Chapter XI

1600-1700.

DOCTRINES AND MORAL CODE OF THE JESUITS.

Let not our readers imagine that we shall enter into a profound theological discussion about the doctrines of the Jesuits. The thing has been repeatedly done, and we confess ourselves too deficient scholars in divinity, to throw any new light upon it. We shall briefly touch the theological question, and shall rather enlarge on those principles and maxims by which the Jesuits perverted the morals of their votaries, the better to domineer over them.

Acquaviva, in the _Ratio Studiorum_, had introduced a clause which threw the Roman Catholic world into confusion and alarm. Lainez, as we have observed, had already inserted a note in the Constitution regarding the study of scholastic learning, to this effect, that, “if any book of theology could be found more adapted to the times, it should be taught.” Acquaviva went a step further, and declared, “that St Thomas was indeed an author deserving of the highest approbation, but that it would be an insufferable yoke to be compelled to follow his footsteps in all things, and on no point to be allowed a free opinion; that many important doctrines had been more firmly established and better elucidated by recent theologians than by the holy doctor himself.”[218] This declaration produced a great commotion in the Roman Catholic world, and the Inquisition declared that the “_Ratio Studiorum_ was the most dangerous, rash, and arrogant book that had ever appeared, and calculated to produce many disturbances in the Christian commonwealth.”[219] But a greater scandal and more violent tempest was awakened by Molina, who in 1588 published at Evora a work on grace and free-will,[220] which inculcated a doctrine quite at variance with that taught by St Thomas and received by the Church. He maintained that free-will, even without the help of grace, can produce morally good works, that it can resist temptation, and can elevate itself to various acts of hope, faith, love, and repentance. When a man has advanced thus far, God _then_ bestows grace upon him on account of Christ’s merits, by means of which grace he experiences the supernatural effects of sanctification; yet, as before this grace had been received, in like manner, free-will is continually in action; and as everything depends on it, it rests with us to make the help of God effectual or ineffectual. Molina, in consequence, rejected the doctrine of Thomas and Augustine on predestination, and refused to admit it, as too stern and cruel. This is the substance of Molina’s doctrine.[221]

The Dominicans, a great part of the theologians, and some of the Jesuits, loudly exclaimed against it, and the Inquisition was on the point of condemning it, when, by the influence of Acquaviva, who sided with Molina, the affair was called up to Rome. Sixty-five meetings and thirty-seven disputations were held in presence of the Pope Clement VIII., who took a lively interest in the subject, wrote much upon it himself, and who was resolved to condemn the Jesuits’ doctrine. But when it was reported to him that the fathers spoke of calling a general council, and that in one of their public discussions the thesis to be proved was to this effect, that “it is not an article of faith that such and such a Pope (Clement VIII., for example) is really Pope;”[222] the poor Pope exclaimed, “They dare everything, everything!” paused, and died without having given any decision. The disputations were resumed under Paul V., who also held the doctrine of the Thomists. The Jesuits, however, had given him such proofs of their devotion in the affair of Venice, and were so powerful in the Church, that he had neither the heart nor the courage to condemn them. In consequence, in 1607 he imposed silence on both parties till he should pronounce a decision which would set the matter at rest.[223] As this decision never came, and as the doctrine of the Jesuits was not condemned, they chanted victory, and lost no time in having Molina’s book circulated and taught everywhere.

