Chapter XIV

1617-1700.

INTERNAL CAUSES OF DECLINE.

We have seen in one of our former chapters, that during Acquaviva’s _generalate_, there broke out several partial insurrections against the exorbitant power of the General, and that, although they were quelled, they had left in the community seeds of disobedience and a spirit of independence, which it was to be feared would manifest itself again at the first favourable moment. In fact, the instant it was no more restrained by the iron hand of the inflexible Acquaviva, it pervaded all the classes of the order, especially the highest, that of the professed, and a turbulent and haughty aristocracy took, in the management of the Society, the place reserved by Loyola for the all-powerful General. The character of the immediate successors of Acquaviva greatly facilitated such an innovation, which ultimately produced the ruin of the order. Vitelleschi, Caraffa, Piccolomini, Gottifredi, were not the proper men to govern this brotherhood, now ascended to the height of its power and pride. They were neither saints nor rogues enough to succeed in the undertaking. They did not inspire veneration enough by their pious and saintly life as did Borgia, nor respect and admiration by their superior genius in governing the community, as Lainez and Acquaviva had done, and the consciousness of their own insufficiency rendered them still less suited to the task.

Vitelleschi, Acquaviva’s immediate successor, was a well-intentioned man, mild and conciliatory. He was called by his friends the _angel of peace_, and on his death-bed he found consolation from the conviction that he had never injured any one.[306] But it is evident that such a kind and indulgent man could not oppose any effectual resistance to the fast-spreading corruption of the order, nor to the demands of determined ambition. What under Acquaviva had only been the expedient of the moment, became under Vitelleschi a rule. The professed members became, if not exclusively, at least simultaneously with the coadjutors, the administrators of the temporal concerns of the Society; and the control which the two classes had exercised, the one over the other, according to the wise enactments of Ignatius, was for ever annihilated. While the number of the coadjutors decreased, that of the professed became out of all proportion numerous, but lost some of that veneration which they had earned in former times by a life, in appearance at least, wholly spiritual and ascetic. Besides, as we have said, persons of the highest families, eager for ecclesiastical dignities or temporal power, now sought admission into the order, and Vitelleschi had neither the intention nor perhaps the power to refuse them, whether they were qualified or not. The strict and searching scrutiny to which the candidate ought to have submitted, and to which in fact he had been subjected under Loyola and the two following Generals, had become gradually less severe; but under Vitelleschi it was altogether neglected, and the novices were absolved from many obligations to which the Constitution rightfully subjected them. The abuses resulting from the non-observance of the most essential rules increased so greatly, that Vitelleschi himself was much affected by it, and poured forth his affliction in a most eloquent and deprecatory letter, which he addressed to the members of the order. From this letter we extract the following passage:—“But whence can we suspect our disinclination to Divine things—our feeling of laborious irksomeness in recollection—in checking the wanderings of our vagrant imaginations, frequently tending in that direction which is least to be desired, because we have not repressed them when we could? What is that tenacious and entangling love of the lowest objects—the world, honour, parents, and worldly comforts?—that greater authority conceded to the rebellious flesh and blood rather than to the spirit in action, for I care not for words;—that enervated exhausted weakness in resisting the solicitations of the adversary in our conflicts with the domestic enemy, perhaps not entirely yielding, but still not evincing that alacrity and exaltation of mind to which only victory is granted? These are the fruits of timidity and of a dissolute spirit, which, unless it is raised betimes, and warmed anew, is clearly approaching a fall and destruction.” And the letter concludes with these remarkable words—“I eagerly call all to witness and proclaim to them, that with Bernard I expect an answer to this epistle, but an answer of _deeds_, not words.”[307] “So that,” says Gioberti, “during Vitelleschi’s government, the spirit of the Constitution was quite changed: the politicians prevailed over the saints, and a worldly spirit over that of mysticism.”[308]

The evil increased under Caraffa, who succeeded Vitelleschi in 1646, and who was still less able than his predecessor to govern the Society. Caraffa was a simple and innocent bigot, not altogether unworthy of commendation. He was remarkable for his humility: he would have no carriage, no servant, no mark of distinction, as to food or raiment, from the humblest of the brethren.[309] He repeatedly begged his disciples to lay aside all political and temporal concerns, and to live a religious and pious life. He was shocked and grieved at heart on account of the pervading spirit of licentiousness and avarice, and predicted that it would be the ruin of the order. In fact, the Society was continually departing more and more from the principles on which Loyola had established it. The rule, that all who entered the order should abandon every temporal possession, had been strictly enforced in former times, but now the act of renunciation was either delayed, or performed under conditions, and that under different pretences, and especially on the ground that any Jesuit was liable at any time to be expelled from the Society. So when a novice now made the transfer of his property to the order, he clearly specified that it was in favour of such and such a college to which he was attached, and often with the reservation of himself administering the property he bequeathed; so that, even when the property remained in the order, it was no more unconditionally at the disposal of the General representing the entire community, but of an individual, who, in a certain measure, still considered it as his own. Nay, many of the Jesuits, having more leisure and skill than their relations, undertook the management of their affairs.

