THE CONSTITUTION OF THE SOCIETY.
All the circumstances which attended the origin and establishment of
the society of Jesuits combine to explain, with unmistakable clearness,
the motives which must have influenced the mind and incited the action
of Loyola in every step he took. They plainly show that his leading
and controlling purpose was to organize a body of men, each one of
whom should be brought into implicit and unquestioning obedience to
the authority of their general, and hold themselves in readiness so
long as the society existed, to do, without the least inquiry into
results, whatsoever he should command to be done, so that they should
have no wills or opinions of their own upon any subject over which
he should assert jurisdiction. By making this the central and most
fundamental principle of the constitution, he placed his society in
direct antagonism to all intellectual progress and enlightenment--to
everything that tended to dignify and elevate mankind. No one,
therefore, ought to wonder that it has produced more disturbance in the
world than any other organization that has ever existed; or, if it were
out of the way, could ever exist again.
The constitution was locked up in the secret archives of the society
for more than two hundred years, many of its details having been
unknown, it is said, even by a considerable portion of the members,
whose submissive obedience must have reduced them to the condition of
trained animals. This concealment by a society professedly religious
could not have been favorable to Christianity, and must have been
the consequence of some sinister motive, as subsequent developments
have shown. This is a fair inference from the reluctance with which
the constitution was surrendered when the French Government demanded
its exposure. The facts connected with the proceedings of the French
Parliament, when they compelled the society to make it known, justify
the belief that there must have been some special reason for its
long concealment, and that the public odium, so long resting upon
it in France, was attributable, among other things, to the secrecy
of its proceedings. And when it is considered that the strong and
vigorous measures adopted by the Parliament to extort the constitution
by dragging it from its hiding-place, transpired at a time when
Protestantism had no control whatsoever over the public affairs of
France, it conclusively proves that the integrity of the society was
suspected by the French people whilst they were faithful adherents of
the Roman Church. Such a fact as this indicates--what every Jesuit
stands ready to deny if necessary--that where the society was best
known, it was most suspected and disliked.
The whole machinery of this society was admirably designed to
accomplish its complete consolidation. Although Loyola was neither
a theologian nor a learned man, having obtained almost his entire
education after he was thirty years of age, yet he understood, far
better than many who had acquired higher intellectual culture,
the springs and motives of human conduct; and this, supplemented
by cunning, which never deserted him, constituted his leading
characteristic. As his sole object was to dominate over others
by promising them a place in paradise as a reward for unmanning
themselves, he studiously excluded all who could not be reduced to this
low condition by training, discipline, and education. Accordingly,
before an applicant could be admitted to probation, his whole life and
character were closely scrutinized by the general, if it were in his
power to do so; but if not, by persons selected as spies, who were
"to live with him and examine him," so as to be able to penetrate his
most secret thoughts.[13] Upon admission, he was required to confess
to a rector, who was to be recognized by him as holding "the place
of Christ our Lord," and from whom nothing should be concealed--"not
opposing, not contradicting, nor showing an opinion in any case opposed
to his opinion."[14] When the probationer was found by these tests
qualified for membership--that is, when it was ascertained that he had
no will of his own, but was fitted by nature and inclination for a
state of complete bondage--he was required to recognize the general of
the society as occupying the place of God, and as possessing absolute
authority over him, with the right to exact absolute obedience from
him. He was reduced to the condition of a mere inanimate machine, with
no discretionary power whatsoever over his own emotions, opinions,
or actions. This obligation is thus expressed in the constitution:
"He 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."[15] And, in order to assure, beyond the
possibility of mistake, the complete surrender of all individuality,
and to bring the probationer down to the lowest possible degradation,
his uninquiring obedience is defined and exacted in these words: "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 ourselves 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."[16]