But a formidable antagonist arose a little later to oppose its progress. This was the sect of the Jansenists, so celebrated for its labours and sufferings, which form so interesting a chapter in the history of the Romish Church. Jansenius, the founder, was born in 1585, in Holland—studied at Louvain—was ordained a priest—and, in 1636, consecrated Bishop of Ypres. Shocked at the doctrine of the Jesuits, he and Du Verger de Hauranne (afterwards Abbot of St Cyran, by which name he is better known) plunged themselves into the study of the ancient fathers of the Church, and especially of Augustine; and, after six years of labour, Jansenius composed a book, in which the ancient doctrine of the Thomists was again propounded, advancing, however, a step towards Luther’s doctrine on grace and justification. Being smitten by the plague, Jansenius, on his death-bed, submitted his manuscript to the judgment of the Roman See; but St Cyran, without waiting for the oracle of the Vatican, published the _Augustinus_ (such was the title of Jansenius’ work), which produced a great sensation. St Cyran became the chief of a school, in which were grouped scores of young ecclesiastics, and some of the most eminent men in France. The nuns of Port-Royal, amongst whom were almost the whole of the Arnauld family, under the guidance of the venerable Mère Angélique, the sister of the famous Arnauld, followed the doctrine of St Cyran. Cardinal Richelieu, jealous that any other person than himself should exercise influence or power, sent St Cyran to the dungeon of Vincennes. On the death of his persecutor, the noble sufferer being set at liberty, returned to his duties, and was received, and almost worshipped as a saint, by the increased number of his disciples. The Jesuits, alarmed at the favour with which the doctrine of Jansenius was received, bestirred themselves in every quarter to impugn it, and filled the world with their clamours and imprecations against the book, as if the Bishop of Ypres had denied the very existence of God. The Pope was applied to to anathematise the impious work; and, when he hesitated, they directed his attention to a passage, in which his infallibility was indirectly called in question. Of course this was a heresy not to be overlooked. Urban VIII. expressed his disapprobation of the book; but this had no effect in checking its popularity. Such men as Arnauld, Le Maître, De Sacy, Pascal, supported Jansenius’ doctrine, and their many followers disregarded the denunciations of its opponents. The Jesuits became furious. They embodied, in their own peculiar way, the essential doctrines of Jansenius in five propositions, and asked Innocent X. solemnly to condemn them. The Pope was a man who abhorred theological controversy, and would not willingly have engaged in this; but it was no longer in the power of the Court of Rome to resist the influence of the Jesuits. The five propositions were condemned, as tainted with heresy. The Jansenists indignantly denied that such propositions were to be found in the _Augustinus_, and that they expressed the sense attributed to them; but Alexander VII., who was now the reigning Pope, declared, by a bull, that the propositions were really to be found in Jansenius’ book. Of all the extravagant pretensions of the Roman See, this was assuredly the greatest. The Jansenists, in their defence, while they declared themselves good and devout Catholics, asserted, nevertheless, that the Pope’s infallibility did not extend to matters of fact. “Why make such a noise?” they said to their opponents—“we acknowledge that these propositions are heterodox. Shew us them in _Augustinus_, and we will unite with you in condemning them.” “We need not take the trouble to shew them to you,” was the answer; “the Pope has declared them to be in the book—and the Pope is infallible.” So, if the Pope affirms that a magnificent castle is to be found in the middle of the ocean, according to a doctrine to which the Papist sticks even in the present day, one must believe it, or be excommunicated! The Jansenists endured all sorts of persecution rather than submit to so unjust a decree; and it is a striking instance of human inconsistency, that men so noble and upright, who had approached so near the Protestant doctrine, at least in its most essential part, should continue within the pale of the Roman Church. The fact, we believe, may be partly explained by that pertinacity which men of all parties display in maintaining a position they have once taken up in any controversy, that they may not incur the ignominy of defeat. “The supporters of the _Augustinus_ are heretics,” the Jesuits had said from the beginning; and the Jansenists, in order that the book might be declared orthodox, had indignantly repelled the accusation, and declared themselves good and devout Roman Catholics—and they maintained to the end their first declaration. Alas! how many eloquent pages Arnauld, Nicole, and Pascal have written, to prove themselves the votaries and slaves of the idol of Rome!

Not to interrupt our narrative, we have brought the reader far beyond the epoch we are considering. We must now look a little back, and see how the Jesuits had become so powerful a brotherhood. We have already seen what arts they used, and what doctrines they propounded, to get a footing in different countries, acquire an influence over persons of their own persuasion, and a preponderance in the Court of Rome. But as the doctrines and practices by which they had obtained their ends were no longer suited, or, at least, were not the most efficient, for the times, they now changed both doctrines and practices with wonderful promptitude.