Against those evils Caraffa could do nothing but write letters filled with complaints, and prescribing remedies which were never to be resorted to. Thus, speaking of those Jesuits who wished to retain their property, he says, “Having settled in their own minds in what houses or colleges they are to fix their abode, ... they labour strenuously to obtain for themselves the administration of what they have resigned to the Society.” And again, “Our procurators should be more cautious, for, although they seek what is just by lawful right, still they seem to seek it with avarice and cupidity, and exhibit too much avidity, which smells of the world.”[310] And as to profane conversation and licentiousness, Caraffa says, “Nor can I possibly pass over in silence that these errors are in a great measure the result of the error of the superiors.”[311]

What a poor idea these two generals give of the authority, the prestige exercised by them over the Community! what a contrast with their predecessors! How different would Loyola, Lainez, or even Acquaviva have acted! When a General of the Order, aware of the evils which have invaded the Society, can find no remedy but in complaints, the Society must inevitably perish; and so it happened to the Jesuits.

Piccolomini, who succeeded Caraffa in 1649, and Gottifredi, who succeeded this last in 1652, were men without any energy or capacity, perhaps less jealous than the two former Generals of the purity and morality of the order; and, in their short administrations, they could do nothing but witness its increasing corruption.

Here it is to be remarked, that in the election of the General, the choice of the congregation now invariably fell upon a person without character or authority, that the fathers might have no master over them; and when the next General, Goswin Nickel, attempted to assert, in part, his authority, he was soon made aware that the times of Loyola and Acquaviva were gone by.

Nickel, elected General in 1652, was a rude and obstinate man. He did not, indeed, contemplate any very deep or searching reforms; he suffered things to proceed, on the whole, as they had previously done; but it was his habit to insist on the observance of his orders with peculiar obstinacy, without having any regard to the feelings of others, and he offended so grievously the self-love of the aristocratic part of the Society, that the General Congregation of 1661 adopted measures against him, such as, from the monarchical character of the institution, could hardly have been supposed possible.[312] The Congregation, desirous of setting Nickel aside, and yet unwilling to pronounce a deposition, applied to the Pope for permission to elect a vicar-general, and Innocent X. not only granted their request, but pointed out for the office his friend Oliva, who was accordingly elected. Then the Congregation, having decided that the vicar-general should possess a _primitive_ power, independent of the General, the authority of the latter was wholly superseded, and entirely transferred to the vicar; so that, when some Jesuits went to pay their respects to Nickel, he, in a lamentable tone, said to them, “I find myself here entirely abandoned, and have no longer power to do anything.”[313]

It is curious, if not instructive (the veracity of the Jesuit historians being very well known), to listen to Crétineau’s account of this transaction. “Nickel,” says the French historian, “felt that he was growing old, that his infirmities no longer permitted him to govern with the required vigour; he begged of the Jesuits to discharge him from a responsibility too great for him, by giving him an assistant; and they acceded to his prayers.”[314] Nickel survived his disgrace three years, and Oliva became General.

Oliva was descended from a noble family of Genoa, where his grandfather and his uncle had respectively been Doge of the republic. In Oliva the Jesuits found at last a chief according to their hearts. He worshipped a repose interrupted only by political intrigues, and the pleasures of the table.[315] He spent a great part of his time in the delicious villa near Albano, where he occupied himself with the cultivation of the rarest exotics. When in Rome, he retired to the noviciate of St Andrea, where he seldom condescended to give audience. He never went out on foot. He lived in a most sumptuously and elegantly adorned apartment, enjoying the pleasures of a table furnished with the most select delicacies, such as would have tempted the appetite of a Vitellius.[316] He was only studious of enjoying the position he held, and the power he had obtained. Reserving for his particular attention matters of political importance, he left the affairs of the Society to the entire management of subordinate officials; and from that moment it may be said that every individual (we speak of persons of some consequence, for in every society there are simpletons always ready for obedience) became, in a great measure, his own master. Not that the interests of the Society were neglected; on the contrary, they were never so prosperous.

The members of every religious community are individually great in proportion to the greatness of the society to which they belong, and the esteem in which it is held by the public. This of itself induces every individual member to seek with all his powers the aggrandisement and the splendour of his order; and if this is true of any other association, it is pre-eminently so of the Society of Jesus. The Jesuits of the seventeenth century worshipped the Order with as much idolatry as their predecessors, and, to serve it, were always ready to act the part of hypocrites, deceivers, perjurers, miscreants; but every one served it (except in great general emergencies, in which they all acted in union) according to his own views and his own affections, some of them assuming even an absolute independence; as, for example, Annat, Lachaise, Letellier, &c.