It would be hard to find, in any written or spoken language, words
more expressive than these of the complete eradication of all sense
of personality, unless it be some elsewhere employed in the same
society to express the same or equivalent ideas. In the Prague edition
of the "Institutes," the following is given as the language of one
of its decrees: "It behooves our brethren to be pre-eminent in true
and absolute obedience, in abnegation of all individual will and
judgment."[17] The Jesuit Bartoli, in his history of Loyola, expresses
the meaning of the constitution in substantially the same words, thus:
"_An entire abnegation of their own will, of their own judgment_."[18]
Elsewhere he says the members must act "according to the pleasure
of the superior."[19] Again: "What can be more complete than our
submission to the orders of our superiors in everything that concerns
our state of life, the places we are to dwell in, the employments, the
offices we are to be engaged in."[20] And again, this submission to the
will and judgment of the superior, or general, is called "renouncing
our own judgment," "the annihilation of self," "complete obedience,
entire dependence upon the will of others, perfect abandonment of
personal reputation."[21]
This self-abnegation, this slavery of the mind, is a worse form of
servitude than the slavery of the body. The latter places fetters upon
the limbs, the former rivets shackles upon the mind. A brief comparison
will illustrate this. The methods of punishing slaves for disobedience
have varied accordingly as masters have been humane or otherwise. Some
have been compelled to endure the torture of solitary imprisonment and
starvation; others to wear iron fetters until they have eaten, by slow
degrees, into their flesh; and multitudes have escaped only with the
lash. In all this, merely the animal capacity for enduring physical
suffering has been put to the test,--the minds of the victims having
been left free to implore the mercy and protection of Providence,
according to their own wills and consciences. But this Jesuit method
of training probationers and novices to secure their implicit obedience
to their superiors, transcends anything pertaining, especially in
modern times, to the relation of master and slaves. It trifles with
the interests and destiny of the soul, its relations to God and to
eternity, by substituting a mere man, with the passions and impulses of
other men, as the final arbiter of human conduct, and with the power
to open and close the doors of heaven at his own personal pleasure.
It is for fitting him to assent implicitly to this that the Jesuit is
required to abnegate his individual self, dismiss from his mind the
idea that God gave him the priceless faculty of thought and reflection,
and abase himself to such a degree that he has no will or judgment of
his own concerning the future condition of his soul. By considering
himself a mere corpse--dead to everything in life but humiliating
obedience to the general--he consents to accept his commands as equal
to those of God, and to recognize the sentence he might see fit to pass
upon him in this life, in lieu of the judgment of God in the life to
come.
There is a vast deal of cumulative evidence upon these points, which
have evidently been considered fundamental and indispensable. Besides
the foregoing humiliating vows, strict rules and regulations are
established for the government of the novices. Number 34 is as follows:
"At the voice of the superior, just as if it came from Christ the
Lord, we must be most ready, leaving everything whatsoever, even a
letter of the alphabet, unfinished, though begun." Rule 35 defines
"holy obedience" to be "abnegating all opinion and judgment of our own
contrary thereto [that is, to what they are commanded to do], with a
certain blind obedience." Rule 36 is in these words: "Let every member
persuade himself that those who wish to live under obedience, ought
to suffer themselves to be borne along and governed through Divine
Providence through the superiors, just as if they were a corpse, which
may be borne as we please, and permits itself to be handled anyhow;
or like an old man's stick, which everywhere serves any purpose that
he who holds it chooses to employ it in."[22] The same ideas exactly
are expressed in one of the vows which Loyola made conspicuous, and
which is given by Bartoli in his biography, as follows: "I should
regard myself as a dead body, without will or intelligence, as a little
crucifix which is turned about unresistingly at the will of him who
holds it, as a staff in the hands of an old man, who uses it as he
requires it, and as it suits him best."[23]
The human mind is not fertile enough in invention to discover a lower
depth of humiliation than this--a more complete surrender of all the
ennobling qualities and instincts of manhood. If these have ever been
possessed, the remembrance of them is required to be obliterated, so
that there may be no room in the mind for a single generous emotion.