When the order was established, the Court of Rome had itself to struggle for existence, and was on the verge of being stripped of its ill-gotten and ill-used authority. The politic Charles V. lent it soldiers—the Jesuits, theologians for the contest. Lainez, Salmeron, Lejay, and Canisius, rendered it as good and unequivocal services as the imperial armies. But such men as those were no longer needed. Not only had the flood of the Reformation been stayed, but Rome was in the utmost exultation at having reconquered many lost provinces; and, as theological controversies were now raging in the camp of her adversary, the Papacy, though emboldened to assert pretensions which, a century before, she would never have dreamt of mentioning, relaxed that activity which she had for a moment displayed, and returned to her former life of intrigues and indolence. However, the great contest with the Protestants had left among the Roman Catholics a tendency, a wish, we do not say to become better Christians, but to make a greater display of their religion. All the external practices of devotion which, in their eyes, constituted the true believer, were more eagerly resorted to; and, above all, the confessional was frequented with unprecedented assiduity. To have a confessor exclusively for one’s self was the surest sign of orthodoxy, and became as fashionable as it is now to have a box at the opera. Sovereigns, ministers, courtiers, noblemen—every man, in short, who had a certain position in society, had his own acknowledged confessor. Even the mistresses of princes pretended to the privilege—and Madame de Pompadour will prove to her spiritual guide that it is dangerous to oppose the caprices of a favourite. The Jesuits saw at once the immense advantage they would derive if they could enlarge the number of their clients, especially among the higher classes. They were already, in this particular, far advanced in the public favour; they were known to be very indulgent; had long since obtained the privilege of absolving from those sins which only the Pope himself could pardon; and Suarez, their great theologian, had even attempted to introduce confession by letter, as a more easy and expeditious way of reaching all penitents.[224]

But by this time they had made fearful progress in the art of flattering the bad passions, and winking at the vices, of those who had recourse to their ministry in order to make, as they believed, their peace with God. Escobar collected in six large volumes the doctrines of different Jesuit casuists, those preceptors of immorality and prevarication; and his book was for a time the only code followed by the generality of the Jesuits.[225] However, I will not assert that they taught downright immorality, to corrupt mankind merely for the sake of corrupting them. No; if this has sometimes been the case with individuals, it was never so with a sect. They had another end in view. As we said, they aspired to be the general confessors, for their own private purposes; concealing their designs under the mask of piety, they gave out that it was essential for the good of religion that they should have the direction of all consciences; and, as an inducement to penitents to resort to them, they offered doctrines in conformity to the wishes of persons of all sorts. Hence all their casuists were not licentious and indulgent to vice. A few of them were strict, severe, and indeed teachers of evangelical precepts, and those they held out to the few penitents who were of a more rigid morality, and quoted them when accused of teaching relaxed doctrines; while for the multitude, who are generally more loose in their morals, they had the bulk of their casuists. Father Petau calls this “an obliging and accommodating conduct.” So, for example, if the Jesuit confessor perceives that a penitent feels inclined to make restitution of ill-gotten money, he will certainly encourage him to do so, praise him for his holy resolution, insist to be himself the instrument of the restitution, taking care, however, that it should be known again. But if another person accuse himself of theft, but shew no disposition to make restitution, be sure that the Jesuit confessor will find in some book or other of his brother Jesuits some sophistry to set his conscience at rest, and persuade him that he may safely retain what he has stolen from his neighbour.

The existence of books to which those pernicious maxims have been consigned, having put it out of the power of the Jesuits to impugn their genuineness; in order to exculpate their Society, they have cast a reproach upon the teachers of their own Church, and even blasphemed Christianity. “The probabilism,” says their historian, “was not born with the Jesuits; at the moment of their establishment probabilism reigned in the schools.”[226] And again, “Ever since the origin of Christianity, the world had complained of the austerity of certain precepts; the Jesuits came to bring relief from these grievances.”[227]

But, that our readers may judge for themselves of the character of Jesuitical morality, we shall lay before them some of their doctrines; and in doing so (be it observed), we shall quote as our authorities none but Jesuit authors, and such as have been approved and are held in veneration by the Society.

