CHAPTER I. The Foundation of the Order.

THE close of the fifteenth century witnessed the birth of two children who were destined to make history. Luther was born in 1483. Eight years afterwards Don Innigo Lopez de Ricalde was born. How strange the mystery of human life. Who shall answer the cry of the yearning heart to know the unknowable? The one was destined to be the precursor, who proclaimed Gospel liberty to the enslaved; the other was destined to forge new chains for the souls of men, and to bind them with cords of steel. And yet, while in the dawn of life, who could have ventured to predict the future of liberator or Jesuit. For Luther, born of a humble family, an unnoticed career would have been anticipated; he might, indeed, have aspired to the cloister, for it was then the resort of the poorest and the least educated of the community. But for Loyola, the descendant of Spanish grandees, a brilliant career in court and tented field would have seemed little short of a certainty. But when the pages of life came to be unfolded for these two men, how different was the result to the anticipation.

Luther and Loyola

The fame of the lowly-born Luther has echoed down the stream of time, as the champion of religious liberty, and if he was somewhat rude in his mode of denouncing error, his rudeness was as much the out come of his earnestness and sincerity, as of the habits of the times in which he lived. As for Ignatius Loyola, he also has had his fame and his applause; but his fame has not been the fame of an enlightener of mankind, or of one who has advanced civil or religious liberty. His applauders have not been those who have loved truth and hated dissimulation. Sad indeed that the once chivalrous and knightly Loyola should have become the founder of an institution which has reduced the practice of deceit to a fine art, and taught its members how to conceal and practise evil under a semblance of virtue.

A European war was imminent (as indeed when is it not?) just at the moment when Loyola was of age to desire distinction in the field, and to uphold the warlike traditions of his family. He ambitioned the rank of general, he was a youth of impetuous desires, and naturally his aspirations lay along the line which the age had glorified. To build cathedrals and to conquer new provinces were the ambitions of the century, until the invention of the printer’s noble art had opened the doors of knowledge. Cathedral building was left at that period a good deal to the colder blooded north. As for the southern, he has always been more ready for the sword than the pen or the chisel.

Loyala’s sufferings

But the military career of Loyola had scarcely begun ere it had ended. In the year 1521 the town of Pampeluna was besieged by the French, led by Andre de Foix, Lord of Esparre. Loyola commanded the fort and determined to allow the extermination of his little band sooner than yield to the hated French. But Providence decreed that he should fail, and the shattering of his leg by a cannon ball put him hors de combat (out of action; disabled) at once and finally. The French general treated the Spanish captain with the usual chivalry of the age and the nation. He sent his own surgeon to attend his wounded enemy, he gave him his liberty without ransom, and eventually sent him with honour to his father’s castle. And here the work of the “Society of Jesus” practically commenced. The character of the founder of the Order manifested itself even in his hours of pain. He showed a grim determination to submit to any suffering which might attain the end he had in view. His leg had contracted during his illness; it must be made the right length, no matter what agony the doing of it occasioned. A projecting bone came in the way of wearing the fashionable attire of the day, and the bone must go. The bone was removed, and the most terrible instruments were applied to the leg to obtain the desired restoration to its normal con dition; but the barbarous surgery of the day could do little save add pain to pain. Loyola endured all his sufferings without obtaining his desire. One thing, however, was certain—his days of chivalry were ended, his work in camp and court was done. The long illness, which he had endured with Spartan hardness, left its traces on his countenance. He could no longer play the gallant in court, or in the castles of his knightly friends. He could no longer do battle for his country. His occupation was gone. His active mind gave him no rest. Though admittedly an uneducated man, it would appear that he could read, and probably his temperament had led him to love the perusal of the romances which were the light literature of his day. He asked for books to pass the time of a long enforced convalescence, and none could be found save some legends of the saints, and a legendary life of the Virgin Mary.

What mighty effects arise from apparently accidental causes! Probably Loyola saw little difference at first between the romances and the legends, but as he read he was seized with the idea of devoting himself to the militant service of the church, as he could no longer devote himself to the military service of his country. He needed an idealised woman to replace the ladies fair, if not frail, to whom he had done his devoir (duty, responsibility) in court and tented field, so Loyola now offered to the Queen of Heaven the devotion which he had previously offered to ladies, who had been saluted queens of beauty in the Court of Spain.

Flogs himself and sees visions.

