a _skilful man_ to whom the candidate shall disclose all his concerns with confidence; and let him be admonished _to hide no temptation_, but to disclose it to him, or to his confessor, or to the superior; nay, to take a pleasure in thoroughly manifesting his whole soul to them, not only disclosing his defects, but even his penances, mortifications, and _virtues_.”[23] When the candidate is admitted into any of their colleges, he must again “open his conscience to the rector of the college, whom he should greatly revere and venerate, as one who _holds the place of Christ our Lord_; keeping nothing concealed from him, not even his conscience, which he should disclose to him (as it is set forth in the _Examen_) at the appointed season, and oftener, if any cause require it; not opposing, not contradicting, nor shewing an opinion, in any case, opposed to his opinion.”[24]

The information thus collected, regarding the tastes, habits, and inclinations of every member, is communicated to the General, who notes it down in a book, alphabetically arranged, and kept for the purpose, in which also, as he receives twice a year a detailed report upon every member of the Society, he from time to time adds whatever seems necessary to complete each delineation of character, or to indicate the slightest change. Thus, the General knowing the past and present life, the thoughts, the desires of every one belonging to the Society, it is easy to understand how he is enabled always to select the fittest person for every special service.

But this perfect knowledge of his subordinates’ inmost natures would be of but little use to the General, had he not also an absolute and uncontrolled authority over them. The Constitution has a provision for insuring this likewise. It declares that the candidate “_must regard the superior as_ CHRIST THE LORD, and must strive to acquire perfect resignation and denial of his own will and judgment, in all things conforming his will and judgment to that which the superior wills and judges.”[25] To the same purpose is the following: “As for holy obedience, this virtue must be perfect in every point—in execution, in will, in intellect; doing what is enjoined with all celerity, spiritual joy, and perseverance; persuading ourself that everything is just; suppressing every repugnant thought and judgment of one’s own, in a certain obedience; ... and let every one persuade himself that he who lives under obedience should be moved and directed, under Divine Providence, by his superior, just as if he were a CORPSE (_perinde ac si cadaver esset_), which allows itself to be moved and led in any direction.”[26] And so absolutely is this rule of submissive obedience enforced, that the Jesuit, in order to obey his General, must not scruple to disobey God. The warnings of conscience are to be suppressed as culpable weaknesses; the fears of eternal punishment banished from the thoughts as superstitious fancies; and the most heinous crimes, when committed by command of the General, are to be regarded as promoting the glory and praise of God.

Read and consider the following blasphemy:—“No constitution, declaration, or any order of living, can involve an obligation to commit sin, mortal or venial, _unless the superior command it_ IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, _or in virtue of holy obedience_; which shall be done in those cases or persons wherein it shall be judged that it will greatly conduce to the particular good of each, or to the general advantage; and, _instead of the fear of offence, let the love and desire of all perfection succeed, that the greater glory and praise of Christ, our Creator and Lord, may follow_!”[27]

I shudder at the thought of all the atrocities which have been perpetrated at the order of this other “old man of the mountain,” who presents to his agents the prospects of eternal bliss as the reward of their obedience.

But this is not enough. Not content with having thus transferred the allegiance of the Jesuit from his God to his General, the Constitution proceeds to secure that allegiance from all conflict with the natural affections or worldly interests. The Jesuit must concentrate all his desires and affections upon the Society. He must renounce all that is dear to him in this life. The ties of family, the bonds of friendship, must be broken. His property must, within a year after his entrance into the Society, be disposed of at the bidding of the General; “and he will accomplish a work of greater perfection if he dispose of it in _benefit of the Society_. And that his better example may shine before men, he must _put away all strong affection for his parents_, and refrain from the unsuitable desire of a _bountiful distribution_, arising from such _disadvantageous affection_.”[28]

He must, besides, forego all intercourse with his fellow-men, either by word of mouth or by writing,[29] except such as his superior shall permit. “He shall not leave the house except at such times and with such companions as the superior shall allow. Nor within the house shall he converse, without restraint, with any one at his own pleasure, but with such only as shall be appointed by the superior.”[30] Such was the strictness with which these rules were enforced, that Francis Borgia, Duke of Candia, afterwards one of the saints of the Society, was at first refused admittance into it, because he delayed the settlement of the affairs of his dukedom, and refused to renounce all intercourse with his family; and although, by a special rescript from the Pope, he was enrolled as a member, Ignatius for three years sternly denied him access to the house of the community, where he was not admitted till he had renounced all intercourse with the external world.