It is evident that, in the confessional, everything depends upon the conception formed of transgression and sin. Now, according to the Jesuitical doctrines, we do not sin, unless we have a clear perception and understanding of the sin as sin, and unless our will freely consent to it.[228] The following are the consequences which the Jesuit casuists have deduced from that principle:—

“A confessor perceives that his penitent is in invincible ignorance, or at least in innocent ignorance, and he does not hope that any benefit will be derived from his advice, but rather anxiety of mind, strife, or scandal. Should he dissemble? _Suarez affirms that he ought; because, since his admonition will be fruitless, ignorance will excuse his penitent from sin._”[229]

“Although he who, through inveterate habit, inadvertently swears a falsehood, may seem bound to confess the propensity, yet he is commonly excused. The reason is, that no one commonly reflects upon the obligation by which he is bound to extirpate the habit; ... and, therefore, since he is excused from the sin, he will also be excused from confession. Some maintain that the same may be said of blasphemy, heresy, and of the aforesaid oath; ... and, consequently, that such things, committed inadvertently, _are neither sins in themselves, nor the cause of sins, and therefore need not necessarily be confessed_.”[230]

“Wherever there is no knowledge of wickedness, there is also of necessity no sin. It is sufficient to have at least a confused notion of the heinousness of a sin, without which knowledge there would never be a flagrant crime. For instance, one man kills another, believing it indeed to be wrong, but conceiving it to be nothing more than a trifling fault. _Such a man does not greatly sin_, because it is knowledge only which points out the wickedness or the grossness of it to the will. Therefore, criminality is only imputed according to the measure of knowledge.”

“If a man commit adultery or suicide, reflecting indeed, but still very imperfectly and superficially, upon the wickedness and great sinfulness of those crimes; however heinous may be the matter, _he still sins but slightly_. The reason is, that as a knowledge of the wickedness is necessary to constitute the sin, so is a full clear knowledge and reflection necessary to constitute a heinous sin. And thus I reason with Vasquez: _In order that a man may freely sin, it is necessary to deliberate whether he sins or not. But he fails to deliberate upon the moral wickedness of it, if he does not reflect, at least by doubting, upon it during the act. Therefore he does not sin, unless he reflects upon the wickedness of it_. It is also certain that a full knowledge of such wickedness is required to constitute a mortal sin. _For it would be unworthy the goodness of God to exclude a man from glory, and to reject him for ever, for a sin on which he had not fully deliberated; but if reflection upon the wickedness_ of it has only been partial, deliberation has not been complete; and therefore the sin is not a mortal sin.”[231]

The practical consequences of this doctrine have been admirably represented by Pascal in his happiest vein of irony. “Oh, my dear sir,” says he to the Jesuit who had exposed to him the afore-mentioned doctrine, “what a blessing this will be to some persons of my acquaintance! I must positively introduce them to you. You have never, perhaps, in all your life, met with people who had fewer sins to account for! In the first place, they never think of God at all; their vices have got the better of their reason; they have never known either their weakness or the physician who can cure it; they have never thought of ‘desiring the health of their soul,’ and still less of ‘praying to God to bestow it;’ so that, according to M. le Moine, they are still in the state of baptismal innocence. They have ‘never had a thought of loving God, or of being contrite for their sins;’ so that, according to Father Annat, they have never committed sin through the want of charity and penitence. Their life is spent in a perpetual round of all sorts of pleasures, in the course of which they have not been interrupted by the slightest remorse. These excesses had led me to imagine that their perdition was inevitable; but you, father, inform me that these same excesses secure their salvation. Blessings on you, my good father, for this new way of justifying people! Others prescribe painful austerities for healing the soul; but you shew that souls which may be thought desperately diseased are in quite good health. What an excellent device for being happy both in this world and in the next! I had always supposed that the less a man thought of God, the more he sinned; but, from what I see now, if one could only succeed in bringing himself not to think upon God at all, everything would be pure with him in all time coming. Away with your half-and-half sinners, who retain some sneaking affection for virtue! They will be damned, every soul of them. But commend me to your arrant sinners—hardened, unalloyed, out-and-out, thorough-bred sinners. Hell is no place for them; they have cheated the devil, by sheer devotion to his service.”[232]

But if you are not such an arrant hardened sinner but that your conscience warns you of your guilt, then come to the doctrine of probability, the A B C of the Jesuitical code of morality, which will set your troublesome conscience at rest. Listen!