If we would read the history of this remarkable man aright, we must study the mental conditions in which he found himself, and the customs of the country, and the times in which he lived. Instead of placing the colours of his inamorata (ladylove) on his lance, or in his corslet, and challenging his fellow knights to do battle in her honour, he took the garb which, according to the religious ideas of the times, was the garb most pleasing to the lady whom he now desired to honour with especial veneration. He clothed himself in the rags of a pilgrim. He flogged his body till the blood came. He fasted until he saw visions, and the more he flogged himself the more visions he saw, and the more visions he saw the more he fasted. It was simply cause and effect. The mind weakened by the weakened body, was no longer master of his God-given intellect. He was guilty of intellectual suicide, for he deliberately deprived himself of his mental powers. No wonder if in such a state of mind the idea should have come to him of framing a rule which requires the abnegation of God’s best gift to man. A general who was about to engage in an anxious and important campaign would not dream of preparing himself for it by deliberately weakening his intellectual faculties, yet this is precisely what the Spanish devotee considered to be necessary for the success of his enterprise.

Loyola, once the knight errant, had now become the Saint, according to his narrow ideas of sanctity. His relatives expostulated with him in vain. He had read the lives of the saints during his long illness, and he had determined, with that dogged determination which seems to have been the dominant feature in his character, that if he could not become famed as a knight, he would become famed as a saint. He has accomplished his desire, but how far either he, or the world at large, has benefited by his ambition, let history tell.

Yet with all this infliction of penance Loyola was not happy. It is true he had visions which must have gratified his vanity; but the visions gave no peace to his restless soul. On one occasion he lay for eight days in a trance or swoon; but his awakening did not find him any the happier. He was haunted by demons and distressed by doubts. Probably he believed in his visions, and his demoniacal apparitions were to him realities. It was an age of belief in the marvellous. The priest cannot secure power or influence with the people, unless he can show signs or supernatural manifestations. It needed not that these marvels should be genuine, so long as an ever credulous public believed them to be such. It needed not that the miracle worker should be a deliberate impostor, he needed only to believe in himself.

It should never be forgotten that the power of the priest rests solely on the credence of the people. The people cry out for a saviour, for certainty of heaven, for an assurance of exemption from the terrors of hell. Hence priestcraft can neither do without hell nor purgatory. Take away both, or either, and its power is gone. But in order to maintain a belief in the supernatural power of the priest, there must be some apparently supernatural evidence, hence these miracles, not only of the sixteenth century, but of the nineteenth. Today we are told that St. Winefrede has given the power of speech to a woman who had not spoken for at least two years. But the case had already been diagnosed by the medical faculty as one of simple hysteria. At the period of which we write a still more wonderful miracle was reported from Paris.

A ghost story.

A certain old ironmonger, Eustache Moubon by name, died there, not exactly in the odour of sanctity, but he was devout to the Virgin all the same, or, perhaps, all the more. It was on the night of the 6th January, 1482, when a magnificent bonfire had been commanded. Some boys bethought them that the pallet on which he lay dead would serve to help their fireworks. They accordingly seized it and threw it down in the street. It was then seized on by a vagrant, who lay down on it, hoping to secure a good night’s rest. The boys soon returned with more pillage for the flames, and amazed at what they supposed to be a vision, rushed off with piercing screams, declaring that it was the ghost of the iron monger. This was sufficient to form the groundwork of a stupendous miracle. On the following day the pallet was taken in state to the Church of St. Opportune, where it remained until the year 1789, and a handsome income was made by the authorities, by whom it was exhibited as a proof of the power of the Virgin, whose statue had effected the miracle of exorcising the soul of Moubon, which had hid itself in the straw to trick the devil.

Loyola acted according to his lights. His Church taught that the doing of certain acts of bodily mortification would obtain a very high place in heaven for the doer, and that they would be very acceptable to the Virgin, if offered in her name. Furthermore, Lovola knew that canonisation was the highest honour that the Church could bestow, and that the practising of such mortifications was the sure road to canonisation. If he could no longer hope to have his name handed down in the annals of his country as a distinguished general, he might obtain the honour, as he did eventually, of having his name handed down by the Church as worthy of a place on her altars.

We are not writing a life of Ignatius Loyola, hence much of his personal history must be passed over, and only as much related as will show the character of this marvellous man who succeeded in founding an organisation which has more than once convulsed Europe by its ambitions. It can scarcely be denied, except by his submissive disciples, that he acted in direct opposition to the plain counsels of Christ, whose name he so ostentatiously assumed. Our Lord declared that His kingdom was not of this world, and by His manner of life showed that the things of time and sense were but trifles, whose only importance might be found in the use which might be made of them for the eternal interests of the users. The Jesuit, on the contrary, has always been clamorous for power and wealth, and has in consequence occupied himself both individually and collectively with the rich rather than with the poor.