When Shakespeare conceived the idea of a "mindless slave," he must
have had before his mind the portrait of a Jesuit, after he had been
disciplined and fashioned under the master-hand of Loyola, who left his
followers no personal sense of truth or right or justice, having made
their abnegation so thorough that, even with the knowledge of right and
wrong, truth and falsehood, they were trained to incline indifferently
to either as commanded by their superiors. He allowed no hesitation,
heard no reasons, accepted neither apology nor excuse. Their whole
duty consisted in blind and uninquiring obedience to him in thought,
word, and deed, no matter what consequences might follow, or what harm
be inflicted. What of consciences they had left, were required to
become so callous as to be insensible to either honor or shame, all
conscientious sense being extinguished as if it had never existed--like
the light of a candle blown out. Nowhere else in the world, within the
confines of civilization, has such a point of the absolute annihilation
of individuality been reached. Nowhere else is a man required to
acknowledge himself a "corpse," a "dead body," a "little crucifix,"
a "staff" in the hands of another, with no will, or thought, or
sensibility, or emotion, except such as shall be dictated by those to
whose mastery he has ignominiously submitted. It is the very perfection
of tyranny, such as the most heartless despots known to history would
have rejoiced to discover.
Far too little consideration is generally given, even by careful
students of history, to this assumption of equality with Christ--this
vain pretense of a state of divine perfection which recognizes a single
human being as possessing upon earth the authority of God. Undoubtedly
it is true that multitudes of individuals, of good intentions, have
been misled by it into the false belief that the most prominent
feature in the plan of Christ's atonement was the substitution for
himself of a mere man, to whom alone, of all mankind, he assigned his
own divine attributes. The original suggestion of such a proposition
must have startled the Christian mind; and its establishment as an
article of faith may be intelligently accounted for by the fact that
the superstition and ignorance of the Middle Ages enabled monarchism
in Church and State to perpetuate itself by requiring this dogma
to be accepted as revealed by Christ himself. In evidence of its
repugnance to the common sense of mankind, it is proper to observe
that the Christian world has ever since labored hard to get rid of the
delusion, and would in all probability long since have done so, but
for the society of Jesuits, which has ceaselessly maintained it as an
essential part of its machinery. That it is condemned and repudiated
by reason, it requires no argument to prove in this enlightened age.
If the Creator had designed that he should have such a representative
upon earth after the ascension of Christ, he would have imparted his
divine attributes to him by such manifestations of his own power as
the world could not misunderstand--either by such simple and peaceful
incidents as attested the birth and divinity of the Savior, or by such
convulsions of nature as accompanied the delivery of the tables of the
law to Moses. In the entire absence of any visible and intelligent
evidences whatsoever of this divine purpose, the pretension of it,
as the mere means of acquiring authority over others and exacting
obedience from them, is nothing less than presumptuous and vainglorious
impiety. It seeks to dethrone God by abolishing the bar of judgment,
where he has announced that all mankind shall appear; for what is it
less than this to say that conformity to the commands of the Jesuit
general assures, beyond any peradventure, admission to the kingdom of
heaven? God manifestly reserved to himself this great prerogative; and
he who claims it as pertaining to an earthly office of man's creation,
arraigns the divine authority, and insults the Majesty of heaven by
requiring that the Creator shall abdicate his throne. If, moreover, God
had intended to confer divine attributes upon any individual man, it is
contrary to a just estimate of his character, as well as to all human
experience, to suppose he would have chosen the general of a society
which has from its origin been a byword of reproach among the nations,
upon which such a heavy weight of odium has rested that it has been
ignominiously driven out of every nation in Europe; whose enormities
compelled a good and virtuous pope to suppress and abolish it in order
to assure the peace and welfare of the Church; and whose members are
still skulking through these same nations, silently and secretly, as
ghostly apparitions are supposed to move about in the night-time under
the cover of darkness.
But the Jesuit constitution goes to even a greater extent of impiety.
