Chapter X

Position of the Jesuits in 1761—Decree for their expulsion sent from

Spain—Bucareli sent to suppress the colleges and drive out the

Jesuits—They submit without resistance—After two hundred years they are

expelled from Paraguay—The country under the new rule—The system of

government practically unchanged

‘No storm is so insidious’ (said St. Ignatius) ‘as a perfect calm, and

no enemy so dangerous as the absence of all enemies.’

This dangerous state of calm without an apparent enemy in sight was the

position of the Jesuits in Paraguay in 1761. By desperate efforts and

intrigues in Spain they had kept their thirty missions from being

mutilated; their influence amongst the Indians had never been more

absolute. The governors of Buenos Ayres and of Paraguay had tried a

fall with them, and the honours of the struggle were with the Jesuits.

They had succeeded in getting put into force the clauses of the ‘Laws

of the Indies’, which kept Spaniards out of the Indian settlements.

Even those sent against them had been forced to testify to their

utility[303] in Paraguay. But throughout Spain and her enormous empire

in America and in the East perpetual hostility between the Jesuits and

the regular clergy had been going on for years. In every portion of

America the Jesuits were unpopular, the excuse alleged being their

wealth and power;[304] but the real reason was their attitude on

slavery. After repeated grumblings of distant thunder, at length the

storm broke, and the decree for the expulsion of the Jesuits in Spain

and her dominions was signed, and the order sent to Bucareli, Governor

of Buenos Ayres, in June of 1767, to put it into force in Paraguay. The

reasons which induced King Charles III. to expel the Jesuits,

mysterious as they were, and locked up a dead secret in the royal

breast,[305] may or may not have been sufficient in Spain, but could in

no respect have held good for Paraguay, where there existed little

scope for court intrigue, and where the Jesuits were far removed from

their fellow Spanish subjects, and occupied entirely with their mission

work. Many and various have been the explanations which historians have

set forth for this decree. Certain it is in Spain this Order had

attained to considerable power, and that in Rome the abler of their

Generals occasionally kept the Popes in mental servitude.

Some have accounted for the act of Charles III. as being but revenge

for the tumult of Aranjuez under the ministry of Esquilace,[306]

arguing that the Jesuits were in fact the authors of it, and that it

was but the precursor of a plot to dethrone the King and place his

brother Don Luis upon the throne, as being not so liberal in his ideas.

Others, again, have stated[307] that the Jesuits set about a calumny

that Charles III. was not the Queen’s son by her husband, but by a

lover whom they said she had. The only reason which seems feasible is

that the King was worked on by the fear that the Order had risen to too

much power, and that if he did not at once take steps the monarchy

would be rendered but a mere appendage of the General of the

Jesuits.[308]

Whether it is sound policy of any government to expel a race, or sect,

or order from its domains, no matter what the immediate exigencies of

the times seem to require, is a moot point. The expulsions of the Jews,

Moriscos, and Huguenots, and the dissolution of the monasteries in the

times of that true Protestant Henry VIII. of ever pious memory, do not

exactly seem to have had the effect upon the countries where they took

place that was at first expected by their instigators. Expelled by

Charles III., the Jesuits to-day in Spain have re-acquired much of

their influence. So that it seems that persecution, to be effectual,

must not stop on this side of extermination, and this our Lord

Protector Cromwell understood full well.

The Viceroy Bucareli[309] to whom the task of the expulsion of the

Order in the viceroyalty of Buenos Ayres and of Paraguay was entrusted,

was no ordinary man.[310] Appointed Viceroy of Buenos Ayres after a

distinguished career of public service, he found himself, almost

without warning, and without any adequate forces at his command,

obliged to execute by far the most important and far-reaching task that

had ever fallen to the lot of any Spanish Governor in America to carry

out. But as his services had not been chiefly in America, he held the

idea which at the time was generally received in Europe, that the

Jesuits possessed great wealth, had bodies of trained troops, and so

would resist all efforts at expulsion to the death.

Full of these visions, says Dean Funes,[311] he considered the order,

which was transmitted to him from Spain, as involving serious military

risk, and evidently seems to have looked on every Jesuit village as a

strong place of arms. July 22, 1767, was the day he chose, keeping his

design a secret, and preparing to strike in Corrientes, Cordoba, Monte

Video, and Santa Fe, on the same day, or rather night, for the terror

of the Jesuits was so great that he designed to expel them all by

night.

