1540-52.
CONSTITUTIONS OF THE SOCIETY.[17]
The times in which Ignatius wrote the Constitutions were, for the Court
of Rome and the Catholic religion, times of anxiety and danger. The
Reformation was making rapid progress, and all Christendom, Catholic[18]
as well as Protestant, resounded with the “Hundred Complaints” (_Centum
gravamina_) brought forward at the Diet of Nuremberg against the Roman
court—complaints and accusations which the wonderfully candid Adrian
VI. acknowledged to be too well founded. This pontiff, by his nuncio,
frankly declared to the Diet, “that all this confusion was originated by
men’s sins, and, above all, by those of the clergymen and prelates—that
for many years past the _Holy See had committed many abominations_—that
numerous abuses had crept into the administration of spiritual affairs,
and many _superfluities into the laws_—that all had been perverted—and
that the corruption, descending from the head to the body, from the
Sovereign Pontiff to the prelates, was so great, that there could
hardly be found one who did good.”[19] When a pope confessed so much to
Protestant ears, it may well be imagined to what a degree of rottenness
the moral leprosy must have arrived.
But, besides this corruption, great confusion reigned throughout the
Roman Catholic world. The different monastic orders were at war with one
another. The bishops accused the Pope of tyranny; the Pope denounced the
bishops as disobedient. The mass of the people were deplorably ignorant,
and general disorder prevailed.
Now, mark with what admirable art, what profound sagacity, Ignatius
modelled a society, which, by displaying the virtues directly opposed to
the then prevailing vices, should captivate the affections and secure the
support of the good and the pious, whilst, by underhand practices, and,
above all, by shewing unusual indulgence in the confessional, it should
obtain an influence over the minds of the more worldly believers.
In order that diversity of opinion and the free exercise of individual
will should not produce division and confusion within this new Christian
community, Loyola enacted that, in the whole Society, there should be no
will, no opinion, but the General’s. But, in order that the General might
be enabled profitably to employ each individual member, as well as the
collective energy and intelligence of the whole Society, it was necessary
that he should be thoroughly acquainted with his character, even to its
smallest peculiarities. To insure this, Ignatius established special
rules. Thus, regarding the admission of postulants, he says—
“Because it greatly concerns God’s service to make a good selection,
diligence must be used to ascertain the particulars of their person
and calling; and if the superior, who is to admit him into probation,
cannot make the inquiry, let him employ from among those who are
constantly about his person some one whose assistance he may use, to
become acquainted with the probationer—to live with him and examine
him;—some one endowed with _prudence_, and _not unskilled_ in the manner
which should be observed with so many various kinds and conditions of
persons.”[20] In other words, set a skilful and prudent spy over him, to
surprise him into the betrayal of his most secret thoughts. Yet, even
when this spy has given a tolerably favourable report, the candidate is
not yet admitted—he is sent to live in another house, “in order that he
may be more thoroughly _scrutinised_, to know whether he is fitted to be
admitted to _probation_.”[21] When he is thought suited for the Society,
he is received into the “house of first probation;” and after a day or
two, “he must open his conscience to the superior, and afterwards make
a general confession to the _confessor who shall be designed_ by the
superior.”[22] But this is not all, for—“in every house of probation
there will be a _skilful man_ to whom the candidate shall disclose all
his concerns with confidence; and let him be admonished _to hide no
temptation_, but to disclose it to him, or to his confessor, or to the
superior; nay, to take a pleasure in thoroughly manifesting his whole
soul to them, not only disclosing his defects, but even his penances,
mortifications, and _virtues_.”[23] When the candidate is admitted into
any of their colleges, he must again “open his conscience to the rector
of the college, whom he should greatly revere and venerate, as one who
_holds the place of Christ our Lord_; keeping nothing concealed from
him, not even his conscience, which he should disclose to him (as it is
set forth in the _Examen_) at the appointed season, and oftener, if
any cause require it; not opposing, not contradicting, nor shewing an
opinion, in any case, opposed to his opinion.”[24]
The information thus collected, regarding the tastes, habits, and
inclinations of every member, is communicated to the General, who notes
it down in a book, alphabetically arranged, and kept for the purpose,
in which also, as he receives twice a year a detailed report upon every
member of the Society, he from time to time adds whatever seems necessary
to complete each delineation of character, or to indicate the slightest
change. Thus, the General knowing the past and present life, the
thoughts, the desires of every one belonging to the Society, it is easy
to understand how he is enabled always to select the fittest person for
every special service.
