1617-1700.
INTERNAL CAUSES OF DECLINE.
We have seen in one of our former chapters, that during Acquaviva’s
_generalate_, there broke out several partial insurrections against the
exorbitant power of the General, and that, although they were quelled,
they had left in the community seeds of disobedience and a spirit of
independence, which it was to be feared would manifest itself again
at the first favourable moment. In fact, the instant it was no more
restrained by the iron hand of the inflexible Acquaviva, it pervaded all
the classes of the order, especially the highest, that of the professed,
and a turbulent and haughty aristocracy took, in the management of the
Society, the place reserved by Loyola for the all-powerful General. The
character of the immediate successors of Acquaviva greatly facilitated
such an innovation, which ultimately produced the ruin of the order.
Vitelleschi, Caraffa, Piccolomini, Gottifredi, were not the proper men
to govern this brotherhood, now ascended to the height of its power and
pride. They were neither saints nor rogues enough to succeed in the
undertaking. They did not inspire veneration enough by their pious and
saintly life as did Borgia, nor respect and admiration by their superior
genius in governing the community, as Lainez and Acquaviva had done, and
the consciousness of their own insufficiency rendered them still less
suited to the task.
Vitelleschi, Acquaviva’s immediate successor, was a well-intentioned
man, mild and conciliatory. He was called by his friends the _angel of
peace_, and on his death-bed he found consolation from the conviction
that he had never injured any one.[306] But it is evident that such
a kind and indulgent man could not oppose any effectual resistance
to the fast-spreading corruption of the order, nor to the demands of
determined ambition. What under Acquaviva had only been the expedient
of the moment, became under Vitelleschi a rule. The professed members
became, if not exclusively, at least simultaneously with the coadjutors,
the administrators of the temporal concerns of the Society; and the
control which the two classes had exercised, the one over the other,
according to the wise enactments of Ignatius, was for ever annihilated.
While the number of the coadjutors decreased, that of the professed
became out of all proportion numerous, but lost some of that veneration
which they had earned in former times by a life, in appearance at least,
wholly spiritual and ascetic. Besides, as we have said, persons of
the highest families, eager for ecclesiastical dignities or temporal
power, now sought admission into the order, and Vitelleschi had
neither the intention nor perhaps the power to refuse them, whether
they were qualified or not. The strict and searching scrutiny to
which the candidate ought to have submitted, and to which in fact he
had been subjected under Loyola and the two following Generals, had
become gradually less severe; but under Vitelleschi it was altogether
neglected, and the novices were absolved from many obligations to which
the Constitution rightfully subjected them. The abuses resulting from
the non-observance of the most essential rules increased so greatly,
that Vitelleschi himself was much affected by it, and poured forth his
affliction in a most eloquent and deprecatory letter, which he addressed
to the members of the order. From this letter we extract the following
passage:—“But whence can we suspect our disinclination to Divine
things—our feeling of laborious irksomeness in recollection—in checking
the wanderings of our vagrant imaginations, frequently tending in that
direction which is least to be desired, because we have not repressed
them when we could? What is that tenacious and entangling love of the
lowest objects—the world, honour, parents, and worldly comforts?—that
greater authority conceded to the rebellious flesh and blood rather
than to the spirit in action, for I care not for words;—that enervated
exhausted weakness in resisting the solicitations of the adversary in our
conflicts with the domestic enemy, perhaps not entirely yielding, but
still not evincing that alacrity and exaltation of mind to which only
victory is granted? These are the fruits of timidity and of a dissolute
spirit, which, unless it is raised betimes, and warmed anew, is clearly
approaching a fall and destruction.” And the letter concludes with these
remarkable words—“I eagerly call all to witness and proclaim to them,
that with Bernard I expect an answer to this epistle, but an answer of
_deeds_, not words.”[307] “So that,” says Gioberti, “during Vitelleschi’s
government, the spirit of the Constitution was quite changed: the
politicians prevailed over the saints, and a worldly spirit over that of
mysticism.”[308]
The evil increased under Caraffa, who succeeded Vitelleschi in 1646,
and who was still less able than his predecessor to govern the Society.