On July 2 two ships arrived in Buenos Ayres bringing the news that the

decree had been put in force in Spain on April 2 with success. As all

the crew of both the ships knew what had happened in Spain, concealment

of his plan became no longer possible. Thus, had the Jesuits possessed

either the wish or the means to make an armed resistance, they had

ample time to stand on their defence.

Nothing was further from their minds, though they had complete dominion

over a territory as large as France, and which contained a population

of over one hundred and fifty thousand souls.[312] For arms, they had

as chief defence some ‘very long English guns, with rests if they

wished to use them, which were not very heavy, and had a tolerable

range.’[313] These were the preparations that the Jesuits (who, not in

Paraguay alone, but throughout all the American dominions of the

Spanish crown, ruled over territories stretching from California to

Cape Horn)[314] had made, and they were found alone in the missions of

Paraguay, where, by a special permission of the Kings of Spain, arms

were allowed for defence against the Portuguese.

Bucareli, who seems to have been a timid but honest and upright man,

made his first experiment upon the Jesuits of Buenos Ayres, Cordoba,

and Santa Fe. The colleges in all these places were suppressed on the

same night, and without the least resistance from their occupants. He

who suppresses a religious Order, takes a town or country, or, in fact,

puts into operation any of the forces of the law or military power,

always expects, no matter how exalted be his motives at the start, to

recoup himself from the treasure of the conquered. _Væ victis_,

together with the vestments of the church, the plainsong, and the

saints, came as a pagan heritage to the new faith, and has been held as

canon law since Constantine looked at the sky and thought he saw a

cross.

Great must have been the disgust of the Governor to find the spoil so

paltry, and not to have the satisfaction even of saying that the

Jesuits had hidden all their gold, as, his own measures having been

taken secretly, they had no knowledge of what was in the wind. In the

college of Cordoba, esteemed to be a mine of wealth, was found only

nine thousand dollars,[315] which sum Ferando Fabro, the commissioner

sent by Bucareli to take over the effects of the Jesuits at Cordoba,

duly chronicles in his report.

But if the college of Cordoba[316] proved a miserable prey, there still

remained the Jesuit missions on the Uruguay and Paraná, with all the

riches of their fertile territory, and the enormous wealth which every

Spaniard firmly believed the Jesuits had acquired. None of the Jesuits,

either in Buenos Ayres, Cordoba, Santa Fe, Corrientes, or Monte Video

having made the least resistance, but having opened wide their doors to

the soldiers, who in all the towns on the same day at two o’clock in

the morning came to signify their expulsion to them, it was only

natural to think that the same conduct would be observed in Paraguay.

But Governors and Governments never seem in the least accessible to

common-sense. Almost a year had passed before he plucked up courage for

his dangerous task.[317] He set about it with more preparation than

either Cortez or Pizarro made for the conquest of Mexico or of Peru.

Having embarked for Spain in the frigate _La Esmeralda_ one hundred and

fifty Jesuits from the towns of Cordoba, Buenos Ayres, Monte Video, and

Santa Fe, he prepared to march upon the missions, when a suspicion of

resistance caused him to take precautions which the result proved quite

ridiculous. He sent two hundred of the best of the militia of Asuncion

to occupy the fords upon the Tebicuari,[318] and a body of equal

strength to occupy the port of San Miguel. All these measures being

taken for his safety, the conqueror embarked upon May 24, taking with

him three companies of grenadiers and sixty dragoons. He disembarked at

the town of Salto on the Uruguay, and from thence despatched Captain

Don Juan Francisco de la Riva Herrera to occupy the towns upon the

Paraná. Don Francisco de Zabala was sent to seize six of the towns upon

the Uruguay. Bucareli himself, with several hundred men, marched upon

Yapeyu,[319] the southernmost of all the mission towns. The Jesuits,

however, gave no trouble to any of the troops, and even stopped the

Governor from gathering any laurels, however withered, with which to

crown his arms.

As he advanced from town to town, the priests, on his arrival at each

place, although living in the midst of Indians, some of whom were

armed, and many of whom had served the King of Spain in various wars,

and all of whom looked on the Jesuits almost as gods, came out and

peacefully gave up the keys of all their houses, and submitted quietly

to be made prisoners and be carried off in chains from the territories

which they and their order had civilized and ruled over almost two

hundred years. Seventy-eight Jesuits and their provincials were sent

prisoners to Buenos Ayres, and their places all filled up with other

priests taken from different Orders, and none of whom had any

experience in mission-work. As Dean Funes tartly writes, the miracle

that Bucareli wished, but scarcely dared to hope for, had taken place.

