from the course he would have adopted, went as far as he could in
promoting and extending the influence of the society. At the same moment
application had been made, on the part of several potentates, for the
services of the fathers, who had already gained a high reputation at the
courts near to which they had exercised their ministry. It was seen and
understood by princes that these were the men--and these almost
alone--to whom might be confided those arduous tasks which the perils of
the times continually presented: none so well furnished as these
fathers; none so self-denying and laborious; none so uncompromising in
the maintenance of their principles. They were, therefore, despatched in
various directions, and with the papal sanction, to undertake offices
more or less spiritual, and in some instances purely secular. It was
thus that a commencement was made in that course which has thrown
unlimited power into the hands of the society, and which again has
brought upon it suspicion, hatred, and reiterated ruin.
But the most noted of these appointments was that which, in sending, as
by an accident, Francis Xavier to India, detached from the Jesuit
society the man who, had he remained at home, must have imparted his own
character to its constitutions, and have guided its movements, and who
probably would have dislodged Loyola from the generalship, and have held
Lainez and Faber in a subordinate position. Not merely did Xavier's
departure allow Jesuitism to take its form from the hands of these
three, but it conferred upon the society, from a very early date, the
incalculable advantage of that reflected power and reputation which the
Indian missions secured for it. Xavier's apostleship in the East, with
its real and with its romantic and exaggerated glories, was a fund upon
which the society at home allowed itself to draw without limit. If it be
admitted that Xavier effected something real for Christianity in pagan
India, it may be affirmed that he accomplished at the same time, though
indirectly, far more for Jesuitism throughout Europe. This course of
events, so signal in its consequences as favoring the development and
rapid extension of the Jesuit scheme throughout Christendom, and which
yet could not be attributed to any forethought or machination on the
part of Loyola, is well deserving of a distinct notice.
The train of circumstances, as related and affirmed by the Jesuit
writers, excludes the supposition of its taking its rise in any plot or
intention. John III of Portugal--a religious prince--had long
entertained the project of stretching the empire of the Church over
those regions which his valiant and enterprising people were subjecting
to his secular sway. In modern phraseology, he piously desired to
consecrate his military triumphs in the East by spreading the Gospel
among the subjugated heathen. His royal wish and intention had become
known to Loyola's friend Govea, who wrote to him from Paris on the
subject. This letter was as a spark at contact with which Loyola's zeal
burst forth in a flame. He replied, however, that, as he and his
companions had now solemnly surrendered themselves to the absolute and
unconditional disposal of the Vicar of Christ, they could attempt
nothing spontaneously. It is easy to imagine how speedily this
declaration, conveyed to Govea, would produce its effect, would come
round to its destination, and would assume the form of a pontifical
injunction addressed to Loyola to despatch some of the fathers to the
court of John, there to await the pleasure of so religious a prince.
Six missionaries had been asked for. Loyola, with the consent of the
Pope, assigned two--Rodriquez and Bobadilla--to his service. The latter,
however, falling ill--so it is affirmed--Francis Xavier was appointed in
his place. Xavier, it is said, leaped for joy when summoned, at a
moment, to set out toward Portugal commissioned to convert India to the
Christian faith. A few hours sufficed for his preparations; by noon of
the next day he had sewed the tatters of his attire with his own hand,
had packed his bundle, had bid adieu to his friends, and was forward on
the road to Lisbon. Upon this desperate enterprise he set forward with
his eye steadily fixed upon objects far more remote and more dazzling
than the sunny plains of Hindostan. The immeasurable difficulty of his
mission was to him its excitement; its dangers brightened in his view
into martyrdom; its toils were to be his ease; its privations his
solace, and despair the aliment of his hope. But at this initial point
of his course we must take leave of Francis Xavier--the prince of
missionaries. Bobadilla, with Loyola's consent, remained in Portugal,
where his zeal found scope enough.
At length--but it does not appear in what manner this change of opinion
had been brought about--Cardinal Guidiccioni professed himself favorable
to the suit of Loyola; probably an enhanced conviction that the Romish
hierarchy was encountering a peril which called for extraordinary
measures, and that the new order was likely to meet the occasion, had
prevailed over considerations less urgent and of a more general kind.