After a novitiate has, by the foregoing methods, been converted into an
unthinking and unresisting piece of machinery, like a block of wood or
marble carved by the hand of an artist, his course of future servility
is so opened before him that he may fully understand how he shall give
proof of fidelity to his vows, by doing whatsoever the general shall
command, or by omitting to do whatsoever he shall forbid. Here the
thoughtful reader to whom these revelations are new, no matter what
form of religious faith he may profess, will be likely to pause in
astonishment at the deliberately-avowed purpose to disregard the laws
of States, of social morality, and even of God, when the general shall
command either of these things to be done. The following are the words
of the constitution, as given by Nicolini:
"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 offense,
let the love and desire of all perfection proceed, that the greater
glory and praise of Christ, our Creator and Lord, may follow."[24]
This language should be re-read and carefully scanned; for, at a
single glance, it seems to have been written so as to furnish ground
for equivocation, a practice in which the Jesuits, by long use, have
acquired consummate skill. It may be easily interpreted, however,
in the light of what Bartoli says. According to him, the novice is
required to place himself "entirely in the hands of God, and of him
who holds the place of God by his authority," which, of course, is
the general or superior. After setting forth that the novitiate is
required to take this vow, "In everything which is not sinful, I must
do the will of my superior and not my own," he enlarges upon the
obligations of the same vow with the following particularity: "If it
seems to me that the superior has ordered me to do something against
my conscience, or in which there appears to be something sinful, if
he is of a contrary opinion, and I have no certainty, I should rely
upon him. If my trouble continues, I should lay aside my own judgment,
and confide my doubts to one, two, or three persons, and rely upon
their decision. If all this shall not satisfy me, I am far from the
perfection which my religious state requires. I must no longer belong
to myself, but to my Creator, and to those who govern in his name,
and in whose hands I should be as soft wax, whatsoever he chooses to
require of me."[25] Another vow, also given by Bartoli, shows that this
same obedience is due as well to a vicious and immoral as to a virtuous
superior; that is, that by the religion which the Jesuits profess, it
makes no difference, in so far as the obligation of obedience to his
interpretation of the laws of God and morality is concerned, whether
he be wise or unwise, saint or sinner. It says: "To believe that a
thing ought to be because the superior orders it, is the last and most
perfect degree. We can not arrive at this degree without recognizing in
the person of our superior, be he wise or imprudent, holy or imperfect,
the authority of Jesus Christ himself, whom he represents."[26] And
another vow, illustrating the character of this obedience, is thus
given: "With regard to property, I must depend upon the superior alone,
consider nothing as my personal property, and myself, in all that I am,
as a statue, which allows itself to be stripped, no matter what the
occasion may be, and offers no resistance."[27]
It requires but ordinary sagacity to interpret all this; its meaning
is too plain to mislead. The constitution, according to Nicolini,
prohibits the commission of sin--not absolutely, but conditionally;
that is, "unless the superior command it in the name of our Lord Jesus
Christ;" which imports, as even an uninstructed mind may see, that
there are occasions when the sanction of Christ may be invoked to
justify the commission of sin; or, in other words, when the general
of the Jesuits, by virtue of his representing God upon earth, may, at
his own personal will, convert vice into virtue! The Jesuit is not
permitted to do anything on his own account, or upon his own judgment,
that would amount to sin; but must do, upon the command of the general,
what he, in his own conscience, believes to be sin; because, as the
general stands in the place of God, he is bound to accept it as not
sin. The word "unless," as employed in the constitution, is a simple
negation, which makes the plain meaning of the sentence this, that
if the general does not command the members of the society to commit
sin, they are not permitted to do of themselves what he considers to
be sin; but if he does so command, in the name of Christ, then they
may sin without fear of consequences, either in this world or in the
world to come. Every instructed Christian mind, no matter what its
form of faith, must consider this blasphemous, because it assumes that
the general may successfully exercise the divine authority of Christ
to authorize sin to be committed, or to condone and pardon it after
commission. This assumption goes to the full extent of deciding what
is and what is not sin, by considering it alone with reference "to the
particular good of each" member of the society, or to its "general
advantage," and not to the law of God. Whatsoever either of these shall
require, if commanded by the general, "shall be done," if the command
shall be given "in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ!" Nothing can be
allowed to stand in the way of this. "No constitution, declaration,
or any order of living"--not even the law of God--can be set up
against the general! He occupies the place of God, and must be obeyed,
howsoever the peace and welfare of the multitude may be imperiled, or
the nations be convulsed from center to circumference. The society of
Jesuits must obtain the mastery, even if general anarchy shall prevail,
or all the world besides be covered with the fragments of a universal
wreck!