Caraffa was a simple and innocent bigot, not altogether unworthy of
commendation. He was remarkable for his humility: he would have no
carriage, no servant, no mark of distinction, as to food or raiment, from
the humblest of the brethren.[309] He repeatedly begged his disciples to
lay aside all political and temporal concerns, and to live a religious
and pious life. He was shocked and grieved at heart on account of the
pervading spirit of licentiousness and avarice, and predicted that it
would be the ruin of the order. In fact, the Society was continually
departing more and more from the principles on which Loyola had
established it. The rule, that all who entered the order should abandon
every temporal possession, had been strictly enforced in former times,
but now the act of renunciation was either delayed, or performed under
conditions, and that under different pretences, and especially on the
ground that any Jesuit was liable at any time to be expelled from the
Society. So when a novice now made the transfer of his property to the
order, he clearly specified that it was in favour of such and such a
college to which he was attached, and often with the reservation of
himself administering the property he bequeathed; so that, even when
the property remained in the order, it was no more unconditionally at
the disposal of the General representing the entire community, but of
an individual, who, in a certain measure, still considered it as his
own. Nay, many of the Jesuits, having more leisure and skill than their
relations, undertook the management of their affairs.
Against those evils Caraffa could do nothing but write letters filled
with complaints, and prescribing remedies which were never to be resorted
to. Thus, speaking of those Jesuits who wished to retain their property,
he says, “Having settled in their own minds in what houses or colleges
they are to fix their abode, ... they labour strenuously to obtain for
themselves the administration of what they have resigned to the Society.”
And again, “Our procurators should be more cautious, for, although they
seek what is just by lawful right, still they seem to seek it with
avarice and cupidity, and exhibit too much avidity, which smells of the
world.”[310] And as to profane conversation and licentiousness, Caraffa
says, “Nor can I possibly pass over in silence that these errors are in a
great measure the result of the error of the superiors.”[311]
What a poor idea these two generals give of the authority, the prestige
exercised by them over the Community! what a contrast with their
predecessors! How different would Loyola, Lainez, or even Acquaviva have
acted! When a General of the Order, aware of the evils which have invaded
the Society, can find no remedy but in complaints, the Society must
inevitably perish; and so it happened to the Jesuits.
Piccolomini, who succeeded Caraffa in 1649, and Gottifredi, who succeeded
this last in 1652, were men without any energy or capacity, perhaps less
jealous than the two former Generals of the purity and morality of the
order; and, in their short administrations, they could do nothing but
witness its increasing corruption.
Here it is to be remarked, that in the election of the General, the
choice of the congregation now invariably fell upon a person without
character or authority, that the fathers might have no master over them;
and when the next General, Goswin Nickel, attempted to assert, in part,
his authority, he was soon made aware that the times of Loyola and
Acquaviva were gone by.
Nickel, elected General in 1652, was a rude and obstinate man. He did
not, indeed, contemplate any very deep or searching reforms; he suffered
things to proceed, on the whole, as they had previously done; but it
was his habit to insist on the observance of his orders with peculiar
obstinacy, without having any regard to the feelings of others, and he
offended so grievously the self-love of the aristocratic part of the
Society, that the General Congregation of 1661 adopted measures against
him, such as, from the monarchical character of the institution, could
hardly have been supposed possible.[312] The Congregation, desirous
of setting Nickel aside, and yet unwilling to pronounce a deposition,
applied to the Pope for permission to elect a vicar-general, and Innocent
X. not only granted their request, but pointed out for the office his
friend Oliva, who was accordingly elected. Then the Congregation, having
decided that the vicar-general should possess a _primitive_ power,
independent of the General, the authority of the latter was wholly
superseded, and entirely transferred to the vicar; so that, when some
Jesuits went to pay their respects to Nickel, he, in a lamentable tone,
said to them, “I find myself here entirely abandoned, and have no longer
power to do anything.”[313]
It is curious, if not instructive (the veracity of the Jesuit historians
being very well known), to listen to Crétineau’s account of this
transaction. “Nickel,” says the French historian, “felt that he was
growing old, that his infirmities no longer permitted him to govern with
the required vigour; he begged of the Jesuits to discharge him from a
responsibility too great for him, by giving him an assistant; and they
acceded to his prayers.”[314] Nickel survived his disgrace three years,
and Oliva became General.