The Jesuits, in Paraguay, at least, by their conduct in their last

public act, most amply vindicated their loyalty to the Spanish crown.

Nothing would have been easier, depleted as the viceroyalty was at the

time of troops,[320] than to have defied the forces which Bucareli had

at his disposal, and to have set up a Jesuit State, which would have

taxed the utmost resources of the Spanish crown to overcome. No doubt

the very facility with which Bucareli carried out his plans confirmed

him in his own mind of their expediency, for men in general are prone

to think that right which they accomplish with success. However, be

that as it may, he returned in triumph to Buenos Ayres on September 16,

having expended in his expedition less than four months. So in a

quarter of a year the Jesuits, after more than two hundred years of

rule, were all expelled from Paraguay.

They made no fight, nor offered any resistance, letting themselves be

taken as a butcher takes a sheep, and that surrounded as they were by a

population of upwards of one hundred and fifty thousand souls, cut off

by countless leagues from the outside world, defended on three sides by

virgin forests and by marshes hardly passable to European troops. One

word from the Provincial would have set the missions in a blaze. A word

would have brought clouds of horsemen—badly armed, ’tis true, but

knowing every foot of marsh and forest, all the deep-beaten tracks

which wind in the red earth across the lonely plains, the passes of the

rivers, springs, natural fastnesses, and having the varied knowledge of

a country which of old made Border horsemen and Northumbrian prickers

formidable upon the Scottish marches—into the field.

The dogged Paraguayan Indians, ancestors of the infantry which, under

Lopez,[321] died so bravely under the fire of the Brazilian guns,

would, in their red cloaks and scanty linen clothes, have marched from

_capilla_[322] and from mission against the enemies of the

‘father-priests’. Seventy-eight Jesuits were marched off to Buenos

Ayres, and then shipped off to Europe[323] to join their fellows, who

had been brought together by the ministers of the most liberal King who

ever filled the Spanish throne from every quarter of the world. Having

expelled the Jesuits, Bucareli was bound by the exigencies of his

position to calumniate them. Perhaps, as an official, hidebound in his

belief in the inalterable right of Governments to commit injustices, he

believed all that he wrote. For the welfare of humanity, one could hope

he knew all that he wrote was false. What hope is there left for

mankind as long as addle-headed, honest men see naught but justice in

whatever order they receive? Better a thousand times a rogue who knows

he is a rogue than a good, well-intentioned, blundering man quite

unaware he is a fool.

But, still, he had to justify himself either upon his own account or

for the benefit of that posterity to conciliate which so many public

men have paltered with the truth. So his first care was to extract a

letter from thirty Indians whom he chose to dignify with the title of

the mayors of the thirty towns, first having, as he says himself in a

letter to the Conde de Aranda, the minister of Charles III., dressed

them in the Spanish fashion, and treated them in such a way that they

might know how much their lot had been improved.[324] The letter,

written originally in Guaraní,[325] bears upon every line of it the

dictation of the Governor. After a fine paragraph of salutations, it

goes on to give the King many and repeated thanks (‘muchas y repetidas

gracias’) for having sent his Excellency Captain-General Don Francisco

Bucareli, ‘who has fulfilled, for the love of God and for the love of

your Majesty, all the just orders which your Majesty laid to his

charge, aiding our poverty, and clothing us like gentlemen.’ Most

people, even the heathen, like those who help their poverty and clothe

them in the garb of gentlemen. It had not occurred to the poor Indians

that the fine clothes might turn out liveries. The mayors all sign

their Indian names, which seems to give the lie to the accusation that

the Jesuits kept them ignorant. The letter, dated Buenos Ayres, March

10, 1768, seems to show that the Indians, be they who they might have

been, were not free agents at the time they wrote. The Indians’ letter

duly despatched, the Governor indited a report, in which he fairly and

with circumstance reiterates all the old charges against the Jesuits in

Paraguay which the inventive brain of Cardenas had first conceived; but

to them he adds several little touches of his own, which show he had

some observation and an imaginative mind.

Amongst his numerous letters to Aranda and to the King, one dated

Buenos Ayres, October 14, 1768,[326] contains the fullest account of

his proceedings in the missions and of his views (or of what he thought

to be his views) about the work in which he was engaged. Time was of

small account in 1768 either in Paraguay or in Madrid, so Bucareli

relates with some prolixity all that he did, with comments, movements

of troops, regrettable occurrences—as when his soldiers let themselves

be surprised and lost their horses—and now and then scraps of morality

and theology, which shows quite plainly that the art of writing

maundering despatches is not so new as optimists may have supposed.