Loyola’s Ingnorance of Religion.

Apparently Loyola became tired of his life of self-mortification, for we find that he set out for Palestine by way of Rome, in the year 1523. To follow his various wanderings during the next few years would be impossible, and is not necessary. Arrived at Jerusalem, where the Franciscan Fathers held full spiritual authority, he thought he might at once commence his self-imposed mission of converting the heathen. But there were two invincible difficulties in the way—his culpable ignorance of the commonest elements of the Christianity which he proposed to teach, and his entire ignorance of the language of those whom he wished to convert. It was in vain that he assured the Provincial of the Franciscans that a miracle would be worked in his behalf; the Provincial did not believe in such miracles. Possibly also he may have accurately gauged the character of the ex-Spanish grandee, and feared a troublesome, even if ignorant rival. The result, however, what ever may have been the cause, was that Loyola at last realised that he was absolutely ignorant even of the commonest elements of theology, or literature, and with characteristic impetuosity he set about acquiring the knowledge which he needed. It is indeed difficult to determine whether Loyola most abounded in self-confidence, or in ignorance of his deficiencies.

For two weary years Loyola sat in a grammar school with mere boys, and subjected himself to their ridicule and his master’s reproaches, with the same grim determination with which he had borne the torturing of his limbs, when the object to be attained was the gratification of vanity. His submission to torture from such low motives is passed over lightly in the Jesuit Schools and novitiates while the humiliation he suffered in the pursuit of learning, is held up as a model which cannot be excelled.

In the year 1526, he proceeded to Alcala, where the famous Cardinal Ximenes had founded a school, and here he combined his favourite pursuit of begging and preaching, with the study of theology and logic, but he soon abandoned the latter, as he found it too difficult for his limited intelligence. All the same, or perhaps all the more he gained notice, and attained one object which was of supreme moment. He knew that he could not carry out his projects single handed, so he left no effort unused to attract young men, whom he hoped would eventually join him. He succeeded in persuading three youths to unite with him in preaching. They knew little, if anything, more than their master, but they all agreed to wear a singular garment which at least had the advantage of marking them out as something apart from the common herd, and they also succeeded in arousing the jealousy of the priests and monks of Alcala.

Rome boasts not a little of her unity of doctrine, though at least twice in each past century she has changed her creeds on points of vital importance. Rome boasts of her unity in good works, yet every life of her canonised saints gives ample evidence how the saints persecuted each other with an acrimony which those to whom they preached never attained in their secular conflicts.

The Buddhists and the Jesuits.

Loyola was now denounced to the Inquisition by his jealous compatriots and religious brethren. It was needful, of course, to give some appearance of justice to the charge, and the charge was a remarkable one, in view of the mystical character of the teaching which he eventually established. He was cast into the prison of the Inquisition on the charge of being one of the Alombrados or Illuminati. The origin of this sect, or school of philosophy, is shrouded in mystery. It is, however, worthy of note that there is a very curious connection between the directions given by Ignatius Loyola in his famous “Spiritual Exercises,” and the directions which were given to the Buddhist novice, on his initiation into the higher mysteries of that creed, and the Alombrados or Illuminati were of distinctly Buddhist origin.

Von Hammer, in his History of the Assassins, a branch or development of the Illuminati, points out singular parallels between the teaching of Loyola and the Assassins. Nor can it be said that drawing attention to this parallelism is a mere Protestant prejudice, since the first charge was made by the priests of Alcala, and in the very lifetime of the founder of the Jesuits. The whole subject is one which has hardly met with the consideration which it deserves, and is of grave importance in view of the recently restored power of the Jesuits in nearly every European country.

Of all Christian kingdoms Spain has been the most given to a mysticism, of which St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross are eminent examples. But whether the temperament in which this mysticism was engendered and perfected was the result of climatic conditions, or of racial development, we do not profess to decide. One thing however is certain, that their peculiar forms of devotional practices closely resembled the initiatory stages of Buddhism. The word Assassin is actually derived from the word Hashishin, which is again derived from Hashish, the eastern intoxicant. The Assassins ceased to be a recognised body after the Crusades, but their doctrines and some at least of their practices long survived in Spain amongst the Herbes or natives of Barbary. This accusation against Ignatius Loyola of being connected with the Illuminati, stopped his career for the time in Alcala. He was acquitted of heresy, but severely condemned for his theological ignorance, and duly warned by the Inquisitor that if he preached any longer while so ignorant of even the elements of religion he would meet with severe punishment. He was also obliged to lay aside his eccentric dress and to betake himself to another university.