This opponent gained, no obstacle remained to be overcome. On October 3,
1540 (or September 27th), was issued the bull which gave ecclesiastical
existence to the new order under the name of the "Company of Jesus." At
the first the society was forbidden to admit more than sixty professed
members, but three years later another bull removed entirely this
restriction.
The time was now come when the decisive step must be taken which should
enable the new institute to realize its intention, which should render
Jesuitism _Jesuitism_ indeed. This was the election of a chief,
individually, who thenceforward should be absolute lord of the bodies
and souls, the will and well-being, of all the members. Until this
election should be made and ratified, the society was a _project_ only;
it would then become a dread reality.
Those of the fathers who could leave their functions at foreign
courts--and these were three only--were summoned to Rome; those who
could not attend there sent forward their votes. But in what manner are
we to deal with the account that is presented to us of that which took
place on this occasion? How is it to be made to consist either with the
straightforwardness and simplicity of intention that are the
characteristics of great and noble natures, or how with those maxims of
guilelessness which Christianity so much approves? The problem admits of
only a partial and unsatisfactory solution; nor can we advance even so
far as this unless we make a very large allowance in favor of Loyola
personally, on the ground of the ill influence of the system within
which he had received his moral and religious training. He conducted
himself after the fashion of his Church: this must be his apology.
It was he, unquestionably, who had conceived the primary idea of the
society. He was author of the book which constitutes its germ and law,
the _Spiritual Exercises_. He had been principal in digesting the
constitutions, or actual code, of the society. It was he, individually,
whom the others had always regarded as their leader and teacher. His
personal influence was the cement which held the parts in union. It was
Loyola who, while his colleagues dispersed themselves throughout Europe,
remained in Rome, there to manage the common interests of all, and to
carry forward those negotiations with the papal court which were of
vital importance and of the highest difficulty. In a word, it was he who
had convoked this meeting to elect a chief and who asked the proxies of
the absent. Are we then to believe that this bold spirit, this
far-seeing mind, this astute, inventive, and politic Ignatius, born to
rule other minds, and able always to subjugate his own will; that this
contriver of a despotism, after having carried the principle of
unconditional obedience, after having won the consent of his companions
to the proposal that their master should be their master _for life_--are
we to believe that he had never imagined it as probable (much less
wished) that the choice of his compeers should fall upon himself, or
that he had peremptorily resolved, in such a case, to reject the
proffered sovereignty? Surely those writers--the champions of the
society--use us cruelly who demand that we should believe so much as
this.
Le Jay, Brouet, Lainez, and Loyola were those who personally appeared on
this occasion. The absent members sent their votes in sealed letters.
Three days having passed in prayer and silence, the four assembled on
the fourth day, when the votes were ascertained. All but Loyola's own
were in his favor; he voted for the one who should carry the majority of
votes.
Loyola, we are told, was in an equal degree distressed and amazed in
discovering what was in the minds of his colleagues. _He_, indeed, to be
general of the Society of Jesus!--how strange and preposterous a
supposition! Positively he could think of no such thing. What a life had
he led before his conversion! How abounding in weaknesses had been his
course since! How could he aspire to rule others, who so poorly could
rule himself? Days of prayer must yet be devoted to the purpose of
imploring the divine aid in directing the minds of all toward one who
should indeed be qualified for so arduous an office. At the end of this
term Loyola was a second time elected, and again refused to comply with
the wishes of his friends. He would barely admit their importunities;
they could scarcely bring themselves to listen to his contrary reasons.
Time passed on, and there seemed a danger lest the society should go
adrift upon the rocks even in its first attempt to reach deep water. At
length Loyola agreed to submit himself to the direction of his
confessor. He might thus, perhaps, find it possible to thrust himself
through his scruples by the loophole of passive obedience, for he
already held himself bound to comply with the injunctions of his
spiritual guide, be they what they might.