There should be no mistake at this point, for the doctrine involved
is vital to the Jesuits. Their society could no more exist without
it than could a watch keep time after the removal of its mainspring.
Although, unlike Nicolini, Bartoli does not give the precise words of
the constitution, this important vow, as set forth by him in his life
of Loyola, has substantially the same meaning. According to him, its
import is plainly this, that the general, whether "wise or imprudent,
holy or imperfect," stands in "the place of God;" that, whilst in
the abstract it is sinful to commit sin, when the act is performed
upon individual judgment, yet, if the general shall order it, and the
conscience of the Jesuit rebel against it because he considers it
sin, he shall "rely" upon the general, and not upon himself; that is,
he shall so close his mind that no conscientious convictions shall
penetrate it. And until he has reached this condition of stupid and
servile obedience, he is "far from the perfection which his religious
state requires." And, to reduce the matter to the plainest and simplest
proposition, the Jesuit is bound "to believe that a thing ought to be,
because the superior orders it;" so that, if he shall order sin to be
committed, the Jesuit is required not to consider it as sin because
God, through the general, commands it! This is precisely as if it were
said that sin may be justifiably committed in God's name, whensoever it
shall be required by "the particular good of each," or by the "general
advantage" of the society. It requires, of course, no argument to show
that this authority of the general is considered comprehensive enough
to justify resistance or covert opposition to the constitution and laws
of any State, or the violation of any treaty, contract, or oath, which
shall stand in the way of the society in its struggle after universal
dominion.
Here we have information from two sources with reference to Jesuit
doctrine upon a point of the very chiefest importance. Nicolini was a
native Italian, and resided at Rome, where he undoubtedly had access
to the best and most reliable sources of information. Bartoli was a
Jesuit, and must have been familiar with the principles and teachings
of the society, or he would not have been trusted and patronized by
it as the biographer of Loyola. They do not disagree materially with
regard to the general principle which forbids sin in an abstract form
and upon individual responsibility, but justifies its commission when
ordered by the general of the Jesuits. It is, therefore, obviously
deducible from this general principle, as stated by both of them, that
when the general shall require the perpetration of any crime, or the
violation of any obligation, or oath, or constitution, or law, or the
performance of any act howsoever perfidious or shameless,--in all,
or any of these cases, the Jesuit shall execute his commands without
"fear of offense." The general is thus placed above all governments,
constitutions, and laws, and even above God himself! There are no laws
of a State, no rules of morality established by society, no principles
of religious faith established by any Church--including even the
Roman Church itself--that the Jesuit is not bound to resist, when
commanded by his general to do so, no matter if it shall lead to war,
revolution, or bloodshed, or to the upheaval of society from its very
foundations. Everything is centered in the good of the society, and
to that all else must defer. No wonder that the Jesuit casuists have
found in this provision of their constitution the source of that odious
and demoralizing maxim that "the means are justified by the end;" in
other words, if, in the judgment of the general, the end is considered
right, howsoever criminal or sinful, it becomes sanctified, and may be
accomplished without "the fear of offense."