“The true opinion is, that it is not only lawful to follow the _more probable_ but _less safe_ opinion ... but also that the _less safe_ may be followed when there is an equality of probability.”

“I agree in the opinion of Henriquez, Vasquez, and Perez, who maintain that it is sufficient for an inexperienced and unlearned man to follow the opinion which he _thinks to be probable because it is maintained by good men who are versed in the art; although that opinion may be neither the more safe, nor the more common, nor the more probable_.

“Sotus thinks that it would be very troublesome to a penitent, if the priest, after having heard his confession, should send him back without absolution, to confess himself again to another priest, if he could absolve him with a safe conscience _against his own (the priest’s) opinion; especially when another priest might not perhaps be readily found who would believe the opinion of the penitent to be probable_.

“It may be asked whether a confessor may give advice to a penitent _in opposition to his own opinion_; or, if he should think in any case that restitution ought to be made, whether he may advise that the opinion of others may be followed, who maintain that it need not be made? _I answer, that he lawfully may_, ... because he may follow the opinion of another in his own practice, and therefore he may advise another person to follow it. Still it is better, in giving advice, always to follow the more probable opinion to which a man is ever accustomed to adhere, _especially when the advice is given in writing, lest contradiction be discovered_. It is also sometimes expedient to send the consulting person to another doctor or confessor who is known to hold an opinion favourable to the inquirer, provided it be probable.”[233]

“Without respect of persons may a judge, in order to favour his friend, decide according to any probable opinion, while the question of right remains undecided?

“If the judge should think each opinion equally probable, for the sake of his friend he may _lawfully_ pronounce sentence according to the opinion which is more favourable to the interests of that friend. He may, moreover, with the intent to serve his friend, _at one time judge according to one opinion, and at another time according to the contrary opinion, provided only that no scandal result from the decision_.”[234]

“An unbeliever who is persuaded that his sect is probable, although the opposite sect may be more probable, would certainly be obliged, _at the point of death_, to embrace the true faith, which he thinks to be the more probable.... _But, except under such circumstances, he would not.... Add to this, that the mysteries of faith are so sublime, and the Christian morals so repugnant to the laws of flesh and blood, that no greater probability whatever may be accounted sufficient to enforce the obligation of believing._[235]

“Indeed, while I perceive so many different opinions maintained upon points connected with morality, I think that the Divine providence is apparent; _for, in diversity of opinions, the yoke of Christ is easily borne_.”[236]

“A confessor may absolve penitents, according to the probable opinion of the penitent, in opposition to his own, and is even bound to do so.”[237]

“Again, it is probable that pecuniary compensation may be made for defamation; it is also probable that it cannot be made. May I, the defamed, exact to-day pecuniary compensation from my defamer, and to-morrow, and even on the same day, may I, the defamer of another, refuse to compensate with money for the reputation of which I have deprived him?... _I affirm that it is lawful to do at pleasure sometimes the one and sometimes the other._

“_Those ignorant confessors are to be blamed who always think that they do well in obliging their penitents to make restitution, because it is at all times more safe._”[238]

By this abominable doctrine the confessors were made to answer yes or no, as might be most agreeable to their penitents; and these might oblige the confessor to absolve them of their sins, if they only themselves believed that they were not sins. Imagine what an arrant knave the person inclined to do evil must have become, when, to the firm belief that the absolution of the confessor cleanses from all crimes, was superadded the certainty that this confessor must absolve him almost according to his own wishes. We shudder to think of it!

The doctrine of equivocation came in aid of that of probabilism. By the former, according to Sanchez, “it is permitted to use ambiguous terms, leading people to understand them in a different sense from that in which we understand them.”[239] “A man may swear,” according to the same author, “that he never did such a thing (though he actually did it), meaning within himself that he did not do so on such a day, or before he was born, or understanding any other such circumstances, while the words which he employs have no such sense as would discover his meaning.”[240] And Filiutius proves that in so speaking one does not even lie, because, says he, “it is the intention that determines the quality of the action; and one may avoid falsehood if, after saying aloud _I swear that I have not done that_, he add in a low voice, _to-day_; or after saying aloud, _I swear_, he interpose in a whisper, _that I say_, and then continue aloud, _that I have done that_, and this is telling the truth.”