This good man, therefore, a father Theodosius of the communion of Minor
Brethren, is constituted arbiter of the destinies of the Society of
Jesus. To his ear Loyola confides all the reasons, irresistible as they
were, which forbade his compliance with the will of his friends. The
confessor listens patiently to the long argument, but sets the whole of
it at naught. In a word he declares that Loyola, in declining the
proffered generalship, is fighting against God. Further resistance would
have been a flagrant impiety.
The installation of the general was carried forward in a course of
services held in the seven principal churches of Rome, and with
extraordinary solemnity in the Church of St. Paul without the city,
April 23, 1541. On this occasion the vows of perpetual poverty,
chastity, and obedience were renewed before the altar of the Virgin,
where Loyola administered the communion to his brethren, they having
vowed absolute obedience to him, and he the same to the Pope.
DE SOTO DISCOVERS THE MISSISSIPPI[52]
A.D. 1541
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT
From the eastern coast of Florida the Spaniards made early
explorations of the interior until they reached the
Mississippi River. Florida, which was discovered by Juan
Ponce de Leon in 1513, was soon visited by other voyagers,
and in 1528 Panfilo Narvaez made a disastrous march into the
forests. One survivor of his party, Cabaca de Vaca,
afterward crossed the Mississippi, near the site of Memphis,
and made his way to the Spanish settlements in Mexico.
Still the vast Florida region was unexplored, but in 1539
Hernando de Soto, the companion of Pizarro in the conquest
of Peru (1532) landed, with upward of six hundred men, at
what is now called Tampa Bay, on the west coast, in search
of the fabulous wealth believed to await him. "For month
after month and year after year the procession of priests
and cavaliers, cross-bowmen, arquebusiers, and Indian
captives laden with the baggage, wandered on through wild
and boundless wastes, lured hither and thither by the _ignis
fatuus_ of their hopes." Through untold hardships, increased
by fierce battles with the Indians, they traversed wide
regions now embraced in Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi,
reaching the great river probably in the spring of 1541, and
still looking for the "phantom El Dorado."
De Soto directed his footsteps in a westerly direction, carefully
avoiding an approach to the sea, lest his troops should rise in mutiny,
send for the ships, and escape from the ill-starred enterprise. This
certainly indicates, under the circumstances, an unsound, if not a
deranged, mind. For four days the troops toiled along through a dismal
region, uninhabited, and encumbered with tangled forests and almost
impassable swamps.
At length they came to a small village called Chisca, upon the banks of
the most majestic stream they had yet discovered. Sublimely the mighty
flood, a mile and a half in width, rolled by them. The current was rapid
and bore upon its bosom a vast amount of trees, logs, and driftwood,
showing that its sources must be hundreds of leagues far away in the
unknown interior. This was the mighty Mississippi, the "Father of
Waters." The Indians at that point called it Chucagua. Its source and
its embouchure were alike unknown to De Soto. Little was he then aware
of the magnitude of the discovery he had made.
"De Soto," says Irving, "was the first European who looked out upon the
turbid waters of this magnificent river; and that event has more surely
enrolled his name among those who will ever live in American history
than if he had discovered mines of silver and gold."
The Spaniards had reached the river after a four days' march through an
unpeopled wilderness. The Indians of Chisca knew nothing of their
approach, and probably had never heard of their being in the country.
The tribe inhabiting the region of which Chisca was the metropolis was
by no means as formidable as many whom they had already encountered. The
dwelling of the cacique stood on a large artificial mound from eighteen
to twenty feet in height. It was ascended by two ladders, which could of
course be easily drawn up, leaving the royal family thus quite isolated
from the people below.
Chisca, the chieftain, was far advanced in years, a feeble, emaciated
old man of very diminutive stature. In the days of his prime he had been
a renowned warrior. Hearing of the arrival of the Spaniards he was
disposed to regard them as enemies, and, seizing his tomahawk, he was
eager to descend from his castle and lead his warriors to battle.