Nor is this all. After, as Nicolini says, "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."[28] It does not allow anything--any
affections of the heart or earthly interests of any kind or nature
whatsoever--to intervene between the Jesuit and his superior. If he
has family ties, he must break them; if friends, he must discard them;
if property, he must surrender it to the superior, and take the vow
of absolute and extreme poverty; he must, in fact, render himself
insensible to every sentiment, or emotion, or feeling that could,
by possibility, exist from instinct or habits of thought in his own
mind. As it regards property, the constitution provides that "he will
accomplish a work of great perfection if he dispose of it in benefit of
the society." And continuing this subject, with reference to paternal
affections, it continues: "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."[29] He shall not communicate
with any person by letter without its inspection by the superior, who
shall read all letters addressed to him before their delivery; of
course, permitting only such to be sent by or to reach him as shall be
approved. "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] He shall
not be allowed to go out of the house unless accompanied by two of the
brethren as spies upon his conduct, and the neglect of either to report
faithfully what the others have done and said is held to be sinful. And
to make sure that all the members reflect only the opinions dictated
by him, they are bound to absolute uniformity, 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 consent
of the general; and, indeed, all differences of opinion regarding
practical matters shall be avoided."[31] Commenting upon these things,
Nicolini most appropriately says: "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."[32]
If there were any evidences to prove that the Jesuits, as a society,
have abandoned any of the principles or policy which bear the stamp
of Loyola's approval, there would be no necessity, other than that
which incites to historic investigation, for a careful and critical
investigation of them. But there are none. On the contrary, it will
be seen that, from their very nature, they are not susceptible of
change so long as the society shall exist. The memory of Loyola is
still preserved with intense devotion. He is worshiped as a saint, and
the words uttered by him are as much reverenced as those spoken by
the Savior. It seems impossible, therefore, to escape the conviction
that this extraordinary society is unlike any other now existing, or
which has heretofore existed, in the world. That it was conceived by
the active brain of an ambitious and worldly-minded enthusiast, who
had been disappointed at not winning the military distinction he had
expected, is an irresistible inference from facts well established
in his personal history. His vanity and imperiousness suggested
the starting-point of his organization, whereby man was treated as
incapable of intelligent reflection--fit only to become the unresisting
tool of those who venture profanely to affirm, contrary to any
divine revelation, that God has endowed them alone with authority
to subject the world to obedience. His plan of operations was,
from the beginning, a direct censure of all the ancient religious
orders, as it was also of the methods the Church had adopted after
the experience of many centuries. When he conceived it, his chief
purpose undoubtedly was, as heretofore explained,[33] to make himself
and his successors independent of and superior to the pope and the
Church. His contemplated antagonism to both was sufficiently indicated
by the fact that his original constitution centered absolute and
irresponsible power in the hands of the general of his society; and the
subsequent introduction of the simulated vow of qualified fidelity to
the pope--which was brought about by a degree of necessity amounting
almost to duress--has had no other effect than to tax the strategic
ingenuity of more than one general by the invention of subterfuges to
evade it. In furtherance of this idea, the society holds no intercourse
with the pope, nor he with it. Its members are all independent of
him. They are the creatures and instruments of the general alone.
They obey him, and no other. If he, as the head of the society, does
not think proper to execute the orders of the pope--as has often
occurred--the question is alone between the pope and him, not with
the society. The only point of unity is between the general and the
members; and of this the society boasts with its habitual vanity. In
enumerating the methods by which its duration is considered assured,
Bartoli says: "The chief is a strict union between the members and the
head, consequent upon entire dependence, which results from perfect
obedience. Ignatius established a _monarchical form of government_ in
the society, and placed the whole administration of the order in the
hands of the general, with an authority absolute and independent of
all men, with the sole exception of the sovereign pontiff. The general
then decided absolutely, both in the choice of the superiors, as well
as in everything which concerns the members of the company."[34]
This sufficiently shows that the pope deals alone with the general,
and he alone with the society; except through the latter, the former
can not reach the members, or communicate his will to them; and even
when the pope communicates with the general, the whole obligation
of the latter's obedience consists in sending the members of the
society to whatsoever part of the world the pope shall direct without
remuneration. And it is by these means that the society constitutes
what Bartoli calls "one solid and durable whole," nominally with two
heads, but practically paying obedience to but one.