With mental reservation and probabilism, they have sanctioned all sorts of crimes. The varlet might help his master to commit rape or adultery, provided he do not think _of the sin_, but _of the profit_ he may reap from it—so says father Bauny. If a servant think his salary is not an adequate compensation for services, he may help himself to some of his master’s property to make it equal to his pretensions—so teaches the same father. You may kill your enemy for a box on the ear, as Escobar asserts in the following words:—“It is perfectly right to kill a person who has given us a box on the ear, although he should run away, provided it is not done through hatred or revenge, and there is no danger of giving occasion thereby to murders of a gross kind and hurtful to society. And the reason is, that it is as lawful to pursue the thief that has stolen our honour, as him that has run away with our property. For, although your honour cannot be said to be in the hands of your enemy in the same sense as your goods and chattels are in the hands of the thief, still it may be recovered in the same way—by shewing proofs of greatness and authority, and thus acquiring the esteem of men. And, in point of fact, is it not certain that the man who has received a buffet on the ear is held to be under disgrace, until he has wiped off the insult with the blood of his enemy?”

In short, you may be a fraudulent bankrupt, thief, assassin, profligate, impious atheist even, with a safe conscience, provided always you confess to a Jesuit confessor. It is doubtless in this that we are to see the efficacy of that miraculous gift, which we read at page 13 Loyola had received from heaven, and transmitted to his successors—the gift _of healing troubled consciences_; and this is even boldly asserted by themselves. In the _Imago primi Sæculi_, S. 3, ch. 8, are words to this effect:—“With the aid of pious _finesse_ and holy artifice of devotion, crimes may be expiated now-a-days _alacrius_, with more joy and alacrity, than they were committed in former days; and a great many people may be washed from their stains almost as cleverly as they contracted them.” After this quotation, we need not trouble the reader with any more regarding the doctrine of the Jesuits on social duties. We only beg of him, in order that he may well understand all the enormity of these doctrines, to look at them from the point of view of the Papists, who consider the confessional as the only way of salvation, and who blindly obey their spiritual fathers, especially if they flatter their passions, and promise them paradise as the reward of their vices.

It is also of importance that our readers should be made acquainted with the doctrine of the Jesuits regarding religious duties, and the love which is due to God, that they may the better judge of the character of those champions of Romanism, those monks who are labouring hard to make proselytes to their religion—the only true one, as they pretend, out of which there is no salvation.

Father Antony Sirmond, in his book on _The Defence of Virtue_, has the following passage:—“St Thomas says that we are obliged to love God as soon as we come to the use of reason; _that is rather too soon!_ Scotus says, every Sunday; _pray, for what reason?_ Others say, when we are sorely tempted; _yes, if there be no other way of escaping the temptation_. Sotus says, when we have received a benefit from God; good, in the way of thanking him for it. Others say, at death—_rather late! As little do I think it binding at the reception of any sacrament; attrition, in such a case, is quite enough, along with confession—if convenient._ Suarez says, that it is binding at some time or another; _but at what time?_ He does not know; and what that doctor does not know, I know not who should know.”[241]

And father Pinter can crown those execrable doctrines by the impious assertion, that the dispensation from the _painful_ obligation to love God is purchased for us through the merits of Christ’s blood. “It was reasonable,” says that sacrilegious Jesuit, “that under the law of grace in the New Testament, God should relieve us from that troublesome and arduous obligation which existed under the law of bondage, to exercise an act of perfect contrition, in order to be justified; and that the place of this should be supplied by the sacraments instituted in aid of an easier exercise; otherwise, indeed, Christians, who are the children, would have no greater facility in gaining the good graces of their Father than the Jews, who were the slaves, had in obtaining the mercy of their Lord and Master.”[242]

And men guilty of all sorts of crimes—men who pretend that no love is due to God, that not even attrition is necessary for the remission of sins—such men shall be made worthy of the eternal blessedness through some idolatrous practices! Such is the doctrine taught by Jesuits, and, we must add, by most of the Roman Catholic clergy, some of whom we are going to bring under our reader’s eye. We beg permission to quote Pascal again. Our readers will certainly prefer the trenchant, sarcastic style of the celebrated Jansenist to our imperfect manner of narration. In a dialogue which he pretends to have had with a Jesuit, the father addresses him in the following words:—

“‘Would you not be infinitely obliged to any one who should open to you the gates of paradise? Would you not give millions of gold to have a key by which you might gain admittance whenever you pleased? You need not be at such expense; here is one—here are a hundred for much less money.’