The contradictory statements are made that De Soto, weary of the
harassing warfare of the winter, was very anxious to secure the
friendship of these Indians. Unless he were crazed, it must have been
so; for there was absolutely nothing to be gained, but everything to be
imperilled, by war. On the other hand, it is said that the moment the
Spaniards descried the village they rushed into it, plundering the
houses, seizing men and women as captives. Both statements may have been
partially true. It is not improbable that the disorderly troops of De
Soto, to his great regret, were guilty of some outrages, while he
personally might have been intensely anxious to repress this violence
and cultivate only friendly relations with the natives.
But, whatever may have been the hostile or friendly attitude assumed by
the Spaniards, it is admitted that the cacique was disposed to wage war
against the new-comers. The more prudent of his warriors urged that he
should delay his attack upon them until he had made such preparations as
would secure successful results.
"It will be best first," said they, "to assemble all the warriors of our
nation, for these men are well armed. In the mean time let us pretend
friendship, and not provoke an attack until we are strong enough to be
sure of victory."
The irascible old chief was willing only partially to listen to this
advice. He delayed the conflict, but did not disguise his hostility. De
Soto sent to him a very kindly message declaring that he came in peace,
and wished only for an unmolested march through his country. The cacique
returned an angry reply refusing all courteous intercourse.
The Spaniards had been but three hours in the village when, to their
surprise, they perceived an army of four thousand warriors, thoroughly
prepared for battle, gathered around the mound upon which was reared the
dwelling of their chief. If so many warriors could be assembled in so
short a time, they feared there must be a large number in reserve who
could soon be drawn in. The Spaniards, in their long marches and many
battles, had dwindled away to less than five hundred men. Four thousand
against five hundred were fearful odds; and yet the number of their foes
might speedily be doubled or even quadrupled. In addition to this, the
plains around the city were exceedingly unfavorable for the movements of
the Spanish army, while they presented great advantages to the
nimble-footed natives; for their region was covered with forests,
sluggish streams, and bogs.
By great exertions, De Soto succeeded in effecting a sort of compromise.
The cacique consented to allow the Spaniards to remain for six days in
the village to nurse the sick and the wounded. Food was to be furnished
them by the cacique. At the end of six days the Spaniards were to leave,
abstaining entirely from pillage, from injuring the crops, and from all
other acts of violence.
The cacique and all the inhabitants of the village abandoned the place,
leaving it to the sole occupancy of the Spaniards. April, in that sunny
clime, was mild as genial summer. The natives, with their simple habits,
probably found little inconvenience in encamping in the groves around.
On the last day of his stay, De Soto obtained permission to visit the
cacique. He thanked the chief cordially for his hospitality, and, taking
an affectionate leave, continued his journey into the unknown regions
beyond.
Ascending the tortuous windings of the river on the eastern bank, the
Spaniards found themselves, for four days, in almost impenetrable
thickets, where there were no signs of inhabitants. At length they came
to quite an opening in the forest. A treeless plain, waving with grass,
spread far and wide around them. The Mississippi River here was about
half a league in width. On the opposite bank large numbers of Indians
were seen, many of them warriors in battle array, while a fleet of
canoes lined the shore.
De Soto decided, for some unexplained reason, to cross the river at that
point, though it was evident that the Indians had in some way received
tidings of his approach, and were assembled there to dispute his
passage. The natives could easily cross the river in their canoes, but
they would hardly venture to attack the Spaniards upon the open plain,
where there was such a fine opportunity for the charges of their
cavalry.
Here De Soto encamped for twenty days, while all who could handle tools
were employed in building four large flat-boats for the transportation
of the troops across the stream. On the second day of the encampment
several natives from some tribe disposed to be friendly, on the eastern
side of the river, visited the Spaniards. With very much ceremony of
bowing and semibarbaric parade they approached De Soto and informed him
that they were commissioned by their chief to bid him welcome to his
territory, and to assure him of his friendly services. De Soto, much
gratified by this message, received the envoys with the greatest
kindness, and dismissed them highly pleased with their reception.
Though this chief sent De Soto repeated messages of kindness, he did not
himself visit the Spanish camp, the alleged reason being--and perhaps
the true one--that he was on a sick-bed. He, however, sent large
numbers of his subjects with supplies of food, and to assist the
Spaniards in drawing the timber to construct their barges. The hostile
Indians on the opposite bank frequently crossed in their canoes, and,
attacking small bands of workmen, showered upon them volleys of arrows,
and fled again to their boats.