Loyola in Prison Again

It may be noticed here that the peculiar teaching and practices which have again and again formed the ground of the expulsion of the Jesuits by Roman Catholics from Roman Catholic countries, had their first development in the life time of Loyola. For example, he had obtained such influence over two ladies of immense wealth in Alcala, that he induced them to leave their homes, and go forth on a begging expedition for the purpose of perfecting themselves in humility. The relatives of these ladies did not view the interference of Loyola in a favourable light, and he was again thrown into prison until his fair disciples, weary of the penance he had imposed on them, returned to their friends and resumed their place in society.

Ignatius Loyola arrived in Paris in the early spring of 1528. He was accompanied by some students who had been converted to his views. His object in going to the French capital was to find a place where he could pursue his studies unobserved, and develop his plans without ecclesiastical interference. He had made the discovery, often made before and since his time, that there is no place so safe as a crowd for those who for any reason wish to pass unnoticed.

The Society of Jesuits was practically founded in Paris. Ignatius managed so far to satisfy his preceptors as to be allowed to take the degree of bachelor, and eventually of master of arts in the College of St. Barbe, but he had yet to perfect himself in theology, a matter by no means so easy as might be supposed. The complicated theology of the Roman Catholic Church, which differs so much from the simplicity of the Gospel, was the great hindrance to the success of the founder of the Jesuits. Ignatius was wise enough to know that he could not expect his disciples to render him the spiritual homage which he required, if he himself was ignorant of the science of which they naturally expected him to be a master.

But there are few things good or bad which cannot be accomplished by perseverance. Ignatius found the support, which his nascient order sorely needed, from unexpected sources. He was joined by men, who though far his superiors in intellect, and we might add, in common sense, were fascinated by his schemes. Pierre le Fevre, known better as Peter Faber, a youth, full of genius and imagination, became one of his disciples, and at this time also he was joined by the future glory of the Order, Francis Xavier, of Navarre. Xavier was then professor at the College of Beavais and had every reason to expect the highest ecclesiastical advancement, as well from his social position, as from his intellectual attainments. As both Faber and Xavier were held in very high estimation in the Universities of Paris their championship of Ignatius Loyola gave the tone to the Order which it needed, and without which it would probably have failed completely.

The story of the conversion of St. Francis Xavier has been variously given, and at the present day it is impossible to decide between conflicting authorities, the fact that Ignatius gained this prize is the only point of importance. Strange mystery of human life.

Makes Vows with Seven Brothers.

In later times there was no place where the Jesuits were so hotly denounced and so abhorred as in Paris, yet this was the cradle of the Order. Ignatius had now seven disciples, some of whom at least were of immense benefit to the new Order, if indeed his organisation deserved the name. He had no approbation except his own; so far the dignitaries of the Church whom he had approached, had dismissed him with contempt, or imprisoned him for his eccentricities and ignorance. But it seemed as if no opposition could discourage this man of iron will.

On the 15th of August, 1534, Ignatius, with his seven followers, met in the crypts of a sanctuary at Montmartre, and took their vows without the permission of priest or prelate. Of the seven who had thrown in their lot with Ignatius, only one was a priest. This was Father Peter Faber. He said mass for the rest, and gave them the mutilated sacrament of the Church of Rome.

Ignatius, in his character of self-appointed superior, was the first to take the vows, and swore on the Gospels to lead a life of poverty, chastity and obedience. The rest followed his example, and thus was established an Institution, which as we shall see from indisputable evidence, has done more than any other so called religious order to ruin the peace of families, to check the growth of human progress, and to enslave the souls of men, and yet all this was done in the name of religion. Well might we paraphrase a well known aphorism, and exclaim, Oh religion, what crimes have been committed in thy name.

Spain having always been under the rule of the priesthood has always been the country of darkness, social and religious. The Spaniard, easily amused with rude pastimes, and supplied by his marvellous climate with all that he needed for food and clothing, concerned himself but little about the rest of the world. Ignatius had not heard of the course of events in Germany, nor of the stupendous religious movements which had even then begun. To him, with his narrow temperament and his stubborn will, it must have come as a tremendous shock when he learned for the first time, that men existed who were so daring, or as he would have deemed it so blasphemous, as to have condemned the Pope and rejected his authority. But France, always in the advanced guard of information, if not of knowledge, resounded with the clash of opinions, and was fully alive, whatever side individuals might take, as to the tremendous importance of this first serious blow to the spiritual power of the Papacy.

Commences his Order.

