1581-1608.
COMMOTION AMONG THE JESUITS.
In relating the proceedings of the Jesuits in divers countries of Europe,
we have not mentioned Spain; first, because, though firmly established in
that country, they, under the absolute Philip II., exercised no influence
whatever over its general policy; and, secondly, because we had it in
reserve to speak of their proceedings in that country in the present
chapter.
In Spain the Jesuits had no heretics to contend with—no zeal or
fanaticism to excite. If now and then some Christianised Jew or Moor
relapsed into his former belief, the Inquisition was too jealous of her
privilege of roasting those accursed of God, in a solemn _auto da fè_,
to permit the Jesuits to meddle in the holy ceremony. Having thus no
external enemy to contend with, they, as usually happens, fell out among
themselves, and fought with one another.
The so-called Society of Jesus having been mostly established by
Spaniards, the Spanish Jesuits pretended that all the honours and
dignities of the order were exclusively due to them. A first blow was
dealt to these pretensions when, by the interference of the Pope, a
General was chosen who was not a Castilian. However, since Mercurianus,
the person elected, was old and weak, they submitted without much
reluctance to an authority they did not dread. But when the fifth
General Congregation chose for General a Neapolitan nobleman, young,
active, and enterprising, they broke out into open revolt. This General,
elected in 1581, was Claude Acquaviva, son of the Duke of Atri, only
thirty-seven years of age at the time of his election. Acquaviva was,
and has remained, the _beau idéal_ of Jesuitism. He had grown up in
the Court of Rome, where he was chamberlain, and where he acquired a
thorough knowledge of men, and of all political intrigues, in which
the Roman curia at that epoch excelled all the other courts of Europe.
He was crafty, insinuating, persevering. He never uttered a precise
command, but never suffered his exhortations to be disregarded. Gentle in
appearance, and renowned for the amenity of his manners, he was endowed
with an inflexible intrepidity of character. He spoke rarely, never gave
a decided opinion, and preserved in all circumstances a placid and calm
demeanour. His family had been from of old attached to the French party,
and he followed the same line of policy. As we have seen, he disapproved
of the League, and gave other tokens of his attachment to the French
interest, without, however, openly committing himself with the other
party. Such was Acquaviva.
[Illustration: _Claude Aquaviva._
_Hinchliff._]
At the news of Acquaviva’s election, the old Jesuits of Spain,
incensed in the highest degree, broke out in loud complaints first,
refused afterwards obedience to his orders, lastly rebelled openly,
and asked that the members residing in Spain should be governed by a
commissary-general independent of Rome. Philip, to cast a reproach upon
Acquaviva, whom he detested on account of his partiality to the French
king, sided with the malcontents. The General faced the storm in the best
manner he could. First of all, he contrived, by promises of advancement
and honours, to retain in his interest some of the less compromised among
the rioters; secondly, he sent into the Peninsula new provincials and
superiors, the most of whom were Neapolitans, young (a class of Jesuits
who worshipped him), and firmly attached to his fortunes, with strict
injunctions to enforce obedience to his orders. Some of the Jesuits, in
the hope of making their way to preferment, submitted; the most refused
obedience, and had recourse to the Inquisition and the king. Philip
ordered the Bishop of Carthagena to subject the order to a visitation,
and the Inquisition arrested the provincial Marcenius, and two or three
more members of Acquaviva’s party; the latter being accused by the other
party of absolving the members of their order from certain sins from
which the Inquisition only could absolve; and those sins, Sacchini tells
us, consisted in the attempt to corrupt the honesty of their penitents.
This was rather a serious matter, and menaced the Society in its very
existence. Nevertheless, Acquaviva was not appalled. He did not lose his
self-command, nor vent his anger in threats. Against such enemies he had
but one shield—the Pope. Sixtus V. filled the chair of St Peter; he bore
no goodwill to the order, but he was jealous to an extreme degree of his
own authority, and wished that that of others also should be respected.