Quite in the manner of a modern special correspondent, he sets down all

that he suffered from the weather; that it rained incessantly, and,

marvellous to tell, that after rain the rivers rose, and gave him

difficulty to cross. The roads were bad, provisions scarce and dear,

and now and then wild Indians ‘massacred’ an outpost of his men, whilst

his brave fellows, when God willed it, occasionally ‘chastised’ the

infidel, and by the grace of Heaven slew no small number of them.

Still, in the monstrous farrago of words, extending to some sixteen

pages of close print, he lets us see he was a man of some capacity, but

leaves it doubtful whether he really thought he was engaged upon a

noble work, or if he wrote ironically, or if his only object was to

satisfy his conscience and his King. But making much of little

difficulties is but to be expected from a leader of an expedition or

from a General in the field. Without it, how could they justify their

existence, or prove to the world at large that they were needed, or but

more important than a mere ceremony?[327]

When the land troubles were got over, and Bucareli, having arrived at

Yapeyu, embarked upon the river, the very winds proved contrary, so

that it took him many days to arrive at Candelaria, which port he

reached upon August 27, 1768. But before quitting Yapeyu the Governor

made a solemn feast, riding himself before his grenadiers, whose caps,

he says, caused much amazement, the Indians never having seen such

headgear in their lives. The difficulties of his journey over, the

Jesuits dispossessed and sent down-stream to be remitted home, Bucareli

in his letter next deals with questions of religion, about which he

shows himself as well informed as all the Spanish conquerors seem to

have been in the New World. If for the dogma of the faith he was a bar

of iron, for ‘cold morality’, as Scottish preachers of the perfervid

type used to refer to it, he was most keen. The Indians’ clothes,

especially the graceful _tupoi_ worn by the women, shocked him

exceedingly. It was impossible to touch upon it without an outrage upon

modesty.[328] Masculine virtue is a most precarious thing, but little,

if at all, more stable than its female counterpart; therefore perhaps

the Governor was right not to expose his soldiers to temptation, so he

did well, as he informs us, in serving out clothes which obscured their

charms, or perhaps hid them quite from view. ‘Such tyrannies,’[329]

says the modest Governor, ‘occasioned many offences against God, and

frequent illnesses and epidemics.’ The sentence is a little doubtful in

its meaning, for if a scantiness of women’s dress occasioned illnesses

and epidemics amongst the population of a town, Belgravia and Mayfair

should surely be the most unhealthy spots on earth; though even there,

I verily believe, no more offences against God occur than amongst the

Moors, whose women show only their eyes to the shrinking gaze of easily

offended men.

As in duty bound, Bucareli kept for the end of his despatch a rehash of

all the old charges made against the Jesuits. They kept the Indians in

slavery, would never let them learn Spanish, and were themselves

inordinately rich. The first two accusations Father José Cardiel, in

his ‘Declaracion de la Verdad’, abundantly disproves.[330] The last the

Governor disproves himself; for had he found much treasure he most

assuredly would have made haste to send it to the King. What he did

find, a reference later to Brabo’s inventories will show, and the same

source discloses all the wealth the richest Order in the world,

according to their enemies, took with them in their involuntary journey

back to Spain. All being finished in the missions and the Jesuits

expelled, Bucareli found himself obliged to institute some system for

the government of the Indian population, which he had deprived both of

its spiritual and of its temporal guides.

The Jesuits’ government having been so bad, according to his own

despatch, the Indians having been kept in such a miserable state, their

education having been so neglected, and, above all, their women having

been dressed in such light attire that Bucareli could not with modesty

even describe their dress, it might have seemed but natural that he

should have evolved some system of government differing in all respects

from that he had destroyed. So far from that, in his instructions to

his interim successor, dated at Candelaria,[331] August 23, 1768, he

practically followed slavishly all the policy which the Jesuits had

pursued. He ordered Captains Riva Herrera and Bruno de Zavala, to whom

the arrangements were committed, to see that the Indians were

instructed ‘in the true knowledge of our holy faith’, a work which the

Jesuits, whatever might be their faults, had not neglected to insure.