Ignatius had already intended to devote his Order in some special manner to the advancement and support of the Papal power, and here was a new, and to him all powerful motive for renewed fealty and effort. Hence, when taking his vows, he declared it to be his special intention to offer himself, and his followers, for the advancement and protection of the Church of Rome, and above all to the personal service of the Pope. He concluded his oath with the words which have since become the watch word of the Order. Would that they had been its guiding principle, instead of being used as a means of throwing a glamour of apparent piety over what is little better than a deliberate system of skilfully organised duplicity.

Ad majorem Dei gloriam (For the greater glory of God), the words with which Ignatius ended his vow, was re-echoed by each of his seven disciples. To this has been added the letters, I.H.S, these initials signifying Jesus Hominum Salvator, Jesus the Saviour of mankind. And yet, even while these words, so true and so Scriptural, fell from the lips of the Spanish mystic, he was doing all that mortal man could do (let us hope unconsciously), to give the glory to another which he professed himself so desirous of giving to God alone.

The day which he chose for the commencement of his Order was the Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. It is true that there is not even one particle of proof of this supposed assumption, but what matter. Rome has spoken. Reason is no longer to be the guide of human life. It was not until many centuries had passed that Rome established this Festival authoritatively. The motive of the Festival is not far to seek. It is self-evident that unless Mary was in heaven, she could not perform all the miracles that are attributed to her intercession. It is also self-evident that unless she had a place there almost equal to that of God, she could not exercise the omnipotence with which she is credited. Hence the necessity of establishing a festival which would assure the people that not only was Mary throned in heaven, but that she held the very highest place in the celestial kingdom. The legend of the Assumption of Mary has not even the least historical foundation, but this matters very little to an infallible Church, whose dictates must be accepted at the peril of the eternal salvation of the unbeliever.

Corrupt State of the Church.

Ignatius had now actually commenced his Order. But two very important matters had been neglected. He had neither obtained the preliminary permission of a bishop, nor the final approbation of a pope. This did not concern him much, so assured was he of his own importance. But some of his followers were wiser. Ignatius now saw that the only way in which he could protect himself from the attacks of jealous religious and angry priests was to become a priest himself as soon as possible. But his health broke down again under the renewal of self-inflicted sufferings. According to his idea of religion, Christ could not save him without the help of Mary, else why take so much trouble to secure the patronage of Mary. Nor could even Mary save him without his own self-inflicted sufferings, else why had he need again and again to bring himself almost to the grave, by fasts, and vigils, and floggings. Ignatius was once more compelled to seek a southern clime, and left Paris in the spring of 1535. He took care, however, to keep his little band together, by appointing Peter Faber superior, arranging that all should meet him in Venice when their theological course should have been completed.

When the brothers reunited, according to this arrangement, their numbers had increased, for Ignatius brought a disciple with him, and the brothers brought three promising new members from Paris.

It may seem strange to say it, but it is nevertheless true that one cause of the extraordinary success of the Jesuits was the awful corruption of the Church of Rome. Rome has always claimed temporal power, and desired to rule over the kings and princes of the earth. In order to accomplish this end she has left no means unused to obtain wealth, and to influence politicians. No matter what may be said of vows of poverty, if any body of men abound in wealth, they are individually, as well as collectively, rich, and all the evils divinely predicted of those who heap up to themselves riches, at once become their portion. Again and again the Church of Rome has been all but shipwrecked by those of her sons who, living in apparent conformity to the counsels of the Gospel, have actually set those counsels at defiance. It needs scarcely to point to the lives of the saints collectively for proof of this statement, but one particular instance may be given. St. Francis of Assisi, one of the saints to whom Rome points those outside her fold with unbounded confidence, commenced his career of evangelisation with the strongest denunciation of the priests of his day. With a touch of romance, inseparable, one had almost said happily, from southern temperaments, he devoted himself to his “lady and mistress, poverty.” When imploring the blessing of the Pope for his new Order, he told his vision, in which he believed himself divinely appointed to save the Church from destruction by his renewal of Gospel teaching, which, according to this vision, had been well nigh abandoned. Ignatius, Francis, and almost every saint in the Roman calendar, have based their claim of the necessity of a new Order in the Church, on the evident corruption into which it had fallen, despite the efforts of those who had preceded them in the path of reform.

A Rising Man.

The people heard them gladly. This was the secret of their success. The people, who suffer so much on earth, and who hope for so much in heaven! The people hear gladly what promises to them, either here or hereafter, something better than their life in this world. Even those who from temperament, or piety, envy the rich the least, are willing to hear of poverty which they are assured shall purchase wealth where alone wealth shall be abiding, of humiliation which shall secure honour, where honour will be everlasting. We do not say that Ignatius or Francis, or others who aspired to be the spiritual rulers of their people, deliberately played the role of deceivers, when they adapted themselves to the needs and desires of the poor, but that they did so adapt themselves is a fact which cannot be questioned.