Acquaviva persuaded Sixtus, or, to speak more correctly, insinuated to
him, that the blow was aimed not so much at him, the General, as at the
supremacy of Rome; at the same time skilfully making him understand,
that the Bishop of Carthagena was of illegitimate birth, a blemish which
he knew the Pope abhorred above all things. Sixtus at once recalled
the assent which he had given to the visitation, and commanded the
Inquisition to set at liberty the arrested Jesuits, and to remit the
whole case to Rome. When he was informed that the holy tribunal refused
to obey his orders, Sixtus became furious with anger, and directed a
letter to be written to Cardinal Quiroga, the Grand Inquisitor, to which
he added, in his own handwriting, “And if you do not obey, I, the Pope,
shall immediately depose you from your office of inquisitor, and tear
from your head your cardinal’s hat.” This decided language produced the
desired effect. Sixtus’s orders were obeyed, and Acquaviva, under the
shadow of the Pope’s authority, maintained himself unshaken in his high
office during Sixtus’s lifetime.
But the storm, which had been but momentarily quelled, broke out again
after the death of Sixtus, with increased violence. In 1592, while the
General was absent from Rome, Philip, who never forgave to Acquaviva his
partiality for the French interest, sent the Pope a petition from all
the Spanish Jesuits, praying for a general congregation of the order; he
himself, at the same time, strongly recommending the measure. Clement
VIII., the reigning Pope, granted their request, and before even the
General could be aware of his enemies’ manœuvres, the Pope issued orders
for the meeting of the congregation. Acquaviva, satisfied that the
measure was now irrevocable, submitted to it with the greatest possible
good grace, and having used his utmost endeavours that the election
should not prove too unfavourable to him, the moment the congregation
opened, he, without waiting to be accused, requested that his conduct
should be examined and judged. A commission was immediately appointed to
receive any accusation or complaint that might be brought against the
General. But Acquaviva was far too prudent to have violated any essential
rule, or to have given his enemies the right of consistently impeaching
his private conduct; so that, as no charge could be substantiated against
him, he was triumphantly acquitted. Philip, however, insisted that some
restraint should be put upon the General’s authority, and, although the
congregation refused to comply with the king’s wishes, the Pope, in the
plenitude of his apostolic power, ordained that the superiors and rectors
should be changed every third year, and that, at the expiration of every
sixth year, a general congregation should be assembled. Acquaviva shewed
a great readiness to acquiesce in the Pope’s decrees, but he rendered
them almost nugatory by other ordinances; and as a new generation of
Jesuits, all devoted to his interests, was now grown up, all questions
taken up both by the provincial and general congregations, were decided
in accordance with his wishes. By his letter on the happy increase of
the Society, Acquaviva prescribed new rules to render the superiors more
respected by their subordinates, and more submissive to the General.
A second letter, _ratio studiorum_, which contains a complete code of
school legislation, was of still greater importance, and productive of
more momentous results. As the education of the young has been one of
the principal and immediate causes of the Jesuits’ immense power and
influence, we feel obliged to devote some few pages to this important
matter.
Had the Jesuits devoted themselves to the work of education for the sole
and noble end of diffusing knowledge and intellectual culture among
the people, no praise would be adequate to their meritorious exertions
and unremitting activity. Such, however, was not exactly the case. The
Order—that idol which the Jesuit must have constantly before his eyes—was
in this, as in every other undertaking, the great object to which their
labours were consecrated; and for its honour and advantage they did
not hesitate to sacrifice, when necessary, every other consideration.
Nevertheless, in a literary point of view, we shall not refuse to them
some eulogy.