But not only is all friendly communication forbidden to the Jesuit, but he is also placed under constant espionage. He is never permitted to walk about alone, but, whether in the house or out of doors, is always accompanied by _two_ of his brethren.[31] Each one of this party of three acts, in fact, as a spy upon his two companions. Not, indeed, that he has special instructions from his superior to do so, but, knowing that they, as well as himself, have been taught that it is their duty to inform the General of every suspicious or peculiar expression uttered in their hearing, he is under constant fear of punishment, should either of them report anything regarding the other which he omits to report likewise. Hence it is very seldom that a Jesuit refrains from denouncing his companion. If he does not do so at once, his _sinful neglect_ becomes revealed in the confessional, to the _special_ confessor appointed by the superior.

Then, in order that these members, so submissive in action to their General, should not differ in opinion among themselves and so occasion scandal in the Catholic world, and to oppose an uniformity of doctrine to that of the free examen of the Protestants, the Constitution decrees as follows:—“Let all think, let all speak, as far as possible, the same thing, according to the apostle. Let no contradictory doctrines, therefore, be allowed, either by word of mouth, or public sermons, or in written books, which last shall not be published without the approbation and the consent of the General; and, indeed, all difference of opinion regarding practical matters should be avoided.”[32] Thus, no one but the General can exercise the right of uttering a single original thought or opinion. It is almost impossible to conceive the power, especially in former times, of a General having at his absolute disposal such an amount of intelligences, wills, and energies.

Now, it must not be imagined that all, willing implicitly to obey the behests of the superior, are indiscriminately admitted into the Society. Such, indeed, is the case with all other monastic orders (I speak more particularly of Italy and Spain). Vagabonds, thieves, and ruffians, often became members of those communities, in whose convents they had found an asylum against the police and the hangman. Ignatius wisely guarded his Society from this abuse. Its members must be chosen, if possible, from among the best. The wealthy and the noble are the fittest for admission; although these qualifications are not essential, and the want of them may be supplied by some extraordinary natural gift or acquired talent.[33] Besides this, the candidate must possess a _comely presence_, youth, health, strength, facility of speech, and steadiness of purpose. To have ever been a heretic or schismatic, to have been guilty of homicide or any heinous crime, to have belonged to another order, to be under the bond of matrimony, or not to have a strong and sound mind, are insurmountable obstacles to admission. Ungovernable passions, habit of sinning, unsteadiness and fickleness of mind, lukewarm devotion, _want of learning_ and of ability to acquire it, a dull memory, bodily defects, debility and disease, and advanced age—any of these imperfections render the postulant less acceptable;[34] and, to gain admission, he must exhibit some very useful compensating qualities. It is evident that persons so carefully selected are never likely to disgrace the Society by any gross misbehaviour, and will perform with prudence and success any temporal or worldly service they may be put to by the General. I say _worldly_ service, because I should suppose that it must matter very little for the service of God should the servant be _lame_ or of an “_uncomely presence_.”

But in no part of the Constitution do Loyola’s genius and penetration shine so conspicuously as in the rules regarding the vow of poverty, and the gratuitous performance of the duties of the sacred ministry. The discredit and hatred which weighed upon the clergy and the monastic orders was in great part due to the ostentatious display of their accumulated wealth, and to the venality of their sacred ministry. To guard against this evil, Ignatius ordained that “_poverty_ should be loved and maintained as the _firmest bulwark of religion_.” The Jesuit was forbidden to possess any property, either by inheritance or otherwise. He was required to live in an inexpensive house, to dress plainly, and avoid all appearance of being wealthy. The churches and religious houses of the order were to be without endowments. The colleges alone were permitted to accept legacies or donations for the maintenance of students and professors. No limit was assigned to these gifts, the management of which was intrusted entirely to the General, with power to appoint rectors and administrators under him. These functionaries, generally chosen from among the coadjutors and very rarely from the professed Society, although debarred by their vow of perpetual poverty from the possession of the smallest amount of property, are yet, by this ingenious trick, enabled to hold and administer the entire wealth of the Society. We shall afterwards see, and especially in the famous process of Lavallette, in what a large sense they understand the word _administer._ So much for the display of wealth. With respect to the venality of the sacred ministry, they declared that “no Jesuit shall demand or receive pay, or alms, or remuneration, for mass, confessions, sermons, lessons, visitations, or any other duty which the Society is obliged to render; and, to avoid even the appearance of covetousness, especially in offices of piety which the Society discharges for the succour of souls, let there be _no box_ in the church, into which alms are generally put by those who go thither to mass, sermon, confession,” &c.[35] Thus the Jesuit refuses to accept a few paltry sixpences for performing mass, or a fee of some shillings per quarter for teaching boys. He disdains to appear mercenary. He would much rather be _poor_. He looks for no reward. Yet, those little boys whom he instructs gratuitously, and with such affectionate tenderness that he cannot bring himself to chastise them, but must have the painful though necessary duty performed by some one not belonging to the Society;[36]—these boys, I say, will become men, many of them religious bigots, strongly attached to their kind preceptors, to whom they will then pay the debt of gratitude incurred in their youth.