But this perfect knowledge of his subordinates’ inmost natures would
be of but little use to the General, had he not also an absolute and
uncontrolled authority over them. The Constitution has a provision for
insuring this likewise. It declares that the candidate “_must regard
the superior as_ CHRIST THE LORD, and must strive to acquire perfect
resignation and denial of his own will and judgment, in all things
conforming his will and judgment to that which the superior wills
and judges.”[25] To the same purpose is the following: “As for holy
obedience, this virtue must be perfect in every point—in execution,
in will, in intellect; doing what is enjoined with all celerity,
spiritual joy, and perseverance; persuading ourself that everything is
just; suppressing every repugnant thought and judgment of one’s own,
in a certain obedience; ... and let every one persuade himself that he
who lives under obedience should be moved and directed, under Divine
Providence, by his superior, just as if he were a CORPSE (_perinde ac
si cadaver esset_), which allows itself to be moved and led in any
direction.”[26] And so absolutely is this rule of submissive obedience
enforced, that the Jesuit, in order to obey his General, must not scruple
to disobey God. The warnings of conscience are to be suppressed as
culpable weaknesses; the fears of eternal punishment banished from the
thoughts as superstitious fancies; and the most heinous crimes, when
committed by command of the General, are to be regarded as promoting the
glory and praise of God.
Read and consider the following blasphemy:—“No constitution, declaration,
or any order of living, can involve an obligation to commit sin, mortal
or venial, _unless the superior command it_ IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD
JESUS CHRIST, _or in virtue of holy obedience_; which shall be done in
those cases or persons wherein it shall be judged that it will greatly
conduce to the particular good of each, or to the general advantage;
and, _instead of the fear of offence, let the love and desire of all
perfection succeed, that the greater glory and praise of Christ, our
Creator and Lord, may follow_!”[27]
I shudder at the thought of all the atrocities which have been
perpetrated at the order of this other “old man of the mountain,” who
presents to his agents the prospects of eternal bliss as the reward of
their obedience.
But this is not enough. Not content with having thus transferred the
allegiance of the Jesuit from his God to his General, the Constitution
proceeds to secure that allegiance from all conflict with the natural
affections or worldly interests. The Jesuit must concentrate all his
desires and affections upon the Society. He must renounce all that is
dear to him in this life. The ties of family, the bonds of friendship,
must be broken. His property must, within a year after his entrance into
the Society, be disposed of at the bidding of the General; “and he will
accomplish a work of greater perfection if he dispose of it in _benefit
of the Society_. And that his better example may shine before men, he
must _put away all strong affection for his parents_, and refrain from
the unsuitable desire of a _bountiful distribution_, arising from such
_disadvantageous affection_.”[28]
He must, besides, forego all intercourse with his fellow-men, either
by word of mouth or by writing,[29] except such as his superior shall
permit. “He shall not leave the house except at such times and with
such companions as the superior shall allow. Nor within the house shall
he converse, without restraint, with any one at his own pleasure, but
with such only as shall be appointed by the superior.”[30] Such was the
strictness with which these rules were enforced, that Francis Borgia,
Duke of Candia, afterwards one of the saints of the Society, was at
first refused admittance into it, because he delayed the settlement of
the affairs of his dukedom, and refused to renounce all intercourse with
his family; and although, by a special rescript from the Pope, he was
enrolled as a member, Ignatius for three years sternly denied him access
to the house of the community, where he was not admitted till he had
renounced all intercourse with the external world.
But not only is all friendly communication forbidden to the Jesuit, but
he is also placed under constant espionage. He is never permitted to
walk about alone, but, whether in the house or out of doors, is always
accompanied by _two_ of his brethren.[31] Each one of this party of
three acts, in fact, as a spy upon his two companions. Not, indeed, that
he has special instructions from his superior to do so, but, knowing
that they, as well as himself, have been taught that it is their duty to
inform the General of every suspicious or peculiar expression uttered in
their hearing, he is under constant fear of punishment, should either
of them report anything regarding the other which he omits to report
likewise. Hence it is very seldom that a Jesuit refrains from denouncing
his companion. If he does not do so at once, his _sinful neglect_ becomes
revealed in the confessional, to the _special_ confessor appointed by the
superior.