After some platitudes as to the vivifying effects of free and open

trade, and an injunction to his captains to take care the Indian girls

were decorously and virtuously dressed, he launched into a sermon about

honest work, which, as he said, would make the Indians rich, happy, and

virtuous, and alone could ever make a kingdom prosper; in fact, he used

almost precisely similar language to that to-day used by a European

Governor in Africa when about to make a people slaves. On the whole,

however, his instructions were wise and liberal, and had they been

carried out in the same spirit, and with fidelity, the Indians might

have long continued in the same half-Arcadian, half-Christian state in

which the Jesuits left them, and to which it seems they could attain,

but not go farther without exposure to that vivifying commerce without

which nations cannot prosper, but with which the greater portion of

their citizens must remain ever slaves.

The instructions given, he left the missions never to return, leaving

behind him the reputation of an honest man, having made, as it would

appear, no money during his sojourn in their territories. On October

20, 1768, he wrote from Buenos Ayres to Aranda, telling him that his

work was done, and asking him as a particular favour to implore the

King to give him some employment ‘out of America, and particularly not

under either the secretaryship or the Council of the Indies.’[332] Thus

it appears that either the work in which he had been engaged was

uncongenial to him, or he mistrusted the future and the Indians when

the Jesuits’ sheltering hands had been withdrawn, and thought the King

might blame him for what was sure to come. One passage in his letter of

instructions shows that the antique, but still current, fashion of

going to any length to obtain a country in which are situated even

supposititious gold-mines had its influence even with such an honest

man as Bucareli was. He specially enjoins upon the officials left in

charge ‘to find out from what quarter the Indians of those towns

extract those pieces of the precious metals which they sometimes bring

to their priests.’ So that the fable of the false mines started by

Cardenas, although a thousand times disproved, still lingered in the

minds of those who could not understand what motive except that of

growing rich could cause the Jesuits to bury themselves in the recesses

of the Paraguayan woods. The release from things American and under the

jurisdiction of the Council of the Indies did not come to Bucareli for

almost two more years, during which time he struggled manfully with the

affairs of the Jesuit missions, repelled the Chaco Indians on one side,

and on the other implored for troops to defend the island of Chiloe

against the heretic English, who at that time appear to have been

meditating the advancement of their empire in the extremest south. One

curious letter was reserved for Bucareli to indite before he quitted

Buenos Ayres for the last time. On January 15, 1770, he sent a long

declaration signed by the celebrated Nicolas Ñeenguirú and other

Indians, giving an account of the part played by him in the abortive

resistance which he made against the cession of the seven towns. This

is the last time that Nicolas, the ‘King’ of Paraguay and ‘Emperor of

the Mamelucos’, appears in any document as far as I can find. His name

at one time was well known in Paraguay, the River Plate and Spain, and

served to father many lies upon; and at the last, the Jesuits gone, he

seems to have turned against them, and said all that was required by

Bucareli to get up his case. It appears from Bucareli’s letter that the

family of the Ñeenguirú had been well known in the missions from the

time of Cardenas. In 1770[333] we find him shorn of his kingly and

imperial dignities, the mayor of Concepcion in Paraguay, tall,

taciturn, with long, lank hair, and much respected by his brother

Indians, who held his stirrup for him when he got upon his horse. To

find him in the humour to give tongue about the Jesuits was a

trump-card in Bucareli’s hand, for if it could be proved that in 1750

they had resisted the forces of the crown of Spain, the public, always

anxious to believe a lie, would naturally applaud the action of the

King in their expulsion from his territories. Nicolas, who seems to

have been but a poor creature at the best, testified that everything

which he had done as General of the Indians was by the order of Fathers

Limp and Ennis, and that he was a poor Indian who did but that which he

was told. He finished up his testimony with thanks to the good King for

having taken him out of the power of the Jesuits, and kept him in his

post of mayor at Concepcion. In fact, all was the same to him as long

as he was left with his alcalde’s staff.[334]

Upon August 14, 1778, Bucareli sailed for Spain, leaving Don Juan José

Vertiz as his successor in the viceroyalty of the provinces of the

River Plate. The missions were all placed under the care of friars of

the begging Orders, chiefly Franciscans, and the system of the Jesuit

government was left unchanged. In 1771, writing from San Lorenzo (el

Escorial) in Spain, Bucareli, who seemed fated never to escape from the

affairs of Paraguay, sends a long constitution for the thirty towns

which follows all the Jesuits’ rules of government to the last tittle

of their policy. Brabo has preserved the document, which runs to

forty-seven pages of close print in its entirety. A carefully

thought-out and well-conceived digest of a constitution it most

certainly is, and yet it follows to the most minute particular the

policy the Jesuits laid down.