“At first I was at a loss to know whether the good father was reading or talking to me, but he soon put the matter beyond doubt by adding:—

“‘These, sir, are the opening words of a fine book, written by Father Barry of our Society; for I never give you anything of my own.’

“‘What book is it?’ asked I.

“‘Here is its title,’ he replied—‘_Paradise Opened to Philagio, in a Hundred Devotions to the Mother of God, easily practised_.’

“‘Indeed, father! and is each of these easy devotions a sufficient passport to heaven?’

“‘It is,’ returned he, ‘Listen to what follows: “The devotions to the mother of God, which you will find in this book, are so many celestial keys, which will open wide to you the gates of paradise, provided you practise them;” and accordingly, he says at the conclusion, “that he is satisfied if you practise only one of them.”’

“‘Pray, then, father, do teach me one of the easiest of them.’

“‘They are all easy,’ he replied; ‘for example—”Saluting the Holy Virgin when you happen to meet her image—saying the little chaplet of the pleasures of the Virgin—fervently pronouncing the name of Mary—commissioning the angels to bow to her for us—wishing to build her as many churches as all the monarchs on earth have done—bidding her good-morrow every morning, and good-night in the evening—saying the _Ave Maria_ every day in honour of the heart of Mary“—which last devotion, he says, possesses the additional virtue of securing us the heart of the Virgin.’

“‘But, father,’ said I, ‘only provided we give her our own in return, I presume?’

“‘That,’ he replied, ‘is not absolutely necessary, when a person is too much attached to the world. Hear Father Barry: “Heart for heart would, no doubt, be highly proper; but yours is rather too much attached to the world, too much bound up in the creature, so that I dare not advise you to offer, at present, that _poor little slave_ which you call your heart.” And so he contents himself with the _Ave Maria_ which he had prescribed.’[243]

“‘Why, this is extremely easy work,’ said I, ‘and I should really think that nobody will be damned after that.’

“‘Alas!’ said the monk, ‘I see you have no idea of the hardness of some people’s hearts. There are some, sir, who would never engage to repeat, every day, even these simple words, _Good day, Good evening_, just because such a practice would require some exertion of memory. And, accordingly, it became necessary for Father Barry to furnish them with expedients still easier, such as wearing a chaplet night and day on the arm, in the form of a bracelet, or carrying about one’s person a rosary, or an image of the Virgin. “And, tell me now,” as Father Barry says, “if I have not provided you with easy devotions to obtain the good graces of Mary?”’

“‘Extremely easy, indeed, father,’ I observed.

“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it is as much as could possibly be done, and I think should be quite satisfactory. For he must be a wretched creature indeed, who would not spare a single moment in all his lifetime to put a chaplet on his arm, or a rosary in his pocket, and thus secure his salvation; and that, too, with so much certainty, that none who have tried the experiment have ever found it to fail, in whatever way they may have lived; though, let me add, we exhort people not to omit holy living. Let me refer you to the example of this, given at page 34; it is that of a female who, while she practised daily the devotion of saluting the images of the Virgin, spent all her days in mortal sin, and yet was saved after all, by the merit of that single devotion.’

“‘And how so?’ cried I.

“‘Our Saviour,’ he replied, ‘raised her up again, for the very purpose of shewing it. So certain it is, that none can perish who practise any one of these devotions.’”[244]

We may, perhaps, mention here also, the greatest of all the Jesuitical devotions to Mary, the one which, according to them, is the sovereign specific for obtaining salvation—namely, _the month of Mary_.