“The instruction of boys and of ignorant people in Christianity” was one
of the ends which they proposed to attain, and for which Loyola asked
Paul III. to approve his order. The example of John III. of Portugal,
and of the Duke of Candia, who first erected colleges for the fathers,
was eagerly imitated by many. Their colleges increased rapidly, and were
soon planted all over the world, so that there were no less than 669
of them at the epoch of the suppression of the order. We have already
seen (pp. 40, 41) by what allurements wealthy persons were induced by
the Jesuits to leave their property to Jesuit establishments. These were
of two kinds, seminaries and colleges, the members of the latter being
subdivided into gymnasium and faculty-students. In connexion with each
college there was a boarding-house, whither parents were happy to send
their children as under a safe shelter from the storms of passion, and
from the dangerous society of depraved companions. In their seminaries
were trained up the Scholars—those members of the order who were thought
to be possessed of such talents as to qualify them to fulfil afterwards
the office of professor. But the most numerous class, and perhaps the
most useful for their purpose, was the class of day scholars. It is well
known that all persons, of whatsoever rank, are admitted into the Jesuit
schools, and receive the same instructions. At school hours the prince’s
son, who is brought up in their boarding-houses, descends and takes his
seat on the same bench with the son of a cobbler. And this we consider
an admirable and most instructive plan. The only obligation imposed on
the day scholars is, that they must give in their names, and promise to
observe the rules of the college, which are everywhere uniform, and which
oblige the pupil to hear mass every day, and to go to the confessional
once every month. In former times, the Jesuits undertook a still more
watchful oversight of this class. They visited them at unwonted hours in
their abodes, they had them followed in their different movements, and
if they were found guilty of any misdemeanour they were reprimanded, and
their faults were made an obstacle to their advancement to academical
honours. It is, however, worthy of remark, that Loyola, the clear-sighted
Loyola, foreseeing that the obligation to follow the rules of the college
would deter Protestants from sending their children to it, and wishing
above all things to get hold of those children and to try what the
Jesuits could do to convert them, had taken care to leave an opening for
their admission. To the third paragraph of the thirteenth chapter of
the fourth part of the Constitution, in which is enacted that the day
scholars shall engage to observe the rules of the college, he added the
following note:—“If any of those who present themselves to our schools
will neither engage to observe the rules nor give in his name, he ought
not for that reason to be prevented from attending the classes, provided
he conduct himself with propriety, and do not cause either trouble or
scandal. Let them be made aware of this; adding, however, that they
shall not receive the peculiar care which is given to those whose names
are inscribed in the register of the university or of the class, and
who engage to follow its rules.”[204] This is a characteristic specimen
of Jesuitical policy. By absolutely refusing to admit the children of
Protestants, they would obtain no result; but by admitting them on such
terms, they obtain an opportunity of influencing their youthful minds,
and bending them to their purpose indirectly. On the one hand, such
pupils cannot but imbibe, in the ordinary course of instruction, the
principles and spirit of their masters; and on the other, their pride
is mortified at never being considered or mentioned at those public
exhibitions which form so important a part of the Jesuit system of
education. This artful policy is too frequently successful. Oftentimes
the parents, jealous of their children’s renown, and anxious to see them
surrounded by those affectionate and friendly cares which the Jesuits
unsparingly bestow upon the regular pupils, are induced to consent that
they shall follow the rules of the college, and go to mass and to the
confessional, and even change their own faith, the better to secure for
them these desired advantages: and if it should chance that the mother
alone is left as guardian, it commonly happens that both mother and son
become Roman Catholics.
In the Jesuit schools the greatest order reigned. The Jesuit masters were
men of polite and agreeable manners, in general of a _comely appearance_,
with a cheerful and smiling countenance. They descended with a winning
affability to the level of their pupils, and accommodated their language
and manners to the capacities and dispositions of the _class of persons_
they had to deal with. The parents, who were highly pleased with the
polished manners and the high attainments of their children, sounded
forth the praises of their kind instructors far and wide, and repaid
their gratuitous instructions sometimes by large donations, always by
a deference and devotion never withdrawn. It is an incontestable fact,
that even Protestants and philosophers, who had been educated in these
seminaries, and who afterwards became the most hostile to the Jesuits as
a religious community, continued to preserve a grateful recollection of
their Jesuit teachers. Voltaire himself dedicated his tragedy _Merope_
to his dear master Father Porée; and the different princes who were
brought up by the Jesuits never lost, when on the throne, that affection
and veneration which they had conceived for their kind instructors at
an age when generous minds are most susceptible of noble and generous
impressions.