Oliva was descended from a noble family of Genoa, where his grandfather
and his uncle had respectively been Doge of the republic. In Oliva the
Jesuits found at last a chief according to their hearts. He worshipped a
repose interrupted only by political intrigues, and the pleasures of the
table.[315] He spent a great part of his time in the delicious villa near
Albano, where he occupied himself with the cultivation of the rarest
exotics. When in Rome, he retired to the noviciate of St Andrea, where
he seldom condescended to give audience. He never went out on foot. He
lived in a most sumptuously and elegantly adorned apartment, enjoying
the pleasures of a table furnished with the most select delicacies,
such as would have tempted the appetite of a Vitellius.[316] He was
only studious of enjoying the position he held, and the power he had
obtained. Reserving for his particular attention matters of political
importance, he left the affairs of the Society to the entire management
of subordinate officials; and from that moment it may be said that
every individual (we speak of persons of some consequence, for in every
society there are simpletons always ready for obedience) became, in a
great measure, his own master. Not that the interests of the Society were
neglected; on the contrary, they were never so prosperous.
The members of every religious community are individually great in
proportion to the greatness of the society to which they belong, and the
esteem in which it is held by the public. This of itself induces every
individual member to seek with all his powers the aggrandisement and the
splendour of his order; and if this is true of any other association,
it is pre-eminently so of the Society of Jesus. The Jesuits of the
seventeenth century worshipped the Order with as much idolatry as their
predecessors, and, to serve it, were always ready to act the part of
hypocrites, deceivers, perjurers, miscreants; but every one served
it (except in great general emergencies, in which they all acted in
union) according to his own views and his own affections, some of them
assuming even an absolute independence; as, for example, Annat, Lachaise,
Letellier, &c.
Under Oliva’s government, the Society acquired an immense political
importance. Some years before his death, Oliva published his
correspondence, which extended to almost all the monarchs of Europe,
in which, indeed, he shews himself a consummate politician, and deeply
engaged in most serious and important affairs. This already awakened
some interest, and made people look upon the Order as a good auxiliary
in political intrigues. Besides, the fact that the Jesuits were
confessors to all the Roman Catholic sovereigns, and that through them
the General had it in his power to become acquainted with the most secret
dispositions and plans of these sovereigns, rendered his friendship of
inestimable value, and an object to be eagerly sought for by the most
potent princes. Again, the confessor, having less or more, but always a
great influence over his royal penitent, became also a great personage
in the country where he exercised his functions. Annat was a mediator
between the _great king_ and the Pope; and Alexander VII. thanked him
for his good offices by a brief.[317] Lachaise and Letellier were
possessed of still more power than Annat. The Court of Rome itself, at
such an epoch, was obliged to succumb to the influence of the Order;
and if any Pope, in an unlucky moment, ventured to oppose them in any
of their contrivances, he was soon obliged to retract his orders, and
to confess implicitly that he had done wrong. The Jesuits call this
epoch the golden age of their Society; but we should rather call it the
iron one, since it was during this epoch of splendour and glory that
they departed furthest from the principles of their institution, and so
prepared their own ruin. Possessed of very great wealth, enjoying an
immense credit and influence with all classes of society, they yielded
to the temptations peculiar to such a situation; and, disregarding
every rule of prudence, and the restraints of public opinion, they gave
themselves up to the lust of power and riches—prosecuting their ambitious
projects by the most questionable means, and thinking of nothing else but
reaping the advantage of the position they had attained. As few dared
now to oppose them, and as the people were silent on their vices, they
thought that these vices were now overlooked; and this encouraged them
still more to persist in their reprehensible conduct. It was during the
seventeenth century that the Jesuits, lifting up for a while the thick
veil of hypocrisy under which they had perpetrated their crimes, allowed
the world to penetrate into the heart of their conduct, and to discover
what they really were. In vain, when they perceived they were known, did
they pull down the veil again. Their faces had been observed, and ever
after they were to be recognised, under whatever mask they attempted to
conceal themselves. It was during the seventeenth century that they gave
to their traffic a scandalous development, and that they set themselves
up as dangerous rivals to the largest establishments. It was during the
seventeenth century that they set all the other religious orders at
defiance, and awakened in them sentiments of hatred and jealousy, which
are not yet extinguished. It was during the seventeenth century that they
abused, more scandalously than ever, the credulity of their votaries. The
example which we are going to quote in this particular will serve for
many.