The month which they have chosen to consecrate to the Virgin is the month of May. I dare not say for what reason. During its long thirty-one days, nothing is to be heard but songs and hymns in honour of the Virgin. Altars are dressed before every niche in which stands a Madonna. Sundry other images are placed around it—as smaller divinities, we may suppose—and, among images and burning lamps, a profusion of flowers of all colours send up their fragrant perfume as an offering to the Virgin. At different hours the devotees prostrate themselves before these altars, and offer their vows and their prayers to the Madonna. The most extravagant language is addressed to her, and she is represented as possessing the most extraordinary attributes. “Any person performing the month of Mary, should he die within the month, will be saved, even if he had murdered his parents.” In the churches and schools of the Jesuits are performed the same ceremonies as in the streets. God for this month is still more forgotten than He generally is.

We could fill volumes with such extracts, but must be content with those we have given, referring such of our readers as wish to know more of the Jesuitical doctrines to Pascal, to the _Morale Pratique des Jésuites_ by Arnauld, and to the _Principles of the Jesuits, developed in a Collection of Extracts from their own Authors_ (London, 1839).

We have also shrunk from polluting these pages by extracts from Lacrois, Sanchez, and such like, whose obscene and revolting lucubrations, the inevitable fruits of the celibacy of the cloister, have left far behind all that has been conceived by the most wanton and depraved imagination. We have omitted, moreover, to extract from the _Secreta Monita_, and for the following reason:—The _Secreta Monita_ are a collection of precepts and instructions the most nefarious and diabolical, given, it is supposed, by the General of the order to his subalterns, as if to shew them the way how to proceed in all their perfidious plots for the aggrandisement of the Company. The book in which those precepts are collected, came out for the first time in Cracow in 1612, and was reprinted in Paris in 1761. The Jesuits assert that it owes its origin to an expelled Jesuit, Zaorowski, while their opponents contend that the _Secreta Monita_ had been found by Christian of Brunswick in the Jesuit college of Prague or elsewhere. The _Secreta Monita_ were condemned at Rome. But, to confess the truth, our opinion is, that the book is at best apocryphal. The Jesuits were too cunning foxes to expose their secrets to the risk of being discovered, by leaving copies of such a book here and there. They were not yet so firmly established as to risk the very existence of their order, if one of those copies were discovered, or if a member should be tempted to betray the Society. Besides, from the knowledge we have of the Jesuitical character, we feel assured that no superior would ever have inculcated with such barefaced impudence such abominable and execrable rules of roguery. So much are the Jesuits accustomed to dissemble and deceive, that even their conduct towards each other is one continued act of deceit. For instance, if the superior wishes to ruin the fair fame of a man adverse to the order, he will say to his subalterns, “What a pity it is that Mr N. should be guilty of such and such faults (and, generally speaking, he invents some calumny)! it would be well that, for the greater glory of God, others should be apprised that it is unbecoming a Christian to act so. Should you chance to meet any of his or your acquaintance, you may warn them of that, but take care not to slander your neighbour’s reputation.” Again, if a Jesuit chief should covet the wealth of some family, he would say to his subordinates, “It is a pity that so much wealth should pass into the hands of his son or nephew, who will spend it in offending God and gratifying their own evil passions. It would be a pious work if he could be induced to leave it to us, that we might use it to the greater glory of God.” And if a subaltern, less cunning than the rest, should openly and frankly propose to slander the reputation of the honest man, or to make an attempt to snatch the princely fortune of the wealthy, he would be reprimanded, as guilty of an action unworthy of a son of the holy Father Loyola. And, while the superior speaks in this manner, he not only knows that he cants, but he is also perfectly convinced that his hearers know it, and yet he will never speak otherwise. And it is to us altogether inconceivable, that men who are thus mutually conscious that they are playing a part—who, in their common intercourse, and even when forming the basest designs, are careful always to speak in the character of the pious devotee—should so far forget their cue as to give a broad unvarnished statement of their whole system of roguery. For these, and many other reasons which we might adduce, we believe that the book is apocryphal; but, though apocryphal, it certainly gives a true representation of the horrible arts and practices of the Jesuits; and we are inclined to credit the Jesuits when they assert that the book is the work of a discarded brother, so deeply does it initiate us in the secret arts of the Society. However, as we have thousands of unimpugnable testimonies to their impious and infernal doctrines, we shall not weaken the authority of our narrative by adducing contested proofs.