Nor was this all. Another strong link, that of religion, was added to
the chain of sympathy by which they bound their pupils to the order, and
insured for themselves in the different nations of Europe an all-powerful
and irresistible influence. In 1569 the Jesuit Leon, a teacher, thought
of assembling during the interval of studies such of the boys as were
willing to sing the praises of the Virgin, and perform certain external
acts of devotion, contributing at the same time, monthly, small sums
of money, part of which was employed in works of charity, the merit
of the action being always attributed, not to the donors, but to the
Jesuits. These meetings took the form of associations, and increased
so rapidly, that fifteen years after, in 1584, Gregory XIII. erected
them into primary congregations, under the title of _Congregations of
the Holy Virgin_. “These congregations, of which the General of the
order was the supreme director, soon broke out from the walls of the
colleges with those young men who left them to embrace a career, and who
wished to remain in a communion of prayers and remembrances with their
masters and their fellow-scholars. They became a link of connexion and
friendship; they spread in Europe and in India; they united in the same
association the east and the west, the populations of the north and of
the south. They had statutes, rules, prayers, and duties in common. It
was a numerous brotherhood, extending from Paris to Goa, and descending
from Rome to the most insignificant hamlet. The congregations of Avignon,
of Antwerp, of Prague, of Friburg, were the most celebrated. There were
congregations composed of ecclesiastics, of military men, of magistrates,
of nobles, of burgesses, of merchants, of artisans, of servants, all
occupied in good and meritorious works.”[205] With the exception of this
last clause, this description is perfectly true. A Jesuit was at the head
of every congregation. At appointed times the members met together to
repeat the office of the Virgin, and to listen to whatever exhortation or
advice the Jesuit might think proper to give. His influence was greater
or less, according to the quality of persons composing the congregation.
Over the poor and the ignorant he had an almost absolute control, and
whatever he enjoined, they unscrupulously obeyed. If he exercised no such
absolute control over members of the higher classes, he still possessed a
great influence over them, and had free access to their families, where
he more leisurely practised those arts by which the Jesuit very seldom
fails to attain his ends. One is amazed when he considers what immense
power these congregations must have given the General of the society. His
orders, his curses or commendations of a book, of a man, or of a measure,
were repeated in the same tone throughout all the world by tens of
thousands, who considered it a sin to disbelieve his word, or to disobey
his commands. No wonder, then, that the Court of Rome itself was obliged
to submit to the ascendancy of the Jesuits, and that the suppression of
the order was with difficulty effected by the united efforts of almost
all the sovereigns of Europe.
After the order was suppressed, and during the political turmoil and the
unsettled state of Europe, the congregations, although kept up secretly
by some disguised Liguorist or Jesuit, were thinly attended, and had lost
all their importance. But after the restoration of the Pope and of the
Bourbons, missionaries of all kinds overran the whole of Italy, Spain,
and part of France, and, among other religious exploits, re-established
the congregations of the Virgin. Congregations both of men and women
are now very numerous, although they perhaps want that unity of purpose
and of direction, which in former times rendered them so dangerously
powerful. Their denominations are numberless; congregations of the
Rosary, congregations of the Assumption of the Virgin, congregations of
the Blood of Jesus (del Sangue di Gesù). In those places where there are
no Jesuits, they are directed by proxy, some other religious community,
as the Liguorist, the Lazarist, the Passionist, or such like idle and
corrupted crew, being appointed to that duty. In church affairs, the
members of these congregations have, so to speak, privileges above the
rest of the citizens. They go foremost in the processions and other
exhibitions; they wear a distinctive badge; they are entitled to a
greater number of days of indulgence, and so on. Besides these things,
which satisfy the devotional feeling, and flatter the vanity, especially
that of the common people in small towns, each individual member may
count upon receiving the protection and indirect assistance of the father
director.
The boarders in the Jesuit college are subjected to almost the same mode
of life as that of the Scholars (the second class of Jesuits), which,
however, is not strictly conformable to that of the other classes;
Loyola having given them a dispensation from some external practices,
acts of devotion and of mortification, that they may have more time for
study.[206] The boarders are placed in large rooms, called in Italian
_Camerate_, in French _Chambres_, each of which accommodates from
fifteen to twenty, who are under the superintendence of a _Prefetto_
and _Vice-prefetto_. At six in the morning a bell gives the signal for
rising. The prefect immediately chants some prayers, which are repeated
by some of the youths who are less asleep than the rest. Half an hour
is allowed for dressing; an hour is spent in the chapel, hearing mass,
and singing the praises of the Virgin and St Ignatius. Study follows,
and after breakfast, for which half an hour is allowed, they descend to
the public schoolroom, where they mix with the day-boarders, with whom,
however, they have no opportunities of secret converse. Two pupils, and
every day different ones, are secretly charged by the prefect to give
an account of the behaviour of all the others, and they are punished if
they are not accurate in their denunciations. At twelve they sit down to
dinner, during which ascetic books are read from a pulpit placed in the
refectory. After the evening school, they walk for an hour in winter, two
in summer, and almost double that time on holidays. Before supper, half
an hour is again spent in the chapel; and what remains of the evening
after supper is spent in study and recreation. At nine o’clock, being
warned by the ringing of the bell, they prepare for rest, accompanying
the prefect in chanting the Litany of the Virgin. No one is allowed to