Then, in order that these members, so submissive in action to their
General, should not differ in opinion among themselves and so occasion
scandal in the Catholic world, and to oppose an uniformity of doctrine
to that of the free examen of the Protestants, the Constitution decrees
as follows:—“Let all think, let all speak, as far as possible, the
same thing, according to the apostle. Let no contradictory doctrines,
therefore, be allowed, either by word of mouth, or public sermons, or in
written books, which last shall not be published without the approbation
and the consent of the General; and, indeed, all difference of opinion
regarding practical matters should be avoided.”[32] Thus, no one but the
General can exercise the right of uttering a single original thought or
opinion. It is almost impossible to conceive the power, especially in
former times, of a General having at his absolute disposal such an amount
of intelligences, wills, and energies.
Now, it must not be imagined that all, willing implicitly to obey the
behests of the superior, are indiscriminately admitted into the Society.
Such, indeed, is the case with all other monastic orders (I speak more
particularly of Italy and Spain). Vagabonds, thieves, and ruffians, often
became members of those communities, in whose convents they had found an
asylum against the police and the hangman. Ignatius wisely guarded his
Society from this abuse. Its members must be chosen, if possible, from
among the best. The wealthy and the noble are the fittest for admission;
although these qualifications are not essential, and the want of them may
be supplied by some extraordinary natural gift or acquired talent.[33]
Besides this, the candidate must possess a _comely presence_, youth,
health, strength, facility of speech, and steadiness of purpose. To
have ever been a heretic or schismatic, to have been guilty of homicide
or any heinous crime, to have belonged to another order, to be under
the bond of matrimony, or not to have a strong and sound mind, are
insurmountable obstacles to admission. Ungovernable passions, habit of
sinning, unsteadiness and fickleness of mind, lukewarm devotion, _want of
learning_ and of ability to acquire it, a dull memory, bodily defects,
debility and disease, and advanced age—any of these imperfections render
the postulant less acceptable;[34] and, to gain admission, he must
exhibit some very useful compensating qualities. It is evident that
persons so carefully selected are never likely to disgrace the Society
by any gross misbehaviour, and will perform with prudence and success
any temporal or worldly service they may be put to by the General. I say
_worldly_ service, because I should suppose that it must matter very
little for the service of God should the servant be _lame_ or of an
“_uncomely presence_.”
But in no part of the Constitution do Loyola’s genius and penetration
shine so conspicuously as in the rules regarding the vow of poverty,
and the gratuitous performance of the duties of the sacred ministry.
The discredit and hatred which weighed upon the clergy and the monastic
orders was in great part due to the ostentatious display of their
accumulated wealth, and to the venality of their sacred ministry. To
guard against this evil, Ignatius ordained that “_poverty_ should
be loved and maintained as the _firmest bulwark of religion_.” The
Jesuit was forbidden to possess any property, either by inheritance or
otherwise. He was required to live in an inexpensive house, to dress
plainly, and avoid all appearance of being wealthy. The churches and
religious houses of the order were to be without endowments. The colleges
alone were permitted to accept legacies or donations for the maintenance
of students and professors. No limit was assigned to these gifts, the
management of which was intrusted entirely to the General, with power
to appoint rectors and administrators under him. These functionaries,
generally chosen from among the coadjutors and very rarely from the
professed Society, although debarred by their vow of perpetual poverty
from the possession of the smallest amount of property, are yet, by this
ingenious trick, enabled to hold and administer the entire wealth of the
Society. We shall afterwards see, and especially in the famous process of
Lavallette, in what a large sense they understand the word _administer._
So much for the display of wealth. With respect to the venality of the
sacred ministry, they declared that “no Jesuit shall demand or receive
pay, or alms, or remuneration, for mass, confessions, sermons, lessons,
visitations, or any other duty which the Society is obliged to render;
and, to avoid even the appearance of covetousness, especially in offices
of piety which the Society discharges for the succour of souls, let
there be _no box_ in the church, into which alms are generally put by
those who go thither to mass, sermon, confession,” &c.[35] Thus the
Jesuit refuses to accept a few paltry sixpences for performing mass, or
a fee of some shillings per quarter for teaching boys. He disdains to
appear mercenary. He would much rather be _poor_. He looks for no reward.