Under Oliva’s government, the Society acquired an immense political importance. Some years before his death, Oliva published his correspondence, which extended to almost all the monarchs of Europe, in which, indeed, he shews himself a consummate politician, and deeply engaged in most serious and important affairs. This already awakened some interest, and made people look upon the Order as a good auxiliary in political intrigues. Besides, the fact that the Jesuits were confessors to all the Roman Catholic sovereigns, and that through them the General had it in his power to become acquainted with the most secret dispositions and plans of these sovereigns, rendered his friendship of inestimable value, and an object to be eagerly sought for by the most potent princes. Again, the confessor, having less or more, but always a great influence over his royal penitent, became also a great personage in the country where he exercised his functions. Annat was a mediator between the _great king_ and the Pope; and Alexander VII. thanked him for his good offices by a brief.[317] Lachaise and Letellier were possessed of still more power than Annat. The Court of Rome itself, at such an epoch, was obliged to succumb to the influence of the Order; and if any Pope, in an unlucky moment, ventured to oppose them in any of their contrivances, he was soon obliged to retract his orders, and to confess implicitly that he had done wrong. The Jesuits call this epoch the golden age of their Society; but we should rather call it the iron one, since it was during this epoch of splendour and glory that they departed furthest from the principles of their institution, and so prepared their own ruin. Possessed of very great wealth, enjoying an immense credit and influence with all classes of society, they yielded to the temptations peculiar to such a situation; and, disregarding every rule of prudence, and the restraints of public opinion, they gave themselves up to the lust of power and riches—prosecuting their ambitious projects by the most questionable means, and thinking of nothing else but reaping the advantage of the position they had attained. As few dared now to oppose them, and as the people were silent on their vices, they thought that these vices were now overlooked; and this encouraged them still more to persist in their reprehensible conduct. It was during the seventeenth century that the Jesuits, lifting up for a while the thick veil of hypocrisy under which they had perpetrated their crimes, allowed the world to penetrate into the heart of their conduct, and to discover what they really were. In vain, when they perceived they were known, did they pull down the veil again. Their faces had been observed, and ever after they were to be recognised, under whatever mask they attempted to conceal themselves. It was during the seventeenth century that they gave to their traffic a scandalous development, and that they set themselves up as dangerous rivals to the largest establishments. It was during the seventeenth century that they set all the other religious orders at defiance, and awakened in them sentiments of hatred and jealousy, which are not yet extinguished. It was during the seventeenth century that they abused, more scandalously than ever, the credulity of their votaries. The example which we are going to quote in this particular will serve for many.

Among the manuscripts in the British Museum, there is a passport given by the Jesuits in 1650, for the consideration of 200,000 florins (£10,000), to Hippolite Braem of Ghent, promising to defend him against all infernal powers that might make attempts upon his person, soul, or goods. Here is a translation of this strange document:—

“The undersigned protest and promise, on the faith of priests and true religious in the name of our Company, sufficiently authorised for that effect, that our Company, takes Master Hippolite Braem, LL.D., under its protection, and promises to defend him against all infernal powers which may make attempts upon his person, his soul, his goods, or his means; that we conjure and shall conjure for this effect (to prevent attempts upon his person, &c.), the most serene Prince our Founder, making use in this case of his authority and his credit, in order that the above-named Braem may be presented by him to the blessed chief of Apostles with much fidelity and carefulness, since our Company is infinitely obliged to him. In faith of which we have signed the present, and authenticated it with the seal of the Society. Given at Ghent, March 29, 1650, and signed by the Rector, Seclin, and two Jesuit priests.”[318]

It seems that in India the Jesuits made a great traffic of such passports. In those distant regions, the impudence of the fathers must have been still greater than it was in Europe. The Father Marcello Mastrilli, when in Japan, boasted that many times a-day he sent his guardian angel to pay reverence and deliver messages to St Francis in heaven, and that he received answers.[319] We are not surprised at the ridiculous and barefaced impudence of Mastrilli, who is celebrated for his ridiculous impostures; but we are surprised that Bartoli, such an accomplished writer, and not altogether despicable historian, should relate with imperturbable gravity such puerile absurdities.

In 1681, Noyelle, “who had not the same brilliant qualities as his predecessors,”[320] succeeded Oliva, and was himself succeeded, in 1687, by Gonzales, a harsh theologian, who died in 1705, and had for his successor Father Tambourini. Nothing remarkable happened during the rule of these generals; at least nothing that presents us with any new feature in the history we are writing. The Company followed the course it had entered upon, and marched with steady step towards its proper ruin. Not that there was any apparent sign of decay. The Society was, on the contrary, more powerful, more courted than ever. But its power did not lie any longer in its intrinsic merits, or its adaptation to the wants of humanity; and the interest and respect by which it seemed to be surrounded was ephemeral, and in some degree compulsory. With a few sincere devotees there was a crowd of courtiers who flattered for their own interest. The Company resembled an all-powerful minister, hated for his personal qualities, but worshipped and extolled to the skies by the crowd of those who fear his power or await his favour, impatient till the sovereign frown upon him, that they may manifest their real sentiments. Such was the state of the Society of Jesus during the seventeenth century.