Among the manuscripts in the British Museum, there is a passport given by
the Jesuits in 1650, for the consideration of 200,000 florins (£10,000),
to Hippolite Braem of Ghent, promising to defend him against all infernal
powers that might make attempts upon his person, soul, or goods. Here is
a translation of this strange document:—
“The undersigned protest and promise, on the faith of priests and true
religious in the name of our Company, sufficiently authorised for that
effect, that our Company, takes Master Hippolite Braem, LL.D., under its
protection, and promises to defend him against all infernal powers which
may make attempts upon his person, his soul, his goods, or his means;
that we conjure and shall conjure for this effect (to prevent attempts
upon his person, &c.), the most serene Prince our Founder, making use in
this case of his authority and his credit, in order that the above-named
Braem may be presented by him to the blessed chief of Apostles with much
fidelity and carefulness, since our Company is infinitely obliged to him.
In faith of which we have signed the present, and authenticated it with
the seal of the Society. Given at Ghent, March 29, 1650, and signed by
the Rector, Seclin, and two Jesuit priests.”[318]
It seems that in India the Jesuits made a great traffic of such
passports. In those distant regions, the impudence of the fathers must
have been still greater than it was in Europe. The Father Marcello
Mastrilli, when in Japan, boasted that many times a-day he sent his
guardian angel to pay reverence and deliver messages to St Francis in
heaven, and that he received answers.[319] We are not surprised at the
ridiculous and barefaced impudence of Mastrilli, who is celebrated for
his ridiculous impostures; but we are surprised that Bartoli, such an
accomplished writer, and not altogether despicable historian, should
relate with imperturbable gravity such puerile absurdities.
In 1681, Noyelle, “who had not the same brilliant qualities as his
predecessors,”[320] succeeded Oliva, and was himself succeeded, in
1687, by Gonzales, a harsh theologian, who died in 1705, and had for
his successor Father Tambourini. Nothing remarkable happened during the
rule of these generals; at least nothing that presents us with any new
feature in the history we are writing. The Company followed the course
it had entered upon, and marched with steady step towards its proper
ruin. Not that there was any apparent sign of decay. The Society was,
on the contrary, more powerful, more courted than ever. But its power
did not lie any longer in its intrinsic merits, or its adaptation to the
wants of humanity; and the interest and respect by which it seemed to
be surrounded was ephemeral, and in some degree compulsory. With a few
sincere devotees there was a crowd of courtiers who flattered for their
own interest. The Company resembled an all-powerful minister, hated for
his personal qualities, but worshipped and extolled to the skies by the
crowd of those who fear his power or await his favour, impatient till the
sovereign frown upon him, that they may manifest their real sentiments.
Such was the state of the Society of Jesus during the seventeenth
century.