Yet, those little boys whom he instructs gratuitously, and with such
affectionate tenderness that he cannot bring himself to chastise them,
but must have the painful though necessary duty performed by some one not
belonging to the Society;[36]—these boys, I say, will become men, many
of them religious bigots, strongly attached to their kind preceptors, to
whom they will then pay the debt of gratitude incurred in their youth.
Alas for such gratitude! How many families have had cause to deplore it!
How many children have been reduced to beggary by it! How many ancient
and noble houses has it precipitated from the height of affluence and
splendour into the depth of poverty and wretchedness! Who can number
the crimes committed in the madness of despair occasioned by the loss
of the family inheritance? That the parent may suffer a few years less
of purgatory, the child has been too often condemned to misery in this
life, and perhaps to eternal punishment in the next. But all this is of
no consequence. The man who has been led thus to disregard one of his
most sacred parental duties, in order to found a Jesuits’ college or
endow a professorship, will be saved, because they promise him—“In every
college of our Society, let masses be celebrated once a week _for ever_,
for its founder and benefactor, whether dead or alive. At the beginning
of every month, all the priests who are in the college ought to offer the
same sacrifice for them; and a solemn mass, with a commemorative feast,
shall be celebrated on the anniversary of the donation, and a wax candle
offered to the donor or his descendants.” Besides this, “the donor shall
have three masses while alive, and three masses after his death, by all
the priests of the Society, with the prayers of all its members; so that
he is made partaker of all the good works which are done, by the grace
of God, not only in the college which he has endowed, but in the whole
Society.”[37]
By such allurements do these crafty priests, with diabolical cunning,
snatch princely fortunes from the credulous and superstitious believers.
And so assiduous and successful were they even at the very beginning,
that, only thirteen years after the establishment of the order, during
Loyola’s lifetime, they already possessed upwards of a hundred colleges
very largely and richly endowed.
Now, let not my Protestant readers wonder how sensible men can be
induced, by such ephemeral and ill-founded hopes, to disinherit their
families in order to enrich these hypocritical monks. They must remember
that the Romish believer views these matters in quite a different light
from that in which they see them. Masses and prayers are, in his belief,
not only useful, but indispensable. For lack of them he would writhe for
centuries amid the tormenting fires of purgatory, the purifying pains of
which are described by his priest, with appalling eloquence, as being
far more excruciating than those of hell. According to the doctrine
of his Church, every soul (one in a million only excepted) who is not
eternally damned, must, ere it enter heaven, pass a certain time in this
abode of torture for the expiation of its sins. And let him not take
comfort from the fact that his conscience does not reproach him with
the commission of any heinous crime. The catalogue of sins by which he
may be shut out from eternal blessedness is made artfully long, and
detailed with great minuteness. The most upright and pious of men must
condemn himself as a presumptuous sinner if he for an instant harbours
the hope of escaping the purifying fire. So he becomes quite resigned to
his fate, and all his care in this life is, how to appease the Divine
anger, and shorten the period of his exclusion from heaven. This he
is taught to do—not by trusting to the righteousness of Jesus Christ,
with the true repentance which manifests itself through a holy life,
but by accumulating on his head hundreds of masses and millions of days
of indulgence. Hence the innumerable masses and prayers which he sends
before him during his life, as if to forestall his future punishment,
and bribe the Divine justice. And when the terrible moment arrives—that
moment in which he is about to appear before the awful Judge, beneath
whose searching eye his most secret thoughts lie bare—when, trembling
at the strict account that is about to be demanded of him, his fears
represent to his excited imagination the most trifling shortcomings as
mortal sins—when, with the decline of bodily strength, his enfeebled
mind becomes more easily worked upon—then does his Jesuit confessor,
his generous master, his kind, disinterested friend, come to give him
the last proof of his ever-growing affection. He seats himself at his
bedside, and, serpent-like, under pretence of inducing him to repent of
his sins, he draws him a fearful and impressive picture of the torments
which await the damned. He descants to him with oily sanctity upon the
enormity of offending the Divine Saviour, who shed his precious blood to
redeem us. He terrifies him with the Almighty’s implacable vengeance; and
when his victim, choked with heart-rending agony, distracted, despairing
of his ultimate salvation, is ready to curse God, and set his power and
anger at defiance—then, and not till then, does the Jesuit relent. Now he
raises in the sufferer’s heart the faintest hope that the Divine justice
may possibly be disarmed, and mercy obtained by means of masses and
indulgences. The exhausted man, who feels as if he were already plunged
amid the boiling sulphur and devouring flames, grasps with frantic
eagerness at this anchor of salvation; and, did he possess tenfold more
wealth than he does, he would willingly give it all up to save his soul.