go from one _camerata_ to another, without the express permission of the
prefect or vice-prefect, one of whom must accompany him. No one, not
even a parent, is allowed to visit a boarder without the consent of the
superior, who is almost always present at the interview. No letter can be
sent off or received by any boarder but it must pass through the hands of
the rector, who stops it if he thinks proper. The boarders never go home
except during the holidays in September, and some remain in the college
even during that period. The consequence is, that the influence of the
family is gradually destroyed, and the Jesuits mould these youthful
hearts and intellects according to their own Jesuitical pattern. Every
fortnight all the boarders must go to the confessional, and severe
punishment is inflicted on those who transgress this principal rule of
the college. But no one ever dares to brave the punishment, though many
do not scruple to evade the duty by practising a little ruse.[207]
In all the Jesuit colleges, as we have already observed, reigns the
greatest decency, and a sort of military order and discipline, which
is highly pleasing to the young. “Their colleges were open for all
the graceful arts. Even dancing and fencing were not excluded. The
annual distribution of prizes was preceded not only by tragedies full
of political allusions, but also by _ballets_ composed by the reverend
fathers, and executed by the most agile of their pupils.”[208]
No pains were spared by the Jesuits to advance their pupils in their
studies. But as the end which they taught them to have in view was not
_the truth_—as it was not their purpose to inspire their young minds
with those noble and generous sentiments which form great citizens,
but only to instruct them in their peculiar doctrines, and render them
subservient to their order, the whole course of instruction was directed
to the attainment of these ends, and the progress of their pupils was
more brilliant than solid—partook more of a theatrical character than
of a serious method of learning that would have developed the power of
reason and reflection. In the speculative sciences especially, their
instruction was most defective. The student was by no means taught to
penetrate the superficial crust of prejudices and appearances on which
the mass of mankind build their opinions, and to descend into the
deeper essence of philosophy; but his attention was chiefly directed
to the art of disputing in pitiable syllogism upon some of their
established principles. The most fantastical, and, at the same time,
attractive questions, were proposed for public disputation; and to that
incessant fencing of _nego_, _concedo_, _distinguo_, &c., the apprentice
philosopher was taught to give all his attention, and, in the display
of ability in this exercise, to place all his glory. The Jesuits, so
celebrated as casuists, cannot boast of any great philosopher. If some
of their pupils acquired a great name in science or in literature, they
owed it to their own creative power, which broke out from that sort of
magic circle which had been described around them. They became great, not
because they had had good masters, but, on the contrary, because they had
followed no other master than their own inventive genius. And this is
always the case—the Dantes, the Bacons, the Shakspeares, had no masters.
The Jesuits cultivated, with more success, archæology, numismatics, and
the study of languages. They have especially rendered important services
to the study of the classics, which they strongly recommended as the most
effectual requisite of a good education. But even to their labours in
this department of learning we cannot render unqualified praise.
Literature forms the principal part of the education of a people. Greece
and Rome owe their civilisation and grandeur to their poets and orators
more than to anything else. With the Eschyluses, the Demostheneses,
the Horaces, and the Ciceros, disappeared the glory, the liberty, the
civilisation, of the two nations. And if now and then some privileged
intelligences, such as Tacitus and Plutarch, appeared on the scene,
they could not give a tone to the age, both because they stood alone,
and because they were the reflection, not of their own, but of bygone
times, and that all the elements of the expiring civilisation were
concentrated, we may say, in themselves alone. For it is not to the
excellence of the form that literature is indebted for its power; it is
rather to its being a vivid representation of the thoughts and feelings,
the opinions and sentiments, the hopes and fears, which constitute the
life of a nation, and which the writers powerfully exhibit because they
themselves are powerfully moved by them. It was by their possessing
this excellence in the highest degree that the classical writers of
antiquity contributed to form the character of their countrymen; and
it is this which forms the chief attraction of their works to the
modern student, and which renders them so efficient an instrument for
developing the powers of the youthful mind. Now, how can a Jesuit, who
has no country, no family, no affection, no history, nothing in which
to glory but his order—how can such a man impart to young minds those
noble sentiments, those inspirations, which form the essential part of
classical literature? “How,” exclaims our Gioberti,[209] “how shall the
youth love and admire the heroes of Plutarch if they are made known
to him by a Jesuit?[210] because,” most judiciously adds the Italian
philosopher, “even if the pupils can repeat the half of Demosthenes or
of Cicero, the lesson cannot produce any good effect on their tender
minds, if it is not assisted by the voice, by the manners, by the
examples, of the interpreter; so that the soul and the life of the
master ought to be a mirror and image of that ideal world into which
he introduces the pupil.” In fact, the Jesuits gave all their attention
merely to the external form of their compositions. Purity of language,
elegance of style, correctness of expression, are, generally speaking,
the distinctive characteristics of the writings of the Jesuits and their
pupils. But their writings are devoid of invention, of bold and luxuriant
images, of earnest and passionate expressions, and the care they take to
publish their style renders them affected and often ridiculous. No doubt
there are honourable exceptions; and Bartoli, for example, Segneri, and
Bourdaloue, may be classed among the first Italian and French writers.