As the efforts of Ignatius had been so far successful, he won the toleration, if not the admiration, of his kinsfolk. It is wonderful how success enobles a cause. He was “a rising man,” and his world appreciated him accordingly. But Ignatius was either too wise or too sincere in his idea of Christian poverty to accept from his own family the hospitality they now offered. He won the hearts of the people, and after all it is the people who make success, by refusing to live the life of the noble, and choosing the life of the poor. He stooped to conquer. If he had then thrown in his lot with the rich and the noble, the poor would have abandoned him. But by winning the applause of the people he gained the ear of the rich. He and his followers were to be found with the sick and the leper, and this was sufficient to win for him the mighty voice of the populace.

Ignatius Loyola was gifted with the worldly wisdom which has preeminently characterised his Order. He found means to win over Caraffa, afterwards Pope Paul IV., and then Archbishop of Theate. Caraffa gave him letters of recommendation to the Pope, of which Ignatius made Xavier, Leynes, and Faber the bearers. They were welcomed far more warmly than could have been expected. They received the papal blessing, and permission for the ordination of all those who had not yet been ordained, in consequence of their ignorance of theology, but what cannot a pope do? Further the Pope gave a considerable sum of money towards the expenses of the proposed mission to Palestine. But once more the plans of the ex-chevalier were defeated by circumstances. A war had broken out between the Venetian Republic and the Ottoman Powers, and travelling was out of the question.

Again Ignatius gave himself and his followers to the congenial occupation of preaching. They ascended rude platforms, and with much noise and gesticulation invited men to what they called repentance. As the brothers were for the most part, absolutely ignorant of the language of the country, the work was carried on principally by shouts and gesticulations. Noise always attracts, if it does not impress, a multitude, and it is said that this preaching, if such it could be called, was not without effect.

Order exists for the Pope.

Ignatius now began again to make arrangements for the more specific settlement of his Order. He had many difficulties, but difficulties only stimulated him to further efforts. There were some men of considerable ability, as well as of more than ordinary worldly wisdom amongst his followers, and they saw clearly that in order to succeed they must offer the Pope and the world something entirely new. It was now finally decided that the Order should exist only for the service of the Pope, and under his immediate direction, for the service of the Church. But it is not to be supposed that the other religious Orders, the principal of which were then the Dominicans and the Franciscans, were willing to allow a new body of men to deprive them of their prestige, or perquisites. These Orders raised a mighty outcry, and as it was always safe to show ones zeal by accusing others of heresy, the accusation was made that Ignatius and his followers were far from being what they professed to be, and that they were actually in league with the Reformers now so active in Germany. The charge was obviously absurd, but such is human credulity that it often happens the more absurd the slander, the more readily it is believed. But Ignatius again triumphed, and triumphed finally.

There was a terrible famine in Rome at this time, and this afforded another opportunity for the advancement of his Order. Ignatius, always alive to the tone of public opinion, saw, and used, his opportunity. He convinced the rich of his piety by his fervent appeals for money for the poor, and he convinced the poor of his regard for their interests by bestowing on them at least some of the wealth which he obtained from the rich. He also obtained great honour from all classes for his zeal for the conversion of the Jews. His method was not original. He obtained a decree from Pope Paul III., then reigning, that the Jews should not be allowed the services of a physician, no matter how serious might be their danger, unless they first accepted the ministrations of a priest. This mode of obtaining conversions proved very efficacious, and Ignatius was honoured accordingly. Thus the Society of Jesus inaugurated its career of unchristian diplomacy. Ignatius knew perfectly that such “conversions” were writ in sand.

The next move of the diplomatic Jesuit was to secure the influence of the ladies of Rome. This was not difficult. His Order was new, and he must have been gifted with some special fascination of manner, which his knightly training had enhanced.

Women of bad Character.

We have already spoken of the terrible state of society at this period, and naturally, Rome being the chief ecclesiastical city, the corruption was greatest at the fountain head. Priests and people were alike sunk in the deepest debauchery. Women of nameless character made even the churches their haunt, and the place where they exhibited their meretricious charms. Luther was calling attention with trumpet tongue to the fearful condition of the city where the Pope reigned supreme, as temporal, as well as spiritual king. If he tolerated, and by tolerating encouraged such evils, how could the Church be called holy? Paul III. was aroused at last. He assembled his cardinals, but the only remedy which they could suggest was to drive all the women of doubtful character out of Rome, and obviously, it was much easier to suggest this remedy than to apply it.