It was scarcely necessary to say that the society existed under "a
monarchical form of government," for it is impossible for such an
organization to exist in any other form. In fact, it surpasses in that
respect any institution ever known, not excepting the most tyrannical
despotisms by which the Oriental peoples were held in bondage for
centuries. Until the time of Loyola no man ever conceived--or if he
did, the avowal of it is unknown to history--the idea that the plain
and simple teachings of Christ, which are easily interpreted, could
be distorted into an apology for reducing mankind to a multitude
of unthinking corpses or dead bodies, without thoughts, opinions,
or motives of their own, so that they should submit implicitly to
the dictation of a single man, who, to prepare them for perfect
obedience, required that the best affections of their hearts should
be extinguished, and nothing generous or kindly or noble be permitted
to exist in them. Absolutism could not possibly be carried further,
for there is no degree of humiliation lower than that the Jesuit is
required to reach. Howsoever cultivated in art, or learned in letters,
or courtly in manners, or fascinating in oratory he may become, his
conscience is dwarfed into cowardice, and he has parted with his
manhood as if it were an old garment to be cast aside at pleasure. No
picture of him could be more true than that drawn by the friendly pen
of Bartoli, who tells us, boastingly, that "the society requires no
members who are governed by human respect."[35] It requires, according
to this biographer of Loyola, only those who hold in utter contempt the
opinions of the world, those who extinguish in their minds all sense of
either praise or shame, and who close all avenues by which men's hearts
are reached by noble or generous or patriotic impulses. They seem to
think that God, after making man "in his own image" and with capacity
for inspiring thoughts, paralyzed his best affections in mere sport,
and left him only fitted for blind obedience to an imperious master,
who requires him to sunder all the tenderest domestic relations as if
they invited to impiety, and who treats all the highest social virtues
as vices when they do not advance his ambitious ends, and any form of
vice as virtue when it does.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 13: Constitution. Part I, chap, i, § 3. _Apud_ Nicolini:
History of the Jesuits, p. 32.]
[Footnote 14: Constitution. Part IV, chap. x, § 5. _Apud_ Nicolini:
History of the Jesuits, p. 33.]
[Footnote 15: Const. Part III, chap. i, § 23. _Ibid._]
[Footnote 16: Const. Part VI, chap. i, § 1. _Ibid._]
[Footnote 17: The Jesuits, their Constitution and Teaching. By
Cartwright. Page 15, note.]
[Footnote 18: History of St. Ignatius Loyola. By Bartoli. Vol. II, p.
46.]
[Footnote 19: _Ibid._, p. 47.]
[Footnote 20: _Ibid._, p. 49.]
[Footnote 21: _Ibid._, p. 51.]
[Footnote 22: History of the Jesuits. By Steinmetz. Vol. I, p. 251, N.
1.]
[Footnote 23: Bartoli. Vol. II, p. 93.]
[Footnote 24: Constitution. Part VI, chap. v, § 31. _Apud_ Nicolini, p.
34.]
[Footnote 25: Bartoli, Vol. II, pp. 92, 93.]
[Footnote 26: _Ibid._, p. 95.]
[Footnote 27: _Ibid._, p. 94.]
[Footnote 28: Nicolini, p. 34.]
[Footnote 29: Constitution. Part III, chap. i, § 7-9. _Apud_ Nicolini,
pp. 34, 35.]
[Footnote 30: Const. Part III, chap. i, § 2, 3. _Apud_ Nicolini, p. 36.]
[Footnote 31: Const. Part III, chap. i, § 18. _Apud_ Nicolini, p. 36.
These general matters are also treated of by Bartoli, Vol. II, chaps.
iv and v, pp. from 33-78.]
[Footnote 32: Nicolini, p. 36.]
[Footnote 33: Ante, chap. ii, p. 41.]
[Footnote 34: Bartoli, Vol. II, p. 88.]
[Footnote 35: Bartoli, Vol. II, p. 85.]