The Jesuits exercised rather the memory than the intelligence of the
pupil, who not seldom was able to recite volumes of which he hardly
understood a word. Their greatest merit consisted in rendering study
pleasing; and many of their pupils owe their fame and greatness, not to
the information, but to the love of learning, they had acquired in their
schools.
The _Ratio Studiorum_ regulated with great precision the method of
instruction in its most minute details, and has ever since been the code
followed by the Jesuits to our day.
Meanwhile a great change had taken place in the general policy of
the Society. Through Acquaviva’s influence, the order, at least as
represented by its officials in Rome, and by the young generation of
Jesuits who were devoted to the General, had passed from the Spanish into
the French camp; and ever after, the Jesuits were in a great measure
opposed by the Spanish and supported by the French court. Let us see how
it happened.
The Jesuits had only partially obeyed the _arrêt_ of the Parliament of
Paris which expelled them from France. They resided publicly in many
provinces: secretly and in disguise everywhere. Following the suggestions
of their General, they had changed their language and their conduct,
and, from being furious Leaguers, were become zealous partisans of Henry
IV. “Cardinal Tolet has done wonders, and has shewn himself a good
Frenchman,” wrote the French ambassador, Cardinal du Perron, to the
minister Villeroy.[211] In fact, he, more than any other person, had
contributed to obtain Henry’s absolution. Acquaviva refused to accept,
without Henry’s consent, two new colleges which were offered to the order
by some town of Languedoc, where the Jesuits had been maintained by the
local parliament. He, the General, and the Pope, the king’s best friends,
as they called themselves, pressed him hard to restore the Jesuits, who,
on their part, promised him the same obedience, the same devotion, they
had till then shewn to the King of Spain. Above all, they offered to
uphold his royal authority in all its extent, which was then impugned
by the Huguenots. Henry was in a very perplexing position. He stood in
need of the Pope’s support against the rival house of Austria. He felt
the necessity of shewing himself a zealous Catholic, and he wished to
secure, if possible, the support of such men as the Jesuits. On the other
hand, he knew what dangerous and perfidious guests they were; and the
parliament, the greatest part of the clergy, and all his ministers, were
adverse to the Society. Sully, the great minister and faithful friend
of Henry, has handed down to us the sentiments of his royal master on
this subject. “I do not doubt,” said the prince to Sully, “that you can
easily combat this first reason, but I do not think that you will even
attempt to refute the second, namely, that by necessity I am compelled
to do one of these two things—either simply to recall the Jesuits, free
them from the infamy and disgrace with which they are covered, and put
to the test the sincerity of their oaths and of their splendid promises;
or to expel them in a more absolute manner, using against them all the
rigour and severity that can be thought of to prevent them from ever
approaching either my person or my estates; on which supposition there is
no doubt but that we shall drive them to despair, and to the resolution
of attempting my life, which would render it so miserable to me, being
always under the apprehension of being poisoned or murdered (for those
people have correspondents everywhere, and are very dexterous in
disposing the minds of men to whatever they wish), that I think it would
be better to be already dead, being of Cæsar’s opinion, that the sweetest
death is that which is least expected and foreseen.”[212] In conformity
with this opinion, Henry, in 1603, issued letters-patent for the
re-establishment of the Jesuits, and _forced_ the reluctant parliament to
register them. To Acquaviva he wrote a warm letter, assuring him of his
friendship, and expressing to the then convened congregation his wishes
that the original Constitutions should not be altered, and this letter in
great part checked the influence of the Spanish party, who asked for a
reform, and were supported by the Spanish court.[213]
In the affair of Venice, the two courts shewed the same dispositions. It
does not enter into the plan of this work to narrate the particulars of
this famous contest, except in so far as the Jesuits were concerned in
it, and it belongs to their history; and this we proceed to do as shortly
as possible.