Alas for such gratitude! How many families have had cause to deplore it! How many children have been reduced to beggary by it! How many ancient and noble houses has it precipitated from the height of affluence and splendour into the depth of poverty and wretchedness! Who can number the crimes committed in the madness of despair occasioned by the loss of the family inheritance? That the parent may suffer a few years less of purgatory, the child has been too often condemned to misery in this life, and perhaps to eternal punishment in the next. But all this is of no consequence. The man who has been led thus to disregard one of his most sacred parental duties, in order to found a Jesuits’ college or endow a professorship, will be saved, because they promise him—“In every college of our Society, let masses be celebrated once a week _for ever_, for its founder and benefactor, whether dead or alive. At the beginning of every month, all the priests who are in the college ought to offer the same sacrifice for them; and a solemn mass, with a commemorative feast, shall be celebrated on the anniversary of the donation, and a wax candle offered to the donor or his descendants.” Besides this, “the donor shall have three masses while alive, and three masses after his death, by all the priests of the Society, with the prayers of all its members; so that he is made partaker of all the good works which are done, by the grace of God, not only in the college which he has endowed, but in the whole Society.”[37]

By such allurements do these crafty priests, with diabolical cunning, snatch princely fortunes from the credulous and superstitious believers. And so assiduous and successful were they even at the very beginning, that, only thirteen years after the establishment of the order, during Loyola’s lifetime, they already possessed upwards of a hundred colleges very largely and richly endowed.

Now, let not my Protestant readers wonder how sensible men can be induced, by such ephemeral and ill-founded hopes, to disinherit their families in order to enrich these hypocritical monks. They must remember that the Romish believer views these matters in quite a different light from that in which they see them. Masses and prayers are, in his belief, not only useful, but indispensable. For lack of them he would writhe for centuries amid the tormenting fires of purgatory, the purifying pains of which are described by his priest, with appalling eloquence, as being far more excruciating than those of hell. According to the doctrine of his Church, every soul (one in a million only excepted) who is not eternally damned, must, ere it enter heaven, pass a certain time in this abode of torture for the expiation of its sins. And let him not take comfort from the fact that his conscience does not reproach him with the commission of any heinous crime. The catalogue of sins by which he may be shut out from eternal blessedness is made artfully long, and detailed with great minuteness. The most upright and pious of men must condemn himself as a presumptuous sinner if he for an instant harbours the hope of escaping the purifying fire. So he becomes quite resigned to his fate, and all his care in this life is, how to appease the Divine anger, and shorten the period of his exclusion from heaven. This he is taught to do—not by trusting to the righteousness of Jesus Christ, with the true repentance which manifests itself through a holy life, but by accumulating on his head hundreds of masses and millions of days of indulgence. Hence the innumerable masses and prayers which he sends before him during his life, as if to forestall his future punishment, and bribe the Divine justice. And when the terrible moment arrives—that moment in which he is about to appear before the awful Judge, beneath whose searching eye his most secret thoughts lie bare—when, trembling at the strict account that is about to be demanded of him, his fears represent to his excited imagination the most trifling shortcomings as mortal sins—when, with the decline of bodily strength, his enfeebled mind becomes more easily worked upon—then does his Jesuit confessor, his generous master, his kind, disinterested friend, come to give him the last proof of his ever-growing affection. He seats himself at his bedside, and, serpent-like, under pretence of inducing him to repent of his sins, he draws him a fearful and impressive picture of the torments which await the damned. He descants to him with oily sanctity upon the enormity of offending the Divine Saviour, who shed his precious blood to redeem us. He terrifies him with the Almighty’s implacable vengeance; and when his victim, choked with heart-rending agony, distracted, despairing of his ultimate salvation, is ready to curse God, and set his power and anger at defiance—then, and not till then, does the Jesuit relent. Now he raises in the sufferer’s heart the faintest hope that the Divine justice may possibly be disarmed, and mercy obtained by means of masses and indulgences. The exhausted man, who feels as if he were already plunged amid the boiling sulphur and devouring flames, grasps with frantic eagerness at this anchor of salvation; and, did he possess tenfold more wealth than he does, he would willingly give it all up to save his soul. It may be that his heart, yearning with paternal affection, shrinks at the thought of condemning his helpless ones to beggary; but nevertheless, as if the welfare of his family were necessarily connected with his own perdition, and that of the Jesuits with eternal beatitude, the family is invariably sacrificed to the Jesuits.