But here again Ignatius saw his opportunity, and came to the rescue. He secured large sums of money from ladies of rank, whose own husbands and confessors had been probably the chief sources of the downfall of these unhappy women, and with this in hand, he proceeded to establish a home for all whom he could induce to enter it. His success was great indeed, but his plans were laid with his usual consummate skill. He carefully avoided anything that might seem degrading to these unfortunate women. He called the house which he had prepared for them a Home, and made it such. There were no restrictions, and no vows. The house was soon filled with penitents, or those who at least appeared to be such. Many, no doubt, were utterly weary of their miserable life, and thankful to find a refuge where they could live without cost to themselves, and in comparative luxury. Ignatius got the credit of having accomplished a wonderful reform, and was honoured accordingly.

In August, 1539, Ignatius asked the approbation of the Pope for the rules of his new Order. It is the rule in the Roman Catholic Church, when anyone desires to found a new religious order, that they should first obtain the permission of their immediate ecclesiastical superior. This approval having been obtained, the work goes on tentatively for a time, eventually, if it has shown good prospect of success, it is approved by the Pope. It need scarcely be said that all this cannot be accomplished without a very large expenditure of money, in order to obtain the goodwill of the cardinals, and other officials, not, of course, as a bribe, but for “expenses.” The expenses are very considerable, but then success is secured in proportion to the outlay. Further, it is a curious fact that Rome never canonises a saint without an immense disbursement on the part of those who are interested. Some saintly personages remain uncanonised because either their relatives or their Order had not sufficient capital to invest in the necessary preliminaries. A curious question therefore arises as to the precise value of the canonisation of saints, and how far their power in heaven is proportioned to the honours paid to them on earth. Nor can it be said that this is a mere Protestant calumny (false accusations designed to hurt the reputation of the person or organization accused). It is a Roman Catholic fact. The Roman Catholic Church teaches that masses are the one great means of delivering souls from purgatory. Now masses either are, or are not, necessary to obtain this most important end. If they are necessary why is it that the poor, who have no money, cannot have masses, while the more or less wicked rich have thousands of masses, and ought to escape from their penal abode at once?

“Words, mere words.”

When the Pope had read the documents containing the rules of the new Order, he exclaimed, Digitus Dei hic est! (This is the finger of God!) Yet another Pope, not so many centuries later, condemned the whole scheme as an infamy, and practically the handy-work of the devil. Which infallible Pope was the true prophet? But Loyola was by no means satisfied with a mere verbal approbation. “Words, mere words,” he cried, “words may be denied and explained away.” He therefore bent all his energies to secure a written approbation. After some dispute and difficulty, and after considerable opposition from at least one of the cardinals who were appointed to investigate the matter, Ignatius obtained his desire. On the 27th of September, 1540, Pope Paul III. issued a special Bull commencing, Regimini aeilitantis ecclesie, (the government of the ecstatic Church)in which he established the Order, henceforth known as the Jesuits.

There were two reasons why this Order was established with so little difficulty. In the first place, the German Reformers were already winning souls from the forms and ceremonies of the Church, to the eternal freedom of the Gospel. The cardinals and Roman theologians, were not without fear lest the whole fabric should fall to the ground. They are always quite as much politicians as prelates, and were, as Roman cardinals always are, very keen for the things of this world, and very wise in their generation. Here were men, whose very raison d’être (reason or justification for existing) was to save the Church from the overwhelming danger with which it was threatened, and who by no means blinded themselves to that danger.

Jesuit Confessors.

One of the principal sources of danger was the dissolute habits of the religious Orders. These men promised to live chaste and holy lives so that their example could be pointed out to detractors. But there was another, and a very powerful motive for this ready acquiescence. It will be remembered that Ignatius had provided a house of refuge for such of the courtesans of Rome and the neighbourhood as chose to avail themselves of it. These women were by no means the offscouring of the populace. Many of them were cast off mistresses of ecclesiastical dignitaries and nobles. The Jesuit Fathers were, of course, their confessors. Need it be said that these confessors knew the private history of hundreds, if not of thousands of prelates and princes, and that men who dared not have their secret lives exposed were very prompt to serve those who, if opposed, would soon find very pious reasons for exposing them.