Dean Funes[335] seemed to see that the flattering of Nicolas Ñeenguiru

and the other Indian chiefs was an entire affair of artifice, and that

it was but a mere crowning of the victims who were destined to be

sacrificed. It may be that the constitution made by Bucareli at the

Escorial was similarly but a blind to keep the Indians quiet till the

Government had time to exploit them at its ease. Still, Bucareli in all

his actions seems to have been an honest man; one of those honest,

narrow-minded men who have sown more misery in the world than all the

rogues and scoundrels since the flood. Be all that as it may, his

constitution in a thousand ways recalled the Jesuits’ polity in their

days of rule. In a former chapter[336] I have pointed out a curious

instance in which this constitution traverses entirely statements made

by the Jesuits’ enemies that their exclusive policy was for their own

ends, and not, as they alleged, for the protection of the Indians. But

there are other instances quite as remarkable which show that the

Jesuits not only had grasped perfectly what the best course of

treatment was for their subjects, but that the official mind of

Bucareli, trained as he was, so to speak, in the strictest sect of

Pharisees, and prejudiced against the Jesuits in every way, yet

discerned clearly as an honest man that the plan they had laid down was

the most suitable for future rulers to pursue.

At the time of forming his constitution he had been gone but scarce a

year from Buenos Ayres, and yet he writes[337] complaining bitterly of

what was happening in the missions of Paraguay. He points out that all

his trouble will have been in vain ‘if the Governor and his lieutenants

are not stimulated to address themselves to the service of God and of

the King, with that zeal which everyone should impart to his duty.’

Then, after a puff preliminary of the beauty of freedom, human and

Divine, he sets forth how the Indians are in future to be ruled. First,

as in duty bound, he points out that anything savouring of communism is

against the laws of Heaven and of man; that the Indians in their

semi-communism were really slaves, the industrious working for the

idle, and so forth; that their clothes were scanty; that they were not

allowed to freely mix with Spaniards, and were kept a race apart. Then

like a prudent statesman having made his apologia ‘pro existentia sua’,

and blown off much virtuous steam, he comes to business, and business,

as we know, is the great soberer of theorists, no matter on what side

they theorize.

After the article to which I have referred in Chapter IX. comes this

most curious paragraph, taken in connection with the inalienable right

which, according to himself, the Indians had of free communication with

the outer world:[338] ‘And because I am informed that many Indians who

have been absent in the army of the Portuguese, and have resided for

lengthened periods in Rio Pardo, Viamont and other parts, have returned

to their towns, you will take care that all these with their families

shall be removed to those (towns) either in the interior or distant

from those frontiers, as it is not convenient that they should remain

on them (the frontiers) or close to them; and thus you will proceed

successively with the Indians who return, without leaving one, in order

to avoid any chance of communication, which might be most prejudicial.’

Surely a satire on his own abuse of the Jesuits for keeping the Indians

mewed up from intercourse with the outside world. It may be that he had

perceived the Indians were not fit to hold their own; indeed, it is

certain he had done so, for on p. 326 he writes, ‘It is not convenient

to leave them (the Indians) entire liberty,[339] for it would be in the

extreme fatal and prejudicial to their interests, because the

astuteness and sagacity of the Spaniards would triumph easily over

their rusticity.’ ‘Sagacity’ is an ingenious euphuism, and might well

be used with good effect in the like circumstances, when occasion

serves, to-day. But as no single article of any document set forth by

any Government can be straightforward and single in its purpose, and as

all laws are made with an eye upon some party presently in power, after

the paragraph just quoted, on the next page occurs the following

sentence under the head of ‘Commerce with the Spaniards is to be

free’.[340] ‘It is laid down that between the Indians and the Spaniards

commerce should be free, in order that mutual dealings should unite

them in friendship.’ Therefore to the ordinary mind it is impossible to

make out what really was intended, and whether commerce was to be free

or not. Those little differences apart, the constitution ran entirely

upon Jesuit lines. That semi-communism which was so prejudicial during

the Jesuits’ rule was formally re-organized in chapter iv. of the

constitution (p. 343) the instant that their power was placed in other

hands. Even the prohibition to the Spaniards to enter the Jesuit towns,

and reside there, was formally kept up in chapter iii., with the sole

alteration that for three months of the year they might reside amongst

the Indians on certain well-defined conditions most prolixly set forth.

So that it will be seen that, if the Jesuits did ill, as usual, any ill

they did was carefully perpetuated by their successors, and, quite as

naturally, all that they strove to do in favour of the Indians was most

carefully undone.

A Vanished Arcadia: Being Some Account of the Jesuits in Paraguay 1607-1767 · 第 10 / 11 章