One day the Spaniards, while at work, saw two hundred canoes filled with
natives, in one united squadron, descending the river. It was a
beautiful sight to witness this fleet, crowded with decorated and plumed
warriors, their paddles, ornaments, and burnished weapons flashing in
the sunlight. They came in true military style; several warriors
standing at the bow and stern of each boat, with large shields of
buffalo-hide on their left arms, and with bows and arrows in their
hands. De Soto advanced to the shore to meet them, where he stood
surrounded by his staff. The royal barge containing the chief paddled
within a few rods of the bank. The cacique then rose, and addressed De
Soto in words which, translated by the interpreter, were as follows: "I
am informed that you are the envoy of the most powerful monarch of the
globe. I have come to proffer to you friendship and homage, and to
assure you of my assistance in any way in which I can be of service."
De Soto thanked him heartily for his offer and entreated him to land,
assuring him that he should meet only with the kindest reception. The
boats immediately returned for another load. Rapidly they passed to and
fro, and the whole army was transported to the western bank of the
Mississippi. The point where De Soto and his army crossed, it is
supposed, was at what is called the lowest Chickasaw Bluff.
"The river in this place," says the Portuguese narrative, "was a mile
and a half in breadth, so that a man standing still could scarcely be
discerned from the opposite shore. It was of great depth, of wonderful
rapidity, and very turbid, and was always filled with floating trees and
timber carried down by the force of the current."
The army having all crossed, the boats were broken up, as usual, to
preserve the nails. It would seem that the hostile Indians had all
vanished, for the Spaniards advanced four days in a westerly direction,
through an uninhabited wilderness, encountering no opposition. On the
fifth day they toiled up a heavy swell of land, from whose summit they
discerned, in a valley on the other side, a large village of about four
hundred dwellings. It was situated on the fertile banks of a stream
which is supposed to have been the St. Francis.
The extended valley, watered by this river, presented a lovely view as
far as the eye could reach, with luxuriant fields of Indian corn and
with groves of fruit and trees. The natives had received some intimation
of the approach of the Spaniards, and in friendly crowds gathered around
them, offering food and the occupancy of their houses. Two of the
highest chieftains subordinate to the cacique soon came, with an
imposing train of warriors, bearing a welcome from their chief and the
offer of his services.
De Soto received them with the utmost courtesy, and, in the interchange
of these friendly offices, both Spaniards and natives became alike
pleased with each other. The adventurers remained in this village for
six days, finding abundant food for themselves and their horses, and
experiencing, in the friendship and hospitality of the natives, joys
which certainly never were found in the horrors of war. The province was
called by the name of Kaski, and was probably the same as that occupied
by the Kaskaskia Indians.
Upon commencing anew their march they passed through a populous and
well-cultivated country, where peace, prosperity, and abundance seemed
to reign. In two days, having journeyed about twenty miles up the
western bank of the Mississippi, they approached the chief town of the
province, where the cacique lived. It was situated, as is supposed, in
the region now called Little Prairie, in the extreme southern part of
the State of Missouri, not far from New Madrid. Here they found the
hospitable hands of the cacique and his people extended to greet them.
The residence of the chief stood upon a broad artificial mound,
sufficiently capacious for twelve or thirteen houses, which were
occupied by his numerous family and attendants. He made De Soto a
present of a rich fur mantle, and invited him, with his suite, to occupy
the royal dwellings for their residence. De Soto politely declined this
offer, as he was unwilling thus to incommode his kind entertainer. He,
however, accepted the accommodation of several houses in the village.
The remainder of the army were lodged in exceedingly pleasant bowers,
skilfully and very expeditiously constructed by the natives of bark and
the green boughs of trees, outside the village.
It was now the month of May. The weather was intensely hot, and these
rustic bowers were found to be refreshingly cool and grateful. The name
of the friendly chief was Casquin. Here the army remained for three
days, without a ripple of unfriendly feeling arising between the
Spaniards and the natives.