It is notorious that the most diabolical tricks have been resorted to in the case of dying men whose better judgment and natural sense of duty have withstood such perfidious wiles.

Alas! the punishment of such criminal obstinacy was always near at hand; the sick-chamber has been suddenly filled with flames and sulphureous vapour as a warning to the impenitent sinner. And if he still resisted, the Evil Spirit himself, in his most frightful shape, has appeared to the dying man, as if waiting for his soul. Ah!—one’s hair stands on end while listening to such sacrilegious manœuvres. The immense wealth of the Jesuits has been bequeathed to them by wills made at the last hour!

In order that all classes of Jesuits may better attend to their peculiar occupations, Ignatius relieved them from the obligation, incumbent on all other religious communities, of performing the Church service at the canonical hours.

Jesuits of every class may be expelled from the order, either by the general congregation or by the all-powerful General. In such cases, however, it is enacted, that great care be taken to keep secret the deeds or crimes which necessitate the dismissal, in order that the ex-Jesuit may suffer the least possible disgrace; also, that he shall be assisted by the prayers of the community, together with something more substantial, to the end that he may harbour no resentment against the order.[38]

No Jesuit, without the consent of the General, is allowed to accept any ecclesiastical dignity or benefice; and the General is required to refuse such consent, unless the Pope command him in the name of holy obedience to grant it. By this rule Ignatius designed to avoid exciting the animosity and jealousy of the other monastic orders, and of the clergy in general. Besides, Ignatius knew well that any ecclesiastical dignity would confer lustre and power on the individual, but be detrimental to the order. A bishop or a cardinal would be less disposed than a poor priest, to obey the General, and to work for the Society. He himself most rigidly enforced it, and would permit neither Lainez nor Borgia to receive the cardinal’s hat, which the Pope offered them. Since his time, the Jesuits have very seldom broken this rule, and that most often only to undertake some bishopric in far distant countries where no one else would desire to go.

The dress of the Jesuits consists of a long black vest and cloak, and of a low-crowned broad-brimmed hat, all of the greatest simplicity, and of good but common material. In their houses and colleges there reigns the most perfect order, the most exemplary propriety. The banqueting, revelling, and licence which so disgrace the establishments of the other monastic orders, are strictly prohibited.[39] They are very frugal in their habits, and prudently avoid all display of wealth. It is said that the General occasionally relaxes the rules in favour of some of the most trusty of the _professed_ and _coadjutors_, in order that, disguised as laymen, they may enjoy a few holidays as they please, in some distant place where they are not known.

We shall now proceed to examine that part of the Constitutions which concerns the hierarchy. Our readers must always bear in mind what we have already said, that the Constitutions were not finished till the year 1552, and it may perhaps be that some rules were added even after. The Society at first consisted only of professed members, and of scholastics or scholars, a sort of Jesuit aspirants who were trained up for the Society, into which they were admitted or not, according to the proofs which they had given of their fitness. In the year 1546, Paul III. approved of the introduction of the class of the Coadjutors, and in the year 1552 was erected at Lisbon the first house for the novices. We may further observe that, under the first three Generals, those Constitutions were scrupulously observed. And those were the heroic times of the Society. But from that moment, internal discord at first, and afterwards the more worldly and political character assumed by the Society, were its ruin, and the cause of its suppression as well as of its re-establishment. But let us not anticipate events.