We have not space here, nor is it necessary, to give the Statutes of this Society at length. We shall only call attention to one or two important points. We then propose to glance for a moment at the work which was being accomplished at this very time by Luther and his followers. While Ignatius was calling on his disciples to place themselves under the banner of Mary, Luther was proclaiming in stentorian (extremely loud) tones that Christ alone can save us, and that the just shall live by faith. Look not to saint or angel, to man or woman for your salvation, look to Christ and to Christ only. Do not believe in churches which become corrupt by the weight of their inherent fallibility, look to Christ, the Rock and Foundation Stone of the true Church, and He will never fail you. Ignatius demanded an abject and degrading obedience from his followers, Luther would have obedience to none but to Christ his Master.

The chief obligations of the rule of Ignatius are easily distinguished. His rule has not changed with changing times or circumstances, as the rules of other Orders have done. This period of European history was a transition period for religious orders, and Ignatius saw his opportunity. The religious Orders which had suited the manner of life in previous centuries became, by degrees, less and less fitting for advancing civilisation. Men had begun to think, men had begun as a necessary consequence to criticise. They no longer took their opinions from a dominant priesthood as a child takes its mothers milk. They asked was this or that regulation best for the general good? Was this or that doctrine consonant with reason? The question came to be openly asked by many, What has Christ said? It was no longer universally asked, What has Rome said? Rome, while declaring herself infallible and unchangable has proved her fallibility by many changes, and her mutability by alterations, both in creed and discipline, of the most important character. For example, she has quietly, but none the less completely, changed the whole character of her religious institutions in order to accommodate herself to the times. The establishment of the Jesuits was her first departure in this direction.

Vowed to Chastity.

The world moved, and the Church moved with the world. Changes were rife everywhere, and the heads of the Church found that their own special interests would be seriously imperilled if they did not move also. But this by no means implied that the Church encouraged the march of intellect. The modifications which were made did not allow more freedom, they simply changed the form of restraint. New bonds were forged to suit new times. The religious Orders had lost all credit with the people. As long as they observed their primitive rule and lived in the poverty which they vowed to observe, it was all very well, at least in the eyes of the poor. They were pleased and consoled to see that poverty was honoured as a religious virtue. If practising poverty could be the means of saving the soul of the friar, it must also benefit the serf. But when the friar ceased to practise poverty, or even to show much respect for it, all was changed. And when the friar, who vowed temperance, was often seen in a condition which would have been punished with severity if his cloth had not protected him, the poor man was not slow to denounce the injustice.

Further, the friar was vowed to chastity, and here also he failed, till at last ribald songs were sung, or said, which held men up to public scorn, and not without cause, who had once been revered as the angels of the earth. The friars, as a class, were ignorant, and far too secure in their own estimation of their position to trouble themselves about learning. But when men began to think, they expected to be helped by those to whom they once looked up as the sole depositories of learning, and when they failed, respect was lost and doubt began. Wandering friars, who neither taught nor prayed, soon became of little account. The enclosed monasteries. had decreased in numbers, and the popes no longer encouraged them. It needed few rules, and a new form of so called religious life for the new conditions of society. Ignatius had realised these new conditions and established new rules. The new rules declared that the propagation of the faith and the promulgation of Christianity, which in that age meant the same thing, were to be the primary objects of the Jesuits. The methods by which they were to be carried out were preaching, hearing confessions, and educating the young. An admirable program for the end in view. The young were to be trained to believe that in the Church, and in the Church alone, salvation was to be found. At an impressionable age they naturally became as wax in the hands of their superiors, and provided they did not revolt in after life, would remain the humble servants of their early teachers.

The Revolt of Jesuit Pupils.

But that the Jesuit pupil did revolt, we shall see eventually. A boy may be made to believe, while he is a boy, that he will fulfill the high destinies of his manhood by continuing this submission, but when he arrives at man’s estate he wants something more than mere assertion before he will be ready to place all the affairs of life under clerical control.

The control which the confessional gave to the Jesuit will be considered elsewhere. Ignatius might have established his colleges and educated youth in vain, if he had not made plans fraught with a marvellous and foreseeing wisdom for retaining the prizes which he had secured. The iniquities of the confessional have been justly made again and again the subject of public exposure and denunciation, but the direction which is given in the confessional, and its far reaching results, is a subject which deserves more attention than it has received. To the consideration of this point we shall return later.

In the meantime let us glance at the work of the Reformation. Luther and Loyola both visit Rome, but with what different results! When Loyola commences his career of human policy and craft, he uses the sins and follies of his fellow men and women for his own advancement. Luther has but one thought, the greater glory of God and the advancement of His kingdom. He needed not to frame rules or compose spiritual exercises, to court cardinals or fallen women. His rule was the Bible, God’s charter of eternal life, and his spiritual exercise was prayer to the one and only Mediator between God and man.

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