It may be that his heart, yearning with paternal affection, shrinks at
the thought of condemning his helpless ones to beggary; but nevertheless,
as if the welfare of his family were necessarily connected with his own
perdition, and that of the Jesuits with eternal beatitude, the family is
invariably sacrificed to the Jesuits.
It is notorious that the most diabolical tricks have been resorted to in
the case of dying men whose better judgment and natural sense of duty
have withstood such perfidious wiles.
Alas! the punishment of such criminal obstinacy was always near at hand;
the sick-chamber has been suddenly filled with flames and sulphureous
vapour as a warning to the impenitent sinner. And if he still resisted,
the Evil Spirit himself, in his most frightful shape, has appeared to
the dying man, as if waiting for his soul. Ah!—one’s hair stands on end
while listening to such sacrilegious manœuvres. The immense wealth of the
Jesuits has been bequeathed to them by wills made at the last hour!
In order that all classes of Jesuits may better attend to their peculiar
occupations, Ignatius relieved them from the obligation, incumbent on
all other religious communities, of performing the Church service at the
canonical hours.
Jesuits of every class may be expelled from the order, either by the
general congregation or by the all-powerful General. In such cases,
however, it is enacted, that great care be taken to keep secret the
deeds or crimes which necessitate the dismissal, in order that the
ex-Jesuit may suffer the least possible disgrace; also, that he shall be
assisted by the prayers of the community, together with something more
substantial, to the end that he may harbour no resentment against the
order.[38]
No Jesuit, without the consent of the General, is allowed to accept any
ecclesiastical dignity or benefice; and the General is required to refuse
such consent, unless the Pope command him in the name of holy obedience
to grant it. By this rule Ignatius designed to avoid exciting the
animosity and jealousy of the other monastic orders, and of the clergy
in general. Besides, Ignatius knew well that any ecclesiastical dignity
would confer lustre and power on the individual, but be detrimental to
the order. A bishop or a cardinal would be less disposed than a poor
priest, to obey the General, and to work for the Society. He himself
most rigidly enforced it, and would permit neither Lainez nor Borgia to
receive the cardinal’s hat, which the Pope offered them. Since his time,
the Jesuits have very seldom broken this rule, and that most often only
to undertake some bishopric in far distant countries where no one else
would desire to go.
The dress of the Jesuits consists of a long black vest and cloak, and
of a low-crowned broad-brimmed hat, all of the greatest simplicity, and
of good but common material. In their houses and colleges there reigns
the most perfect order, the most exemplary propriety. The banqueting,
revelling, and licence which so disgrace the establishments of the other
monastic orders, are strictly prohibited.[39] They are very frugal in
their habits, and prudently avoid all display of wealth. It is said that
the General occasionally relaxes the rules in favour of some of the most
trusty of the _professed_ and _coadjutors_, in order that, disguised as
laymen, they may enjoy a few holidays as they please, in some distant
place where they are not known.
We shall now proceed to examine that part of the Constitutions which
concerns the hierarchy. Our readers must always bear in mind what
we have already said, that the Constitutions were not finished till
the year 1552, and it may perhaps be that some rules were added even
after. The Society at first consisted only of professed members, and of
scholastics or scholars, a sort of Jesuit aspirants who were trained up
for the Society, into which they were admitted or not, according to the
proofs which they had given of their fitness. In the year 1546, Paul
III. approved of the introduction of the class of the Coadjutors, and
in the year 1552 was erected at Lisbon the first house for the novices.
We may further observe that, under the first three Generals, those
Constitutions were scrupulously observed. And those were the heroic
times of the Society. But from that moment, internal discord at first,
and afterwards the more worldly and political character assumed by the
Society, were its ruin, and the cause of its suppression as well as of
its re-establishment. But let us not anticipate events.