Long had the difference lasted between the Roman See and the Venetian
government, the first asserting many privileges of the Church over state
affairs, the latter denying them. The Jesuits upheld the exorbitant
pretensions of Rome with the utmost pertinacity. Now, it happened, while
both parties were exasperated against each other, two priests, accused of
infamous crimes, were, by order of the Venetian government, arrested, and
delivered up to the ordinary tribunals. The Pope was highly incensed at
this proceeding, and contended that the republic had no right to arrest
any ecclesiastic, who was subject to none but ecclesiastical authority.
The Jesuits were the most zealous of the clergy in maintaining this
principle. The famous Bellarmine asserted, that “the priesthood has its
princes who govern, not only in spiritual, but also in temporal matters.
It could not possibly acknowledge any particular temporal superior. No
man can serve two masters. It is for the priest to judge the emperor, not
the emperor the priest. It would be absurd for the sheep to pretend to
judge the shepherd.”[214] The republic, on the other hand, asserted her
sovereign rights. Paul V. was in the Papal chair, a man who considered
the canonical law as the word of God, and was ready to excommunicate
whosoever dared to disregard its authority. He laid Venice under an
interdict, which, as most of our readers are aware, would have shut
up all the churches, and prevented the performance of all religious
services within its bounds. The government, however, that the public
tranquillity might not be disturbed, summoned before them all the clergy,
both regular and secular, and offered them the alternative, either
to officiate, as in ordinary times, or to leave the territory of the
republic immediately. They did not hesitate for an instant; not a single
copy of the Papal brief was fixed up, and public worship was everywhere
conducted as before. The Jesuits, however, in obedience to the Pope’s
command, transmitted by their General, departed from the Venetian States,
ostentatiously carrying with them the consecrated host, as if they would
shew, says Gioberti, that God went into exile along with them. When the
dispute between Rome and the republic was afterwards settled, the senate
refused, though requested, to re-admit the Jesuits. In vain the Pope, and
above all, Henry IV., who sent the Cardinal Joyeuse to Venice on purpose,
used all their influence to procure the re-establishment of the fathers.
The republic, encouraged in her resolution by the court of Spain, would
in no way yield on this point, and it was only in 1657 that, in exchange
for pecuniary advantages and the support of the Pope in the war of
Candia, the Jesuits were allowed, under many restrictions, to re-enter
the Venetian states.[215]
By this time Acquaviva had established his authority more firmly than
ever. The congregations had supported him; the revolt had been quelled;
the rioters punished; and peace for the moment restored to the Society.
“Acquaviva, so to speak, had gone through the iron age of the company—his
successor was destined to govern in the golden age.... All, during a
century, bestowed smiles upon the Company of Jesus. She became the
favourite of the Popes and the kings—the confidant of their ministers—the
director of the public spirit. All took inspiration from her—all returned
to her as to its source.”[216] But, notwithstanding this flattering
and in part true picture, the order had received a shock, the effect
of which was soon to be made manifest. To govern the revolted province
of Spain, Acquaviva, violating the fundamental law of the order, had
appointed professed members as administrators of colleges, while, to meet
the necessity of the moment, coadjutors fulfilled the duties assigned
by the Constitution to the professed. This ultimately proved the ruin
of the order. Besides this, Mariana[217] and Henriquez, two influential
Spanish Jesuits, out of hatred to Acquaviva, had pointed out many abuses
which had crept into the community, and bitterly inveighed against the
tyranny of the General and a few of the higher functionaries. This had
an immediate result most injurious to the order. Under the successors of
Acquaviva, these seeds of revolt and disobedience spread so fast, that
when, towards the year 1560, the General, Goswin Nickel, attempted to
enforce obedience to the primitive rules, he was solemnly deprived by his
disciples of all authority.